Chapter 29 #2
He moved closer again, caging her against the wall with deliberate slowness.
His fingers traced along her jaw, tilting her face up to study her in the phosphorescent light.
"You know, I can taste him on you. In your mouth, on your skin.
" His thumb brushed her lower lip, and she tried to jerk away but had nowhere to go.
"His magic has seeped into your very bones. How thorough of him."
His other hand caught her marked wrist, turning it to examine the vines in the dim light.
His eyebrows rose with genuine surprise.
"Well, well. What have we here?" His fingers traced the delicate pattern, stopping at the tiny white buds that had recently appeared.
"The mark has bloomed. How extraordinarily rare.
" His grip tightened. "My little brother must be completely besotted.
These only appear when the bond goes far deeper than mere bargains. "
Malus leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath against her ear.
"Tell me, does he know what it means? Or is he still pretending this is just about contracts and obligation?
" His laugh was dark, knowing. "When I take back what's mine, my throne, my castle, my court…
I wonder what I should do with my brother's favorite toy.
It seems a waste to simply discard something he's put so much effort into cultivating. "
His fingers slid from her wrist up her arm, tracing the path of the vines. She grit her teeth, trying to ignore his touch. "Perhaps I'll keep you. A living reminder of his failure. Wouldn't that be poetic? The human he marked so carefully, warming my bed instead. Wearing my claim over his."
She pressed herself harder against the stone, trying to create distance that didn't exist. "He'll kill you."
"He'll try." Malus's smile was all teeth.
"He failed once before. But then, he's gotten soft, hasn't he?
Playing house with humans. Letting himself feel things that make him weak.
" His gaze dropped to the buds again. "These pretty little flowers prove it.
He's given you pieces of himself he doesn't even understand he's lost."
"Now then." He released her, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Where did you get this fascinating little trinket?"
Before she could react, he plucked the leaf from her pocket, holding it up to examine the silver veins.
"No!"
"Hush." He turned it over with interest. "Oh, this is delicious. I’ll have to commend Ferria for giving you a way to hide from my brother. I wasn’t sure how she would accomplish it but this is quite inventive." His laugh was darker now. "This will make everything so much simpler."
"Please—"
"No need to beg, little mouse." He tucked the leaf into his own tattered pocket. "You fed me, gave me strength when I had resigned myself to eternity in the dark. I should be thanking you." His smile turned predatory. "And I will. When the time is right."
He moved toward the door, each step confident and strong. No trace of the broken prisoner remained.
"The Wild Hunt you said?" He paused at the threshold. "My brother does so love his displays of power. Showing off his pretty pet to the court." His eyes raked over her with calculating interest. "Wear something devastating. I do so enjoy a dramatic entrance."
"He'll know," she managed. "The moment you appear."
"I’m counting on it. The look on his face, the surprise, the outrage…
" She shook her head as though that might be enough to dissuade him.
He smiled at her growing horror. "And when I reveal how his precious pet has been sneaking down to the forbidden depths, feeding his greatest enemy back to strength.
.. at whom do you think he'll direct all that fury? "
"Enjoy your time with him," Malus said softly.
"However many days remain before my debut.
Try not to feel too guilty when he holds you.
When he whispers whatever sweet cruelties make you moan for him.
" His smile sharpened. "After all, you've earned those moments.
Paid for them with every morsel of food you brought me. "
"I didn't know!"
"No. You didn't." He offered a mocking bow. "Which makes it all the more delicious. Innocent kindness wielded as a weapon. My brother will appreciate the irony, I think. Eventually. After he's done raging."
Then he was gone, melting into shadows with the leaf's magic hiding his presence. Leaving her alone in an empty cell with a broken door and a compulsion sitting like lead on her tongue.
She tried once more to speak of it, to say anything about the dungeons or Thomas or Malus.
Silence.
The warmth in her chest pulsed in warning, but what could she do? She couldn't speak the truth. Couldn't warn Eliam. Could only wait for the axe to fall and pray that somehow, somehow, she survived the aftermath.
But looking at the bent bars, feeling the ghost of Malus's magic still coating her throat, she knew with sinking certainty:
She wouldn't.
The journey back from the dungeons felt endless without the leaf's protection.
Every shadow could hide watching eyes, every footstep echoed too loud in the empty corridors.
Briar forced herself to walk at a normal pace—not the guilty scramble her body demanded, but the measured steps of someone who'd simply been exploring the castle.
Her pockets felt conspicuously empty. No food to explain away, at least, but also no magical protection. Just her, alone in the dark passages, with Malus's compulsion sitting like lead on her tongue.
She tested it again as she climbed the stairs, tried to think of the word "dungeons" with intent to speak it. Her throat closed immediately, a sensation like invisible hands squeezing. The binding was thorough. Absolute.
The upper halls were blessedly empty. Most of the castle slept at this hour, leaving her to navigate by memory and the faint glow of banked sconces. Her rooms were close now, just a few more—
A sound. Soft, like fabric against stone.
She froze, heart slamming against her ribs. The warmth in her chest contracted sharply, sending tendrils of heat racing along her bones like a warning. It pressed against her sternum from the inside, like a frantic bird trying to escape its cage.
Briar waited, barely breathing, but nothing emerged from the shadows. Just her imagination. Just Malus's presence haunting her even in his absence. She forced herself to continue, but her skin prickled with the certainty of being watched.
Three more turns. Two more corridors. Each step felt heavy and deliberate, fighting the urge to run. She could collapse into bed soon, pull the covers over her head, and pretend this nightmare hadn't—
"Little rabbit."
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Thaine materialized from the shadows like smoke given form, all lazy grace and sharp attention. His hunting leathers made no sound as he pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning against.
"Thaine." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "You startled me."
"Did I?" His smile was all predator amusement. "How careless of me. Though one wonders what has you wandering the halls at such an hour."
"I couldn't sleep." Truth, as far as it went. "Thought a walk might help."
"Mmm." He circled her slowly, and she fought not to turn with him. Prey behavior. "Funny thing. I had the same thought. Decided to check on our lord's precious pet, make sure you weren't getting into... mischief."
"I don't need checking on."
"No? Because when I knocked on your door, quite persistently, I might add, you didn't answer." He stopped directly in front of her, too close for comfort. "Your rooms were remarkably empty for someone who was supposed to be resting."
"I was walking. In the gardens." The lie came out smooth, automatic. "The night air helps clear my head."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "The gardens. How lovely. Which section? The rose labyrinth? The moon flowers? The reflecting pools his lordship specifically forbade you from approaching?"
"The... the herb gardens." She grasped for details, any details. "Near the kitchen plots."
"Interesting choice." He tilted his head, studying her like a particularly fascinating specimen. "Though one wonders how you ended up here. The kitchen gardens are in the entirely opposite direction."
Heat flooded her face. "I got turned around."
"Turned around."
"The castle is confusing at night. All the corridors look the same."
"After all this time?" His smile sharpened. "How unfortunate. Perhaps you need a guide. Someone to ensure you don't get... lost again."
"That's not necessary."
"Isn't it?" He stepped aside, gesturing for her to continue toward her rooms. But he fell into step beside her, a shadow that wouldn't be shaken. "Tell me, what thoughts required such urgent clearing that you'd brave the castle's shifting passages alone?"
"Just... thoughts."
"About?"
She scrambled for something, anything that wasn't the truth. "The Wild Hunt ball. Eliam mentioned it before he left. I've never attended anything like that before."
"Ah yes. Your debut as his chosen companion." Something flickered in his expression—amusement? Warning? "You'll be quite the sensation. Everyone's dying to get a closer look at the human who's captured his attention so... thoroughly."
They'd reached her door. She put her hand on the handle, hoping he'd take the hint.
He didn't.
"Strange," he mused, eyes tracking over her with uncomfortable intensity. "You don't smell like the herb gardens. No rosemary. No sage. No midnight thyme."
"I didn't touch anything. Just walked."
"Through gardens without brushing a single plant? How remarkably careful of you." He leaned against her doorframe, clearly in no hurry to leave. "You do smell of stone, though. And dust. And something else... something older."
Her heart hammered against her ribs. "The castle is old. Everything smells of stone and age."
"Not everything." His nostrils flared slightly. "Some parts are older than others. Deeper. The kind of places his lordship wouldn't want you wandering."
"Good thing I was in the gardens then."
"Yes. Good thing." He studied her for another long moment, then pushed off from the doorframe with lazy grace. But as he moved past her, his hand came up to rest on her shoulder, a gesture that might have been friendly if not for the way his fingers pressed just slightly too hard.
She couldn't help it—she flinched. Full-body recoil from the unexpected contact, her shoulder jerking away from his touch as if burned.
His eyes sharpened with interest. "Jumpy tonight, aren't we?"
"You startled me. Again."
"Hmm." His thumb brushed the junction of her neck and shoulder, right where tension had locked her muscles into knots. "You're trembling."
"It's cold."
"Is it?" He let his hand drop, but she could feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. "Strange. I find it rather warm. All that walking you did must have chilled you. Though one would think the exertion would have the opposite effect."
"I should go inside."
"You should." But he didn't move, blocking her path to the door for just a moment longer. "Sweet dreams, little rabbit. Do try to stay in your rooms for the remainder of the night. It would be... unfortunate if you got lost again."
"I won't."
"Won't get lost? Or won't leave your rooms?"
"Both."
"Clever answer." He started down the hall, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Oh, and Briar? The kitchen gardens were replanted yesterday. Turned over completely for winter vegetables. Rather muddy work. Terrible mess."
Her stomach dropped.
"Your shoes are remarkably clean for someone who just walked through fresh-turned earth." His smile was all teeth. "Sleep well."
Then he melted back into the shadows, leaving her standing at her door with too clean shoes and her obvious lie.
She slipped into her room and locked the door, knowing it was useless. If Thaine decided to report her midnight wandering to Eliam he would immediately question her and she would be unable to provide him with the answers that could, at the very least, prepare him.
Instead, she had to spend those days pretending everything was normal while a monster she had set free planned his revenge.
Briar pressed her back against the door and slid down until she sat on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest. The warmth there pulsed with agitation—sharp, staccato bursts that felt like tiny fists beating against her ribs from the inside, trying to warn someone, anyone, of the danger she'd unleashed.
She had to think. There had to be a way around the compulsion. She grabbed parchment from her desk, tried to write the word. Her hand seized mid-stroke, fingers cramping so violently she dropped the quill.
When she tried to draw a picture, just rough stairs leading down, her hand veered off course, creating meaningless scribbles instead.
Growing more desperate, she even tried to trick it, starting to write about something else and then switching her thoughts mid-sentence. The moment her intention shifted, her hand locked.
"I'm in so much trouble," she whispered to the empty room.