The Kiss

Malec sat at the long banquet table, surrounded by officers, generals, and scholars, all drinking and speaking in low, hushed tones.

The glow of golden lanterns flickered across the dark wooden walls, casting heavy shadows around the room. The scent of strong Awyan liquor, roasted meats, and smoldering tobacco filled the air.

But Malec was barely listening.

He was thinking about her.

The dark Canariae.

He had never encountered one like her before.

Defiant. Impossible to control.

If she were to be sold, she would have to be tamed first.

No high-society Awyan would purchase a Canariae that couldn't be broken. Especially one as unique as her.

There were Canariae with red hair. Canariae with strange, slanted eyes. Canariae with odd patterns in their irises.

But the dark-skinned ones were the most valuable.

The rarest.

But hers…

Hers was unlike anything he had seen.

Deep. Dark. As dark as the sky at midnight.

And yet, under the sun, it glowed.

It was as though her skin had been carved by the sun itself.

Awyan skin—his own—was pale, washed-out, lacking color. But hers?

It was rich. It was made for the sunlight.

Malec's fingers tapped against his goblet, his tan eyes flickering as he exhaled slowly.

Eerily beautiful.

A phrase came to him, one he had once heard an Awyan poet use to describe the cosmos.

"The night sky, unbroken, stretching infinitely beyond our reach."

A drunken officer approached, his steps unsteady, his breath reeking of alcohol and smoke.

Malec didn't acknowledge him at first.

Then—

"Commander," the officer grinned, clapping him on the shoulder in a way that was far too familiar for Malec's liking. "That new Canariae… the dark one. Let me have her for the night."

Malec's jaw ticked.

His expression remained neutral, but his blood cooled.

The officer continued, grinning like a fool.

"A rare one like that, I bet she'd be lively."

The other officers nearby chuckled, some muttering among themselves.

Disgusting.

Malec wasn't surprised by the request. It wasn't uncommon for Canariae to be used for labor or entertainment—whether as servants, fighters, or something else entirely.

He had never cared.

What other Awyan did with their Canariae was their business.

But the thought of that violent female in the hands of these fools—

He didn't like it.

He wasn't sure why. And he wasn't about to dwell on it.

He took a slow sip from his cup before answering, voice flat, emotionless.

"She is still in processing. No one touches her until she is cleared."

The officer pouted, but nodded, slapping Malec's back before stumbling off.

Malec set his goblet down, exhaling slowly.

Something unsettled him.

Not the request itself.

Not even the thought of what the officer had wanted to do.

No—what unsettled him was the fact that for the briefest second, he had felt something that almost resembled irritation.

And Malec never felt anything about what happened to Canariae.

They were beasts. Property.

Not something to care about.

He rolled his shoulders, shaking off the thought.

It didn't matter.

He had other concerns.

Like her battle techniques.

Malec had never seen a Canariae fight like that before.

Sharp. Efficient. Purposeful.

She didn't waste movement. Every motion was a calculated strike, designed to do the most damage with the least effort.

It was… strange.

It was something worth learning.

If she were Awyan, she would have been recruited as a soldier without question.

But no respectable Awyan would ever learn from a Canariae.

Malec didn't care about that.

Let them talk. Let them whisper. He had killed men for lesser insults.

And yet…

She was dangerous.

She would have to be tamed first.

A sudden commotion outside.

The doors to the hall slammed open, and a stable boy rushed in, his face flushed, his breathing frantic.

"Fire!" the boy shouted. "The stables are on fire! It's spreading!"

Malec immediately stood.

His tan eyes darkened, his chest tightening with unspoken rage.

He already knew who had done this.

Without hesitation, he strode toward the door, his heavy boots hitting the stone floor like war drums.

The officers followed, rushing toward the flames.

But Malec was not rushing.

No.

He was going to find her.

And he was going to teach her what happened to those who defied him.

Chaos.

Thick, black smoke billowed into the night sky. The crackling of flames consumed the stables, the screams of men and animals tangled together in the air. Soldiers rushed frantically with buckets of water, their boots pounding against the stone, their shouts echoing off the fortress walls.

The horses were wild, rearing up, kicking at anything that got too close. Pure panic.

And in the middle of it all, Malec was hunting.

His tan eyes burned, scanning through the flames and shadows, his sharp gaze moving methodically.

He wasn't looking for the fire's source.

He was looking for her.

That little dark rat.

Melodie had already picked the lock and climbed out of the window.

The distraction fire had worked perfectly. While the soldiers were focused on saving the stables, she had slipped into the shadows, leading the freed captives through the dark.

Her body ached from being bound for so long, but she pushed forward, her heart pounding as she moved stealthily along the fortress walls.

She had chosen the opposite side of the fire—where no one would be looking.

"Move, move," she whispered urgently, waving the others forward.

Some hesitated. Fearful. They didn't understand her words.

Lilly stood beside her, her small hands clenched into fists.

"Lilly, tell them. We have to go now!"

Lilly nodded, turning to the others and whispering rapidly in their shared tongue. Murmurs of agreement followed.

One by one, they began climbing the rope she had stolen, disappearing over the fortress wall.

Melodie exhaled, her muscles tight with adrenaline.

Almost there.

Then—

A shadow moved in the darkness.

She tensed, heart stopping for a brief second.

Malec.

No.

Not Malec.

Luko.

Luko stood just beyond the torchlight, arms full of books, his expression frozen in shock.

His golden eyes flickered, reflecting the firelight as he took in the sight before him—the escaping captives, the rope, the destruction.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, but before he could—

A freed prisoner lunged at him.

A blade flashed in the darkness.

Luko's eyes widened, but he was too slow to react.

The blade plunged into his side.

He gasped, staggering back, his books dropping to the ground as a sharp, ragged breath escaped him.

The prisoner grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against the stone wall, ready to drive the dagger in deeper.

"Wait!" Melodie hissed, grabbing the attacker's wrist.

The man snarled, his eyes filled with hatred. "He of them! We kill or they kill Canariae!"

Luko coughed, gripping the wound, his golden eyes wide with pain.

"Not now! We don't have time for this!" Melodie snapped, forcing the man's hand away.

The prisoner hesitated, breathing hard.

"Go!" she ordered.

Finally, with reluctance, he backed off, rushing to join the others over the wall.

Melodie turned to Luko.

His golden eyes were glassy, his breathing labored, but he was still standing. Blood soaked through his robes, dripping onto the stone floor.

"Damn it," she muttered, stepping closer.

Luko leaned against the wall, his grip tightening over the wound. His face was pale, but he was alive.

"Don't make me regret that," she muttered.

Luko swallowed hard, his breath shallow—

Then—

A heavy presence filled the air.

Her stomach dropped.

Malec.

He appeared out of the darkness, his breathing even, but his expression deadly.

His jaw was clenched, his tan eyes darkened, burning like embers.

He didn't speak.

He didn't have to.

Melodie pushed Lilly toward the rope.

"Go! Climb down, now!"

Lilly hesitated, her small hands gripping Melodie's arm.

Malec moved.

Fast.

Before Melodie could react, he had seized her wrist, yanking her back.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. No.

Lilly's eyes widened in horror.

Think. Think. Think.

Melodie sucked in a shaky breath—and then, without hesitation, she whirled around and grabbed Malec's face.

And kissed him.

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't romantic.

It was calculated.

A distraction.

A last, desperate move to buy time.

The second her lips pressed against his, she felt his entire body go rigid.

His grip on her loosened—not in surrender, but in pure, unfiltered shock.

Malec froze.

For the first time since she had met him, his mind had completely blanked.

Melodie could almost hear the confusion in his stillness.

His tan eyes flickered, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his body tensed as if trying to process what had just happened.

And for that brief, precious second—

He did nothing.

Lilly grabbed the rope and slid down the wall, disappearing into the dark forest below.

Gone.

Safe.

Melodie had won.

She started to pull away, ready to run—

But the moment Malec snapped out of his stunned daze, his hands locked back into place.

Tightly.

Roughly.

As if she had just triggered something in him that he didn't understand.

His tan eyes burned into hers, widened slightly, as if trying to confirm whether or not she had actually just done that.

"Selo?"

The word left his lips before he even realized he had spoken.

Melodie grinned, breathless.

"I win."

Malec blinked.

Then—his jaw tightened, his confusion quickly being buried beneath frustration.

He moved without hesitation this time.

Spun her around, yanked her wrists behind her back, and tied her without another second of delay.

No more surprises.

No more hesitation.

She had caught him off guard once.

It wouldn't happen again.

Malec marched through the fortress halls, his grip on her tight, unyielding.

Luko stumbled beside them, barely able to keep up, his golden eyes hazy with pain as he pressed a hand against his blood-soaked robes.

Melodie could feel the anger rolling off Malec's body in waves, but underneath it, she could tell—

He was still processing what had just happened.

For a man with such a violent reputation, he was surprisingly controlled.

They entered a medical ward, and Malec shoved open the doors, ordering the medics to tend to Luko.

Then—he turned back to Melodie.

Still furious.

Still silent.

But his tan eyes flickered, as if the memory of what she had done was still lingering in the back of his mind, just out of reach.

Melodie met his stare.

Defiant.

She knew what this meant.

She had pushed him too far.

Now—she was going to pay the price.