Chapter 41 Leseldh
forty-one
Leseldh
Leseldh resented the idea of running, but Voresta was adamant that Killian would come for them. The events of the previous night had irrevocably changed the stakes, so it was worth taking a leave of absence from Veldmoor if only to strategise.
Leseldh couldn’t rid himself of the image of that fireball in Killian’s hands.
It defied everything he knew about Vampires—they were susceptible to flame, yet Killian held it in his hand, and it didn’t harm him.
There was no record of a Vampire having such a Blood Gift, and that was more frightening than his invulnerability.
Leseldh had seen Vampires burn like tinder, and the result was devastatingly quick—they turned to ash in mere seconds.
The unbidden image of Malia’s face as she disintegrated in the Zhevarre entered his mind, and it made his heart crumble in a similar way.
We will find each other again. Malia’s utterance that carried him through the last 134 years now seemed like a taunt. He’d found Malia’s reincarnation, only for her to be ripped away by Killian fucking Maurell.
Voresta believed something was happening between Malia and Killian, but Leseldh couldn’t allow himself to believe it.
His argument was a carefully presented catalogue of evidence: the alleged capture on the night she went missing, and the countless hours spent outside of Veldmoor with Finare.
But would his Resonant sully herself with a Maurell?
Malia hadn’t returned to Veldmoor after last night’s debacle, and Voresta proclaimed that she wouldn’t. He also refused to search for her, which infuriated Leseldh. Leseldh sent Phaedra out to search for her instead, but so far, the Erath hadn’t been successful.
A suitcase was packed for a short respite away from Veldmoor, and Voresta was making the final preparations.
While Leseldh waited to depart, he reflected on how terribly he’d underestimated the Hunter.
At first, his failure to bring about Malia’s Ending prior to her Ascension was a triumph for their clan.
Now, Leseldh faced the hard reality that it was likely on purpose.
He didn’t know how to get his Resonant back out of Killian’s clutches.
Leseldh sensed movement, and he turned, assuming Voresta had arrived to collect him. When the details slowly formed the vision of Malia standing before him, with her arm outstretched to him, his relief nearly toppled him. Malia is back.
“My love, you’ve returned to me.” Leseldh’s voice was filled with hope, but it faltered when he saw disappointment on her face.
“I’m not your love, Leseldh.” Malia’s words sent confusion skittering through his body.
“Yes, you are. You are my Resonant.” Leseldh took a step towards her, but she maintained their distance by taking a step backward.
“You and I both know that’s not true. Our blood exchange failed last night.”
“The Ceremony was not the right way to confirm our bond, Malia. We will do it the right way next time.”
“There won’t be a ‘next time’.”
“Of course there will be.”
“No, Leseldh. There won’t. Because Killian and I became Resonant last night.” Malia’s words were a grenade that obliterated his hope.
Leseldh’s anger rose to the surface at the mention of Killian’s name. His eyes bounced around from the repugnant scar on Malia’s chest, to the anomalous blemish beneath her left eye, and back to her emerald-green eyes. They were a trifecta of dissimilarities that only served to taunt him.
“You allowed him to drink from you?!” Leseldh roared. He fixed her with a wrathful gaze, but to his surprise, she didn’t cower.
“Yes, and I in turn drank from him. From the moment I tasted him, I knew that we belonged to each other.”
Leseldh’s world tilted on its axis at the admission. He felt a wave of revulsion turn his stomach. This is not right… it is not meant to be this way, his thoughts raged.
Leseldh’s eyes caught movement over Malia’s shoulder.
Voresta had been summoned by the outburst. His Broodling nodded, giving a silent signal they’d discussed earlier in the day, in the event of Malia’s return.
The only acknowledgement Leseldh gave was a blink that lasted a fraction of a second longer than normal, unnoticed by Malia.
Voresta disappeared from view. Leseldh remained silent for another moment, letting his fury fill him and steel him for what was to come.
“For an Idthraki to be tied to a Maurell in such a way is a disgrace.”
“No. It’s my honour.”
Malia’s admission snatched his temper right out of his tenuous grip.
He lunged forward, his hand clasping around her throat.
Her green eyes glimmered with shards of gold, and he leaned in, his mouth mere inches from hers.
Her tainted scent wafted to him, intensifying his frenzy.
He has marked her. He has marked my Malia.
He didn’t recognise his own voice, soaked with menace, as he snarled, “Is he really what you want?”
“More than anything,” Malia’s response came almost before Leseldh had finished the question. The hardness in her words made Leseldh grit his teeth. She held his gaze, unwavering, and he squeezed her throat tighter, hoping to choke the defiance out of her.
“Where is Killian?”
“N-not here.” Leseldh knew it was foolish to think she would give up Killian’s location. But it would be just as foolish to believe he wasn’t nearby.
Leseldh squeezed tighter still, watching the flush of Malia’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of purple. She thrashed against him, desperation kicking to the surface of those pools of emerald-green.
“Leseldh, you’re hurting me.”
He felt a crack beneath his fingers, and Malia’s eyes rounded with an all-encompassing fear. It was a sight he’d seen before from eyes of violet—in the Zhevarre, moments before those eyes were reduced to nothing but powdery fragments by a wall of flames.
He gasped as the memory shattered his rage, and he shoved her away violently. She stumbled backward, her hand moving to her throat. Her befuddling scent left his range, and he was able to shed enough layers of madness to remember his purpose. What he and Voresta planned.
“Well, I’m sure you must be eager to get back to him. But first, let’s toast to your Resonance. Join me in the parlour. Bring Finare with you.” Leseldh straightened his spine before striding forward to leave the room.