Chapter 8 The coincidence that was never one

MALAKAI

I spun around. The tension in my spine fractionally dissolved. Lord Maric stood there, his tailored coat immaculate. Ever since my mother died, my uncle had been the only person in this estate who looked at me like a nephew instead of a liability.

"Uncle Maric," I breathed.

"Your father is in a foul mood," Maric said quietly. "He practically froze the chamber. What happened in Norway?"

"A long story. One he will likely kill me for."

Maric's eyes softened with familiar warmth. He squeezed my shoulder. "You are blood, Malakai. I will not let him lay a hand on you. We will face him together."

He pushed the doors open.

We crossed into the main chamber. The air inside felt like a sealed vacuum. A thin layer of frost crept across the edges of the table. My father, Lord Alaric, stood at the head of it, surrounded by five high-ranking Council members.

Alaric's eyes snapped to me. The usual calculating grey was gone, replaced by a deep, lethal crimson.

"Leave us," Alaric commanded. His voice carried the clinical tone of an executioner.

"My Lord," one elder objected. "We have not concluded the treaty..."

"Get out!" he roared.

The elders scrambled toward the exit. As the last one scurried past, Maric gently closed the thick doors, locking the three of us inside.

In a blur of motion, my father vanished.

He reappeared inches from my face, his hand catching my throat. His fingers felt like iron clamps as he slammed me backward into a wooden chair. The wood cracked.

"You fool," Alaric hissed. "You did not just kill one of our own. You killed a vampire heir. Do you have any idea what I have had to do to keep his father from finding out?"

"He was hurting her," I choked out.

"A human girl you were using to pass the time!" Alaric laughed bitterly. "You risked our entire dynasty for a snack."

He threw me.

I flew across the room, my back colliding with the table, and it cracked again. I crashed to the floor. My lungs flattened. Before I could push myself up, his boot slammed into my ribs, pinning me down.

"Alaric, enough!" Uncle Maric shouted.

My uncle rushed forward, shoving his hands against my father's chest. "Are you trying to kill the boy? He is your son!"

"He is a liability," Alaric spat, stepping back to let me gasp for air. "He murdered the Russian heir."

"And you have covered it up," Uncle Maric countered smoothly, kneeling to help me sit up. "The boy's mother is dead, Alaric. Give him rest. We are family."

"It's not everyone in this family that drains a Volkov heir in a nightclub," he replied coldly.

"No," Maric agreed. "It's not everyone, and it's not his fault. Grief did. And grief is something you have never once given him room to feel."

Alaric straightened his coat. "The rumors are already starting. He cannot stay in this estate. If the Council suspects anything, they will hand him over to the Russians to avoid a war."

"Then we hide him in plain sight," my uncle said calmly. He looked up at my father, then at me. "Send him to Thornewood Academy."

Lord Alaric froze. "The mixed school?"

"I am not going," I rasped, coughing a speck of blood onto the floor. "I am not sharing a roof with those mutts."

"And who said you have a choice here? I am simply trying to save your life," Uncle Maric cut in.

"Listen to me. My own son attends Thornewood and is doing exceptionally well. The school's protective walls and neutral ground are exactly what we need to hide Malakai from Nikolai Volkov. It is the perfect place to lay low."

"And if Nikolai finds him there anyway?" Alaric asked.

"Then he finds him behind a witch's ward instead of behind your front gate," he replied. "Which of those wars would you rather explain to the Council?"

My father stared at his brother. For a long moment, the only sound was the rain lashing against the windows.

"Fine," Lord Alaric decreed. He looked down at me with utter disdain. "You start Monday. Consider this your mother's last gift to you."

"Is that right?" I spat, pushing myself onto my knees. "You speak of her as if you care, yet you allowed her to be butchered by werewolves. Now you send me into a school filled with those same beasts, and you call that protection?"

"You have been a disappointment since the day she died," my father hissed. "A stain on the Voss name."

"Then end it," I challenged, looking up through a haze of pain. "Send me to join her."

He looked down at me. For a split second I saw a flash of pity reserved for a dying dog.

"No. Death is too easy. Your mother escaped, but you? You have to live with the ruin you have made."

I stayed on the floor, the words echoing in my skull. Escaped? I saw when they brought her home. I saw the claw marks on her throat.

Without another word, my father stalked out of the chamber.

Uncle Maric patted my back. "He is just stressed, Malakai. Give him time. Going to Thornewood is for your own good. Just keep your head down there," he said, smiling. "I am always here for you."

"Thank you, Uncle," I muttered.

He gave me one last reassuring smile before following my father out of the hall.

I stood up slowly, every bone in my body screaming in protest. Walking to the windows, I pressed my forehead against the freezing glass.

They had just exiled me into a school filled with the creatures that had slaughtered my mother. And the cruelest joke of all was that one of them currently held my beating heart in her hands.

AETHELGARD PALACE

The crystalline walls of the Aethelgard Palace glowed with eternal twilight. Queen Amatriel sat atop her throne of twisted weirwood her eyes closed as three handmaidens gently bathed her bare feet in a silver basin of fragrant water. Below the dais a dozen armored elven guards stood like statues.

A tear in the air suddenly shattered the quiet.

A swirling violet portal opened on the marble floor. The High Witch stepped through her dark robes trailing with residual magic.

“To what do I owe this breach of my walls?” Amatriel asked her tone entirely unbothered.

“The vision you called an impossible fairy tale is falling into motion,” the High Witch declared stepping closer to the guards. “The boy has returned to London. My sources confirm the girl will arrive any moment.”

Amatriel pulled her feet from the basin. The water dripped onto the marble floor.

Her eyes narrowed.

“And you still believe this collision can be used to change everything?".

“I did not say it, I saw it.”

“Okay then. We will use them to forge a peaceful coexistence between the species "

“And if they resist being forged?”

“Then we force them to.” Amatriel smiled. “A vision like this does not arrive to be ignored.”

She turned her gaze to the handmaiden on her left.

“Elara.”

One of the handmaiden immediately stood and bowed before the queen.

“Go to Thornewood Academy,” the Queen commanded. “Summon the Dean. Tell her the grand patron demands her presence.”