Malin – Agreement
Malin
Agreement
Malin didn’t walk; she stormed down the dimly lit, canvas-walled corridor connecting the antechamber to the main pavilion.
Her hands were curled into tight fists, her nails biting deeply into her palms. The sheer, narcissistic audacity of his demands and behavior, even factoring in his trauma, was inexcusable.
Analyzing every word of their argument, she couldn’t fathom why he refused to see the facts.
Jealousy was a choice, one that required an inherent insecurity in a partner’s actions to feel justified.
His reaction was entirely irrational. She had never given him a single moment to doubt her loyalty…
much less with Darik or even Jacien. She had seen the way other women openly desired Will.
Even when the barmaid in Sarhan kissed him or Lydia, she never once succumbed to jealousy.
He needed to take accountability for his damaged headspace and recognize that his insecurities were the problem.
Weaponizing his trauma to demand her submission was a line that he never should have crossed.
It made her sick. If any of her best friends had detailed this scenario to her, Malin’s verdict would have been instant and non-negotiable. Break up. Controlling behavior was not love. Period. His misery granted him empathy, yes, but it absolutely did not grant him a license to put a leash on her.
She ripped open the heavy canvas partition leading to the dais.
A glance at the central table showed that they had actually reached an initial agreement, but the air inside the main tent was thick, suffocating with unspoken threats and old hatreds.
The primary crisis might have passed, but the tensions in the room were still threatening to boil over.
She sat next to Aeladar and drew from his strength. Even as rapt as his attention was to the discussion, he found time to reach over and squeeze her hand when she sat beside him.
Aeladar and Darik took center stage as the next session opened. They hammered out safe passage rights and fishing territories, but the true battleground was always going to be the slave trade.
Malin completely shut down her thoughts of Will and their fractured marriage.
Her personal life had to wait. This was what she came for.
As the debate grew heated, Malin recalled her experiences in Four Winds.
She couldn’t let that brutality continue.
Something had to be done. Slavery needed to end.
While she had been distracted by Will, the closest they had come was for the emancipation of all Mellyrn citizens currently held in bondage over the period of five years.
In exchange, Mellyrn provided Fellspire with food, medicine, and energy resources at a below-market rate for the same period.
They would create a joint commission, staffed equally, to oversee the transition and address disputes.
Murmurs ran the table. Some were skeptical, some intrigued. The arguments that followed were technical, fierce, and, to Malin’s surprise, productive. They debated timelines, enforcement, and reparations. With hours of back-and-forth to ensure that every word was exactly right, dissent was quelled.
Darik took control. “We cannot draft a full treaty tonight. Not with our Archon dead. But we can draft a binding Declaration of Intent. A ceasefire. We halt hostilities, we guarantee safe passage, and we commit to a summit next month to negotiate the emancipation timeline.”
After some time, Darik secured the agreement of the other Fellspire leadership. She had to give it to him. This was his arena.
The air was thick with exhaustion and a stubborn, shared relief.
None of that relief reached Malin while Will stared at her from the other side of the tent.
At least he knew better than to be close to her.
She was practically vibrating with the need to move.
All she cared about was getting the EMP device directly to her mother and escorting her father out of this camp unharmed.
She itched to grab Jacien and portal away.
But logic anchored her to her seat. The smaller army they traveled with was still a distance away.
If she and Jacien vanished, her father, Will, and the twins would be completely on their own.
After the ambush they just survived, she knew the road back was far too dangerous to leave them without her magic.
She would be needed to heal in the event of an attack.
She took a break to stretch her legs near the tent flap. Dawn was already breaking over the horizon. Jacien joined her. He nudged her with his elbow. “Do you think it will stick?”
“I hope so. It’s a start in the right direction at least,” she responded. Will stood near the entrance. His emotions were hidden, but the ridged lines of his face betrayed his anger.
Was their bond gone?
She looked at her arm. The tattoo was barely there, as if it were leaving her. She didn’t know that she wanted that. She wanted to give him time to fix things. Should she have just swallowed her pride and submitted to his need for control?
No.
His demands were suffocating.
Until he found a way to heal his own fractured mind, she absolutely refused to let him put a leash on hers.
Yet, a desperate ache tightened her throat.
Knowing her raw emotions were on display for the entire room to see, she retreated to a dark corner, seeking refuge from prying eyes.
She needed her mother right now. Or Anariel.
She was navigating this marital nightmare completely blind, and she desperately needed someone to tell her how to save her broken husband without destroying herself in the process.
She flinched at a slight touch on her back.
“No need to say anything. I’m large enough to block you from view. It looked like you might like some privacy,” Jacien murmured.
She turned to find her cousin standing like a shield.
Past his broad shoulder, Will stood glaring in her direction, visibly fuming.
She was profoundly grateful her amulet ensured she could not feel his emotions through the bond, because another wave of his possessive rage would have been the last straw.
“After what I assume you two were doing in that lounge, I would have expected you to be incredibly lovey-dovey right now. Trouble in paradise?” Jacien offered with a slight smirk.
“That is none of your business.”
“True. No need for details unless you feel like sharing, cousin. At least you don’t smell like the windbag anymore,” Jacien teased lightly.
Malin froze. “What?”
“Oh, yeah. Every Elf in this room could smell Darik’s reek on you earlier. Now, it is clearly your husband on you.”
A sickening wave of nausea crashed over her.
Did Will force that intimacy solely because of the scent?
The passionate urgency, the relentless pacing…
it was not about desire. It was not because he wanted her.
It was pure, primal jealousy. He had used her body for no other reason than to mark his territory.
Sudden clapping broke through her spiraling thoughts. The pavilion erupted into commotion as diplomats shook hands and exchanged wary smiles. The grueling negotiations had finally concluded.
Darik caught her eye from the dais and bowed.
Her gaze immediately drifted to the sidelines, finding Will standing rigidly.
He was glaring in Darik’s direction with unadulterated venom.
It made her stomach turn all over again.
She had just walked out on him, completely fracturing their soul-bond because of his jealousy, yet he was still entirely consumed by it. He hadn’t learned a thing.
Disgust curled in her stomach as she tore her gaze away from Will.
She absolutely could not deal with his toxic obsession right now.
Pushing through the lingering shock of his manipulation, she focused entirely on the shifting atmosphere of the pavilion to ground herself.
The long, bloody night had finally surrendered to morning, and the heavy, suffocating dread of the negotiations rapidly gave way to forced diplomacy.
With the ink barely dry and the treaty not yet cool, the tent transformed into a breakfast reception. The tapestries remained, but the light grew warmer, the air less fraught. Servants drifted in, bearing silver trays loaded with wine goblets and bite-sized food.
Seeking a safe harbor, she took a seat next to her father, making sure to fill her cup with water from her own canteen. Across the room, Will leaned against a support pole, his arms crossed and his eyes burning holes into Darik’s back.
Seeing the venom in his eyes fanned the flames of her anger, making her glad she did not have access to her magic.
Raising his glass aloft, Darik cleared his throat and waited until the hush extended to every last corner.
“It is a sad state that we have lost our Archon. My first toast is to him. I know he would have approved our agreement, and I am grateful that in our hour of grief, we were able to push on for the benefit of our people.”
Knowing what she did about the fallen leader, Darik was telling a bald-faced lie. The Archon would have hated these terms.
He waited for the first round of drinks to finish before speaking again. “To Lord Rauno, who has taught us that strength can be the hand that builds, not only the fist that breaks.” After a brief pause, he looked across the room. “And to Duchess Malin...”
He hesitated, deliberately letting her human surname die on his tongue. Offering a deep, reverent bow of his head, he locked his dark eyes directly on hers.
“...our Feniks Talavo.”
The words sent a jolt of shock down Malin’s spine. Feniks Talavo. Her mind raced, unable to comprehend how or why Darik Tenb was using that specific title in a room full of politicians. Her blood ran instantly cold.
He continued his toast. “Whose vision and courage remind us that a bridge must sometimes be forged in fire.”