Malin – Checklist #2
He flinched as if she’d struck him. “No. I just want a chance. I know I messed up with you, Malin. I’m trying to do better, I swear it. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, but I didn’t realize how much having a daughter would matter until I found out about her.”
She studied him. His face was gaunt, shadowed by a thick stubble that made him look years older and far more worn than he did even a week ago.
“I’ll talk to her,” Malin said finally, the decision heavy. “We’re leaving for a mission at sundown. The kids are staying here in the palace under guard. I don’t see any reason you can’t go to their suite and spend time with them while I’m gone.”
Relief sagged his shoulders. “Thank you. I mean it.” He looked up then, searching her face with a desperate, lingering hope. “You know I never stopped caring about you, right?”
Malin stared at him, caught between a laugh and the urge to hit him. “We are not having that conversation, Caelum. We are over. Done. There is no us to care about.”
He winced, the rejection landing hard. “Yeah. You’re right.”
She pivoted to leave, but he kept pace for a few steps, his voice tentative. “I’m not the same man I was, Malin.”
She shot him a scathing look over her shoulder. “You’ve changed that much in a few weeks? Forgive me if I don’t buy the transformation just yet.”
He cringed but didn’t stop. “I want to be better. For her. For you.”
Malin said nothing, her silence a wall between them.
“I’ll make arrangements to have dinner with them tonight,” he said, finally stopping as she reached the end of the corridor. “If that’s okay.”
“It’s fine,” Malin said, not looking back. “I’ll tell her before I go.”
Malin didn’t wait to see Caelum’s reaction. Her mental checklist was a frantic blur, and the clock was winning. Remembering that the Minsters were currently attending to her mother, she adjusted her path toward her suite.
Outside the heavy oak doors, two Elven guards snapped to attention.
“Duchess Rauno,” one said, his voice low and deferential.
“Minster Arroyo is within.” He swung the door open with silent precision.
Dipping her chin in thanks, she stepped past him, her heart thudding a heavy, jagged rhythm against her ribs.
The suite was a masterpiece of Elven luxury, with vaulted ceilings filled with a mix of crushed violet and antiseptic scents. The windows stretched toward the sky, and in the center of the bedroom, the opulence faded into a clinical nightmare.
Surrounded by a shimmering cage of softly glowing runes, her mother lay in a plush bed covered in the silk sheets her mom loved.
Once the most feared political shark in Media, her mother resembled nothing more than a translucent ghost. Her silver hair was braided neatly across her chest, and her skin emitted a faint, internal glow that made her look as fragile as spun glass.
From a shadowed alcove, Minster Fresia Arroyo emerged, his immaculate white and indigo robes rustling. He offered a brief bow. “Duchess Rauno. I wish I had better news.”
Malin’s doctor mind kicked into gear, a desperate shield against her grief. “Give me the specifics. Respiration, blood pressure, heart rate, oxygen saturation?”
The Minster pursed his lips, clearly unaccustomed to being grilled on human vitals.
“The physiological ranges you provided are holding, but her vital energies are in flux. There are surges of neural activity followed by... nothing. The nanobots remain within her, resisting every attempt at extraction. The barrier we put in place seems to be holding them back from sending communications, but she is deteriorating. We believe the creatures feed on her life force. She is fighting a great pressure from within, Duchess, but her energy is depleting at a rate inconsistent with recovery.”
“They are man-made, not creatures,” she spat. “I will try my healing again. That seemed to help last time.”
He looked away, a flicker of genuine sympathy breaking his professional mask. “If you wish to spend time with her, I would recommend not waiting.”
The words hit Malin like a physical blow. She had only just begun to know this woman—to see the mother beneath the politician—and now she was losing her to a clock she couldn’t stop.
“Thank you, Minster,” Malin said, forced to swallow the lump in her throat. “I have a private matter to discuss. One that requires your absolute discretion.”
Arroyo bowed deeper. “Of course, Your Grace.”
“I am pregnant, and I am experiencing surges of wild magic,” she said, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. “I cannot risk a resistor collar, but I need a way to limit one specific power without dampening the rest.”
“Which power?”
“Siphon magic.”
The Minster drew a sharp, audible breath, his eyes widening in a flash of genuine alarm.
“Siphon? Your Grace, I was unaware. That power is a volatile curse even in the best conditions. During pregnancy, it becomes a predator. There is a reason those born with the Gift are typically removed from society, or... excised. It causes the bearer to desire more with each draw. It becomes dangerous quickly.”
Shunned. Exiled. Killed. The meaning behind those words filled her thoughts, making the air feel cold.
“I need to make sure the court does not find out,” Malin said, her voice hardening. “I am already viewed as a human curiosity. I won’t give them a reason to call me a monster. Can you help me?”
Arroyo paced, wringing his thin fingers.
“There is little research on limiting a Siphon of human bloodlines. I need time to consult the archives. Until then, I recommend you avoid contact with anyone within fifty feet while sleeping or under stress. Without focus to ensure you do not use your power, you could do significant, irreversible damage. It may be helpful to have a nullifier, like your father or husband, nearby to control your magic.”
“I can control it while I’m awake now. How quickly does it progress?”
“Much depends on how often you use your power and how strong it is. Your other powers are strong, so it could progress quickly, if used.”
Malin nodded, though the advice felt like a death sentence.
Fifty feet. She couldn’t stay in the castle.
She couldn’t hold her children. She was a walking landmine to the people she loved most. Waiting until the Minster had cleared the suite, she finally allowed her composure to shatter.
She collapsed into the chair beside the bed, staring at her mother’s peaceful, glowing face.
“I’m going to get it, Mom,” she whispered, reaching out to hover her hand just above her mom. “I’m going to bring back the device, and I’m going to learn how to control this. I won’t let us be the cautionary tales.”
Malin dried her tears, forcing her breath to steady. She was haunted by the words her mother used to tell her: “Tears are only for those who have given up.” As a child, the phrase felt cruel; now, it felt like the only thing keeping her upright.
She dragged a chair to the bedside and took her mother’s hand. It was a ruined monument of the woman she knew. “Mom,” she whispered, her fingers beginning to glow with a heat she had to fight to suppress. “I wish you’d wake up. I wish you’d tell me what to do.”
There was no answer. The silence of the suite was absolute.
“I have been practicing my magic. I am still not a fan of heights, but watch.” Malin stood and rose slowly into the air, her knees tucked tightly as she hovered. “I can sustain this now for quite a while.”
She dropped back to the floor, but the suffocating quiet of the room offered no applause. Desperate to fill the silence, she grabbed her mother’s hand. “You would be so proud of Ellie. She is so much like you. She can practically fly.”
Talking about her daughter’s strength only highlighted her own sudden lack of agency.
Her vision blurred, and a sob caught in her throat.
“You would absolutely hate how they are treating you right now,” she whispered.
“You have always been so fiercely independent, and this constant doting would drive you mad.”
A bitter realization settled in her chest. “It is driving me mad, too. Will and Aeladar are doing the exact same thing to me. Will is trying to manage my entire life because he is scared. I wish you were here. At least then I would have someone on my side. I do not want to bother Anariel with my problems, and instead, all the men are just making plans for me. I am going with them tonight. I have to. It’s not safe for me to stay here with my magic. ”
She sat down heavily, gripping her mom’s hand with a harsh, needy intensity.
“Last night was the first good night with Will in weeks, but it still didn’t go well.
I know not all soul-bonds seal. Maybe Will and I shouldn’t, but we are going to have a baby.
I can’t… no, won’t keep the baby from its father, so maybe it doesn’t matter.
” She sat, trying to find the right words, but none would come to her.
Finally, she added, grabbing her mother’s hand.
“I didn’t realize how desperately I needed someone to talk to. ”
Suddenly, the faint, internal glow beneath her mother’s skin flared violently. A shockwave of pure energy shot up Malin’s arm, paralyzing her. She gasped, her vision fracturing.
When she blinked, the suite was gone.
The world was hazy, edges blurred like a watercolor painting left in the rain. She stood on a wide dirt roadway. A signpost planted in the dust read:
FOUR WINDS. POPULATION 247.
Malin looked toward the valley, where rooftops wound through the mist. She tried to walk, but the distance glitched. She closed her eyes in frustration, and when she opened them, she was standing on a cobblestone street thick with a sweet, syrupy scent.
A sign on the door beside her read Bratha’s Teahouse in delicate, curly lettering.