7. The Song and the Snare #5
Surian's gaze softened, though her tone stayed blunt. "They will try to break you anyway, Allora. Better they see you have teeth now than believe you're harmless and crush you later. But teeth draw blood. And blood draws wolves."
Luko muttered, "And the wolves here wear crowns."
Wrapping his arm protectively around Allora's shoulders again, Malec spoke through a rigid expression. "Exactly why I must decide if I can let her stay."
Swallowing hard, Allora's chest ached. She looked between them: her fierce, unflinching captor; her cautious, sharp-tongued friend, Luko and Surian, the pragmatic perfectly manicured sister in arms. All who knew the Awyan politics's cruelty too well.
Everywhere she turned, the truth was the same: she had stirred danger.
Allora's chest heaved as if iron bands were cinching around her ribs, pulling tighter with every breath.
The cold night air should have soothed her, but it only made her breaths shorter as panic swelled until the balcony and the crowd below seemed to blur into meaningless shapes and noise.
She clawed at Malec's arm around her waist.
"Stop, I can't…I can't breathe!" she gasped, voice cracking.
Instead of releasing her, Malec pulled her against him and settled her on his lap as though she were fragile. One large hand pressed into her back to steady her, his heartbeat hammering against her ear like a war drum.
"Shhh, little dove. I've got you. Just breathe with me. In, out. In, out." His voice was steady, commanding, as though sheer will alone could drag her out of the spiral.
But his grip only suffocated her more. Her nails dug into his tunic. "No, no, you don't understand, I can't..." Tears slid down her cheeks as her lungs rebelled, desperate for air.
Leaning forward, wide-eyed, Luko spoke urgently. "Malec, stop. She's having a panic frenzy. She needs space."
"She needs me," Malec snarled without looking up, arms tightening again.
Then the tether flared.
Heat lanced through his chest, like a blade dragged through his sternum.
Her terror flooded him in waves, drowning rational thought.
He could feel the constriction in her lungs as if it were his own, the frantic flutter of her pulse echoing beneath his ribs.
The bond screamed at him: fix this, soothe this, make it stop.
His breathing quickened to match hers. Control slipped through his fingers like water. Every instinct in him roared to regulate her distress, to impose order on the chaos spilling through the connection. The spiral had to end before it consumed them both.
"Brother." Surian's calm but cutting voice slipped between them. She crouched to Allora's level, her seafoam gown whispering against the tiles. "Look at her. You're drowning her."
A muscle moved in Malec's cheek, but his arms faltered. His instinct screamed to keep her close, to smother every threat, even the invisible one clawing at her lungs. The Vash’telor yanked at him, her anxiety battering against his chest like a storm.
His hands shook from the strain of releasing her.
Allora shoved against him, stumbling to her feet. She staggered to the railing, palms gripping the cool stone, her curls whipping in the night breeze as she fought for air.
Malec was up instantly, a dark wall at her back, ready to catch her if she collapsed. He breathed through his nose, fury and fear braided so tight he couldn't tell them apart. Letting her walk away felt unthinkable.
"Malec," Surian said firmly, stepping between his hovering form and Allora's trembling back. "She needs space. Let me take her into the courtyard. Away from the noise, for a moment."
"No," he bit out, voice low and dangerous. "She will not leave me. Not here."
Surian's eyes narrowed. "Do you want to help her, or do you want to feed your own fear? She cannot breathe under you. Let me help her."
For a long moment, he stood rigid, every muscle drawn taut. His breathing came ragged as his fists flexed, fighting the urge to seize her again. At last, he inhaled deeply through his nose, trying and failing to steady himself. He gave the smallest nod, but it cost him.
"Allora," Surian said gently, moving to her side, "come. Just a walk. Nothing more."
Allora nodded quickly, clutching the rail once more before letting Surian guide her toward the stairway leading to the courtyard.
Malec remained, frozen at the balcony's edge. His hands twitched, opening and closing, as though claws itched beneath his skin. Luko knew the signs. His friend was splintering.
"Here," Luko whispered, fumbling at his coat. He tipped out a small carved box onto the railing. Wooden animals spilled across the stone: foxes, wolves, hawks. The little toys they used to pass back and forth as boys.
Malec stared down at them, chest still heaving. Slowly, he reached out, lined up the foxes, then the hawks, arranging them in perfect order. His hands steadied as he moved the pieces back and forth, eyes narrowing with focus.
Only then did Luko exhale, relieved. The storm would pass. For now.
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