21. Foundations #2
"Well, if Kalemon and I can get my bag from the outpost where you first captured me, I have a tracking device. It's how I got here. Then we can use it to track other portals." She paused. "Can you take me to the outpost to get my bag?"
Malec swallowed hard.
Here was the true test. The challenge. He would either fail or succeed. He wasn't sure which decision was least painful, but he knew without a doubt which one was correct. "I will," he said, the words rough but clear. "I will take you if you need me to, I can guide you there myself."
Melodie looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "Really? You promise, Malec? You'll do this?"
He put his hand on her shoulder and nodded. It almost looked painful, but he did it. "Yes. For you, I will." He paused, his voice dropping. "But please, Allor—I mean, Mel—whatever you choose, wherever you go, will you allow me to walk by your side?"
Melodie paused, then her mouth twitched in a mischievous smile. "Well, I guess I need someone to hold my bags. And it will be nice to have a guard while I'm walking through an Awyan hell. I guess you can come. But no bossiness."
Malec let out a breathy laugh, and it was as though the tension poured out of him like water through a dam. "Use me as much as you need. As long as I can be next to you while you do it, then I am happy."
Melodie reached up and pinched his chin. "Good boy."
Luko groaned from behind them.
"I second that," Kalemon added dryly.
Melodie turned back to the table of broken human tech that Kalemon had displayed, her mind already spinning.
She needed to figure out a way to charge them, to power the tracker, to set the beacon.
Maybe there was a way to summon others from her world to come find them, if the signal could carry through the portal it would give them a second help signal in case the first plan failed.
She had her team built now. Malec was on board. Together they were going to do the impossible. Her unit, and family.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, she felt like she had a real chance at taking control of her own fate.
Days later, the carriage rolled through the eastern road toward Caelistra, its wheels crunching over softening wet earth, reminding the travelers that spring was peeking around the corner. The Talandros crest gleamed silver against black lacquer, bold enough to turn heads and warn off trouble.
Inside, Malec sat rigid in his house colors: black high-neck tunic tucked into black trousers, black boots polished to a mirror shine, and the silver fox emblem stitched across his shoulder. He looked every inch the Commander, though his attention was fixed entirely on the woman beside him.
Melodie sat cross-legged on the cushioned bench, her brow furrowed in concentration as she turned the solar battery over in her hands.
She'd picked her own outfit this morning, loose Canariae trousers and a tunic that wasn't his, and the sight had nearly sent him into a spiral.
He'd swallowed his objections, forced himself to nod and say nothing, because control meant letting go even when it felt like defeat.
But he had insisted on one thing: she wear his cloak. For warmth, he told her. For safety, he told himself. The thought of her wrapped in fabric untouched by his scent or mark roused a feral instinct deep in his chest.
The reward had been worth the effort. Her smile, her hand reaching for his without hesitation.
The way she'd started asking him to come to bed at night instead of tolerating his presence there.
He relied on her warmth now. Needed it the way he needed air.
The world felt less like a trap when she was pressed against him in the dark, her breathing steady and real.
She loved him. He knew it even though she hadn't said it, he felt it through the bond. The foundation was there, small and fragile as a seedling, but growing. And he would wait. If it took his entire life, he would wait for her to accept what already lived between them.
Melodie suddenly grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers down hard against the metal casing. "Malec, use your Awyan magical fingers and put energy here."
Nothing happened.
She glared up at him, her dark eyes narrowing with accusation. "You didn't even try."
He smiled, pulling his hand back gently and wrapping his arm around her shoulders instead.
He kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of sweet butter and nut oils that clung to her skin.
"Dove, it does not work like that. Even if I give a small amount, it will seek flesh instead of metal.
My energy is life, not static. It is not the same as the lightning from the sky. "
Melodie sighed, her shoulders slumping in frustration. "Well, great. So that means what? You can shock me but you can't shock the battery?"
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Yes, something like that. I do not want to attempt it while your beautiful hands are on mine. It may harm you."
She turned her attention to the window, watching the landscape roll past. Kalemon rode alongside the carriage on a heavily packed mule, her expression as sour as ever.
Melodie snorted, the sound undignified and utterly charming. "Of course Kalemon would pick a donkey to ride. It matches her personality perfectly."
Malec laughed, pulling her closer against his side. "You are terrible. That Canariae saved you and our son, and this is how you repay her kindness? With insults about livestock?"
"She'd agree with me," Melodie said, grinning. "Trust me."
The laughter faded after a moment, the air turning heavier. Melodie’s fingers stilled on the battery casing. She looked up at him, her voice quieter now. “Are you ever going to let Leira see Vaeril?”
Malec stiffened.
Across from them, Surin sat with his arms elegantly crossed, his face solemn and unreadable. His pale eyes flicked to Malec, then away.
Malec's free hand moved to Melodie's tunic, smoothing out a wrinkle near her collar that didn't need smoothing.
His fingers traced the seam, then moved to another crease, pressing it flat with precise, deliberate motions.
The old habit crawled up his spine whenever anxiety took root, the need to control, to impose order, when the world felt too chaotic to bear.
"I think," he said slowly, his voice carefully measured, "that as of now, we have better things to face than my mother and her trauma." He smoothed another wrinkle, his jaw tight. "I think one day I will allow her to see him. But for right now, it is best she keeps her distance."
Melodie watched his hand move across her tunic, watched him struggle to keep his composure. She didn't pull away. She let him smooth the fabric, let him find his equilibrium in the repetitive motion.
"Okay," she said softly. "I trust your judgment on this."
Malec’s hand stilled. He looked down at her, raw and unguarded for a fleeting moment. “You do?”
"Yeah." She shrugged, turning back to the battery. "You know her better than I do. And honestly? After what she did, keeping her away from our kid seems like common sense."
Surin's mouth twitched, though whether in approval or amusement was impossible to tell.
Malec exhaled slowly, his hand finally leaving the fabric and moving instead to rest on Melodie's knee. The gesture was tentative, asking permission even after everything. She didn't move it away.
Melodie turned the battery over in her hands one more time before setting it aside with a frustrated sigh.
"Vaeril was pissed, by the way. When I told him in the dreamscape that we were leaving to make sure the bad ones left our family alone.
" She glanced up at Malec, her expression caught between pride and exasperation. "He didn't take it well."
Malec's brows lifted, recognition dawning across his features. "Is that why he threw a tantrum while I was feeding him this morning?"
"Probably."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, growing wider as he spoke.
"Objects flew off the shelf. I had to catch a book that came flying at my head.
" The delight in his voice was unmistakable, rich and warm.
"My little warrior is incredibly powerful.
He will need heavy discipline as he gets older to keep him from turning his powers on others, but gods, Mel, you should have seen the way he controlled those items? At his age?"
Melodie snorted. "I saw the way he threw a fit like a toddler, yeah."
"A very powerful toddler," Malec corrected, grinning now. "Our son has the strength to be extraordinary."
"Our son has the strength to be a nightmare if we're not careful," Melodie countered, though her tone was gentle, affectionate even.
Malec's grin didn't fade. If anything, it deepened. Then, without warning, he let out a low, unexpected laugh, abrupt and barbed. The kind of laugh that belonged to an Awyan who'd just realized the gods had played a trick on him.
Melodie's eyes narrowed slightly, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "What's so funny?"
Malec shook his head, his smile curving into wry satisfaction. “The irony,” he said, leaning back against the cushioned seat. “All this time, Surion plotted and schemed, clutching the throne like a birthright, convinced he deserved it because he was more likely to produce an heir.”
His head turned toward her, pale tan eyes glinting with faint satisfaction. "And now here we are. He's still alone, childless, and I'm the one who has the future of our people sleeping back home in the White Room."