TWO OF THREE NEW CHAPTERS!
Arya kneels before her long lost love, tears pouring from her eyes. He’s supposed to be dead. Malich told her he was dead. Had she known he was alive she would have waited. She would have a found a way to be with him again. She wouldn’t have…
She feels sick to her stomach; bile rising in her throat and quickly vomits on the floor. Sobbing, her head down, she begs him, “Forgive me…I’ve failed us both.”
Ihsan didn’t move. She didn’t blame him. If the rolls were reversed she would feel as betrayed as he probably felt at the moment.
Malich…the man she’d come to love…he’d deceivedher. He did everything he could to keep them apart, but never did she expect him to be capable of such treachery. He led her to believe there was no hope for her and Ihsan because Ihsan no longer breathed. Carefully he worked on her, molding her mind and thoughts to bend to his will, but all the while allowing her to believe it was her choice.
Was it?
If she would choose a man like Malich, with all of his faults and his cunning, what did that say about her?Perhaps she deserved this. This was Anan’s way of punishing her for all of the lives she took. Maybe things happened this way because the Gods were sending her a message…she deserved a man like Malich because they were one in the same.
Arya shook that thought from her head. No. This was all one mans doing, one selfish…diabolical…evil…“Arya,” Malich called her name.
Rage thrums through her veins. No more sobbing…no more excuses, just cold, calculating rage. Fingers clenched into fists, she slowly slides her gaze towards Malich. Her hand reaches into her pocket and quick as lightening, she sends a handful of throwing stars singing through the air. They’re met with electric currents, losing their momentum and dropping to the ground.
One minute Arya’s standing before Ihsan, and the next, in a moment of rage, the sting of his betrayal so fresh it cuts to the bone…Oh Gods…the next she’s standing before the Majii, sword in hand, driving it through his abdomen. Malich staggers backwards and looks down at the hilt of her sword protruding from his stomach, eyes wide with shock. He should’ve seen it coming. Arya wears her heart on her sleeve and anger leading to violence was normal for her.
She stood there, hand still clenching the hilt of her sword, glaring into the face of the man who’d both stolen her heart and obliterated it. She contemplated ending him, but her heart rendered her motionless. Arya hated him for that too…at least she wants to. At this moment she shouldhate him…she should want to wipe him from the face of the planes,but her bloodthirst just isn’t there.
Malich grimaces from the pain, his warm blood coating her hands and slipping between her fingers. The metallic taste of blood fills her mouth and bile rises in her throat once more. She wants him to fight back, but he wont. Instead, he reaches up to touch her face extinguishing her anger.
Shit…
Arya realizes the graveness of what she’s just done. She just drove her sword through the Majii of the Redlands and the Prince of the House of Jarrah, in his family’s house no less. They’ll have her head for this.
“Holy Gods!” Arya gasped. She looks around the room for a rag. Ihsan hands her one and she hesitates, eyes locked on his. Why was he helping her?
As if to answer the question in her eyes he says, “If he dies, they’ll kill you.”
Arya nods. She tries to press the towel against Malich’s stomach, but he waves her off. “Just pull it out,” he groans. Arya looks down at the hand still clenching the hilt of her sword and then into Malich’s eyes. There she found forgiveness she hadn’t even asked for yet. “Please, Arya. I’m Fae, I can heal, but I need you to remove your sword.”
She hesitated, but only for a moment, and then she yanked her sword free. Malich cursed the Gods and fell to his knees.
“I’m so sorry, I…”
Again Malich waved her off, clutching his abdomen. Arya dropped down beside him and tried to look at his wound, but he wouldn’t let her. “Just give me a minute,” he told her. He placed a hand to her cheek, and Anan help her, she leaned into his embrace.
Malich’s gaze slid to Ihsan and Arya followed. Ihsan’s temples flared, but she could see it in his eyes…that oddunderstanding. He was a better man than she. Had the shoe been on the other foot…if another girl had done what Malich had done to them, Arya would not have shown her any mercy. Ihsan could’ve seized the moment to exact his revenge against Malich, but he didn’t. His sword hand was still.
For several moments they stayed silent. Arya cupped Malich’s head in her hands and he kept his eyes on Ihsan who returned Malich’s gaze. It was as if they were having a private conversation she wasn’t privy to.
Footsteps approached. Arya looked at Malich who attempted to stand, but couldn’t, and she panicked. Ihsan extended a hand to him and Malich hesitated. He looked surprised Ihsan would want to help him, but took his hand anyway.
“Place me in my chair,” Malich instructed, “Arya, clean up the blood. Quickly.”
Both Arya and Ihsan leapt into action. Ihsan frantically began cleaning up Malich’s blood from the room, getting rid of the evidence by starting a fire in the hearth inside the room. Rushing to the bathroom Arya quickly washed the blood from her person, changed into a clean nightgown and tossed her bloody clothes into the hearth as well.
She climbed back into bed, pretending to be sleep and Ihsan tossed Malich an overcoat to cover the bloody tunic he was wearing. He’d barely got the overcoat on before Dax entered the room. He raked his eyes over Ihsan then slid his gaze over to Arya, lying on the bed. His brow knit together and he brought his gaze to Malich, questions in his eyes.
“Leave us,” Malich commanded. Ihsan left the room and Arya pretended to stir.
She sat up and Dax’s eyes raked over her as well. Her eyes were puffy from crying, but they were often puffy when she awoke from sleep. “Is everything alright here?” Dax asked. His duties as Malich’s chief officer had afforded him a keen sense for fuckery.
“Everything is fine. What do you need?”
“I came to check on you.”
“Did you need something in particular?”
“No,” Dax shook his head.
“Arya and I have private matters discuss, I’ll send for you when we’re done.”
Dax opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He inclined his head to Malich and exited the room. The moment he was gone, Arya hurried to Malich’s side. She helped him remove his overcoat and tunic. His wound was healing, but slowly. Electricity thrummed to life across Malich’s fingertips. They lashed at his wound, knitting and repairing, healing him faster until all that remain was newly woven skin. No sign of the wound she’d gifted him remained.
Malich threw his blood-soaked tunic into the hearth and washed the blood from his body, all while Arya watched. She was both angry and heavy with guilt. She wanted answers.
“You know how much he meant to me,” she glared, “Why?”
“I love you,” was all he said in response.
“That is not an answer Malich, you owe me-”
“I owe you nothing but my heart…which you have.” He cut her off.
She eyes him incredulously. “You say that as if it makes up for what you’ve done to me…to us.”
“This usyou speak of, better be you and I.”
Arya bristled. The boldnessof him…his arrogance and jealousy knows no bounds. “And if it is not? What are you going to do then? Are you going to command I be beaten as you’ve often done? Beaten into submission.” She glared at him.
Malich closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, his expression was softer…pleading almost, but his rage was never far from the surface.
“Am I a bastard for what I’ve done to you? Yes. But I wouldn’t take it back and if I had it to do it over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. I.Fucking.Love. You.”
“How often loveand insanitygoes hand in hand with you,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “You cannot manipulate those around you to get what you want Malich, and expect them not to feel betrayed. That’s not love, its insanity.”
“What would you have had me do? I tried so many times to get you to see it…to see how I felt about you, what you meantto me…but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were so blinded by him that-”
Now it was her turn to cut him off, “That you decided to play God and interfere with my love life? Does that not sound like insanity to you?”
“You. Are. Mine.”
And there it was…the part of him that took whatever it was he wanted…the part of him she liked least and yet was attracted to the most. The quality of a king, no doubt and how he acquired the power she was also drawn to.
His declaration of love made her feel as if her argument was weak. Like she should be grateful and flattered he’d been willing to engage in fuckery to obtain her. Her gripes paled in comparison to this great love he had for her, raging inside him. Many women would kill to be in her position right now. Many women had tried and failed where she succeeded in winning his heart. Still, she needed to establish some clear boundaries between them, ones he cannot cross.
“I am not a piece of furniture you can move wherever you wish simply because you wish it so. I am notyour property, Malich. I am my own person.”
“That’s not what-”
Again she cut him off, “Shut. It.” She seethed. “Do not interfere with my life again and don’t ever attempt to control me or you will lose me. Are we clear?”
Irritated, Malich asked, “Can I speak now or would you like to keep cutting me off?” He had some nerve to be irritated. Arya splayed her hand out in front of her, giving him the floor. “I understand your anger, Arya, but you forget your place. I tolerate your insolence and your sharp tongue because I care for you, but do not think me weak. I am still your Majii and soon I will be Prince of the House of Jarrah, you cannotspeak to me that way.”
“Oh please,” she huffed, folding her arms. “I’ll speak to you however I damn well please after what you’ve done. Take your fancy titles and your new sense of self importance and shove them up your arse.”
Malich shot up, pushing off his chair, and sent it colliding into the wall. It shattered into pieces. She’d pushed him…she pushed intentionally as she’d often done, but his fuse was shorter than she anticipated. Blue currents of electricity engulfed him, sizzling and crackling as his rage grew. The doors slammed shut, the knobs crackling with blue sparks.
“Are you planning to hurt me?” She asked. It wouldn’t be the first time, although he’s never done it himself. “If you love me, you’ll let me figure this out on my own and you won’t interfere. Also, I want my own room.”
Taking a deep breath, Malich exhaled slowly and the electric blue currents slowly disappeared. They’d had many arguments over the years, but this was by far the worst one. He released his hold on the doors and they all opened. Dax was waiting on the other side, a worried expression on his face.
In a weakened tone she’d never heard before Malich ordered, “Give her whatever she asks for. Do it now. Start by finding her a room of her own.”
Dax nodded, swallowing hard and left to do as he was instructed. As they waited, Malich closed the space between them. She could see the fear in his eyes. He was afraid of losing her as he’d often said, but he was letting her go.
“Thank you,” she whispered to him, resting her head against his, his lips mere inches from hers. “I know this is hard for you.”
“You have no fucking idea,” he sighed. “I’m not a patient man Arya. Don’t keep me waiting.”
It wasn’t a threat, she realized, but a mercy. The man who got whatever he wanted by any means necessary was giving her space. Space he clearly didn’t want to give, but he wanted to atone for his sins against her, so he conceded…just a little.
“I need to talk to him.”
Another deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists to subdue his rage, Malich simply nodded. He wouldn’t look at her. He couldn’t.
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