He tasted of autumn, of dying leaves and overripe fruit, sweet things beginning to rot. His mouth was colder than Eliam's, crueler in its demands. She tried to make herself respond, to save Eliam's life, but her body recoiled from the wrongness of it.
"You're not trying," Malus murmured against her lips. "I saidmean it."
She could feel Eliam watching, feel the rage and anguish radiating from him. The warmth in her chest was thrashing, trying to escape through her skin. But she forced herself to lean into Malus, to part her lips, to kiss him like she wanted it.
He took his time, making sure everyone saw, making sure Eliam saw. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place while he claimed her mouth with deliberate thoroughness. She let him, participated even, while tears ran down her cheeks.
When he finally pulled back, he studied her face with satisfaction. "Adequate, if not inspiring. But I suppose you've earned his life."
He waved his hand and the guard withdrew his blade.
"Take him to his new chambers," Malus commanded. "Gently. We wouldn't want him dying after she worked so hard to save him."
As the guards hauled Eliam to his feet, his eyes found hers. The betrayal there, not anger at her choice, but agony at what she'd been forced to do, made the warmth in her chest dim to almost nothing.
"I'll kill you for this," Eliam said to Malus, blood running from his mouth.
"No," Malus said softly, his arm possessive around Briar's waist. "You'll sit in the cell where I sat for centuries, and you'll think about her up here with me. You'll imagine what I'm doing, what she's doing to keep you alive. Because that's so much worse than death, isn't it?"
Eliam’s eyes met hers one final time as the guards dragged him and Thaine away.I'll come for you.
"He's planning already," Malus said against her ear, amused. "I do hope he tries something dramatic. Don't you?"
The throne room doors closed with finality, and Malus addressed the remaining court while keeping Briar displayed on his lap.
"Tomorrow night, we feast. The return of proper order deserves celebration." His fingers traced her throat, feeling her pulse race. "Wine that tastes of summer's end. Meat so rare it still remembers being alive. And perhaps some entertainment. It's been so long since we've had proper entertainment at court."
The assembled lords murmured agreement, some enthusiastic, others careful. The atmosphere was shifting—becoming older, hungrier, tasting the edges of what had been long forbidden.
The throne room emptied except for them. Malus kept her on his lap for another moment, his fingers tracing the autumn leaves at her throat with possessive satisfaction.
"Come," he said finally, lifting her to her feet but keeping his hand on her lower back. "Let me show you your new accommodations."
The corridors felt different as they walked—the shadows less deep, the air carrying a hint of autumn decay that hadn't been there before. Servants bowed as they passed but wouldn't meet her eyes. The warmth in her chest pulled steadily southward, toward the dungeons, but her body obeyed Malus's guiding touch.
"You're very quiet," he observed as they climbed a spiral staircase she recognized—it led to the tower rooms, the highest quarters in the castle. Where Eliam's chambers were. Had been.
"What would you like me to say?"
"Whatever you're thinking would be a start." His hand shifted to her elbow as they reached a landing. "Though I suspect it's nothing flattering."
He opened a door she'd never seen unlocked before, another room connected to Eliam's chambers through an internal passage. A queen's suite, she realized with a sick feeling. Prepared long ago for a Forest Queen who had never materialized.
The room was beautiful in an ancient way. A massive bed dominated one wall, carved with forest scenes that seemed to move in the firelight—deer fleeing, wolves hunting, seasons cycling in endless wooden loops. Windows overlooked the forest canopy, and she could see storm clouds gathering in the distance. Everything was deep green and gold, but as they entered, she watched those colors shifting subtly—the green fading to brown, the gold brightening to copper.
"The castle responds to its king," Malus said, noticing her attention. "It's already beginning to remember how things were. How they should be."
He guided her to a chair by the fire—no, guided was wrong. The bargain compelled her to sit when he pressed lightly on her shoulder. She sat rigidly while he poured wine from a decanter.
"You said anything," he reminded her, handing her a glass. "Drink."
The wine tasted of autumn fruits, too sweet with an edge of fermentation. She drank because the bargain demanded it, feeling it warm her throat.
"Now," he settled in the chair across from her, completely at ease, "let's discuss your magic."
"I don't understand it myself."
"No, but you can feel it." He leaned forward slightly. "That warmth in your chest—yes, I notice how you keep touching that spot. It pulls toward him, doesn't it? Even now."
