23. The Day the Fox Forgot, the Dove Was Stolen
THE DAY THE FOX FORGOT, THE DOVE WAS STOLEN
Muffled shouting. Slamming. Voices tangled in chaos.
That was all he could hear.
The sounds pressed through his consciousness like echoes through deep water, distorted and far away. Malec couldn't move. Could not feel where his body ended or the darkness began. He was weightless, untethered, drifting in a void that had no shape or color.
Where...?
Wake up, Pappa. Get up. Please—get up!
A voice. Small, desperate and very young. It whispered directly into his mind, pulling at the edges of his broken consciousness like tiny fingers trying to drag him back from the abyss.
Pappa? Who...?
Malec attempted to respond and forced his mouth to open, but nothing came. Breath refused him, and words would not form. His body felt distant, unresponsive, as though it no longer belonged to him.
"MALEC!" A female's voice tore through the fog. Panicked. Breaking apart with raw anguish. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?! MALEC, GET UP! PLEASE!"
A sudden jolt struck his chest. Recognition surged through him like lightning, instinctive and primal, though he couldn’t name why. His eyelids fluttered against the weight forcing them down.
Light, overwhelming and absolute. Then shadow.
And then—her.
The most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
Dark eyes streaming with tears, framed by thick lashes, lips shaking as she sobbed.
Wild black curls tumbled around her shoulders as she bent over him, her hands pressing frantically to his face, his chest, searching for movement.
Her fingers trembled as they cradled his jaw, trying to pull him back.
"Malec," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Wake up, please wake up! Don't leave me!"
He didn't know who she was.
But gods, her grief gutted him.
Her tears cut deeper than any blade. An overwhelming need surged through him, protect her, comfort her, make the pain stop but his body wouldn't obey. His limbs felt like stone. His thoughts scattered like smoke.
Who is she? Why does it hurt to see her cry?
He tried to lift his hand, tried to brush the tears from her cheeks, tried to speak?—
Pappa, please! They're taking Mama! Get up!
The child's voice again, now more frantic and desperate. Inside his mind, woven through his thoughts like threads of golden light trying to pull him awake. Before he could grasp what was happening, rough hands seized the woman. She screamed, a sound so raw it tore through him like claws.
"NO! Let me go! MALEC!"
She was ripped from his side, scooped up into the arms of a tall, golden-haired Awyan he didn't recognize. She fought like a wildcat, her fists slamming against the stranger's chest, her legs kicking, her voice hoarse with fury and terror.
"PUT ME DOWN! MALEC! MALEC, WAKE UP!"
NO!
The word screamed through his mind but never reached his lips. His body jerked weakly, instinct roaring to life even as his consciousness floundered in fog.
Stop. Don't take her. She's?—
She’s what? He didn’t know. Yet a vital piece of him was being stolen, irreplaceable, and every fiber of his being fought the loss.
Pappa—get up, get up! The spell is hurting you! Fight it!
Spell? What spell?
Pain flared behind his eyes. His fingers twitched, his legs spasmed as sensation flooded back like fire under his skin. Rage lit through him, primal and furious.
He had to move. Had to fight. Had to?—
Another voice rang out, one he knew too well.
"Quickly, get her out of here! I haven't finished the spell. She could undo it!"
Surin.
His father's voice.
Malec's vision surged, blood roaring in his ears. Betrayal seared through him, hot and savage, though he couldn't name why. His body fought against invisible chains, muscles straining, teeth gritting with the effort.
Get up. MOVE.
Through the blur, he saw the golden-haired Awyan carry the woman toward the door. She was still screaming, still fighting, her dark eyes locked on Malec’s face with such desperate hope it shattered him.
"MALEC!"
His chest heaved. His hand lifted an inch off the settee before collapsing back down, useless. I don't know you. Why do I need you? Why does losing you feel like dying?
Because she's Mama! Because she loves you! Because you love her! The child's voice cracked, dissolving into sobs that echoed through Malec's mind.
Love...?
A fragmented flash. Her face bathed in candlelight, smiling at him. Her hands in his hair. His voice, warm and teasing: "You're such a child sometimes."
Gone.
Another flash. Her body pressed against his, her lips on his, acceptance in her kiss.
Gone.
The fragments slipped away like water through his fingers, dissolving before he could hold them.
What is happening to me?
And then his father appeared above him.
Surin's face hovered in his blurred vision, lined with sorrow, his pale blue eyes shadowed with a grief Malec had never seen there before. They weren't the eyes of a patriarch or a strategist. They were the eyes of someone who hated himself for what he was doing.
"Sleep," Surin whispered, the word catching on the edge of his throat. "Sleep, my life. Please."
Malec fought to respond, but the attempt died in his throat before it could become a voice. Air stalled in his lungs and language abandoned him entirely. Even his body seemed to withdraw from him, distant and uncooperative, like a vessel that no longer answered its master.
But it was already too late.
Surin's hand descended, fingers pressing softly, almost tenderly, against his son's brow. Magic pulsed outward, silver light spreading like frost.
"Sleep. Sleep. Sleep."
The words wove through his mind like poison disguised as comfort, like a lullaby forged in betrayal. Power thrummed through his skull, heavy and inexorable. Each repetition drove deeper, erasing more, taking more.
Malec's eyes went wide, a broken sound catching in his throat.
Pappa—no! Don't let him!
The child's voice shattered, fading into nothing as the darkness swallowed everything.
The woman's screams.
The child's pleas.
The fragments of memory.
All of it?—
Gone.
Falling.
Black.
Nothing.
The air outside the palace gates was thick with the heat of horses and the gleam of banners snapping in the wind. Kael carried Melodie through the corridor, her body twisting in his arms, her fists hammering against his chest with weakening force.
"Put me down, KAEL" she screamed, her voice raw and breaking. "Let me go! MALEC!"
Kael's hold remained steady, his arms locked beneath her as he moved with deliberate calm. She was still recovering from childbirth, her body weakened from the ordeal barely a week past. He could feel the exhaustion in her struggles, the way her strength faltered even as her rage burned.
“Please, Allora,” he said gently, his accent thickening around the words. “Calm yourself. You will ‘urt yourself.”
"I don't CARE!" She thrashed harder, tears streaming down her face. "Let me go back to him!"
They passed through the grand hall where Malec's guards stood at attention, their faces stricken with horror as they watched their lady being carried away.
Several younger soldiers lurched forward instinctively, hands flying to their hilts.
Older veterans grabbed them, yanking them back with harsh whispers.
One grizzled captain shook his head slowly, his expression carved with shame and helplessness.
They all knew. Intervening meant death. And their lord was unconscious, unable to command them.
They could only watch.
Melodie caught the horror in their expressions, wide and unmistakable, and with it came the cruel understanding that none of them could intervene even if they wanted to.
A fresh sob tore from her throat.
When they reached the courtyard, an ornate carriage waited, larger and more luxurious than anything Surion owned.
Deep blue velvet lined the interior, cushions arranged for comfort, windows fitted with curtains embroidered in silver.
A healer sat beside the driver, a Zaharein Awyan female with kind eyes and a medical bag at her feet.
Kael set Melodie on her feet beside the carriage, though his hand remained at her elbow to steady her. She swayed slightly, exhausted and grief-stricken.
He stepped in front of her and lowered himself slightly so their eyes met on the same level.
His voice remained gentle and carefully measured.
“I understand zat you do not know what is ‘appening,” he said softly.
“I can see you are frightened and angry.
But I am not ‘ere to harm you. I will not touch you unless you give me permission. You will be treated with respect by me and by my people. Zis I swear to you.”
Melodie stared at him through tear-blurred eyes, her chest heaving.
Then she turned away, her gaze snapping back toward the palace entrance.
Maybe Malec had regained consciousness. Maybe he'd felt her being taken through the bond and was already coming for her, sword drawn, carving a path through Kael's soldiers.
But the entrance remained empty.
Her shoulders sagged.
"Kael!" Surion's voice rang across the courtyard as he strolled forward, robes trailing, that insufferable smirk carved across his face. "Surely you'll allow me a moment to say goodbye to my former cousin-in-law. After all, we were family for a time."
Kael's jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly. "One moment, no more." His pale eyes narrowed in warning. "And do not make her upset, Surion. Do not rouse her anger. I will not ask zis again."
He released Melodie's arm, stepping back but keeping his eyes on Surion with pricked suspicion.
Surion approached with open arms, his expression radiating false warmth and concern. "My dear Canariae," he murmured, voice dripping with sympathy. "What you've been through..."