21. Sarilian #2
Hopefully, Malorg doesn’t kick me out without at least listening to what I have to say. I’m not sure I can make it back to the waypoint without his help.
Sarilian squared his shoulders, fighting down a tremor of nerves as he navigated through Malorg’s building. Whatever the consequences of his actions, he’d meet them head on and hope for the best. Gathering his resolve, he gave a firm rap on Malorg’s door.
As seconds turned into minutes, his determination fizzled. He’d assumed Malorg would come here, but the truth was, he barely knew Malorg anymore. He had no idea where the Infernal would go to let off steam. Perhaps the Market or Gallery. Or straight into the arms of some new lover.
Clenching his jaw, he pounded again on the door.
Light take his fear and his doubt! No matter what happened, this time he wasn’t going to run or retreat.
He owed it to their bond—and to the Accords—to get to the bottom of what was going on and see if he could salvage whatever lay broken between them.
Surprise gripped him when his knuckles hit empty air instead of the shadowy door. He stumbled forward, thrown off-balance. A familiar cold hand caught his chest, propping him upright. He met Malorg’s wide eyes and saw confusion flickering there, along with buried longing.
For a fleeting instant, Malorg’s fingers seemed to clutch at him as if for purchase. Then, Malorg’s expression shuttered.
Duskflame surged into Sarilian. A rippling tingle he’d never felt before crept up his spine, and he shivered at the odd sensation. The more familiar darkvision enchantment followed a beat later.
What the Light was that?
Before Sarilian could inquire, Malorg stepped back, releasing his grip. “Why are you here?” he demanded, his voice hard.
All thoughts of the strange magic fled. “To see you. I should think that obvious.”
He shoved past Malorg into the apartment, heart skipping a beat at the familiar surroundings. As far as he could tell, Malorg hadn’t changed a thing since the last time he’d been here. All the assorted knick-knacks Sarilian had forced upon him still perched in their proper places.
A bit of his frustration melted when his eyes landed on the small Celestial statue. The thing was utterly ridiculous—a mortal’s conception of a Celestial, forged from Infernal duskflame—but he couldn’t help thinking of it as a tiny piece of himself left in Malorg’s keeping.
Malorg traced his gaze to the statue and scowled. He shut the door and loomed in front of it, arms crossed. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave. Now.”
Everything from Malorg’s expression to his posture screamed danger.
Yet though Sarilian knew Malorg was perfectly capable of slaying him, he didn’t feel a single drop of fear.
Indeed, this was the safest he’d felt since arriving in Twilight, alone here with Malorg in this place where they’d shared so many joyous hours.
A faint flush spread through him as he pointedly avoided looking toward the piled pillows. “Not until I get some answers. What was up with you today during our meeting? You were acting like you did before—like you don’t want there to be peace between our peoples.”
Malorg glanced away, his body somehow tensing still further. “Of course, I want peace. That’s all I’ve ever wanted—to make a difference instead of living and dying as another cog in an infinite war machine created by ancient mages long since turned to dust.”
Sarilian took a step toward Malorg, halting when Malorg’s eyes flashed a warning. Relenting, he held up his hands imploringly. “Then, why try to sabotage all the progress we’ve made? Why…?”
Against his will, his gaze strayed back to the piled cushions.
Memories flickered before his eyes of the myriad hours they’d passed there.
Not just those spent exploring each other’s bodies, but all the soft, quiet moments as well.
It was that intimacy he cherished most in retrospect, lost now to the seemingly unbridgeable distance between them.
Hesitantly, he said, “If this has anything to do with what happened on the tower, I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t,” Malorg said, his voice harsh with pent-up emotion Sarilian didn’t understand. His hands balled into fists flickering with duskflame. “What’s between us has nothing to do with this.”
Confusion wrinkled Sarilian’s brow. “But your reaction on the tower…and then in the meeting today—”
Something that might’ve been guilt flickered in Malorg’s gray eyes. “I apologize for today. I had a lot on my mind. It won’t happen again.”
Sarilian studied Malorg’s face, nothing the way Malorg avoided his gaze. There was more he wasn’t saying. Sarilian’s heart squeezed in his chest, his throat too tight.
“If my presence here is too much for you, I can resign my post—convince the Dawn Council to appoint a new emissary. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or drive you to regret what we once had any more than you already do.”