Page 5

But Mal had never stopped. She had kept returning.

‘The favorite child has arrived!’ The exclamation rang through the great hall like a burst of sunlight through storm clouds, carrying with it the unmistakable mischief of its speaker.

Mal turned just as Kai Blackburn strode in, his arms thrown wide in mock celebration, his grin a crescent moon of wicked delight.

His dark eyes gleamed with trouble, a spark of playful rebellion forever flickering within them.

Without missing a step, he plucked a black, rotten apple from a passing maid's tray, winking at her in that effortless, devastating way of his.

The poor girl turned away in a flustered giggle, retreating quickly before she could make a fool of herself.

‘You’re late.’ Haven’s voice was sharp, her brows arched in feigned disapproval.

Kai only smiled wider. His charm was a weapon, and he wielded it well.

He swept in beside his sister, taking her hand with exaggerated grace and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. ‘I was training to become your finest guardian, my future queen.’

Haven scoffed, rolling her eyes even as her lips twitched at the corners. ‘Oh, shut up, Kai. You finished training hours ago. You were up to no good, as usual.’

His laugh rang out, a melody of trouble and delight, bouncing against the cavernous walls, shaking loose the stillness in the air.

Kai Blackburn was, without question, a sight to behold.

Years of training had forged him into something lethal, something unyielding—his strength sculpted into the solid frame of his body, his muscles shifting beneath black fabric like coiled steel.

His midnight-dark eyes, shaped like almonds, bore the same abyssal depth as the rest of the wyverians—a void that swallowed all light, all secrets.

Mal moved before she could stop herself, closing the distance between them, her arms wrapping tightly around his broad frame.

‘We'll go to the temple later,’ he whispered into her ear, a quiet promise meant for her alone.

She kissed his cheek in response.

Kai no longer believed in gods, not since he had been old enough to question the silence that met their prayers.

And yet, he had never abandoned her in hers.

Every day, he sat beside her as she knelt before deities who never answered, never moved, never stirred.

A silent devotion to her, if not to them.

They gathered around the stone dining table, the room buzzing with something unspoken, an unease Mal could not yet name.

Her father sat at the head, and though his presence was as mighty as ever, something had changed.

Mal watched him carefully, noting how he muttered his responses absently, how his gaze shifted towards the gaping sky as though searching for something beyond the horizon.

Across from him, her mother reached for his hand, her fingers curling over his in a gesture of quiet reassurance.

For the briefest of moments, something passed between them—a shared worry, a shadowed thought.

Mal’s stomach twisted.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it pressing against her skin, slithering beneath the surface of the air, waiting. What had her father wanted to speak to her about? Did it have to do with the witches?

Her food remained untouched, the blackened meat and withering vegetables staring back at her, mocking.

And then, abruptly, the king rose to his feet .

‘I will retreat to my study now,’ he announced, his voice distant, his hand lifting slightly in signal to his shadow-hounds.

The queen blinked, startled by his abrupt departure. ‘We haven’t even finished our meal,’ she said, her voice gentle but laced with concern.

But King Ozul did not answer. His eyes, warm and familiar, darted towards Mal. A glance, a silent beckoning. The tilt of his head said it all— Come to me later.

It was the sadness in his gaze that unraveled her.

Her father had always been a pillar of strength, a man filled with joy and wisdom. He had spent his days reading with Kage, training with Kai, guiding Haven in her queenly duties, walking hand in hand with his wife through the Deadly Gardens, soaring through the skies with Mal on their wyverns.

A king beloved by his people, a ruler who danced beneath blue flames and listened to the troubles of even the lowest-born.

And yet, tonight, Mal saw a man who was lost.

The doors shut behind him.

A suffocating silence settled over the table, pressing in like a thick, invisible fog.

Until Kai, as always, shattered it.

‘Has he aged, or is it just me?’

Haven’s hand flew out, a slice of rotten apple soaring towards his face. He dodged effortlessly, grinning.

‘Do not throw food at your brother. It is not queenly,’ their mother chided, her tone exasperated but lacking true severity. ‘Your father has many worries, Kai. It is part of his duty.’

‘Did you hear that, Haven?’ Kai teased, flashing her a wicked smirk. ‘As soon as you become queen, your hair is going to turn white.’

‘Oh, do shut up, Kai.’ Haven’s sharp eyes shifted, suddenly trained on Mal. ‘And where exactly do you think you’re going? ’

Mal stiffened, caught mid-step, her retreat towards the door now painfully obvious. ‘I’m tired,’ she lied, shifting awkwardly. ‘I’m going to sleep.’

No one believed her. Not her siblings, whose knowing glances pinned her in place. Not her mother, whose smile was soft but filled with something unreadable, something ancient.

‘A kiss goodnight?’

Mal swallowed, forcing herself to move forward. She pressed a kiss against her mother’s pale cheek, the warmth of her touch lingering.

A hesitation. A warning.

Her mother's fingers ghosted over her wrist, her voice like a whisper of wind through dying leaves.

‘Have lovely dreams, my sweet princess.’

Mal nodded, and as she turned towards the door, she wondered—what did it mean to walk away from this moment?

And more terrifyingly… what awaited her beyond it?