"After eight centuries, you still cling to formality," I chide, settling into a chair and gesturing for him to do the same. "Speak freely. Consider it a command if that makes it easier."
My general remains standing, his fingers tightening around the wineglass. "It's... a personal matter."
I raise an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "You have those? I was beginning to think you were born from the shadows themselves, with no personal desires whatsoever."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "I assure you, I was born in the conventional manner. Though it's been longer than I prefer to remember."
"And yet, in all these centuries since you lost your mate, I've never seen you pursue another entanglement," I observe, watching him over the rim of my glass. "You've been alone as long as I've known you."
His silence is confirmation enough. I lean forward. "Who is she? One of the court ladies?"
He clears his throat. "My lord, there are more important matters…"
"Nothing is more important than this unexpected development," I counter, grinning. "My stoic, duty-bound general, finally experiencing desire after centuries of solitude? This is the most entertaining development all week."
"I'm pleased to provide such amusement," he responds, irritation breaking through his composure.
"It's the fairy, isn't it?" I ask suddenly. "Ivy."
Emmett's wineglass freezes halfway to his lips, his expression briefly unguarded before his control reasserts itself. "That's absurd."
"It is, rather," I agree, delighted. "She's irritating, disrespectful, and entirely too fond of glitter. The magical equivalent of a sugar-addled child who's found her mother's makeup. And yet... I've noticed how your shadows calm when she enters a room."
"Your observational skills are clearly deteriorating with age," he mutters, tossing back his wine in a most undignified manner.
"Oh? So you weren't staring at her during the last council meeting when she flounced in with that message for my wife?"
A flush creeps up his neck, an unprecedented sight. "I was monitoring a potential threat."
"Of course you were," I agree solemnly. "Very thorough monitoring."
"Are you quite finished?" he snaps, finally dropping into the chair opposite me.
"Not even close," I reply cheerfully. "I have eight centuries of your stoicism to make up for."
"You're enjoying this far too much," he grumbles, reaching for the decanter to refill his glass. "And you're one to talk about romantic entanglements. You, who swore never to feel anything again after Julia. Never to take another Omega mate."
The name sends a jolt through me, though I manage to keep my expression neutral.
"This isn't about me," I deflect. "We're discussing your infatuation with a creature half your size who probably has the life expectancy of a mayfly compared to us."
"Ivy is over three hundred years old," he corrects automatically, then winces.
"Ah! So you've researched her lifespan," I crow triumphantly. "How thorough of you."
He actually groans, setting his glass down with a thud. "For the love of darkness, Malakai, enough."
I freeze. Malakai. Not "my lord," not "Shadow Lord," just... Malakai. He hasn't called me that since before. Before Julia. Before the curse hollowed me out and left something monstrous in its place.
The familiarity of it unsettles me more than I want to admit.
The playful atmosphere evaporates, replaced by something heavier, laden with centuries of unspoken grief. Once, we had been more like brothers than lord and general. Before Julia.
"I miss that sometimes," I admit, surprising us both. "Who we were. Before."
He studies me, centuries of shared history in his gaze. "You're different since Seraphina arrived. Not like before, but... more yourself than you've been in a very long time."
"Ridiculous," I dismiss, uncomfortable. "I'm the same delightful tyrant I've always been."
