Page 51 of Bound to Four Alphas

Chapter 23 - Malek

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, onanythingelse 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.

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