22. The Necessary Evil #4
Surin watched him carefully, weighing the Western King with the suspicion of an elder who had seen too many monarchs wield charm like a blade.
Though Kael's face was twisted with what looked like genuine conflict, Surin had lived long enough to know that such emotion rarely came without calculation beneath.
"I hope you don't mind," Surin said finally, his tone even, his words stripped of warmth, "but I have a few questions of my own before I let you walk away with my daughter-in-law."
Kael straightened slowly, composing himself. When he turned back to Surin, the mask of regal charm had returned, though a fiercer hunger burned beneath it.
"Ask," he said simply. "I 'ave nothing to hide."
Surin lifted a brow, watching him closer now. "Why her? The rumors of the child have only just begun to spread. Yet you were the first to answer. Decisively."
Kael's lips curled, and that infuriating dimple appeared in the center of his cheek, as though he were a boy confessing some small mischief instead of a king declaring his claim.
"I 'ave small confession," he murmured, his voice molten and fluid, sliding easily into the air between them.
"I may 'ave imprint on Allora ze day in ze garden. "
Surin's posture stiffened, the careful neutrality of his face slipping for the briefest instant. "Really? You are certain?"
"More certain zan I ‘ave ever been of anything.
" Kael’s eyes drifted for a moment, distant with memory, his voice dropping lower as he spoke.
“I remember ze moment she was brought before us. She was… glorious. Beauty, yes, but zat was not what held me.” His mouth curved slightly, thoughtful, almost reverent.
“She spoke with fire. Not loud, nai… but alive. Her voice cut through ze room like a blade wrapped in silk.”
laughter. "She got to you too, huh?" His smile was bitter, edged with dark amusement. "I pity you, Kael. I truly do."
Kael didn't even glance in his direction, his focus remaining fixed on Surin.
Surin studied him, his gaze carrying the full weight of an Awyan who had seen through worse liars, letting the wait do its work before his words arrived flat, cold, deliberate. "You saw her once, and now you want her?"
Kael's smile curved slowly, deliberate as the edge of a blade being drawn, and he folded his arms across his chest with the ease of a man who knew he held the advantage.
"Nai. Not once. Many times." He leaned forward slightly, the movement predatory, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, dangerous register.
"She ran into me. In ze corridor. I think she escaped her guards.
Just ran. She pass three of them, zey did nothing.
As eef she cast a spell. I watched her vanish into ze shadows. She was not afraid. She was alive!"
A breath of laughter escaped him, intense and quiet. "And when she look back at me, those eyes, did not plead. Zey dared."
Surin said nothing, though his silence was not consent but calculation. All he could think, in the privacy of his mind, was that Allora was going to eat Kael alive. And if she had any pity at all, she would do it quickly.
Kael drifted closer to the war table, his fingers brushing across the carved mountains and rivers as though testing the shape of fate itself.
"After, I ask quiet questions. One of my soldiers, he saw her at feast. Serving.
She was like fire, burning too bright to ignore.
And when I heard rumors of her singing...
" He lifted his gaze, blue eyes dark with memory.
"I was told she make whole room still. Made grown Awyans weep. Zat is no simple thing."
Surin's expression shifted, almost imperceptibly, but Kael caught it.
“I ‘ave ruled through war,” Kael said, his voice steady and deliberate. “Through teeth, lies, and ze endless perfume of false praise. I know hollow beauty when I see it.” He shook his head slowly, golden hair glinting in the fractured light. “But zat woman is no ornament to admire and discard. What lives in her is truth, raw and untamed.” His voice lowered, almost reverent. “Ze Saen’trien took root before I even knew her name and what eet meant to me… long before I understood she carried ze impossible.”
The softness in his expression hardened, steel settling in where warmth had been.
“I do not want her as womb,” Kael said quietly. “What draws me is the storm in her, the light.” He turned his gaze back to Surin, possession settling in his eyes with a weight that needed no declaration. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, yet far more dangerous.
“I will give what Malec never could. I offer her choice… and a crown she will not ‘ave to bleed for.”
He paused, breathing slowly, deliberately, letting the moment do what it would. Then, softer still, he added like a dagger slid beneath the ribs:
"Eef she kneels, it will only be because she wants to."
The word struck Surin like a weight dropped from the heavens. Kneels. It dragged him back to the memory of Malec's face, shattered and hollow, the day Allora was torn from his arms. That image, and Kael's vow now, crystallized into one terrifying certainty.
King Kael was not simply another suitor but a formidable rival.
He would not ask for Allora again. He would take her.
Yet as Surin studied the Western King’s face and saw reverence burning there beside the hunger, the tight grip in his chest eased.
Not by much. But enough. Kael meant what he said about giving her a choice, even if circumstance would drive his hand.
He cared for her, in the crooked way a king might care.
That alone was more than most would offer.
Perhaps she would be safe with him after all. And maybe…just maybe this betrayal would save her life.
The war room fell silent after Kael's final words hung in the air. Surin studied the Western King's face one last time, weighing what he saw there against what was about to happen. Surion remained in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression caught between anxiety and impatience.
Then the doors burst open behind Surion, and soldiers flooded in.
Imperial guards in red-and-gold, Western soldiers in Kael's colors.
The sound of boots striking marble filled the chamber like thunder, disciplined and precise.
They formed ranks with practiced efficiency, their faces grim with the understanding that this could go catastrophically wrong or succeed beyond measure.
Either way, blood might be spilled.
Surion straightened from the doorway, tugging at his robes. "Are we ready to do this?"
Kael turned slowly, that disarming smile still on his lips but his eyes honed with focus. "Lei. Time to collect my bride."
Surin said nothing. He simply moved to join them, and the three began their march.
Two kings and one ex-king, walking down the corridor to shatter the fragile balance two lovers had only just found.
The combined force moved as one. Boots struck marble in perfect rhythm, a drumbeat of inevitability echoing through the vaulted halls.
Torches guttered as they passed, flames bowing before so much steel and authority.
Servants pressed themselves against walls, eyes wide, knowing better than to ask questions.
When they reached the corridor leading to Melodie's chambers, the Talandros guards stiffened at their posts. Confusion flashed across their faces as the wave of soldiers advanced.
Surion's Imperial captain stepped forward. "Stand down. His Majesty's orders. We're relieving you."
One guard's hand twitched toward his blade. "With respect, she's under Lord Malec's protection. We answer to?—"
Surin stepped forward from behind the formation.
The guards' protests died in their throats. Their patriarch, the father of their lord. They straightened reflexively, torn between duty and blood.
"Stand down," Surin said quietly, his voice carrying absolute authority. "This is a family matter."
The guards exchanged uncertain glances, hesitation written across their faces. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to step aside.
But the captain at the door held his ground. A veteran, scarred and loyal, his jaw set with stubborn determination. "My lord, I should at least announce your presence to Lord Malec. He would want to know you're?—"
Two of Kael's western soldiers moved like striking snakes. They grabbed the captain by the arms, hauling him backward.
"Get off—" The captain struggled, boots scrabbling against marble. "Lord Malec! They're?—"
A gauntleted fist cracked hard against his temple. The sound echoed down the corridor. The captain's eyes rolled back, and he went limp.
Surin winced, his jaw tightening. He'd known that male since he was a green recruit barely old enough to hold a sword.
The remaining guards froze, then slowly, one by one, stepped away from the door. Their faces were ashen with shame and fury, but they yielded. The patriarch had spoken. And the alternative was death.
Kael's soldiers dragged the unconscious captain away, his boots trailing against the polished floor.
Surion stood before the door, his body trembling with barely contained tension. He stared at the carved oak, breathing shallow and quick, but his feet remained rooted. He made no move to open it.
Kael sighed, shaking his head at his ally's cowardice. He stepped forward and reached for the handle.
Surin's hand shot out, covering Kael's before he could turn it.
"Please, Your Highness." Surin's voice was low, strained. "Let me go first. He is my son, and I don't want him hurt. Let me... I will pacify him and call you when he is calm."
Kael leaned back, studying the older Awyan’s face before giving a slow nod. “Very well. Do zis.” He paused, a flicker of vulnerability slipping through his composure. “And whatever you do, please do nothing to harm her or make her see me as a monster.”