Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
The door slammed behind them with enough force it made the panes of glass in the window rattle. Malus released her hair, shoving her toward the center of the room. She stumbled, catching herself against a chair, her scalp burning where he'd dragged her.
"Sit."
The command hit like a physical force. Her body sank into the chair before she could resist, the bargain asserting itself with brutal efficiency. The warmth in her chest flared in protest, pushing against the compulsion too late.
"Better." He moved to pour himself wine, his movements sharp, agitated. The composed king from the feast was gone. Here, in private, she could see the rage barely contained. "Now. Tell me about the warmth."
Her mouth stayed closed. She hadn't been compelled to speak, just to sit.
He turned, saw her resistance, and something dangerous flickered in his eyes. In two strides he was in front of her, his hand tangling in her hair again, yanking her head back.
"Tell me about the warmth," he repeated, each word precise.
The bargain forced the words out. "It started when I arrived here. In the Oubliette."
"Liar." His free hand struck her across the face, not as hard as before but enough to sting. "Try again."
"That's when I first felt it—"
Another strike that left her gasping. "When did it really begin?"
The compulsion dug deeper, pulling truth from her throat. "I don't know. The Oubliette is when I noticed it, when it saved me, but—"
"But?"
"It felt familiar. Like recognizing something that had always been there."
He studied her face, then released her hair to pace the room. She watched him move, noting how the autumn magic seemed to follow him, leaves appearing in his footsteps only to crumble to dust moments later.
"Stand," he commanded suddenly. "Remove the dress."
Her hands moved to the fastenings before she could think to resist. The warmth surged, and for a moment her fingers stilled, fighting the compulsion. She felt it pushing back against the bargain's hold.
Malus noticed immediately. "Fascinating." He moved closer, watching her internal struggle play out. "It's helping you resist. How much, I wonder?"
He grabbed her wrist, squeezing until Briar could feel the bones grinding against each other, forcing her fingers to continue undoing the dress.
The autumn silk pooled at her feet, leaving her in the thin shift beneath.
In the firelight, the bite wound on her throat was clearly visible, already beginning to close far too fast for human healing.
"Look." He turned her toward the mirror, standing behind her. "Watch what happens."
He pressed his fingers against the bite wound. She expected pain, but instead felt the warmth recoil violently from his touch. Not just pulling away but actively fighting, pushing against his autumn magic.
"There," he breathed against her ear. "Do you feel it? How it recognizes me as wrong?" His fingers traced the wound's edges. "It knows I'm not the one who should be touching you."
She tried to pull away but he held her still, one arm around her waist, the other hand at her throat.
"When he marked you," Malus continued, his fingers finding the autumn leaves at her throat, "what did you feel?"
"Pain." The word came out without compulsion—her own bitter truth.
"And when these changed? When they became mine?"
She remembered the sensation, the pulling, the way the warmth had raged. "Like being torn in half."
"Because part of you belongs to him." His hand moved to press against her sternum, where the warmth pulsed strongest. "This part. Hidden inside you like a seed."
The warmth flared at his touch, hot enough that he pulled his hand back with a hiss. When she looked in the mirror, she could see a faint golden glow beneath her skin where he'd touched, there and gone in an instant.
"Show me," he commanded. "Make it manifest."
"I can't control it—"
He spun her around, slamming her back against the mirror hard enough to crack it. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not!" She pushed against his chest, and the warmth responded, golden light flickering across her palms. They both froze, staring at her hands.
"So you can control it," he said softly. "When you're angry enough. When you're threatened enough." He leaned closer, his weight pinning her against the cracked mirror. "What else can it do?"
"I don't know."
His hand wrapped around her throat, not squeezing yet, just present. "Let's find out."
He began applying pressure slowly, watching her face. The warmth responded immediately, golden light spreading from her chest outward, trying to push him away. But it was weak, unfocused, like something not fully awakened.
"More," he murmured, increasing the pressure.
She couldn't breathe. Her hands clawed at his wrist, and the warmth surged stronger. Golden light began seeping from her skin, not just flickering but steady, growing brighter as her need for air became desperate.
Just before she would have passed out, he released her. She collapsed, gasping, the golden light fading as quickly as it had come.
"Interesting." He crouched beside her, tilting her chin up to examine her eyes. "It responds to mortal danger. To protect you." His thumb traced her jaw. "My brother hid something in you. But what? And why?"
She couldn't answer, still trying to breathe properly. Everything hurt—her throat, her scalp, the bite wound that was somehow both healing and burning.
“What bargain did you strike with him?”
“To save my sister,” Briar whispered, her hand resting on the bruises forming like a macabre necklace around her throat. “My life for hers, but—”
“But? Speak.”
Briar tried to fight it, but the words forced their way out. “He’d already claimed it, my mother made a bargain with him, she thought it was for her life, but it wasn’t. It was mine.”
“When?”
She clamped her teeth together, fighting the command. Malus lifted his hand and the words tumbled free. “Twenty-five years ago.”
"Twenty-five years ago," he mused, standing to pour himself more wine. "I was preparing the ritual to strip Eliam's power. It required innocent blood, a catalyst..."
He trailed off, his expression shifting as he worked through something. She watched him calculate, saw understanding dawn.
"A car accident. Mortal world violence, innocent blood spilled." He turned to look at her. "My ritual was working, pulling at his power."
The warmth pulsed, agitated now.
"But Eliam must have sensed it, must have realized what I was doing."
The room felt suddenly cold despite the fire. Briar pressed back against the wall, the cracked mirror sharp against her spine.
"He intervened," Malus continued. "When your mother was dying, when her blood was spilling, when my ritual was pulling at his power—he made a bargain with her.
He saved her life and in exchange..." His eyes gleamed with terrible satisfaction.
"He hid part of himself where I'd never think to look. In that unborn child."
"That's impossible—"
"Is it?" He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"The ritual needed innocent blood and got it.
But instead of claiming Eliam's power for me, it created an opening he exploited.
He placed a fragment of his essence inside you before you were even born.
Let it grow with you, become part of you, until separating it would destroy you both. "
The warmth pulsed frantically now, and she could feel the truth of it resonating in her bones. This thing she'd thought was separate, alien—it had been with her since before birth. Growing as she grew. Becoming part of who she was.
"He made you a living sanctuary for his power," Malus continued. "And now, through the bargain, you belong to me." His smile was vicious. "Which means his hidden power belongs to me as well."
"You can't—"
"Can't I?" His hand moved to her chest, pressing flat against her sternum despite the warmth's burning protest. "It's inside you. You're mine. Therefore, it's mine."
The warmth fought violently, golden light flaring so bright that Malus had to squint. But he didn't pull away, his autumn magic pressing against the warmth, trying to contain it, claim it.
"Stop," she gasped, the competing magics making her feel like she was being pulled apart from the inside.
"Submit," he commanded. "Let it recognize me as its master."
The bargain tried to force her compliance, but the warmth—Eliam's essence—wouldn't yield. It had its own will, its own loyalty, and it raged against Malus's touch with increasing violence.
"You can't force it," she managed through gritted teeth. "It's not truly mine to give."
"Then I'll tear it out of you." His fingers dug into her chest, autumn magic trying to hook into the warmth, to drag it from her by force.
The pain was excruciating. She screamed, her back arching, golden light erupting from every pore. The warmth wasn't just fighting now—it was burning, trying to destroy the autumn magic before it could take root.
Malus finally jerked back with a snarl, his hand reddened and blistered where the warmth had burned him.
"Stubborn," he said, examining his injured hand.
"Just like him." He looked at her, crumpled on the floor, golden light still flickering weakly beneath her skin.
"But I have time. And I have leverage. Tomorrow we'll continue exploring what you really are.
" He tilted her chin up. "What you can become, with the right motivation. "
He left her there, crumpled on his chamber floor, the warmth in her chest flickering like a dying ember. She could feel it—Eliam's essence—trying to comfort her, but it was exhausted from fighting, from protecting her against its false king.
The door to her adjoining chambers stood open. She crawled through it, every movement agony, and collapsed on her bed. The autumn marks at her throat felt like chains, binding her to someone who would tear her apart to get to the power hidden inside her.