The Roots & Their Rage

23. Chapter 23

Ablizzard hit the Dures' camp that night, delaying our plans to leave. I was anxious to be moving again, to continue heading towards Rida, even more after what the Mother had told me, but I did not wish to be a victim of the elements once again.

While Malik's tent offered much more safety than sleeping outside, the makeshift shelter still sat at the mercy of the wind, snow, and sleet. Gusts of wind tore at the fabric that made the walls, the flexible posts that held the tent up bending under the weight of the snow.

The chill threatened to make its way inside time and time again, the flaps of the tent whipping open no matter how diligent we were with our coverings. Extra blankets and tapestries lined the walls, yet Malik and I still found ourselves huddling close for extra warmth.

I tried to think nothing of it. It was a precaution just in case the walls did not hold through the night, no different from how we huddled together in the mountains before we found ourselves in the camp.

Even still, I could not fall asleep, the words of the Mother weighing on me heavily, whirling in my mind to no end.

You are the closest thing to the Divine that this world has, she said. Keep Divinity alive where I could not walk.

While her words gave me the conviction I needed to continue on to Rida, there was no explanation in her words, no guidance on what she meant or what was to be done with such a gift, only more weight, more expectations, more duty.

I now felt as if I stood even more alone, that only I could do what needed to be done, because I had been chosen by some Divine fate.

I didn't know whether to feel honored or angry that such a responsibility had been put on my shoulders. Being a Mother Blessed was one thing, a vessel for the Divine another.

A harsh gust rocked the tent then, reminding me that I was at the mercy of the Divine in more ways than one.

I remembered the last time Malik and I were in a blizzard like this.

We were lying next to each other much like we were now, only then I was curled up against Malik's side, my hands clutching onto his shirt as the winds whipped against the walls of his home.

Our families often piled up in one of our homes, pooling our supplies and making a night of it when the weather was bad enough.

We were eighteen the last time we'd gone through a blizzard together, our time to be wed was slowly but surely approaching, so the prospect of Malik and I sharing a room alone wasn't frowned upon.

We had been tame in our courting, the familiarity of our upbringing together overshadowing the marital duties we would one day have to fulfill.

Though, as time went on, we both became curious, little touches between us growing, and nights like those, wrapped up in one another as storms raged outside, became more commonplace.

Call it curiosity, or call it us no longer being able to deny our true wants and needs, but the longer Malik's fingers trailed down my hair and across my back, down to my hips before making a return, the more I felt myself wanting to throw all decorum out the window.

"Lyra," Malik had whispered, his face only a breath away from mine, as if he could read my mind.

He ran his fingers over my bottom lip then, just barely skimming the flesh.

I inhaled a shaky breath, my body anticipating what was to come, yet my mind could not make sense of it.

“We can’t do this, Malik,” I said to him. “It isn’t proper.” Even as I said it, I didn’t believe it.

Even at that young of an age, I was a rule follower, but this was one thing I did not care about. Malik and I were far past the need to be proper, yet I still found myself speaking the words, fearful of what would happen if we were to go down that path.

We had followed protocol up until that point, and I feared the moment we broke it there would be no going back, that we would lose the friendship we had worked so hard to build.

But I couldn't deny that something had slowly begun to change between us as we grew older, and on that night we could no longer deny it.

"You are to be my wife," he said back, his eyes opening slightly more to study me. "I think anything we do is proper. And if not, fuck being proper."

"I—" I stuttered out.

"What do you want, Allyra?" Malik asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said with a deep breath, looking away for a second before releasing it and turning back to me.

"That I want what you want, but that this is more than a betrothal to me.

It's more than just a promise our parents put in place when we were born.

Even if we don't marry for another ten years, I want people to know that you are with me, that you are mine.

I want people to know that I am the one to make you laugh, that I am the one you run to when you are in need of absolutely anything.

I want to be the one to make you flush when I compliment you, I want to be the one you lean on when you can't walk because you have drunk too much wine.

I want your eyes to look for me in a crowded room, for you to not be afraid to be your true self with me. "

"Oh," I breathed out.

"You are to be my wife, and while that is a title, it means so much more to me."

I nodded at his words, as I wanted all the things he said too, yet I did not know how to say it.

We had always been a given, always a pair, but an assumed one.

But now Malik wanted to make it an active choice, something that all of Sorrel would see as more than just a betrothal, but two people who chose each other over and over again.

"It means more to me too," I said quietly.

Malik swallowed at my words, his eyes flickering down to my lips before meeting my eyes again.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he said, tracing my lips with his hand once more, his movements hypnotizing, distracting me from the blizzard that.

The storm outside raged on, ice hitting the window, signaling that we wouldn't be leaving the cabin anytime soon. The rest of the house was quiet, the small remains of the fire the only light, and I could no longer deny the pull I felt towards him.

"I don't want you to stop," I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest as the truth came out of me.

Before I knew it, both of his hands were on my face, his body rolling on top of mine as our lips met, Malik kissing me with a hunger I never knew him capable of.

I let out a small whimper at the contact, my arms slowly making their way up and around his neck, tugging him closer.

Malik grunted at the movement and deepened the kiss, a hand threading through the hair at the back of my head, anchoring me in place, his other arm wrapping around me, the strength of them pulling me closer to him than I had ever been.

He was warm and solid, not so much that was overwhelming but enough where I felt irrevocably safe and secure, like I was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment.

I leaned into the kiss, pressing myself even closer to him, as close as fusing into one as I could—wanting, needing every part of us to touch.

We laid like that for the rest of the night, our hands never leaving one another, only coming up for breath when we needed it.

It was like we finally saw each other for the first time in our lives that night, saw everything we could be. We went from childhood friends to something much deeper, our relationship forever changed from that night on.

I started heavily considering my feelings for Malik then, seeing just how much a part of me he really was.

It was that night when I first saw the person I would be with him as we became older and our lives became more entangled with one another.

I had spent the next year imagining our future, how we would rule Sorrel, only for it all to be whisked away in an instant.

I looked at Malik then, back in the present, the memory of that night painted all over me as we laid next to one another, suddenly too aware of my own body and Malik's proximity to it.

I had only had one year of him like that, of us not holding back, of being everything we were supposed to be.

I couldn't help but wonder where we would be now without all of the lost time, the things we would know about each other, the intimacy we would have.

"You're quiet over there," he observed.

"Oh," I startled, his attention taking me off guard. "It's nothing."

I shook my head as another gust of wind rattled the tent, the rage of the storm in full swing.

"Back in Uscal, we would get snow, but never like this," Malik said, the small fire in the tent outlining his silhouette. I turned towards the direction of his voice. "They were the markers of the peak of winter in Sorrel, and I came to love them, and missed them in Uscal."

"You would look forward to us freezing together in front of the fire, eating rations and reading the same old book over and over again?"

"Yes, I would." I could hear the smile in Malik's voice as he spoke. "Some of my favorite memories are from those nights, sitting in the middle of the storm, huddled in front of a laughable excuse for a fire, eating whatever we could scrounge together. There was something comforting about it."

"You're the only person I know who feels comforted by sitting in the middle of a blizzard."

Malik shrugged. "Maybe it's because I knew I had no control over what happened. That for once I could let go and let things fall where they may. I also knew that even though I hated the cold, that the blizzards meant that spring was right around the corner, and that it's your favorite season."

I smiled weakly. "We will be lucky if we ever see spring again."

Malik frowned in the firelight.

"You will. We will fix this, Lyra."

"Even if we do, it will take years to get back to how things were. Sorrel has been suffering for a long time," I continued. "It's been hard, making sure we have enough food, caring for the sick, trying to be there for everyone and show them they are not alone in what we are facing."

"Whatever happens after Rida, I'll be by your side for it."

I nodded, somehow guilty that Malik had returned to Wellea only to find so much responsibility awaiting him.

"You know you don't have to stay holed up in this tent with me, right? Surely you'd rather ride out this storm with your men. They only think I'm your mistress. They don't expect you to tend to me."

"My men will not be shocked by the thought of me staying in here with you, trust me."

"Why is that?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering. "They haven't seen me with many women."

I sat up, looking at the outline of his silhouette in the dark tent.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It means I've never brought a woman into this tent before, Lyra. They probably think I'm basking in the opportunity."

"Why?" I asked, the question leaving me before I could stop it.

"Well, even in those clothes, you are still the most—"

"That's not what I'm asking, Malik."

Malik sighed, then shrugged. "No one has captured my attention, and I never was interested in pursuing anyone else."

Malik saw the look of surprise on my face, sitting up to meet me at eye level.

"Why is it so shocking to you that you're the first woman I've brought into my camp?" he asked.

"It's been so long. Is it so wrong to think you had moved on in that time?"

Malik was quiet for a moment, nothing but the howling of the wind filling the air between us.

"You should know that I could never move on from you," he said finally.

I was stunned into silence, not because his words were shocking, but because they were utterly truthful, not a lie to be found anywhere within them. But I still could not convince myself that he was telling the whole truth.

"It's been ten years. Surely there has been someone else," I insisted.

He was quiet for a beat, and then said, "Of course.

There were drunken nights, in the dark, in towns I don't remember the name of.

" He paused for a moment, as if recollecting those moments, his voice deepening as he continued.

"All while thinking of you. Wishing it was you.

But never did I bring someone into this tent. "

I tensed at his words and the truth of them, the reality and familiarity of what he was saying hitting me all at once.

For years, I had done the same with Therian, closing my eyes and wishing I was somewhere else, with someone else, wishing for it all to be over as soon as possible.

I had tried to feel guilty about it but could never find it in myself to do so.

Malik shook his head. "Other than that, there has been no time for anyone else. Even if there was, I wouldn't entertain it."

"That doesn't sound like the smartest move for securing the future of your house," I whispered.

"I thought I had a plan," he said, looking to me.

"Then why did you leave?" I whispered, the brevity of my question sucking out the air between us.

For a moment, nothing but silence passed between us as we looked at one another, so many words unspoken, yet I couldn't make sense of any of them.

"I can't tell you enough how hard it was for me to just leave everything behind. Sorrel was my whole life. You were my whole life, and one day, that couldn't be anymore."

"I just don't understand why you couldn't even say goodbye," I said. "Why you couldn't give me some sort of explanation, some sort of closure. Or even a chance to convince you to stay."

Malik looked away, swallowing. "There are a lot of things I need to tell you. After we save Rida."

I nodded, frustration clawing at me. I wanted nothing more than to scream at him, to be angry, to let all of it out but I forced it down, one last question on my tongue before I could fall asleep.

"Can I ask one thing?"

"Of course, Lyra," Malik said, the softness of his words ripping my heart in two.

"Can I trust you? Can you promise me that you won't betray me at the end? That you won't leave again when I need you?"

It felt absurd asking him such a question. But I was powerless against the feelings of doubt that washed through me. The fear in me continued to grow the closer we got to Rida, fear that I would suddenly be left on my own again, left to my own devices, with no hope, and no one to turn to.

Malik looked at me once more, his eyes earnest, and full of truth.

"I will never leave your side again, Lyra. I can promise you that."