30
Malachi
The ballroom shimmeredbeneath the glow of a hundred floating lights, the air heavy with perfume and the sharp bite of spiced wine. Gilded nobles moved like puppets across the marble floor, their laughter too brittle, their masks too still.
I lingered at the edge of it all, arms folded behind my back, gaze sweeping the room with practiced disinterest. Gabriel stood beside me, a carved shadow in obsidian armor, expression unreadable.
“No sign of them,” he murmured. His voice, like the rest of him, was quiet steel.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I watched the space beside the throne remain conspicuously empty.
They left the ballroom together nearly an hour ago. Whispers turned restless. Courtiers exchanged glances and still, they had not returned.
“If he kills her,” Gabriel said after a long moment, “I’ll be quite upset.”
I turned my head toward him, caught off guard by the words.Upset. For anyone else, it would’ve sounded flippant. But Gabriel never wasted words. For him, it was a promise of retaliation.
I kept my own voice low. “Gabriel, I more than anyone always assume the worst. But she won’t die. She’s too valuable to him, and to this kingdom. What good would she be if she were gone?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the throne, on the space where Kaelith had sat not long ago.
“If you were sure of that,” he said finally, tone still flat, “you wouldn’t be standing like you’re waiting for the world to end.”
I glanced at him, but before I could speak, the heavy doors at the far end of the ballroom creaked open.
Kaelith entered. Alone.
He moved with deliberate calm. His platinum hair gleamed under the chandeliers.
The orchestra stilled until his boots reached the base of the dais. Without fanfare, Kaelith climbed the steps and sat. Not in the ceremonial high seat reserved for princely counsel, but in the throne. He grabbed a goblet of wine from the Keeper standing at his side and drank deeply.
A murmur rustled across the crowd. I caught Gabriel’s frown deepen.
Kaelith adjusted his gloves, then raised a single hand. The musicians resumed with strained obedience, the melody faltering before finding its rhythm again.
His eyes found mine. He inclined his head ever so slightly. A summons.
When I reached the foot of the throne, I waited.
“You will all travel with her,” Kaelith stated. “You, Lysara, the healer. Gabriel—if he deigns to crawl from his gloom. When she wakes, you may go.”
Gabriel was no longer beside me. He had slipped back into the shadows as easily as breath.
Kaelith lifted one gloved hand to his face, brushing it casually against the bridge of his nose, and paused.
A drop of crimson welled just beneath his nostril.
His smile twitched, eyes briefly unfocused. He wiped it away with the edge of his glove and blinked like nothing had happened.
“You leave at first light,” he said smoothly, voice louder now. “And Malachi…”
“Yes?” I paused before adding, “Your Grace?”
He stood. There was only a breath between us. “Ensure she arrives safely. I’ve grown rather fond of her company. I've taken my own measures to ensure her safety. It would be in your best interest to do the same.”
I held his gaze. There was something in it, something flickering behind his charm. Something not entirely his.
I inclined my head. “Of course.”