Chapter 14 #2
"Please!" She turned in his lap, grabbing his shirt. "Please, I'll—"
"You'll what?" His attention shifted to her fully, one hand staying her desperation while guards held Eliam down, blood pooling beneath him.
"Anything. I'll do anything, just don't kill him."
The sword stayed poised above Eliam's neck. He was trying to rise, but three guards kept him pinned. His eyes found hers—furious, desperate, already knowing what she was about to sacrifice.
"Anything." Malus tested the word. "Such a foolish answer. You should never offer anything to the fae. We tend to take it literally."
He caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Kiss me."
"What?"
"Kiss me. Here, now, in front of him. In front of everyone." His thumb traced her lower lip. "And mean it. Make me believe you want it, and I'll let him live. Fail, and I'll tear his heart out while you watch."
The throne room had gone silent except for Eliam's labored breathing. Everyone watched—the court, the guards, Thaine frozen mid-fight.
"That's sick," Karse said from somewhere to the left.
"That's power," Malus corrected, still watching Briar's face. "Choose quickly. My patience is not infinite."
Briar looked at Eliam, on his knees, blood running from too many wounds, shadows still trying weakly to reach for her. The warmth in her chest was screaming, pulling toward him with desperate intensity. But the bargain, the autumn-touched marks at her throat, they recognized Malus's authority.
She turned back to Malus, and before she could think too much about it, pressed her mouth to his.
He tasted of autumn, of dying leaves and overripe fruit, sweet things beginning to rot. His mouth was colder than Eliam's, crueler in its demands. She tried to make herself respond, to save Eliam's life, but her body recoiled from the wrongness of it.
"You're not trying," Malus murmured against her lips. "I said mean it."
She could feel Eliam watching, feel the rage and anguish radiating from him. The warmth in her chest was thrashing, trying to escape through her skin. But she forced herself to lean into Malus, to part her lips, to kiss him like she wanted it.
He took his time, making sure everyone saw, making sure Eliam saw. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place while he claimed her mouth with deliberate thoroughness. She let him, participated even, while tears ran down her cheeks.
When he finally pulled back, he studied her face with satisfaction. "Adequate, if not inspiring. But I suppose you've earned his life."
He waved his hand and the guard withdrew his blade.
"Take him to his new chambers," Malus commanded. "Gently. We wouldn't want him dying after she worked so hard to save him."
As the guards hauled Eliam to his feet, his eyes found hers. The betrayal there, not anger at her choice, but agony at what she'd been forced to do, made the warmth in her chest dim to almost nothing.
"I'll kill you for this," Eliam said to Malus, blood running from his mouth.
"No," Malus said softly, his arm possessive around Briar's waist. "You'll sit in the cell where I sat for centuries, and you'll think about her up here with me. You'll imagine what I'm doing, what she's doing to keep you alive. Because that's so much worse than death, isn't it?"
Eliam’s eyes met hers one final time as the guards dragged him and Thaine away. I'll come for you.
"He's planning already," Malus said against her ear, amused. "I do hope he tries something dramatic. Don't you?"
The throne room doors closed with finality, and Malus addressed the remaining court while keeping Briar displayed on his lap.
"Tomorrow night, we feast. The return of proper order deserves celebration.
" His fingers traced her throat, feeling her pulse race.
"Wine that tastes of summer's end. Meat so rare it still remembers being alive.
And perhaps some entertainment. It's been so long since we've had proper entertainment at court. "
The assembled lords murmured agreement, some enthusiastic, others careful. The atmosphere was shifting—becoming older, hungrier, tasting the edges of what had been long forbidden.
The throne room emptied except for them. Malus kept her on his lap for another moment, his fingers tracing the autumn leaves at her throat with possessive satisfaction.
"Come," he said finally, lifting her to her feet but keeping his hand on her lower back. "Let me show you your new accommodations."
The corridors felt different as they walked—the shadows less deep, the air carrying a hint of autumn decay that hadn't been there before.
Servants bowed as they passed but wouldn't meet her eyes.
The warmth in her chest pulled steadily southward, toward the dungeons, but her body obeyed Malus's guiding touch.
"You're very quiet," he observed as they climbed a spiral staircase she recognized—it led to the tower rooms, the highest quarters in the castle. Where Eliam's chambers were. Had been.
"What would you like me to say?"
"Whatever you're thinking would be a start." His hand shifted to her elbow as they reached a landing. "Though I suspect it's nothing flattering."
He opened a door she'd never seen unlocked before, another room connected to Eliam's chambers through an internal passage. A queen's suite, she realized with a sick feeling. Prepared long ago for a Forest Queen who had never materialized.
The room was beautiful in an ancient way.
A massive bed dominated one wall, carved with forest scenes that seemed to move in the firelight—deer fleeing, wolves hunting, seasons cycling in endless wooden loops.
Windows overlooked the forest canopy, and she could see storm clouds gathering in the distance.
Everything was deep green and gold, but as they entered, she watched those colors shifting subtly—the green fading to brown, the gold brightening to copper.
"The castle responds to its king," Malus said, noticing her attention. "It's already beginning to remember how things were. How they should be."
He guided her to a chair by the fire—no, guided was wrong. The bargain compelled her to sit when he pressed lightly on her shoulder. She sat rigidly while he poured wine from a decanter.
"You said anything," he reminded her, handing her a glass. "Drink."
The wine tasted of autumn fruits, too sweet with an edge of fermentation. She drank because the bargain demanded it, feeling it warm her throat.
"Now," he settled in the chair across from her, completely at ease, "let's discuss your magic."
"I don't understand it myself."
"No, but you can feel it." He leaned forward slightly. "That warmth in your chest—yes, I notice how you keep touching that spot. It pulls toward him, doesn't it? Even now."
There was no point denying what he'd already observed. "Yes."
"But it's not part of the bargain. The bargain binds you to me, yet this magic reaches for him." His eyes sharpened with interest. "Two different magics in one human body. How did he manage it?"
"I don't know."
"Perhaps." But he sounded amused rather than angry. "I believe you know more than you're saying. But we have time. All the time in the world to unravel this puzzle."
He stood, moving to stand behind her chair. His hands settled on her shoulders, and she fought not to flinch.
"The feast tomorrow will be illuminating," he said, his thumbs pressing into the tense muscles of her neck. "The court needs to see that the new order has truly begun. That humans can serve... different purposes than mere entertainment."
"What purposes?" Her voice came out steady despite the revulsion of his touch.
"You'll feed me." His hands stilled. "It’s time for the court to remember the old ways, the true ways, when humans were sustenance as well as playthings."
The warmth recoiled so violently she gasped. For a moment, golden light flared beneath her skin, bright enough to cast shadows.
"There it is," Malus breathed, genuinely delighted. "It protects you. How wonderful." His hands moved to her throat, fingers spreading over the autumn marks. "I wonder what would happen if I truly threatened you? Not these small gestures, but real danger?"
"Please don't—"
"Oh, not tonight." He stepped back, moving toward the door. "You've had enough excitement for one evening. But tomorrow, after the feast, we'll explore what triggers this defense. What makes it manifest."
He paused at the door, looking back at her. "Your anything has limits, of course. I won't permanently damage you, you're too valuable. I won't kill your former lover, as promised. But everything else?" He smiled. "Everything else is mine to command."
"What about the others? Thaine? Karse?"
"The huntsman is Eliam's concern. The Drak..." he considered. "The Drak interests me. Fire magic that intense, trapped in such an unstable form. He might be useful. Or dangerous. I haven't decided yet."
He opened the door, then paused again. "The connecting door to my chambers won't lock from your side. Don't bother trying. Sleep well, Lady Briar. Tomorrow will be... educational."
The door closed, leaving her alone in a room that was already forgetting Eliam had ever existed, while the warmth in her chest pulled uselessly toward dungeons she could no longer reach.
She stood on shaking legs and moved to the window, pressing her palm against the cold glass. Somewhere below, Eliam was locked in the cell where he'd once kept his brother. The reversal was so complete it felt scripted, theatrical. But then, fae had always loved their dramatic ironies.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she wondered if the approaching storm was natural or if it was the forest itself responding to the change in power. The warmth in her chest pulsed with each thunderclap, as if answering something in the storm.
Rain began to fall, soft at first, then harder, obscuring the forest beyond. She watched it streak the glass, her reflection fragmenting in the water trails. The autumn marks at her throat caught the firelight, looking like real leaves for a moment, ready to crumble at a touch.
The connecting door Malus had mentioned drew her attention. Just a simple wooden door, unremarkable except for the knowledge that it led to his chambers. That it wouldn't lock from her side and he could enter whenever he pleased.
She turned away from it, exhaustion finally winning over fear. The bed was too large, too fine, but her body didn't care. She collapsed onto it fully clothed, curling into herself as the warmth in her chest maintained its steady pull southward.
The rain intensified, drumming against the windows with increasing violence. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about forgotten old ways, about experiments, about the way the court had looked at her like she was something between a curiosity and a meal.
Sleep, when it finally came, brought no peace.