10. Obedience as Strategy #6
His hand clamped around Allora's waist, his hold fiercer than the grip he used on his sword in battle.
She was the only reason he was here. To him, this garden was a battlefield, and she was his charge.
To her, it was a stage, and she had come to scheme, to plot.
They were always at odds, yet together they shone so bright it was impossible to look away.
A couple who bickered like fire and thunder, and yet burned so dazzlingly that every gaze followed them wherever they moved.
Allora's eyes scanned the crowd, scanning, until she found them. Kirelle and Maren stood at the far side of the lawn, surrounded by a flock of noblewomen Allora had never seen before. Their laughter chimed like bells, sweet but cutting, a wall of silk and perfume.
Instinctively, Allora stepped forward, tugging free of Malec's grasp to make her way across the grass.
But his arm cinched her back before she could take more than a step. His light ochre irises locked on her, hard and questioning, a silent demand.
She pointed toward Kirelle. "There, Kirelle is right there I want to say hi, for crying out loud, Malec."
His mouth flattened into a scowl. "Allora. Stay put. We will go to them in a moment."
Her temper flared. "Why can't I just walk over there on my own two feet?"
His grip yanked her flush against him, the iron in his voice unmistakable. "Because we are not at home. We are in public. And I have a reputation to uphold. Do not oppose me here, dove. Or we will leave."
The words struck like chains snapping closed. Allora's chin dipped, her hair falling forward to shield the blaze of fury in her eyes. She obeyed, on the surface. But inside she seethed. She hated when he treated her like a child, hated it so much it made her bones ache.
It was the very reason she pushed against him, the reason she fought. Yet now was not the time.
Kirelle was in the thrall of her party, laughing lightly among her circle of perfumed friends, when an older male Awyan approached.
He excused her with a bow of his head, smiling politely as he slipped his hand around her arm.
Only when they were a few paces away did his voice drop, rough and edged.
"Why are you wasting time with mateless gossips while the Silver Fox himself stands in our garden? He has come to our doorstep, Kirelle, and you ignore him."
Kirelle faltered, her breath catching. "Malec?
" Her gaze swept across the lawn until she saw him.
Yes. Surrounded by a knot of guests, pale hair gleaming under the sun, the very image of restrained ferocity.
And beside him stood the dark Canariae, the creature who had all of Malec's attention bound tighter than steel chains.
Her father's cruel hazel eyes bored into her. "Go. Secure his regard. Do not squander this chance."
He tugged her arm sharply, leading her closer as he donned a smile for the onlookers.
His reddish-auburn hair gleamed brilliantly in the light, a striking contrast to the iron in his grip.
Kirelle's mind spun. What is Malec doing here?
Then her gaze snagged on Allora, who caught her eye and gestured subtly for her to come over. Of course. He was here because of her.
Kirelle angled her steps toward Allora, but her father's fingers bit into her arm, halting her. His voice was a venomous hiss. "Why do you move toward the Canariae? It is Malec you must seize. The Commander. Do not waste yourself on his pet."
Her patience snapped. "I was the one who invited her, father. Malec came because of her. If you want me to capture his attention, it will be through her. Now get off my back and let me work."
For a moment his jaw clenched, fury flashing behind his eyes. Then he released her, gesturing harshly. "Then go. But do not disappoint me. Get results."
Kirelle straightened her gown, smoothed her skirts, and forced her face into a brilliant, sugar-sweet smile.
She approached the crowd, gliding past the Awyans hanging on Malec's every word.
He hardly noticed her approach, his hand like a shackle on Allora's waist, his attention split between the nobles' flattery and the restless woman at his side.
"Well," Kirelle said, her voice syrupy, "I am glad you decided to show up, my little Canariae friend."
Allora mirrored her smile, though on her lips it twisted too severely, dripping disdain instead of charm.
Kirelle's voice dropped as she leaned closer. "Too much," she whispered. "That smile will get you nowhere."
"I wasn't built for this," Allora hissed back through her teeth.
Unfazed, Kirelle brushed a strand of coppery hair from her shoulder. "Would you like to move to my private parlor? My closest circle is gathering for tea."
Allora exhaled dramatically. "If you can get this albino gorilla to release me, I'd be delighted."
Kirelle smirked, eyes flicking to Malec's unyielding grip.
"Leave that to me." Her hair gleamed in the sun as she swept forward and wrapped her arms around Allora.
The sudden embrace cut through the din of noble chatter like a bell.
Malec's head turned instantly, his sentence to Callum Jori'tilo trailing off as his eyes fixed on them.
It was strategic, deliberate. Kirelle had gained his attention without demanding it, without calling his name or tugging at his pride. Allora felt the calculation in it and admired it. Brilliant. If I could master that, I'd be unstoppable.
"I am so glad you came," Kirelle said warmly, her brown eyes glinting. "Thrilled to have you as my guest. But where is Surian?"
"With Dariose," Allora replied smoothly.
Kirelle's smile deepened, though her mind ticked elsewhere.
If her brother managed to capture Surian's interest, perhaps her parents would finally ease their pressure on her.
But until hell froze, she wasn't relying on Dariose to solve her problems. She would keep to her plan.
Looking up at Malec, her expression perfectly poised, and extended her hand.
A host's courtesy, nothing more on the surface.
Malec's expression tightened, but he took her hand, his gloved fingers brushing her pale skin, and lowered his head to kiss her knuckles.
It was a formal gesture, an acknowledgment of host and guest, but to every eye around them, it was also closeness.
An unspoken claim that Kirelle Wascori'Thil was a favored friend of the Talandros.
Allora didn't so much as flinch. Not an ounce of jealousy stirred; if anything, she welcomed it.
If Kirelle could keep his attention for even a moment, perhaps his iron grip on her waist would slacken, and she could breathe.
Kirelle's smile widened as she drew her hand back. "Commander," she said sweetly, "would you permit your Canariae to join us for a little present swap I've arranged for my female guests? A tradition of mine. No males allowed, I'm afraid."
Malec's arm tightened around Allora's waist, a steel band locking her in place. He swept his gaze from Kirelle to Allora, voice carrying the weight of command.
"My Canariae does not leave my sight. She may partake in whatever games you devise, but only where I can see her."
The statement drew approving nods from the nobles nearby, their admiration a chorus of silent agreement. A male's protectiveness was expected. Respected.
Kirelle only smiled, red streaked hair catching the sun in bright, polished waves. Her brown eyes sparkled as though he had told her a joke. "Of course you would never let her stray too far. I would expect nothing less from the Silver Fox."
She leaned in just enough for him to hear, voice dropping to a silky, conspiratorial murmur.
"But you mustn't worry. I wouldn't hide her away.
The present swap is in my private parlor, which opens straight onto the lawn.
You could stand at the doors yourself and watch every breath she takes.
Imagine how well it will look, Commander, when you allow your Canariae to join in what all the ladies are doing.
It would silence every whisper that she is a caged bird.
Instead, they will say—'Look, even the Silver Fox knows when to let his flame shine. '"
Allora's heart gave a little kick. Goddamn, she's good.