Whispers in the dark

Got it! I'll expand Malrik and Elaris's moment, making it more romantic for him but less for her, with added tensi

The Aftermath

The fight was over. The rebels had seen what I could do, but their stares still held hesitation. Some looked at me with newfound respect. Others—like the scarred woman, Naela—watched me as if waiting for me to slip.

Roran stepped forward, his dark gaze unreadable. "You fought well, but a single victory doesn't earn our loyalty."

I wiped blood from my lip and straightened. "I didn't expect it to."

The rebels murmured amongst themselves. Some seemed ready to accept me, others less so.

Then, Varen, one of the elder warriors, stepped forward. "She fights like her father. That means something."

But Naela scoffed. "Or it means she's reckless like him. And we all know how that ended."

A sharp silence followed.

The weight of my father's fall was still heavy in the air, but I refused to let it shake me. I lifted my chin. "You fought for my father because you believed in his rule. I won't ask for your trust. I'll earn it."

Roran studied me before giving a slow nod. "Then let's see what you have planned."

They weren't following me yet—not fully. But they were listening. That was enough… for now.

The Throne Spirit's Vision

The discussion stretched on, their questions sharp, their skepticism clear. I was prepared for it. But something else lurked at the edge of my mind—a presence.

The whispers curled around my thoughts like smoke.

Come back to me.

A chill swept over me. My fingers curled around my dagger's hilt, as if that would keep the voices away.

You are meant for more.

I shook my head, gritting my teeth. "No."

Kael gave me a strange look. "Elaris?"

The whispers slithered deeper.

You belong to the throne.

"No," I muttered again. My head felt too heavy. My heartbeat slowed. The world blurred.

The ground crumbled beneath me.

I was falling.

A dark abyss swallowed me whole.

I reached for something—anything—but the shadows wrapped around my limbs, dragging me deeper.

Then—my father's voice.

"Elaris, get up."

I gasped, body jerking violently.

Then, nothing.

Waking Up in Malrik's Arms

I woke to warmth. A steady rhythm. A scent of leather, steel, and something undeniably male.

My head was against someone's chest.

I blinked, disoriented, only to find Malrik carrying me.

His arms were strong, holding me effortlessly, but what struck me most was his expression—not his usual smirk, but something softer.

"You're awake," he murmured, glancing down. "Good. For a moment, I thought I'd have to kiss you to bring you back."

I grimaced. "Put me down."

His smirk returned, playful and slow. "But I was enjoying this. You're much sweeter when you're not glaring at me."

I shoved at his chest. "I said put me down, Malrik."

He sighed dramatically but obeyed, lowering me to my feet.

The moment I stood, I stepped away—but his fingers brushed mine, lingering just a moment too long. A subtle, teasing touch. Barely noticeable to others.

But I noticed.

And so did Roran.

His sharp gaze flickered between us, suspicion evident. Naela, too, narrowed her eyes.

"Should we be concerned?" Naela asked coldly.

I clenched my jaw, preparing to snap at Malrik, but before I could, he turned to them with an easy grin.

"What? Can't a man care for his princess?" He pressed his hand to his heart, feigning sincerity. "I carried her all this way. I should get something in return. A thank-you? A kiss, perhaps?"

I scowled. "You'll get a knife in the gut if you keep this up."

Malrik laughed. "Spicy. I like it."

I turned sharply and walked ahead, ignoring him, but he fell into step beside me.

He leaned in just slightly. "I was worried, you know." His voice was lower now. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just… real.

That stopped me.

I looked up at him, expecting to see another smirk, but his golden eyes held something else. Something unreadable.

For a moment, I almost forgot to breathe.

But then—he ruined it.

He puckered his lips and blew a dramatic kiss toward me.

I recoiled, face twisting in disgust. "Disgusting."

Malrik chuckled. "Ah, but look at that blush—"

"I am not blushing!"

He grinned but said nothing more, letting me stew in my irritation.

Winning Over the Rebels

Despite the tension, we sat around the fire to discuss plans. I laid out my strategy—how we would reclaim lost ground, strike at the heart of the enemy's hold, and gather more allies.

The rebels listened, skeptical but engaged.

Finally, after a long silence, Roran nodded. "We'll follow you. But if you fail us—"

Naela finished for him, "—we won't hesitate to kill you."

I met her gaze head-on. "Fair enough."

The rebels had agreed.

But as the firelight flickered and the whispers of the throne spirit still lingered in my mind, I knew this was only the beginning.

And Malrik…

I glanced at him across the fire, where he sat sharpening his dagger, eyes flickering toward me now and then.

He wasn't just a flirt. He wasn't just an annoyance.

He was dangerous.

And I couldn't let myself forget that.