Chapter 16 Aurelia
Aurelia
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.
Before I could move, Lysara was already there.
Malachi stood on the other side, dressed in black once again.
His dark hair, braided in tight, intricate rows along the crown of his head, framed the sharp lines of his face and gathered into a single thick length that trailed down his back.
His gaze flicked past Lysara, landing on me.
And for a heartbeat, something unreadable crossed his expression. A flicker—surprise, maybe. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar veil of disdain he wore like armor.
“She’s ready,” Lysara said smoothly, stepping aside.
“So I see,” he said quietly.
I met his gaze head-on as I approached, refusing to shrink beneath his stare.
“Charmed, truly,” I said dryly, stepping into the hall and glancing over my shoulder. I’d expected Lysara to follow since she was now my Keeper—whatever that meant. But she lingered in the doorway, her expression calm and unreadable.
“I’ll be down shortly with Santiago,” she said gently.
My eyes narrowed. “Wait—you mean I have to go with him… alone?”
“I only bite things I like, little dove. Don’t worry,” Malachi said with a too-wide grin, more teeth than kindness. His tongue curled lazily, dragging along the tip of his upper canine.
A coil of unease wound tight in my gut. Every instinct screamed at me to stay behind that door, but I forced my chin higher, words spilling out before I could stop them. “How tragic for you, then.”
The amusement in his expression faded almost imperceptibly. He turned, posture sharpening. “Try to keep up,” he said flatly, already striding ahead.
We walked in silence, winding through a wing of the castle I hadn’t yet seen. Golden sconces shaped like unfurling vines lit the way, their glow warmer than the cold corridors I’d grown used to. It felt… alive here. Too alive. The warmth unsettled me more than the silence had.
I slowed as we passed a pair of half-open doors. That strange twilight Nyxarra never shed spilled across polished floors. Incense curled from within—sandalwood and smoke seeping into the hall, beckoning.
Opulent. Intentional. I lingered a beat too long.
Malachi didn’t bother to look back. “Keep moving…” he said coolly. “That’s Kaelith’s territory. You’ll want to stay clear unless invited.”
“I’m not in the habit of wandering into other people’s territory,” I replied, though I was already storing away every detail.
“That’s funny, since you’re here,” Malachi countered.
We continued on, descending a spiral staircase toward the heart of the castle. The air grew warmer, scented with herbs and baking bread. The scent grew richer as we approached a wide archway, which spilled into a bustling kitchen.
Figures of every shape and kind moved in practiced rhythm.
A woman with translucent wings darted overhead, balancing a basket in her arms. A man with scaled hands chopped herbs in precise motions beside a man stirring a bubbling pot.
Across the room, someone with feathers instead of skin turned skewers over an open flame, sparks flying.
I had never seen creatures like these, not in Synnex. Were they servants? Prisoners? Something else entirely?
I couldn’t let myself linger. Aeryn didn’t have time for me to stand here wondering.
“The dining hall is ahead,” Malachi said, not breaking stride.
The hall was a cathedral masquerading as a feast room.
Vaulted ceilings soared above, painted with constellations and clouds.
A single, massive table stretched the length of the space, black wood veined with gold, its runes glowing faintly.
People filled it. Dozens of them—figures I didn’t recognize.
Some looked human, others didn’t: eyes that gleamed like molten metal, skin faintly scaled, wings folded tight against chairs too small to hold them.
A quartet played music quietly in the room’s corner.
My footsteps echoed against the polished floor as we entered.
And then I saw who must have been Prince Kaelith.
He stood at the head of the table, tall and radiant, his silver hair tied at the nape of his neck, a few strands falling artfully loose.
His skin gleamed like moonlit marble, his features sharp—handsome in a way that felt calculated.
This was the man who stood between me and Aeryn’s life.
His eyes, an otherworldly shade of burnished amber-dark, unsettled me. Too perceptive. Too still.
He smiled as we approached. “Aurelia Moirae,” he said, voice smooth and melodic. “Welcome to Nyxarra. I’m pleased to see the mist didn’t claim you after all.”
“I’m told it tried,” I replied, keeping my expression unreadable.
“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully, eyes scanning me with interest. Like I was something to be studied. Or unwrapped.
Kaelith’s smile deepened. “You’ve made an impression. Malachi doesn’t usually glower unless something unsettles him.”
“Or maybe he just doesn’t like being ignored,” I said lightly.
Malachi’s reply was quiet steel. “Or maybe I don’t like repeating old mistakes.”
Kaelith gestured toward an empty seat near the head of the table. “Please, join us. Tonight’s meal is a celebration of your arrival, and perhaps… an omen of change.”
That last part made something cold prickle at the back of my neck.
“Generous,” I said, taking the seat cautiously. “I didn’t realize I warranted a feast.”
Malachi pulled out a chair and sat beside me without a word, his expression unreadable.
“That,” Kaelith said, raising his glass, “is what I’m eager to discover. You are a Moirae. You have blood that should have died with your mother, blood older than the vows that bind this realm. The kind of blood legends claim cannot be chained.”
The words landed like a blow. My breath hitched, a sharp flash of confusion cutting through me. My mother? What did he think he knew about her?
The question sparked hot and jagged in my chest, but I swallowed it down, burying the tremor beneath a mask of iron.
His eyes gleamed, cold and curious. “That alone makes you dangerous… and desirable. But legends only whisper of what your line might become. I want to see it. Test it. Bend it until it either breaks… or proves itself worthy of me.”
My stomach tightened with unease and fury. He saw a weapon when he looked at me, a legacy to claim. Fear pricked sharp and hot beneath my skin, but I tempered it, let it cool and set into steel. I needed him, but I would not be a pawn in whatever game this was.
I met his gaze evenly, refusing to flinch. “Be careful what you try to bend, Kaelith. Some things break the hand that reaches for them.”
His smile widened, predator-smooth. “Oh, you’re going to be so much fun,” he murmured, his voice silk-wrapped steel. “I can’t wait to play.”
He flicked his fingers, and music stirred louder at the far end of the hall—strings, low and lilting, carried by the vaulted ceiling. Chairs scraped as nobles shifted, their eyes turning toward me like spectators awaiting the next act.
“Dance with her,” Kaelith said, not bothering to clarify whom he addressed.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Malachi rose. He extended his hand, his expression unreadable except for the briefest downward flick of his gaze. There was a warning hidden in the depth of his eyes. Get up.
Every eye was on me. The hush pressed close, heavy as smoke.
My mouth curved before I told it to—something polite, practiced, a mask I’d worn too many times to count. I set my fingers in his, and let him lead me onto the open floor.
His hand slid to my waist, spanning it so fully I swore it claimed the whole side of me. My pulse flared at the contact.
Without warning he dipped me low, the world tilting until all I could see was the dark fabric of his collar and the sharp carve of his jaw above me. My hair fell back, brushing the floor. The crowd blurred to shadow around us, their eyes nothing compared to his.
When he drew me back up, he didn’t look away.
His gaze followed the scar that carved across my face—the ridge from brow to lip to throat.
In Synnex, they pretended not to see it at all, glancing aside as if ignoring it meant I didn’t exist. To have it studied this closely, to have it traced by his eyes, made my skin crawl.
He moved with precision, each step measured. My body resisted at first, but Hayat’s lessons echoed in my head: even silence can be a strike, even a step can be a shield. So I matched him. Step for step. Mask for mask.
“You don’t know the steps,” he muttered, voice pitched low so only I could hear.
“I learn quickly,” I said, lifting my chin.
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Try to keep up, little dove.”
I dug my nails lightly into his shoulder. “Don’t give me orders. And stop calling me that. I’m not a bird.”
His eyes snapped to mine, sharp enough to cut. “Doves aren’t just birds.”
I arched a brow. “Really? Please do enlighten me.”
His smile curved, faint and unreadable. “Perhaps. One day. Though, I hope you’re long gone before I get the chance.”
The music swelled. We turned in unison, my skirts brushing the polished floor.
The dance ended with him pulling me just close enough for our breaths to mix. Applause scattered against the walls.
Kaelith watched us, satisfaction smoothing his features—until a brief, sharp something cracked across his face. Assessment. As if seeing me in Malachi’s hands had given him a new idea that he intended to use.
The moment passed. His expression reset, polished and perfect, as he turned away.
The food arrived then, carried in on gleaming trays, the hall buzzing with new anticipation. The rest of the table began to fill. Each new arrival carried eyes that gleamed, wings that twitched, skin that glimmered faintly in the torchlight. I was surrounded. Judged. Measured.