Twenty-Four: Chimia

*Gikíchóra*.

My grandmother had taken me there as a child when she visited old friends. It was surreal in a sick way; perfect in the way that the smell of decay turned so foul it became sweet. There was no excitement to be had there because every day was pleasant and perfect. It was as if everyone there had been stripped of their personality and replaced with a hollow, sugary shell. They had certainly not been on the invitation list, and this man could not possibly have hailed from there. Once he retreated, I was meant to take a break. Traditionally, I would have remained at the table and finished my next course in peace, but something needed to be done about the third enchanter in the room immediately.

"Malfizan," I murmured, ignoring the pained glance I received from Reus, "won't you accompany me to get some fresh air?" My mother watched us with prying eyes. She must have been irritated that she would not be permitted to listen in on the conversation, but I was sure now more than ever that she was a part of the evil going on, and it had to do with Kako. If she wasn't, she would have already begun gossiping about him the moment he walked away.

"Of course, Princess."

Mal lent me his arm and together we made our way out to the terrace. It was empty, for now, while everyone at the party was still eating. A wave of my hand shut the door behind us and a flick of the other shrouded us in a darkness no one but Zeus himself would be able to see or hear through. Mal released his hold on me and moved to face me, his eyes worried, searching mine for any kind of answer.

"We need eyes on that man the whole time he's here," I instructed.

"I'll let Nero know. He should handle it."

"And the spirit stone needs to be destroyed immediately," I continued, pulling my spine up and putting my hands on my hips. "Even if there's nothing wrong with it, no one can find out we have one here in Echelon."

"What is it?" Mal asked, his brow furrowed.

"A spirit stone is what's left of an enchanter when they die and have no offspring to pass their power on to. It holds generations of magic within it and, historically, they've only ever been used for nefarious reasons. They're the reason there are so few of us left. My kind have been massacred by evil beings hoping to acquire one or more. Your mother, before you were born, gathered them all and bound and hid them. There are only a few remaining. Those she left were protected like...memorials sort of by the villages of enchanters that had been killed. We will need to call her in the morning and have her retrieve it."

"Done," the beastly God said, stepping closer to me to gently pry my hands from my waist. He held them in his, and the contact relaxed me almost instantly. "Are you sure you want to return to the ball, though, Alchimia? This is...so open of him. I'm worried." I could feel it. His concern for me was heated, tinged with a rage he'd formerly directed at me. "We can send you upstairs. I can accept gifts on your behalf. We could have Presta come and take your place."

"No," I snapped. "No, this is my fight. This is my burden to carry, not hers, Mal. I will not run away from this."

"No one would think you were running. If you are not safe, Echelon is not safe. There has to come a time when you learn the line between bravery and martyrdom, Alchimia, please. Let me take you upstairs."

"Mal," I pleaded, moving his hands behind me and releasing them so I could step into his embrace, "I need you to let go a little. Meet me halfway. I'll let you protect me if you let me do this the way I want to, and that's head-on. Not one victory of mine came because I retreated to an ivory tower to let others suffer on my behalf. I was victorious against my enemies because I'm smart, I'm even-tempered, I'm *strong*. I know now that I'm even stronger with you on my side." I paused, tilting my head up to him, letting the intimacy of the moment wash over both of us. His rigid form accepted my soft curves against it as his robust arms pressed me to him. Presta had been right. If I was going to make it through, I needed to open my heart and trust someone. In the past, my instincts about who to allow in my circle had always been right. Despite our rocky beginning, everything in me was screaming that Malfizan would never do anything to harm me, and I was finally willing to give in to that feeling. In that enclosed space between his heart and his arms, I felt more sure of him than of anything else in my life past or present.

"But?" he breathed, his voice hardly even a whisper. There was a strange look in his eyes, somewhere in the middle of hope and yearning. It sent sparks of pleasant warmth through my body and filled my stomach with butterflies. I felt like I had when I was a child and my eyes first beheld his gorgeous, towering bulk. Had it really just been the aura his father had passed down to him, then? Or had it always been this way?

*Have I been ignoring how I feel about Malfizan this whole time?*

"There's no buts," I insisted. "It's just this, Mal. I want to take on the world with you. We've been fighting this whole time, I think, because we're so much alike. Not on the surface but deep down. We're stubborn and we're guarded and we're willful. But I know that we can make a way if we can bend to one another, find the middle ground that's eluded us so far. I want to make this work. I want to take this city out of the gutter and build something remarkable. And I know now that I have to do it *with* you. We are Echelon's greatest chance of survival, but only if we go into this war together."

The air around us seemed to still. The distant murmurs of the party faded in the background. For a few seconds, it was just the two of us, breath to breath. Heart to heart. One day, this would end, and I would need to resume my quest for the husband Zeus had promised me. But today I would allow my heart to belong to Malfizan at last, after centuries of pretending otherwise and withholding my love from him.

Instead of words, my beautiful protector pulled me up to him and our lips crashed together. We drank one another in like drunkards having their first wine of the week. Our hands found purchase wherever they could beneath the swathes of fabric between us, hungrily exploring one another's bodies, desperate to touch and be touched. My heart pounded in my chest so hard I could feel it threatening to crack my ribs and run off. Despite having kissed him before, I felt like I was basking in his glory for the first time; a woman reborn in the flame of my lover's affection.

"You are divine," Mal growled against my ear once we parted. His hot, soft skin against my neck made me weak, and I whimpered as his lips brushed against the tender flesh there. "Let me worship you as you deserve to be worshipped."

"What do you--" The words had hardly left my lips when the demon God hoisted me up, sat me atop the balustrade behind us and got to his knees. Before I could protest, he lifted my skirts, disappeared beneath them, and pulled my core against his starving lips. He devoured me, his tongue and lips working together to destroy all sense of composure in me. Pleasure built in me until I was a bomb ready to explode. He moaned as he worked, his arms holding me against him by my thighs and crawling up my back so I could arch into my bliss without worry that I'd fall over the edge.

As the symphony he played came to a crescendo, I threw my head back and groaned. Mal focused his attentions and didn't stop until I'd ridden every wave of my orgasm to a soft, gentle halt. Once it was over, he emerged, collected me in his arms, and kissed me again. This time, my legs wrapped around his waist and I could feel every inch of his enjoyment.

Then, a mild voice came from the door that had been cracked open. "Princess, there are more gifts to be accepted, if you would," came Nero's amused, slightly embarrassed voice.