“Enjoy the rest of your night,Sister.” Aerin slips by Cisera and disappears into the crowd. Malice follows, wondering what in the hell he’s gotten himself into.
The instant Aerinspots Bruin Tolvare’s golden head of hair in the crowd her spine stiffens. Her gaze narrowing like a predator to prey, she doesn’t bother excusing herself from her current conversation, instead taking off in confident strides towards her brother.
Malice follows, wondering if the warm-hearted Fae he’s met on a few occasions will end up being as cold and vicious as Cisera was. Though, it seems it’s Aerin’s turn to be vicious. Her nails dig into Bruin’s suit jacket when she reaches him. Bruin attempts to shrug her off but it’s futile.
Malice tenses as Aerin leans into her brother’s ear. Without his enhanced hearing the threat would be inaudible: “Come speak with me right now, or I will bring this entire museum down around us.”
Malice, like everyone else in Novhelm, believes Aerin Tolvare to be the weakest of the Tolvare siblings. A fire-Fae by blood with weak magic that can change physical appearances for very short periods of time. To them, Aerin is a weak Fae, hardly a magical threat. She shouldn’t be able to do anything like bring down a building. Or turn a fully grown Fae into a non-sentient animal like a mouse.
Yet, Bruin throws a glare at his sister before excusing himself. Cisera trembled when Aerin threatened to change herinto a mouse, as if the change would last more than a few minutes.
Perhaps Aerin Tolvare isn’t at all what she seems.
Aerin drags Bruin deeper into the museum, her façade cracking as she goes. Her anger is almost palpable as she yanks open the bathroom door. She maintains a neutral expression save for her eyes, which burn with a mixture of pain and fury, neither outweighing the other.
A ball of guilt forms in Malice’s throat. He thought sharing the news that Bruin hired him, not the King, would reduce Aerin’s ire, but it’s clear he made things worse.
After Bruin crosses into the bathroom, Aerin pointedly slams the door shut. Malice leans against the wall near it, focusing his hearing. Despite the thin walls, Malice can’t make out clear words, some type of sound ward protecting the bathroom.
Malice’s gut churns. He forces his emotions behind doors in his mind, locking them away. Instead of thinking about his guilt or his unreasonable worry, he turns his attention to the two fire-Fae who followed Bruin down the hall. The True Heir’s personal guards for the night don’t acknowledge Malice, instead murmuring to each other.
“What’s she on about, you think?” the slimmer one asks.
The second one grumbles, “Likely the king didn’t give her enough allowance.”
“Gave her an earlier curfew,” the first one suggests.
“Told her she has to actually attend her classes.”
“Limited how many males she can fuck in?—”
Malice finds himself growling, canine’s bared, before he can consider what he’s doing. The Fae snap their mouths shut, the slimmer one visibly swallowing. They both know they are no match for a Dragon-Fae.
It isn’t that Malice cares for Aerin—he’s only known her a few hours, and she’s done very little to assuage his opinions of her:selfish, vapid, reckless. Yet hearing them talk about her like this, seeing how she lives here, constantly under a microscope, with a cacophony of creatures muttering in her wake, seeing her icy mask slip into place earlier: there is more to Aerin Tolvare than anyone realizes.
Cracking his knuckles as he waits, Malice holds his muscles stiffly, wings tight to his body. The exchanges in the bathroom are becoming louder, more agitated. Just when Malice considers entering to break it up, sounds of metal tearing and water crashing to the floor set off alarm bells in his head.
Malice kicks in the door.
9
AERIN
After slamming the door in the Dragon-Fae’s face Aerin whips around to face her brother. Clad in his dark suit with gold embroidery, hair straightened and tucked behind his ears, Bruin looks the part of regal royalty. The regal royalty Aerin is supposed to be too.
As if reading her mind, the first thing out of her brother’s mouth is: “What are you wearing?”
“Are you kidding me?!” Aerin hisses. “Are you actually fucking joking right now?!”
“What?” Bruin looks at her, aghast, surprised, completely unprepared for what Aerin is about to unleash on him.
Aerin gestures violently to the door. “A personal guard?!”
Bruin rolls his eyes, turning his back to her. “Oh, come on Rin, don’t be so dramatic.”
The anger inside of Aerin simmers, rising with every incredulous comment her brother makes.
“I’m not being dramatic! You, out of everyone, should know how I would react to this!” Bruin casts a droll look over his features, as if Aerin’s being a petulant child. It makes herwant to slap him. “The contract has taken everything from me,everything.”
