Page 49 of The Immortal Covenant

twenty

Malorg

Malorg’s pulse quickened asSarilian stared at his proffered hand. A quiet wistfulness flickered in the Celestial’s eyes, and Malorg wondered if his mind had returned to the same moment Malorg’s had—to a similar gesture beneath the Dusklands’ black-gray trees before their first journey to Twilight.

Would Sarilian make the same choice now?

Wordlessly, Sarilian rose and grasped Malorg’s hand, his grip warm and firm. Malorg didn’t give regret a chance to take hold. Dissolving them both into shadows, he flitted under the door, down the hall, and up a winding staircase.

A sharp pain sliced his heart as he recalled the last time he’d followed this route with Uryqh at his side. That had been mere days before their fateful trip to the Dawnlands that ended in ashen screams at the Blistering Fields.

Sarilian must have sensed Malorg’s distress because, even while duskwalking, he felt the faint pressure of Sarilian’s fingerssqueeze his with a flash of searing heat. The contact helped ground him, keeping him focused on thehererather than thethen.

They ascended higher, climbing one of the narrowing spires that comprised the Dusk Citadel’s spiked crown until at last they reached its pinnacle. Only then did Malorg release his duskflame and return them from the shadows.

Sarilian staggered, clearly unused to duskwalking after so long. Malorg caught his arm, worried the Celestial might fall. Sarilian flashed him a wan smile.

“Not as bad as I remember. Merely unpleasant instead of downright terrifying.”

Malorg chuckled dutifully, but most of his attention remained focused on Sarilian. Now that Sarilian mentioned it, shifting himhadtaken less effort than Malorg recalled. He quested out with his senses and once again detected the faintest hint of duskflame clinging to the Celestial, barely noticeable if you weren’t searching for it.

“I think the duskflame in you is growing stronger.” He fixed his gaze on Sarilian’s face, carefully noting his expression. “You’re certain you don’t feel anything amiss—no ill effects or symptoms since you began coming here for the Accords?”

Sarilian frowned and shook his head. “As I said before, it’s probably just my body acclimating to the Dusklands.” He raised a mischievous eyebrow. “Though a certain Infernal’s continuous use of magic on me might also have something to do with it.”

Malorg scowled and let the topic go. He hadn’t brought Sarilian all the way up here to fuss over him. Instead, he watched as Sarilian took in their new surroundings.

They stood in a cube of a room barely large enough for both of them to fit comfortably. The only door was the one they’d entered from, leading back down into the Citadel.

“Where are we?” Sarilian’s eyes lingered on bare walls that lacked any of the Dusklands’ usual shifting adornments. “Somewhat austere for Infernal tastes, isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Malorg sent his duskflame rippling out into the room to activate its enchantments. The walls instantly flickered and vanished. Though Malorg knew they were still there, they had become completely transparent. Sarilian drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as he took in the revealed vista.

They stood at the top of the tallest spire in the Dusk Citadel. From here, the dome above Twilight seemed almost close enough to touch, the intricate detailing on its shifting surface fully revealed. The rest of the city extended below them in all its chaotic glory, interwoven lines of duskflame and blurred figures rendering a constant stream of motion.

“It’s not much,” Malorg said quietly. He stepped up beside Sarilian, their shoulders brushing. “But it’s all I can give you.”

“It’s enough,” Sarilian said, his voice breathless. His groping hand caught Malorg’s again, and though he knew he shouldn’t, Malorg held on.

Together, they gazed out over Twilight.

But while Sarilian took in the stunning view, Malorg found himself more entranced with the Celestial beside him, sneaking covert looks at Sarilian’s awe-struck face. His breath caught when Sarilian abruptly turned his head, their eyes locking.

He swallowed. He should step back. Return them to the bowels of the Dusk Citadel and send Sarilian back to his own people. Instead, he leaned in, a shudder arcing through him as he imagined the decadent press of Sarilian’s warm lips.

Then, he didn’t need to imagine.

Sarilian kissed him with a desperate need that surpassed mere passion, seeming to savor every nip and lick and caress as if they were a healing balm he required to survive. A soft groan clawed its way out of Malorg as he pressed himself against Sarilian,frantic for more of the Celestial’s touch, his heat—for more ofhim.

They stumbled back without breaking the kiss until Sarilian collided with an invisible wall. Propped against it, the backdrop of the city extending behind them, they almost appeared to be hovering in midair, held aloft by shadows. Not that Malorg needed this moment to be any more magical than it already was.

“I missed you,” he heard himself say as if from a great distance.

Sarilian’s bright gold eyes darkened to something closer to Malorg’s own stormy gray. His arms snaked around Malorg’s waist, holding him in place while he trailed light kisses down Malorg’s neck that made Malorg moan and arch his back.

“So did I,” he murmured.

Malorg raised a hand to trace the muscled ridges of Sarilian’s chest. That’s when he felt it again—that odd pulse of duskflame within the Celestial. The way it clung to him wasn’t so different, really, from duskwalking or a darkvision enchantment. Despite its subtle nature, the weaves of magic felt almost…intentional.

---