by Zoey Ellis
His brother, Elion marched in behind him. "It is," he said. "However I'm intrigued by your behavior. Are you truly that enamored by this new woman?"
Malloron spun around. "Do not speak of her. She has nothing to do with you. I have no idea why you continue to bring her up.”
“I bring her up because it’s clear you do not want me to,” Elion said, in that insolent way that annoyed the fuck out of Malloron. “And you shouldn’t have someone that looks like her sit in on meetings if you do not want her commented on.”
“What do you want, Elion?” Malloron asked through gritted teeth.
Elion sat at the chair by the table in the middle of the room. "I assume you are aware of the plan to overthrow you?"
"Yes."
"You are not worried about it?"
Malloron moved to stand behind a chair, leaning on the back of it. "No."
Elion's eyebrows rose. "I have to admire your confidence, brother. Most men would be quaking at the idea of so many rulers against them. Even Father worried about it."
"I do not think it will happen. I think they will struggle to come together in any kind of meaningful way."
Elion nodded. "I think that would normally be true; however, based on their latest actions, I think you underestimate their determination."
Malloron frowned. "What do you mean?"
“You are the last of the ruling line, and you have no heir.”
“That means nothing,” Malloron said. “I have other siblings who can take over the throne if anything happens to me. It is no secret that there are Visant family members still alive throughout the Western Lands.”
“Yes,” Elion agreed. “But none of them would be fit to rule, and none of them would have your ability for the Talent. They would be easily overthrown. Furthermore…” Elion leaned forward on the table, locking his eyes with Malloron. "I know that there is something that is shared between the heirs of this family that is not shared with the rest of us," he began. "When I look back at each ruler of Eiros from our family, it is clear that something is happening to allow you all to stay in your right minds while still using the Talent. You already know that I find it absolutely disgraceful that that knowledge cannot be shared with at least your siblings and the immediate family."
"It is not for me to share."
Elion held up his hand. "I know. We’ve had this discussion many times before. However, what I have noticed lately is that you are capable of walking."
Malloron's heart began to pound in his chest.
"All of the other rulers were immobile by your age. They were able to use the Talent without going crazy, but they were also immobile. You are somehow able to walk and make use of the Talent. And you are much older than the other members of our family when they lost the use of their legs."
There was a silence as the two brothers stared at each other. Malloron knew that Elion would figure it out sooner or later. He had always been extremely focused on the secret that he was never included in, but Malloron was hoping it would be much later before he made any such connection.
The tenebris protected him from going insane while using the Talent, but it damaged the body to such a degree that prolonged usage of it rendered the body almost useless. All of the rulers of the Visant family ended up without the use of their legs, and his father lost the use of his whole body apart from his head and shoulders. He had required constant care and had needed to rely on others in order to survive. There was no way Malloron was going to end up that way.
"I assume that the difference with you has to do with magic," Elion said, after a long moment. "And if that is the case, then any new sibling on the throne would not be able to survive for very long. Getting rid of you is the other rulers’ way of getting ahold of Eiros, and the royal history, and everything that you’ve sought to protect. You should consider this new threat more seriously than you do."
"Your concern is touching, brother," Malloron said. "But I assure you that this is all in hand. I doubt they will even be able to organize anything more in-depth than a meeting."
"They are already starting with building a power source to rival your strength."
Malloron raised his brows. That was new. "There is no power source that can rival my strength," he said. "All they will do is end up killing their own people and destroying part of their lands. I have no doubt that they will fail at anything they attempt to do."
Elion looked at him appraisingly. "That is certainly some confidence you have, Malloron." He stood up. "I hope you are proven correct." He walked around the table and held his hand out to Malloron. "Congratulations on your queen, brother. You make a handsome couple. I'm very pleased to learn that you have chosen a woman I have no connection with."
Malloron almost rolled his eyes at the comment but took Elion's hand. "Thank you. And thank you for your warning about the other rulers. I am surprised that you have come all the way here to provide me with it."
Elion’s mouth twisted to one side. “As much as I might hate you at times, my existence in the Western Lands is much more pleasant with you ruling Eiros than any of them. I am only doing this for myself.”
“I didn’t think it would be anything else,” Malloron said ruefully.
Elion inclined his head and then left the room.
Before he had time to even think, a heavy knock fell on the door.
"Come in," he called.
He turned to see Banon charging into the room. "Banon," he said in surprise. "Why are you here? Is everything well with the chamber?"
Banon held up a hand. "Everything is fine in the chamber, Your Majesty. That is not why I am here."
Malloron held in the urge to exhale numerous curses. Why did people think that they could just turn up to speak to him whenever they choose? "What is it?" he asked.
Banon loped across the room slowly, rubbing his palms together, averting his eyes from Malloron.
After a long moment, Malloron lost his patience. "What is it?" he repeated sharply. "I do not have time for this, Banon. Speak!"
Banon dropped his arms. "I need to know if you're fucking him?"
Malloron was taken aback. "What?"
"You know that I respect and love you as my king," Banon said. "And I know I have no right to question you about your private activities, but this is one thing I need to know."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Malloron stared at Banon wondering if he had gone mad. Maybe all of those nights in the pleasure chamber somehow made him deluded.
"Your pet," Banon said, almost spitting out the words. "Is he your pet in bed also?"
Suddenly understanding trickled into Malloron. His eyes swept Banon and he noticed how on edge he was, shifting his wide and heavy frame from one foot to the other, his eyes dark, his body tense.
"I will answer this question once, and once only," Malloron said, his voice low and deadly. "I am not fucking Emric. I never have, and I never will. I do not fuck servants or slaves. You, of all people, should know this to be true."
All tension drained out of Banon's body and he breathed heavily for a long moment. He nodded. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I apologize for my disrespectful question. It wasn’t my intention to pry."
"You are lucky you have been in my service for so long," Malloron growled. "I cannot begin to understand the reasons behind your question. I do not understand your obsession with him. You cannot even say his name."
Banon rubbed a hand over his shaved head. "I sincerely apologize, my King. I will take any punishment you deem fit to issue, but it will not happen again." Banon bowed deeply. "May I be excused?"
"No. I want an answer. Emric is my assistant. He is unique and serves Eiros in ways that other servants cannot. Why do you insist on making him uncomfortable? What interest do you have in him?"
Banon rose. "He is mine," he said simply. "He refuses to accept it, and I refuse to let him forget it."
Malloron frowned. "How can he be yours? He is a Gamma. He has no scent."
"Yes," Banon r
eplied. "His lack of scent is pleasing to me. I'm surrounded by scent all day, every day. All kinds of scents and odors that I cannot escape from. With him, I am free from that."
Malloron stared at him, struggling with the concept. "So, you enjoy that he has no scent? Why have you been so unpleasant to him?"
Something in Banon's eyes changed. "May I speak freely, Your Majesty."
Malloron nodded.
Banon took a breath, steadying himself with both feet wide and his thick hands clasped in front of him. "I adore everything about him. I love that he has no scent, I love that he enjoys serving you as much as I do, I love that he is such a prude that he cannot stand to be in the chambers for more than a few moments. What I do not love, is that he uses you as an excuse to say he cannot see me. I do not love that you have him dress up in these fake, disgusting scents and odors to smell like something he is not. I do not like that he rejects me because he thinks I will become bored with him as soon as some smelly Beta comes along. It angers me, and so I treat him that way."
Nothing could have prepared Malloron for what Banon said. For a long moment he was speechless. He would never have guessed that Banon, a hulking, rough, Alpha, was completely infatuated with Emric. Their dislike for each other, or what he had assumed was dislike, began years ago. Banon had been pining after Emric for years? "Does he know this?"
Banon shrugged. "For the last couple of years, it has been difficult to even see him. I cannot even get him in the same room as me sometimes, let alone speak to him. The last few months he has been telling me that you have been needing his service in the middle of the night, for most nights. Of course this was a torturous thought for me. It made me question you, and I'm sorry for that. I did not realize he would go as far as to lie to me about our king."
Malloron nodded thoughtfully. "But how do you know that he is yours, truly?"
Banon struggled to answer for a moment. "I can feel he is. I cannot explain it more than that. I do not want him in danger, I do not want him looked at or touched by any other. I want him with me."
Malloron felt those things about Amara, and yet he still questioned himself. He truly felt that a need like that would make him weak, and yet Banon had no problem admitting his true feelings, and his need and desire for the one he felt was his mate.
"Please do not judge me, Your Majesty," Banon said quietly. "I have watched men and women come and go in the chambers, they are looking for a quick fix, they revel in it. And I did too. I would have been happy to continue reveling in it until the end of my days. But when you meet your mate, there is nothing like it. Nothing else compares. For years now the chambers have become empty to me, there is nothing there that can satisfy me. Only Emric."
"I am not judging you, Banon," Malloron said. "I find it very interesting. I think you should take some time to talk to Emric. Unfortunately I cannot relieve him of his duties just to satisfy you. You will have to deal with that. You are dismissed."
Banon bowed and left the room.
Malloron pulled out a chair from the table and dropped down into it, his mind reeling.
He spent the previous night pacing in his temple. And he fucking missed Amara the whole time. He drunk his potions to calm the tenebris but nothing could calm the commotion of his emotions. His concern about his attraction to Amara being a problem was based on what he witnessed from previous rulers and observations; having such strong feelings toward someone always, always created a disadvantaged situation. He never planned or wanted to be attached in any way to the Omega he ended up using for his plan. It would have been better for him to find someone else for his plans, and then keep Amara for himself. However, after looking into various traditions of the Visant family, and considering that Amara would be his anyway regardless, it seemed to make sense for him to fully embrace how he felt and make use of the situation for the best possible outcome. And that outcome was for Amara to be his queen. The conversation with Banon seemed to support that. Banon was just as merciless as Malloron sometimes when he had to deal with incidents in the chambers, yet it seemed like he refused to ever let go of the one he considered his mate. It was unfortunate the idea of her being his queen had been discussed with Elion in front of her, before he had a chance to convince her.
Of course, he could force her into being his queen, especially after the night of the dark moon, but he did not want to do that. He wanted her to agree to it. It was a small, and probably petty, distinction to make, but he wanted to hear her say it however unlikely it was.
When Malloron returned to the meeting room, Elion and his woman had already left and Amara was sitting quietly in the corner.
She seemed to be in her own world, staring at the wall opposite, lost in thought. He watched her for a long moment, eager to get his hands on her again, but realizing that he needed to talk to her. He stood for a while watching her, until she became aware of him.
"What happened to your previous queen?" Amara looked at him, thoughtfulness in her eyes.
He silently cursed that he left her alone with Elion's woman, who had obviously said something to her.
"She became ill," he said. "She could not be saved."
"Is it true she was blind and deaf?"
Malloron tried to avoid tensing. "She became that way, yes."
"How?"
"An accident in one of the casting rooms."
Amara raised her eyebrows. "She was a Talent-crafter?"
"Yes," Malloron said. "An accomplished one at that."
“A Beta?”
The king nodded, his eyes on her.
"Did you love her?"
"No."
"Then why did you marry her?"
"I thought she would be useful for my rule."
Amara shot him one of her suspicious looks. "And was she?"
"For a time."
Amara's eyes drifted away from him as she thought. "Everything you do is for your rule," she said, almost to herself.
His chest tightened. "Come here."
She stepped closer slowly, their eyes on each other. When she was within arms reach, he had to resist the urge to touch her. The gaze between them felt different this time.
"You called me your queen," she breathed.
"I did."
"It was a mistake?"
He smiled at her. "Would it be so bad?"
“Yes.” She shook her head in disbelief. "We have an agreement. I know that you see nothing wrong with making use of people to suit your needs, but I cannot do that. In fact, I am against it. I cannot abide what you do here. I cannot stand by a mate who does these things, no matter what new agreement you wish to propose now."
Something twisted in his chest. She thought he was trying to trap her into another agreement again—perhaps he was… perhaps he should. But he knew she’d take this position. After all, if her interest was indeed around the dungeons, she would not be happy about what she saw there. But she didn't see the whole picture, and he didn’t want her to. “You may feel differently by the end of our arrangement," he said lightly. "In the meantime, let us eat."
CHAPTER TWELVE
AMARA
When King Malloron left after dinner, Amara headed back to the servants’ area.
His strange behavior confused her, and to some degree she welcomed it. She enjoyed seeing a different side to him. During dinner they spoke of trivial matters. Questioning him about some of the topics in the meetings and how specifically he dealt with them in his role as king in the Western Lands, he responded without sarcasm, and at one point even held her hand. However, she could not forget who and what he was. She also couldn’t forget why she was there. She had come to Eiros Castle to complete the assignment. Nearly three weeks after making the agreement with Malloron, she was no closer to completing it. She needed to warn her team and get to the dungeon. No more delays.
She made her way through the corridors, taking the most direct route possible to the lower ground area. She headed to a corridor that ran along the back of one of the smaller ch
ambers. The spell that kept magic from being accessed was weak around the back exit door and she and the other spies sometimes used it to draw on the surrounding magic, but the amount available was limited. There were very few points like that in the castle and so they were used sparingly.
Amara leaned against the door and immediately checked her blocks, starting at the crown of her head all the way down, the way she’d been taught. They were all in place; she suspected as much, but could not explain the faint scent of Alpha that came from King Malloron, or the effect he had on her.
After a moment's thought, she felt for magic in the small area that she was in. If none of the other Omegas used magic in this spot recently, it might be possible to create a projection portal so she could speak to the Mothers. It didn't always work, and was highly risky, so the Omega team leaders only tried it when it was absolutely necessary.
Amara closed her eyes, focusing on breathing and stilling her mind until her heart rate lowered. Feeling out the magic around her, she drew it in to create a bubble around her, but there wasn't enough magic to maintain it. As soon as she encased the bubble around her, the magic dispersed. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a breath and tried again but the same thing happened. Cursing in frustration, she then took a deep breath and increased her focus on the location spell. On her third try the bubble came together, maintaining its shape. She held still, feeling out the complexity of the bubble to see whether it would continue to hold. When it showed signs of stability, she set about creating all the other spells needed to communicate with the Mothers; one to alert her if anyone entered the corridor, another to reinforce her consciousness, and the third to seal the door behind her. Normally a portal such as this would be assisted by modified spells, but with no access to magic, the caster had tremendous pressure to get it right.
Once everything was in place, Amara drifted the bubble into her mind and called out to the Mothers.
She waited a while for them to answer, and hoped that she would not be disturbed before she had a chance to speak to them. Suddenly, there was the familiar pull in the back of her mind, and she found herself in the usual briefing room in the Omega Compound. Three of the five Mothers sat before her, around the curved table, dressed in their usual white hooded robes. Mother Orlee, Mother Fern, who was a twin, and Mother Azia, the oldest and most revered Omega in the compound.
