Malin – Negotiations
Malin
Negotiations
The heavy weight of every eye pressed against Malin, making her grateful for the hooded cloak as she crossed the threshold.
The tent was an engineering and magical marvel.
With arches of tasewood and tapestries with woven patterns filled with runes, she was in awe of the decadence of a tent that was likely put up at a moment’s notice.
She wished their attention was on the tent and not her.
Will’s presence spiked emotions within her of raw longing and confusion, but she still hadn’t been able to find him in the crowd. His face appeared through the crowd, white with disbelief, and her emotions tore. The oversized cloak swallowed her whole, but she pulled it tight to remain hidden.
Darik applied the faintest pressure just above her hip, a polite, warm touch meant to guide her toward Aeladar.
But through their bond, Will’s reaction was instantaneous.
Based on the violent flash of jealousy, melting rapidly into cold anger and raw pain, she would have thought the man had physically assaulted her.
Refusing to react to her husband’s volatile emotions while under the intense scrutiny of Fellspire’s elite, Malin kept her features completely hooded.
She offered Darik a brief look of thanks, locked her trembling knees, and glided toward the two men, trying to emulate her mother’s flawless diplomatic grace.
As Malin approached, Aeladar’s brows furrowed, and the muscles of his jaw tightened visibly beneath his skin.
But as she drew near enough for him to see her face, the hostile tension melted away.
True recognition softened his gaze, and for just a heartbeat, warmth broke through his guarded exterior.
She graced him with a quiet smile, barely visible beneath her cloak.
She imagined how his face would light up when she told him that they would get the EMP.
Reaching her father first, they embraced, and she pressed her forehead to his in the traditional Elven greeting, while trying to stay covered. The action brought twitters of excitement to the crowd.
Will stepped into her space immediately, though his posture remained rigid. His eyes flicked briefly toward Darik before settling intently back on her. Malin extended her hand to him, offering a soft, reassuring smile to soothe the tension and jealousy radiating through their bond.
Jealousy! She barely suppressed the laugh at the thought.
“Malin?” Will murmured. His voice was tight with unspoken questions, but the way his fingers securely wrapped around hers was incredibly warm.
Ceremonial bells sounded, signaling the start of the proceedings. As the assembly quieted and the murmurs faded like a receding tide, she moved to stand between Aeladar and Will.
Will immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, hovering like a shadow. “How did you get here? With him?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
His hand found her lower back, pressing firmly through the layers of her cloak. It felt incredibly good, like a solid anchor in a storm-tossed sea. She leaned into his touch, turning her head to offer him a reassuring smile. She felt the rigid tension within him finally beginning to relax.
Malin allowed herself exactly one heartbeat of comfort before forcing her attention back to Aeladar’s tactical briefing.
“Unfortunately, I have been told that Fellspire will not be releasing the device to us, no matter the agreement,” her father murmured grimly.
“I was about to tell the twins and Will to leave for their mission. Did you want to stay here and sleep? You look exhausted.” Aeladar reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face beneath the hood.
His silver-streaked hair caught the flickering lamplight as she leaned closer.
“Darik agreed to give us the EMP,” she whispered.
“How?” Aeladar pulled back with his eyebrows raised. “I was told it would not happen, no matter what we did.”
“It’s a long story. He won’t give it to me until we have reached some form of agreement with them, but he has it on him. It’s in his satchel. I told him I can’t promise anything, but as long as we have some form of an agreement, he will hand it over later.”
Her father’s gaze darted to Darik’s imposing figure, then swept warily across the clustered Fellspire delegates in their midnight-blue robes. “Last I knew you went to Four Winds. What happened?” Aeladar asked cautiously. “Why are you with the Upper Synod?”
“Mom’s dream sent me to Bratha, my aunt.”
Aeladar’s eyebrows rose. “I knew she lived, but I had no idea she was there. How is she connected to Darik?”
“It turns out my aunt is his brother’s wife.”
Aeladar stared at her, deep creases forming across his forehead as he pieced the politics together.
“Darik is related to Therin? It never even occurred to me.” Then, looking at Will, he said, “So we have to come up with an agreement. Ana will only agree to terms that release our citizens from slavery. It is unlikely they will agree to that. No matter the other terms… if it doesn’t include that, we will not get her approval. ”
“I think Darik will agree to terms, but I don’t know anything about the rest of them.” She fought back a heavy yawn.
“Once we get things started and introduce you, I think you should step back and get some sleep.” Aeladar offered a soft smile, the gentle crinkles around his eyes radiating a deep, paternal warmth.
Looking at him, a sudden ache for the childhood Malin was denied hit her.
She could only wonder how entirely different her life might have been if she had grown up with a father who actually cared.
Not one who even considered selling her off as a political pawn.
A thin woman dressed in elegant finery with copper-ringed sleeves tapped a crystalline rod against a standing bell. The clear tone reverberated through the massive tent. “We will be starting. Please take your seats.”
“We will speak more soon,” Malin murmured. “Darik is about to start.”
She noticed Will wince the second she said the name, reacting as if the word itself were a splinter driven under his skin.
Aeladar walked to the designated seating area, giving Malin a brief moment to turn fully toward Will. She opened her mouth, desperate to address the gaping pain lingering between them, but her father called for her before the words could form.
Aeladar stood next to the high-backed seat of honor near the front of the dais, its carved ancient runes pulsing a faint blue in the dim light.
He gestured imperiously, waiting as an attendant scurried to bring a second chair for Malin.
He refused to take his own seat until she was safely settled beside him.
Through their magical bond, she checked Will’s emotions.
To her surprise, a sudden wash of relief filled the connection.
It was good enough for now, and she carefully filed the sensation away.
Once the negotiations officially began, she could slip away to finally address everything they had left unsaid.
The torchlight cast dancing shadows against the rich tapestries, and a hundred unseen eyes pressed heavily into her back.
She wanted nothing more than to shrink into her seat, to fold in on herself and let the wooden floor swallow her whole.
Instead, she tugged the oversized ceremonial cloak tighter around her shoulders.
She had hoped the robe would shield her from the piercing stares, but it only made her feel exposed.
When the opening protocols were complete, Darik Tenb moved to the polished oaken podium. Even from this distance, his posture was magnetic: broad shoulders squared, chin lifted in quiet command. He pulled the audience’s attention.
Malin’s chest tightened with reluctant admiration.
It was obvious he was a leader, or at least a master politician.
As he approached the lectern, the delegates in the midnight-blue robes immediately straightened their spines, dropping their conversations to give him their undivided attention.
He paused, commanding the hushed room with sheer presence.
Then, without a single word, his shadows uncoiled from the lectern’s carved edges, snaked through the air, and curled around the pen at his chair before delivering it neatly into his waiting hand.
“Show off,” she breathed with a half-smile. Aeladar, seated beside her, caught her eye and returned the smirk.
Darik inclined his head, his voice deep and sure. “Let us begin. I welcome the Mellyrn delegation and thank them for pushing us for this much-needed agreement.”
Malin watched him closely. He was a master of the stage.
“I know many in the tent do not hold my same feelings, but I believe the Mellyrn people are strong, and it would be a strategic choice for Fellspire to find ways to link our great countries,” Darik continued.
He gestured casually with the pen he had caught.
“I am Darik Tenb, Upper Synod of War for the Fellspire Territories and Roka Cinder. Our Archon, the honorable Valerius Kross, Supreme Leader of the Fellspire Territories and Ashen Hold, has asked me to take the lead in this negotiation.”
He turned his attention to her father. “On behalf of our venerable leader, I welcome Lord Aldrik Rauno and his party to our table. We are honored by your presence.”
Darik paused, letting the heavy weight of the moment settle over the quiet tent.
“Today marks a historic moment. For the first time in twenty years, Mellyrn and Fellspire are together in pursuit of peace. As Upper Synod of War, I recognize that strength must be tempered with diplomacy, just as the General of Mellyrn must. He is the one who sought these discussions.”
A cold knot formed in Malin’s stomach as his eyes suddenly found hers across the room.
“In that spirit,” Darik announced, his voice carrying clearly to every corner of the tent, “his daughter, Malin Hawkson, has joined me in opening our talks earlier.”