Page 23 of Bound to Four Alphas (Silverthorn Alphas #1)

If there was one thing Malek had learned, over and over again in his centuries roaming the forests, it was knowing when he wasn’t wanted.

The cold Fae Lord, gray peppering his golden locks, did not want Malek in his home.

It was understandable. The Fae barely considered his kind to be sentient, living beings. More like anomalies, strange specimens to be avoided or examined. Malek’s one consolation was that Phaendar seemed nearly as disgusted by Ronan’s presence. Kaelen, however…

“The King of Embers himself!” Phaendar leaned forward in his carved marble chair, his grin predatory and his eyes dull and guarded. “When was the last time you walked our Halls, Kaelen?” His voice boomed through the vast hall, lined with great sweeping pillars that curved up to the vaulted ceiling. Elaborate silver chandeliers hung there, a thousand candles burning through the darkness of the night.

He scented the sharp spike in anger from Kaelen. With every day that passed Malek was getting better at reading his packmates, found himself less self-conscious in their presence. Friendship would surely be too much to hope for, but he couldn’t stop the small flicker of yearning in his stomach. It was the silent way the four had slipped into harmony in their actions. Be it fighting, travel, even their approach to Selena. Surely such balance meant the beginnings of something more. Something like … a real pack.

Malek swallowed. It would be foolish to get caught up in such silly sentiment.

“My lord,” Kaelen’s voice was measured, but his eyes were angry. “I believe it was the Winter Solstice celebration some thirty-six years ago.”

“Ah, yes,” Phaendar clapped his hands together in delight, “the maze was a wonderful touch, don’t you think? I have so missed your company, it’s rare to find another breed capable of such exquisite taste.”

Ronan snarled.

“Father,” Elian pushed forward, the very picture of a spoiled, arrogant lordling. “Nice to see you finally want to greet us. Is there a festival I’ve forgotten about? The sentinels at the gate were missing.”

Phaendar looked anything but pleased to see his son, his eyes turning stormy. “Elian. Of course not, do you really think me so foolish as to leave us vulnerable when the humans have launched their invasion?”

Malek shifted. He hated this. Hated that they couldn’t just say what they meant and be done with it. He was used to Elian’s mischief misdirection, wielding his words as a puzzle to be unboxed, but it had never been anything more than harmless.

Everything about Phaendar, about the Marble Halls, about the unease that clung to the shadows and wafted from the pale, expressionless guards made his hackles rise. If Elian liked building puzzles, Phaendar had constructed a labyrinth.

“Indeed, I learned nearly all I know about battle strategy straight from your war room, Phaendar,” Elian replied, his smile wicked, “and even I’ve managed to work out that when allies are at the door, you let them in.”

If Phaendar was angered by the slight, he concealed it well.

“Tell me, heir,” Phaendar crooned, one long finger tapping against the arm of his throne, “what do you know of the invasion?”

Elian cocked an eyebrow, “More than you, I’d wager.”

It was a misstep. Even Malek recognised that by the curl of Phaendar’s lips as he stood, the sudden tension in Elian’s shoulders.

“Is that so?” Phaendar walked down the steps of the dais, striding between them to the huge floor-to-wall windows that overlooked the city.

“We are very grateful for your hospitality,” said Kaelen, injecting his voice with all the authority of a king, “and given the recent events and the humans’ audacity, I ask that you extend that hospitality to my forces, and Ronan’s. We need to present a united front.”

Phaendar turned, his green eyes glinting, so similar to Elian’s, yet lacking any of the warmth hidden deep in his packmate’s gaze. “Is that a request, or an order, Dragon King?”

Kaelen paused, his jaw setting. “A strategy, my lord. An offer of alliance.”

“Alliance,” repeated Phaendar softly, turning away from them again. “I hear your mate is unharmed? That is pleasing; by all accounts, she is a pretty young thing.”

Malek tensed, his claws itching, a growl threatening to break free. Ronan glanced over and shook his head, a minute gesture, but it was enough that Malek swallowed his rage and concentrated on breathing in and out.

“Hmm,” Phaendar tapped his chin with his pointer finger, “and I happened to hear a rumor about her. Pregnant, is she? Congratulations to you all, you certainly didn’t waste any time.”

Elian snarled, and his father looked positively delighted at having finally elicited a reaction from his son. Malek forced himself to concentrate on the floor, on the windows, on anything else to keep from mauling Phaendar there and then.

“Touch a nerve, did I?” Phaendar held his hands up. “I meant no disrespect, of course. A magical child is always a blessing from the Gods themselves. I hope she is comfortable? Has everything she needs?”

“Caeda is keeping her company,” said Elian. “I’m glad to see you’re still keeping her trapped like a bird in a cage. Gods forbid she actually get out into the world and enjoy herself.”

“Your sister is happy where she is,” said Phaendar, the statement more of a threat than a reassurance. Elian’s teeth bared, but he remained composed.

“As you say, Father.”

“I know you have a soft spot for the girl, Elian, and for that reason, I shall be lenient in her punishment. This time.”

“Punishment?” Elian growled, and Ronan took a step towards him. Malek remained still where he stood, his eyes never leaving Phaendar.

“Of course,” Phaendar sneered at his son. “She left the palace grounds without permission and opened the gate for you.”

All pretenses of civility were gone. Father and son faced each other, hostility prickling the air between them like lightning.

“So you didn’t let us in on purpose.” Malek had never heard Elian’s voice so cold, so devoid of any feeling. This was the Fae who commanded more magic than Malek had ever seen in a mortal being, the Fae who danced into minds and destroyed them after inflicting centuries of torture. The Fae that would gladly kill to defend his pack.

“I asked you what you know about the human threat. You chose to score a cheap point instead of answering. So I will tell you. The humans have a weapon. Something bigger, more dangerous than any paltry magic you may wield, boy. And they’re using it to control the filthy nightmare creatures that infest the woods.”

Every single one of Malek’s muscles stiffened. Phaendar was looking right at him now, open disgust clear on his face. Malek was vaguely aware of Ronan and Kaelen falling into step beside him, but he didn’t care. There was roaring in his ears, and the sharp taste of blood on his tongue.

“And you,” Phaendar spoke to Elian, even as he stared down Malek, “wanted to permit this … this … thing into the Marble Halls. What other choice did I have but to refuse you entry?”

The world went silent as the beast took hold of Malek’s mind. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself he didn’t care, how many times he made himself smaller to appease others, how tight his control remained, even he had his breaking point.

And Phaendar had found it.

He growled, thunderous and heavy with promise of death, the ground beneath them shaking as shadows snaked from his feet, his claws extending, his eyes burning.

Phaendar scoffed. “Look at it, it can’t even speak, only grunt like an animal.”

“Father—” started Elian, but Phaendar held up a hand.

“I will not hear you. I want this thing gone from my Halls, gone from my land. If it does not leave now, I will have it slaughtered and mount its head on a spike.”

Malek’s human form fell away, his true self bursting free with a tremendous roar. And only then did Phaendar’s scent spike in fear. Malek let his tongue sweep over his teeth and stalked forward, inky claws scraping against the marble floor.

Because it was one thing to insult him, to stop him from crossing through the gate because of what he was.

But because of it, Selena had been put in danger.

Sweet, beautiful Selena, who looked at him not like he was some slavering beast, but like he was worth something. Worthy of her. Such a perfect being bestowing her favor upon him—surely that was an act of the Gods.

And Phaendar had endangered her.

Malek ignored the other alphas as he paced forward, shadows dripping from his teeth, every muscle trembling to attack.

“I am Malek. I am the ruler of the shadows left when your God abandoned you. I am the nightmares that plague you when you sleep. I am the fear that clouds your mind even now.”

Phaendar was backing away, his expression one of horror and awe. “Dear Gods,” he whispered as Malek snarled.

“I am Malek. I am a king . And your Gods are not here now to save you from me.”

He pounced. And Phaendar turned to dust in his teeth.

Malek roared in frustration, flipping around, hunting for his prey in the vast throne room.

“He’s gone,” said Elian, more subdued than normal. “Ran away.”

“Coward,” said Kaelen, fists balling.

Malek barely registered them. He howled and paced, sniffing the ground where Phaendar had stood. Nothing. Phaendar was smoke on the air. He turned, tail lashing, only to meet the raised hackles and bright yellow eyes of Ronan in his wolf form, teeth bared and wary.

“Are you going to threaten me too?” Malek snarled, crouching low and preparing himself for a fight.

“No,” replied Ronan, his ears perking up, his face softening, “you are my packmate. He insulted you. It is your right as a king to challenge him. I would not have stopped you.”

“Nor would I,” Kaelen walked to stand next to Ronan, barely reaching the wolf’s shoulder in his human form. “He had no right to say the things he said. I am sorry for not intervening earlier.”

Elian swallowed, his face conflicted. “He is my father. But you…”

Malek turned to him, the snarl dying in his throat at the expression on Elian’s face.

“You are our brother.”

Malek fell silent and still, his eyes moving from Elian, to Ronan, to Kaelen, and back again. All of them had the same determined expression, warm and fierce.

His chest constricted.

Slowly, he let his human skin crawl over his flesh, rising from his crouched position on the floor. Ronan too shifted, and the four stood in a circle, Elian’s words heavy in the air between them.

After a long time, Malek spoke.

“I am … pleased.”

What passed between them, the pack magic, swelled with power. And Malek breathed out.

Finally.

He finally had a pack.

He didn’t say anything more, couldn’t even begin to find the words. The bond thrummed, vibrant with power, bolstered by their acceptance. The only thing that would have made him even more at peace in that moment would be if Selena…

Selena.

The bond twisted over itself, but there was an absence there. Where a gentle silver light once sparkled there was now just … empty air.

The realization hit him like so many spears.

“Selena,” he gasped, turning towards the door. “I think there’s something wrong with Selena!”