Page 50 of The Immortal Covenant

That fledgling revelation proved enough to pop the fragile bubble of denial he’d been in.Eternal Dark, what am I doing?He dissolved into shadow and retreated as far as he could in the tight space.

A confused smile flashed over Sarilian’s face. He started to step toward Malorg before catching Malorg’s expression. His smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

“This is a mistake.” Malorg’s mind reeled, still struggling to interpret what he’d sensed. “I…I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m not good for you.”

“And yet, I came.” Sarilian’s hands opened and closed as though they yearned to reach for Malorg. “I want this just as much as you do.”

“Then, why did you walk away?” Malorg regretted the words as soon as they’d escaped, but it was too late to take them back.

Appearing stricken, Sarilian bowed his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

The pained confession pierced Malorg more than any angry denial ever could. A part of him wanted to pretend this blip had never happened—to pick up right where they’d left off and lose himself in Sarilian again. But there was simply too much at stake.

Forget the risk of another broken heart—what about the success of the Accords themselves? If Malorg’s budding suspicions about the source of the unexplained duskflame were correct, then the peace talks might be in greater jeopardy than he’d realized. He needed time to think, which was impossible with Sarilian standing there, staring at him with that raw mix of regret and hope.

He held out a hand, averting his eyes. “I’ll take you to rejoin your people.”

Sarilian didn’t move. Malorg felt his resolve crumbling like the ancient ramparts of some decrepit keep. If Sarilian pushed him now, he didn’t think he’d be able to resist, no matter how much he knew he should.

He wasn’t certain whether to be relieved or disappointed when Sarilian finally stepped forward and took his hand without uttering a word.

The descent into the Dusk Citadel lasted an eternity. He deposited Sarilian near the conference room, muttering awkward pleasantries to talk again at the next summit before beating a hasty retreat. There was someone else he needed to see.

Pelorak’s private chambers occupied an entire section of the Citadel, one of five devoted to the Dusk Aspects. Malorg had never visited them before the Accords, and though he’d beena handful of times since to offer his reports, striding past the sheer opulence on display left an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. For all he’d defended the Infernal way of life to Sarilian upon their initial visit to Twilight, Pelorak’s indulgent collection of exquisite statues, shimmering tapestries, and beautiful paintings stretched even Malorg’s sensibilities.

Armored guards lurked in every corner, there to protect Pelorak’s assets as well as the Aspect himself from anyone foolish enough to make a direct play against him. The guards didn’t bother Malorg, allowing him to pass unimpeded once they recognized him. When he reached the closed door to Pelorak’s office, he skipped knocking and duskwalked inside.

Pelorak sat behind a grand desk that took up a full quarter of the cavernous space. Though the surface directly in front of Pelorak retained the same steady shape, the rest of the desk appeared in near-constant flux, shifting between different animals and vistas at random while moving anything Pelorak needed so that it sat within easy reach.

The Aspect of Ambition glanced up sharply. “What is the meaning of this intrusion? How dare—” He cut off when he saw who it was. “Malorg. We don’t have a meeting today, do we?”

“We do now.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Malorg moved to sit in a chair before Pelorak’s desk. Pelorak narrowed his eyes but didn’t chide him. Instead, his expression shifted to an obsequious smile. “Of course. Whatever you need, old friend. Did something come up during your latest meeting?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He took a deep breath. “What are you doing to the Celestial delegates?”

Pelorak paused. Slowly, he shoved aside what he’d been working on, clearing the space in front of him so he could steeple his fingers. “I don’t know what you—”

“Let’s skip the part where you deny it and I call you out. I don’t have the patience. I’ve seen the duskflame on the delegates, and it hasyourfingerprints all over it.”

Pelorak studied him for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. He shrugged, his thin lips turning up in an amused smirk. Malorg’s jaw tightened. The Dark-cursed Infernal was threatening to ruin everything, and he had the gall to lookpleasedwith himself.

“Fine. I’ve been using Sajix and Wiriv to implant a minor curse on the Celestial delegation. Nothing overtly harmful,” he said when Malorg grimaced. “They may be our insufferable rivals, but that doesn’t mean I want to see them fall to the Void. Consider it a…contingency.”

“Whatkindof contingency?” Malorg’s mind returned to Sarilian.

Being here had ensnared him in Infernal games, just as Malorg had feared. Yet another reason to keep him at arm’s length, as far away from Malorg and Pelorak and the Dusklands as possible.

Pelorak dissolved into shadows. Malorg tensed, readying duskflame to shape into a blade. But Pelorak didn’t move to attack. He reappeared across the room near one of the dozen tapestries draped along his office’s walls.

No, not a tapestry, Malorg realized, sidling closer. A map of the Immortal Realm.

Pelorak stabbed a finger against the map. “Every year, the Celestials grow stronger while we weaken, their borders expanding along with their supply of souls. If we are to survive, to dominate as is our right, then we need to fight back.”

“Isn’t that thepointof these Accords—to revise the Covenant on more favorable terms?”

Pelorak snorted, his eyes still riveted to the map. Malorg followed the Aspect’s gaze and saw that the map didn’t onlyshow their borders, the Dusklands and Dawnlands outlined in black and white, respectively. It also conveyed the relative strength of each side. The Dawnlands blazed while the Dusklands…well, did not.

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