His voice dropped lower. “That’s what they were to Eryndis. Guardians of what mattered most. And once Gabriel gave her his word, he followed her into ruin to keep it. Until she was gone.”
He looked at me, the weight of the past heavy in his gaze. “And now, he believes in you.”
My jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
We stared at each other, the silence drawn tight between us, sharp, fragile, and full of all the things neither of us was ready to say.
Finally, I broke it.
“Look,” I said, voice low but steady, “I came to Nyxarra to save my brother. Not to be dragged into ancient politics or locked in a castle with men who think they can shape the path I walk.” I paused.
Malachi didn’t respond. His expression remained unreadable, except for the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“The ball,” he said after a beat, his tone flat. “Lysara’s waiting to help you prepare.”
As if summoned by name, the door to the adjoining chamber creaked open and Lysara leaned in, fingers fluttering in a lazy wave.
“Hello,” she said, voice lilting. “Hope I’m not interrupting something.”
“You’re not,” Malachi and I said in unison.
“I’ll be going,” he muttered, making his way to the opposite interior door. I had forgotten my room connected to his as well.
Fantastic. Couldn’t wait to hear him brood through the wall.
Malachi left and I was alone with Lysara.
“You need to fit me for a gown, I hear?” I asked, brushing myself off like I could remove the discomfort that sat beneath my skin.
Lysara smiled as she made her way to the wardrobe. “Ah, Malachi must have read my mind.”
“He enters your mind uninvited as well, does he?” I asked.
Lysara stopped and turned to face me, her face more serious than I’d ever seen it. “He does not. Nor will he ever. That is a violation of our friendship and trust.”
“I don’t think he values either of those things based on what I’ve experienced.” The words came out clipped, sharp enough to cut. Heat flared in my chest, tightening my fists at my sides. “He’s selfish. Arrogant. Treats people he’s just met like they’re his to command.”
Lysara took a step closer, her words as cold as ice. “You do not know him, Aurelia. Nor can you begin to fathom what he has endured. Whatwehave endured. All that he has done—the sacrifices he has made to keep us alive. Thinkpoorly of him if you must, but do not speak poorly of him to me. You are young. This place is strange to you. But remember: you are the stranger here. We do not trust you any more than you trust us.”
Lysara’s words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, leaving heat crawling up my throat. Embarrassment, exhaustion, anger—they all tangled until I couldn’t tell them apart. I looked away, swallowing hard. “I… can ready myself,” I said at last, softer than I meant, but steadier than I felt.
At the door to her chamber, Lysara paused. “This world is cruel, Aurelia. Do not let it turn you into something you are not.” And then she left.
Alone, I exhaled slowly, the silence closing in heavier than her words.
23
Malachi
I closedthe door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling slowly as I shut my eyes. The wood felt cold against my spine, but not colder than what had just passed between us.
Aurelia. Her name crawled in my mind, unwelcome and impossible to ignore. I should’ve known better, should’ve handled the entire exchange with more restraint.
But there was something about her… Something sharp and relentless that scraped against every buried part of me.
Opening my eyes, I took in my chambers. The room was dim, lit by a few flickering sconces mounted in the dark stone walls. Books lined the far wall—stacked on shelves, piled on the floor, tucked into corners.
Opposite them stood an easel, its legs carved with runes, holding a parchment with half-finished sketches—battle maps, constellations, the occasional profile of a face I couldn’t bear to forget.