My legs went weak. I’d seen Mal fight in the challenge room, but that had felt choreographed somehow. This was raw violence. Protective fury that made my hands shake.
“Are you okay, Wen?” Mal’s hands were on my arms immediately. My shoulders. My face. Searching for injuries with gentle fingers that contrasted sharply with the violence of seconds ago. “Did he hurt you? Are you-”
“I had it handled.” I shoved his hands away. “Leave me alone.”
“Wen-”
I tried to walk past him. He blocked my path.
“Wait. No. Let me explain. It’s not what you think-”
“I don’t want to hear ANYTHING from you, Malachar.” My voice came out sharper than I’d intended. Louder. “I just want to sleep. Maybe when I wake up, this nightmare will be over.”
Through the bond, I felt his sadness crash over me in waves. His guilt. How terrible he felt about everything.
I didn’t care. Fuck him. Fuck all of them. Fuck Lytopia and portals and fiancées who showed up announcing weddings.
“You will be staying in my chambers,” he said quietly. “And before you argue, I will be sleeping on the floor.”
“I don’t even want you in the same room.”
He flinched as if I’d struck him. “I will sleep in the bathroom, then.”
“Fine.”
“Come. This way.”
He led me through the actual halls this time instead of the secret passages. The corridors were wider here and grander, with high ceilings that made me feel small. Actual chandeliers hung overhead with real candles providing flickering light.
We reached a set of double doors that were huge and ornate, with guards standing on either side. They bowed when they saw Mal and he pushed the doors open, gesturing for me to enter first.
I walked in and my feet stopped moving of their own accord.
The room was gorgeous. Massive. A four-poster bed dominated one wall, large enough to fit five people comfortably. Windows looked out over the mountains in the distance. A fireplace crackled with actual fire. Rugs covered the stone floor. Furniture that looked hand-carved and expensive filled the space.
“These will be your quarters,” Mal said from behind me.
I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice. My throat was tight. My eyes were burning again. I walked to the bed slowly, my legs feeling like lead, and climbed onto the mattress. Lay down face-first in the pillows that smelled subtly like him.
I expected him to leave, to give me space. But I heard him shift behind me, heard his breathing. He was lingering in the doorway.
“Please, little mate.” His voice was closer now. Desperate in a way that made my chest ache. “She is not my fiancée. There is no wedding. Amaia is the council’s favorite to be queen and she is delusional. They have been pushing the match for months, but I never agreed. I never-”
“Leave me.”
The silence stretched between us. I felt his hesitation through the bond. His desire to stay. To fix this and make me understand.
“Yes, boss,” he whispered.
I heard his footsteps move away from the bed and pause at the door. Heard the soft click of the handle as he opened it.
The door closed with a quiet finality that somehow felt louder than if he’d slammed it.
That’s when the dam broke.
I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed. Ugly, messy sobs that wracked my whole body and made my chest hurt. Tears soakedthe expensive fabric beneath my cheek. My nose was running. My throat burned from trying to stay quiet.
I cried for being dragged here against my will. For being thrown into a world I didn’t understand with rules I’d never learned. For watching Mal fight for his life while I stood helpless. For seeing that woman throw herself at him with casual familiarity.
