10. Obedience as Strategy #5
Allora caught the look and smirked. She reached out, patted Malec's chest as he turned back to her. "Good boy," she teased.
He bent closer, his voice a private low rumble. "Do I get a reward later?"
Her grin widened, wicked. "Depends. If I'm not mad at you after this party... I'll sit on your face."
Malec's entire body went rigid. His eyes flew open so wide she could see white all around his pale tan irises.
His mouth dropped open, then snapped shut, then opened again like a fish gasping for air.
A strangled sound escaped his throat, somewhere between a cough and a whimper.
His face flushed from his collar to his ears, turning a shade of red she'd never seen on him before.
For a moment he looked like he might actually collapse on the gravel driveway.
"You..." He choked on the word, his voice cracking up an octave. "You cannot just... say such things... in public..."
Allora giggled, absolutely delighted, tugging him forward by the arm. "Come on, Grandpa. Don't have a heart attack, we have a party to attend."
Behind them, Surian looked between her brother's scarlet face and Allora's smug expression, utterly baffled. "What did she say to you?"
"Nothing," Malec croaked, his voice still unnaturally high.
Allora patted his arm consolingly as they mounted the final steps to the grand doors of Kirelle's palace-like estate, barely containing her laughter.
The grand hallway of the Wascori'Thil estate was a cathedral of light.
Stained glass stretched the length of the corridor, high and vast, flooding the marble floors with beams of jeweled sunlight that spilled in shifting pools of color.
The air smelled faintly of roses and polished wood.
Heads turned in unison as the Talandros and their Canariae stepped across the threshold.
The murmur of voices softened, then hushed.
A booming voice rang through the vaulted space.
"Well, the Silver Fox has graced my humble house!"
Dariose, golden-haired and smiling wide, came striding forward. His warm brown eyes lit at the sight of Surian, but he did not come alone. Beside him walked an older elf, his straight light-brown hair tied back neatly with a green ribbon. His posture was formal, his presence quietly commanding.
Dariose gestured between them. "Commander Malec Talandros, may I present my father, Callum Jori'tilo."
Callum's gaze was bright, almost star-struck.
"It is an honor," he said, voice hushed with reverence.
"The Silver Fox himself in these humble halls.
Who knew Kirelle had such a reach of friends?
Commander, you must join us in the atrium.
Speak to me of your strategies, your campaigns. Share with me your exploits of war."
Dariose grinned knowingly at Malec. "My father has a passion for military affairs. I thought perhaps you might share the same language."
Callum's eyes flicked downward and lingered.
Allora stood at Malec's side in the velvet navy gown Surian had chosen for her, its fabric glimmering with cleverly hidden jewels sewn into the seams. The neckline plunged daringly, revealing the soft gleam of her dark skin, her curls tumbling free down her back.
She looked nothing like the Canariae around her. She looked more.
"And this..." Callum's voice warmed with curiosity. "This must be the Canariae I have heard whispers of. The one you have so carefully kept from the public eye. So many speak of her, yet none outside the palace has seen her."
Malec's expression barely shifted, but his voice was cold as tempered steel. "Then it is good no one sees her. Let them whisper. The more they see, the more they covet. And the more they covet..." His eyes met Callum's with quiet threat. "The more dangerous I become."
He had not intended it to sound like a warning, but the edge was there. Callum's smile faltered, just a fraction.
Recovering, the elder Awyan inclined his head. "All the more reason to keep her close, Commander. Will you not join us, then?"
Malec's hand tightened slightly over Allora's, his attention sinking to her.
She was distracted, scanning the room, searching the sea of gowns and jewelry for a glimpse of Kirelle.
His jaw set. "Perhaps later," he replied curtly.
"For now, I am the only thing standing between my Canariae behaving and my Canariae acting up.
Until she is settled, I will remain at her side. "
Dariose's gaze shifted at last to Surian, his smile softening, inviting. "Then perhaps Lady Surian might enjoy a walk upon the lawn?"
Surian's lips slightly opened in surprise. She drew herself tall, polite but firm. "I must remain here. My place is with Allora, in case..."
"In case I set everything on fire," Allora cut in sweetly, interrupting with a grin. "Nonsense. You should go. Go walk with him and for once enjoy yourself."
Surian turned, scandalized, her cheeks coloring. "Allora!"
Allora only winked at her and leaned in, whispering, "Girl, get you some hot man booty."
Surian scoffed, indignant, but Allora gave her a gentle push toward Dariose before she could protest further.
Dariose caught the cue with a spark of amusement in his eyes. He offered his arm, bowing slightly. "Shall we?"
Surian hesitated only a moment longer before placing her hand in his.
Dariose threw Allora a subtle wink over Surian's shoulder as he guided her out into the sunlit lawn. Allora bit back a victorious laugh, feeling rather pleased with herself.
Thirty minutes had dragged by, and Allora's nerves prickled as one Awyan after another drifted toward Malec, orbiting him like moths to flame.
Everywhere she turned, another finely dressed Awyan leaned in, eager to bow, ask questions, or whisper coded-inquiries dressed up as flattery.
They weren't moving, no progress toward the atrium, no glimpse of Kirelle or her siblings, no chance to slip free.
Malec stood tall among them, his expression cool, his replies clipped but courteous. He had told her firmly: she was to stay by his side. But how in the hell was she supposed to enjoy this party pressed against his arm like a decorative blade on display?
Her patience wore thin. She waited until one particularly eager young noble finished prattling, then seized her moment. Tugging at Malec's sleeve, she looked up at him with wide eyes, softening her voice into the tone she knew bent him.
"Malec," she murmured, just for him. "May I go out back? I want to see Kirelle and the others. Please."
His desert-toned cut down to her, unblinking. For a long beat, he said nothing, the crowd's chatter swelling around them like a tide. Then, low and firm, so only she could hear:
"You would wander from me here?" His gloved hand shifted over hers, caging it against his lapel. "Liri, this hall swarms with eyes. Every one of them already looks upon you too long. You would have me let you stray into their sight?"
The weight of his gaze pinned her in place, equal parts warning and plea.
Allora had had enough. Tired of being an ornament pinned to his side while Awyans buzzed like flies, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his mouth.
A quick kiss, deliberate enough to draw the immediate intake of breaths around them.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, the disbelieving awe of nobles scandalized by such a public display.
But then, as always, the judgment softened: she was Canariae.
Of course, she didn't know better. A convenient excuse that made her transgressions tolerable.
Malec's eyes flashed as she pulled back. The muscles around his jaw danced, not from shame, but from the sudden blaze her kiss set alight in his chest.
She met his stare, bold and unrepentant. "At least take me outside," she said, her voice light but edged. "You can stand there and bask in your admirers while I eat and make friends. Watch me from across the lawn if you must. But let me breathe, Malec. Please."
For a moment he said nothing, only studied her, the hall full of watching eyes fading away. His hand rose to the back of her neck, his thumb pressing beneath her jaw until she was forced to tilt her head and meet him fully.
"You ask much of me, dove," he murmured, low enough for her alone. "To stand and let you wander in a garden full of wolves. You would call it friendship. I call it danger."
Allora understood Awyan politics and how Malec's world worked.
She simply didn't care. She positioned herself as temporarily taking up space, so these rules and etiquettes rolled off her back like water.
The opinions of these nobles meant nothing to her, and whatever reflections her behavior cast on the Talandros name were equally irrelevant.
That name wasn't truly hers anyway, just a badge she wore until she could escape.
His thumb brushed slowly against her skin, a threat and a caress both. "But if it is your wish... then I will take you outside. You will eat, you will socialize and all the while..." His mouth curved faintly, an intense, hungry smile. "My eyes will not leave you."
Malec led her through the double doors and out into the sprawling back gardens, where refreshments and delicate towers of sweets glittered beneath the morning sun.
Tables of glass and silver gleamed along the lawn, decanters of jewel-toned drinks sparkling like gemstones.
The grass was clipped to perfection, the hedges trimmed in sweeping arcs, and awnings of silk cast ribbons of shade over the guests.
Awyans drifted in graceful clusters, their voices melodic, their gazes discerning.
He ignored them all.