[Malachi's POV]
The air in the Antique Tome Market was thick with the mingled scents of old parchment and magical ink. It was the smell of the forgotten corners of the royal library—the only true sanctuary of my childhood.
Elara clearly felt at home here too.
Her eyes were bright, like two polished ice-blue gems. She moved from stall to stall, picking up dusty old tomes, her focus absolute as she leafed through their pages. She looked like a child who had discovered a hidden treasure, so different from the other she-wolves who orbited me, their eyes always filled with greed and calculation. Her eyes held only the purest love of knowledge.
Interesting. Truly interesting.
Together, we unearthed a one-of-a-kind analysis of the runes in the very tome she was returning, and a tattered fragment of a map that hinted at a lost ruin. We sat by the window of a small cafe, sipping hot drinks and discussing our finds. The atmosphere was… comfortable. It was a novel experience. I didn't have to search for topics or endure false praise. We simply talked.
"I'll be right back," Elara said, standing up.
I nodded, watching her go before taking a sip of my coffee. I picked up the rune analysis and continued to read.
But she didn't come back.
Instead, chaos came.
A shrill alarm blared through the building, followed by an urgent announcement. "Attention all patrons. An unidentified magical fluctuation has been detected. Please evacuate in an orderly fashion…"
The crowd erupted in panic. My guards immediately formed a protective circle around me. "Your Majesty, it's not safe. We must leave at once."
My brow furrowed. My gaze swept over the frantic crowd, but I couldn't find her. She had gone to the restroom, and she hadn't come back.
My heart seized, a cold, familiar tightness. That feeling of being abandoned.
Again.
They always did this. The moment danger appeared, they would leave me without a second thought, saving themselves. Just like my mother.
My eyes grew cold, the deep violet bleeding into an eerie, predatory red.
"Your Majesty?" My guard sensed the shift, his voice tense.
They knew this was the sign of my bloodline's power spiraling out of control.
"Never mind me," my voice was ice. "Find her."
"But—"
"Find her!"
They didn't dare argue, fanning out into the chaos. Just then, a group of masked Rogues swarmed us, their silver-laced weapons aimed directly at me.
"Kill Malachi!"
So, this was a planned assassination.
My guards moved to engage them. I just stood there, a calm island in a sea of violence, not even lifting a finger. My eyes were still searching.
Where was she? Had she already escaped? Had she, like everyone else, discarded me at the first sign of trouble?
"Malachi!"
A clear, urgent voice cut through the din.
My head snapped around. And I saw her. She was fighting her way through the panicked crowd, running toward me. Her face was etched with worry, her ice-blue eyes reflecting only me.
She hadn't run. She had come back for me.
In that instant, the storm of rage and bloodlust churning within me simply… ceased. The eerie red light faded from my eyes.
She hadn't left me.
The fight was over quickly. My guards were elite; the Rogues were a rabble. By the time I reached the rooftop restaurant, it was a scene of carnage. A dozen bodies lay strewn across the floor, their blood staining the expensive carpets. I stood among the dead, spattered with it myself, feeling nothing but a hollow void.
Until I felt her gaze. I looked up. She was standing at the entrance, breathless, her face pale with alarm.
I looked at her, and a faint smile touched my lips. "You're late," I said calmly. "You missed the most interesting part."
She didn't scream or recoil. She rushed to my side. "Are you hurt?"
She wasn't looking at the bodies. She was looking at me.
I arched an eyebrow. "I thought you would be more concerned with these weaklings on the floor."
"I'm not that much of a saint," she said, her hands reaching out to check me for injuries. "It's not safe here. We need to leave."
She grabbed my hand, intending to pull me toward the emergency exit. Her hand was warm, chasing the chill from my fingertips. As we neared the exit, a faint, rhythmic tick-tick-tick reached her ears. It came from an alchemical device mounted above the doorway.
The color drained from her face. A bomb.
In the split second the ticking became a high-pitched whine, she moved. Pure warrior's instinct. She spun, tackling me to the ground. "Get down!"
Her soft body pressed against mine, shielding me with her own back.
But the explosion never came. Only my cool voice, right beside her ear. "There will be no explosion."
"What?" She froze, meeting my deep violet eyes.
"My men modified the device," I said calmly. "It won't detonate."
"You… you knew about the bomb?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.
"Yes. I knew," I admitted. "But this is the second time."
"The second time for what?"
"The second time you've risked your life to save mine," I said, my gaze locked on hers. "Why? Is it because you were a warrior? Would you do this for anyone?"
"Is that not reason enough?" she replied, pushing herself off me, clearly relieved the danger had passed.
Soon, my butler, Alfred, arrived with a team to clean up the scene. He presented me with a clean, damp towel and a fresh change of clothes. I took the towel and slowly, meticulously wiped the blood from my hands. Then, right there in front of her, I unbuttoned my blood-spattered shirt, revealing my lean, hard chest.
Her breath hitched. She quickly turned her back to me. "Since you're unharmed, King Malachi, I'll be leaving."
"Perhaps you should change as well before you go," my voice came from behind her. "Otherwise, you might attract unwanted attention."
She looked down and saw that in tackling me, she had stained her own clothes with blood. Alfred quickly produced a set of female clothing that, by some miracle, was a perfect fit. She took them to a staff changing room without argument.
We rode the Magi-tech elevator down alone. The small space felt charged with a strange, subtle energy. I watched her cool, elegant profile.
"I find I still want you very much," I said suddenly.
Her head snapped toward me, her eyes wide.
"Are you certain you won't reconsider being my guard?" I asked.
The tension broke. A wave of relief washed over her. "I told you, I have no plans to be a guard. Your Majesty already has powerful protectors."
"But if it were you," I stared at her, my gaze intense, "you wouldn't leave me, would you? No matter the danger."
I was certain of it. You are the only one who runs toward me, not away.