Page 46 of The Immortal Covenant

So that I can see your face properly.Embarrassment prickled his skin, and he went with a half-truth instead. “I miss seeing the Dusklands the way it’s meant to be.”

Malorg didn’t immediately answer, and Sarilian chastised himself for making things awkward. The meeting had gone well today—better than he’d expected. The last thing he needed was to do anything that might disrupt that progress.

He opened his mouth to rescind his request, but before he could speak, Malorg glided forward and brushed a shadowed hand over his chest. The icy aura of Malorg’s duskflame piercedSarilian like an arrow through the heart. He sucked in a breath and leaned in, part of him desperate for more of Malorg’s touch. But like a half-glimpsed shadow in flickering torchlight, Malorg had already retreated.

Sarilian blinked, and suddenly, he couldseeagain. He took a moment to admire the hallway’s stunning stonework and its intricate pattern of shifting lines that almost seemed to mimic the veins of a human body, pulsing to some unseen beat. Then, unable to put it off any longer, he slowly looked up at Malorg.

The sight sucked the air from his lungs. Merciful Light, Malorg wasbeautiful:a living statue carved from marble flecked with black and gray. From his sharp, angular jaw to his dark eyes and limber, dangerous body, everything about him called to Sarilian, achingly familiar yet painfully out of reach.

When only partially glimpsed in the darkness, Malorg had been alluring. Now, unveiled in all his glory, Sarilian found himself incapable of tearing his eyes away.

“Malorg.”The word came out barely above a whisper. He hadn’t meant to speak and hoped Malorg hadn’t caught the half-moaned plea. From the way the Infernal’s eyes darkened, however, raking over him from head to toe, Sarilian knew he had.

“We can’t,” Malorg said, taking a step back. Emotion twisted his voice.

Sarilian stepped forward, bridging the gap Malorg had opened. “I meant what I said before, too,” he admitted, the confession tumbling out of him. “I’m sorry for how everything turned out. Sorry for staying away. Sorry for not choosing you.”

Anguish and anger and regret all flickered over Malorg’s face before his expression settled into a firm mask. He held a hand up to halt Sarilian’s approach. “You owe me nothing. I never should have asked of you what I did. Besides, I didn’t come here for you, nor you for me.”

Malorg’s words were like a douse of ice-cold water, freezing Sarilian in place. Merciful Light, Malorg was right. What was Sarilian doing? Nothing had changed between them. Sarilian had made his choice a year ago, putting his duty first. He’d make the same choice again now.

…Wouldn’t he?

The electric tension between them snapped, and Sarilian turned away, inclining his head. “Thank you for indulging my request, Emissary. And for seeking common ground. I hope that our next meeting is equally productive.”

Malorg’s reply sounded almost choked. “As do I…Emissary. Until we meet again.”

The familiar goodbye reverberated through Sarilian to the core of his being. He whirled, desperately seeking Malorg with his darkvision-enhanced eyes.

But the Infernal was already gone.

nineteen

Malorg

Until we meet again.

In the days that followed, those four little words ricocheted around Malorg’s head like shrapnel, lodging in his skull and refusing to budge. An image of Sarilian, with his dull glow and concerned golden eyes, accompanied them.

Malorg didn’t think he’d imagined the tension buzzing between them, nor the open longing on Sarilian’s face. Perhaps the Celestial yearned as he did for their lost connection.

Not that it mattered. Pelorak’s threats aside, Malorg found that now that he’d fully committed to the Accords, it didn’t take long for him to become invested in their outcome. In the dream he’d thought long since abandoned of standing united against the Void. Seeking a relationship with Sarilian beyond their official capacity as emissaries risked everything they hoped to achieve.

Besides, Malorg held no illusions. Pursuing whatever feelings still lay between them would only lead to more heartbreak.Sarilian had walked away from him once before for what he saw as his duty. When the Accords concluded and he no longer had an excuse to be here, he’d do so again.

That’s why Malorg made a valiant attempt to keep his distance over the course of their subsequent meetings. He stuck to their agreed talking points, throwing himself into the details that accompanied forging an alliance. He avoided inappropriate looks and strove to keep his voice neutrally cordial. He waited in the conference room after each session until he was certain the Celestial delegation had departed to avoid any more accidental run-ins.

It wasn’t working.

Sarilian shone like a beacon at the far end of the table, constantly drawing Malorg’s eye. Even while discussing the driest of topics such as the construction of infrastructure to quicken transport between Daybreak and Twilight, their gazes would meet and linger a hair too long, full of hidden meaning. Every twitch of Sarilian’s lips or subtle shift of his shoulders sent a wave of warmth fluttering through Malorg. He’d never been so painfully aware of another living being—not even Uryqh.

Though memories of Uryqh still haunted him, working on the Accords helped. Perhaps Sarilian’s presence eased some of his lingering ache. Or perhaps it was knowing he was finallydoingsomething about it. With the creation of this new Covenant, he could at last right that old wrong and make Uryqh’s unwitting sacrificemeansomething. Give his loss purpose.

Planning for the Accords occupied Malorg’s every spare moment, and it wasn’t until a passing comment by Pelorak during one of their routine check-ins that he realized it had been months since his last battle with a voidspawn—not since his encounter with those three raw recruits. That old itch that had compelled him to drive himself ever closer to the jaws of oblivion had eased. For now, at least, he’d achieved a tentative peace.

The one exception was the Aspect of Ambition himself. Pelorak had seemed pleased when Malorg informed him that he’d stopped the Dawn Council from walking away. Yet since then, Pelorak had stubbornly dug in his heels on every decision Malorg brought to him for approval.

There was always some fresh concern or alternate position Pelorak claimed the Dusk Council demanded. Getting him to sign off on even the simplest of terms felt like enduring another bout with the void god that had given Malorg his scar.

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