It was not a prisoner’s chamber.
It was an omega’s bedchamber. Not a full nest. We had passed that already, but a place where an omega could feel safe between her heats.
The realization tightened something in my chest.
I had expected austerity—perhaps even neglect.
Instead, I found evidence of instinct.
Of someone who had taken cold stone and, piece by deliberate piece, turned it into something that held warmth. Someone who craved texture. Safety. Enclosure. Who had arranged her world around softness because the world beyond these walls offered none.
There were no luxuries of vanity.
Only the quiet luxury of survival.
And that struck deeper than silk ever could.
“Who are you?” Malric repeated, as she had yet to reply.
The woman’s gaze darted between us, landing on Malric’s blade, then mine, then the doorway as if she were measuring escape despite knowing there was nowhere to run.
“I…” Her voice came out thin, catching on breath. She swallowed, her throat working. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Malric’s jaw tightened. “Answer the question.”
Her hands clenched at her stomach again, and my attention snagged on the motion because it mirrored what my body wanted to do, the instinctive urge to protect something tender and vital.
“I’m Aveline,” she said finally, as if forcing the name through resistance. “This is my tower.”
Malric’s gaze narrowed. “Your tower,” he repeated, flat.
Aveline nodded once, too quickly, her eyes wide with fear. “You need to leave.”
“Why?” Malric asked.
Her eyes widened further, panic rising so fast it was almost visible, her breath turning shallow. The scent in the room shifted with it, not changing, but intensifying as her body reacted, a burnt smell of fear tainting the sweetness. My own instincts flared in response, my magic twitching again.
I hated I could feel her fear like a pull in my blood.
I hated more that Malric seemed to sense it too, his posture sharpening, his gaze turning even colder as if fear confirmed guilt.
I stepped forward before I fully decided to, my hand on Malric’s sword hand, pushing it down.
“Malric,” I said quietly.
His head snapped toward me, irritation flashing in his eyes.
“Easy,” I added, keeping my voice low, steady, the way I spoke to recruits before battle when their nerves threatened to ruin them. “She’s terrified.”
Malric’s mouth tightened. “So was every liar I ever cut the truth out of.”
Aveline flinched again, her shoulders hunching as if to make herself smaller, invisible. Her gaze locked on Malric’s face, and there was something in it besides fear. Recognition, maybe. Or the way prey watches a predator that has already decided it will hunt.
I shifted my stance to separate myself from Malric, giving her a line of sight to me that his body didn’t block. I kept my sword down, not sheathed, but angled away.
“Aveline,” I said, tasting her name in the air, feeling the way it seemed to align with the scent curling through the room. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
Malric made a sound under his breath, sharp enough that it traveled through the bond. A warning.
