Surin, Surion, Surian is there a Coincidence?

The first thing Allora noticed was the soft warmth of the bed.

The second was the cool air against her skin, no longer suffocating under fever.

The heat, the aches, the exhaustion—

All of it was fading.

Her mind felt clearer, her limbs lighter.

She exhaled slowly, blinking against the dim light.

Something felt… off.

She turned her head and—

Malec.

Slumped in a chair beside the bed, his head was draped against the mattress, one strong hand gripping hers.

His breathing was deep, his platinum wheat coloured hair messier than usual.

His brows were slightly furrowed, even in sleep.

As if even now, he couldn't relax.

She tried to shift, and the movement made her glance down.

Her hand was wrapped in fresh bandages.

Her breath hitched.

What the hell…?

She tried to pull her hand away, but Malec's fingers twitched, tightening slightly around hers.

"You're awake," his voice was rough from sleep.

Her chest tightened as his tan eyes slowly blinked open, locking onto hers.

There was a moment of silence.

Then—

Malec shot up from the chair, sitting on the bed beside her.

His hands instantly roamed over her face, her arms, her forehead, checking for any lingering warmth.

"You're cool," he muttered. "The fever's gone."

His tan eyes flickered with relief, but his expression remained unreadable.

"You scared me, dove," he muttered, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

Allora's lips parted slightly.

For a moment, she almost—

No.

She had to stay focused.

She had what she needed now.

The antibodies.

She had to escape.

But how?

Malec knew she was trying to run.

He had eyes on her at all times.

She was still his prisoner.

Still his possession.

The door creaked open.

A familiar elderly Awyan in dark robes entered the room, carrying his medical bag.

"Ah, good, she's awake—"

Then his eyes fell on Malec.

On the bandage wrapped around his hand.

On the bandages wrapped around hers.

The physician stilled.

Then his eyes widened.

"Tell me you didn't," he said sharply.

Malec leaned back on the bed, unbothered.

"She was dying," he said flatly.

The physician's face twisted in disbelief.

"You gave her your blood? Raw? Without filtering? Without measurement? Without—"

"She survived, didn't she?" Malec interrupted.

The physician looked ready to explode.

"You fool! Do you even understand the risks? The consequences? You could have—"

"But I didn't," Malec cut him off, his voice dangerous.

The room fell silent.

Then Malec turned back to Allora, his fingers brushing through her hair absentmindedly.

"The only thing that matters is that she's still here."

The physician glared at him before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"You always do whatever you damn well please," he muttered, setting his bag down.

"Make yourself useful and leave," Malec told him.

The physician rolled his eyes but obeyed.

Once they were alone again, Malec turned his attention fully back to Allora.

His tan eyes softened—just slightly.

Then, to her utter shock, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

Once.

Then again.

And again.

Slow, possessive presses of his lips against her skin.

"Don't do that to me again," he muttered against her forehead.

She felt his breath, his warmth.

"I don't like being scared, dove."

Allora's heart pounded.

She had to say something.

Had to break this moment.

Had to—

"Who is Eron?"

Her entire body stiffened.

Her blood ran cold.

Slowly, she pulled back, her eyes wide with alarm.

"How do you know that name?" she whispered.

Malec's tan eyes flickered with something dark.

"You were muttering it in your sleep."

His grip on her tightened.

"Who is he?"

His voice was low, dangerously calm.

Allora's mind raced.

This was bad.

She hadn't meant to say his name out loud.

She had been too fevered, too weak.

And now…

Now, Malec knew.

Malec was watching her too closely now.

His tan eyes sharp, his jaw clenched.

"Is he a lover?"

His voice was quiet, but there was a deadly edge to it.

Allora's stomach twisted.

Malec was jealous.

And jealous Malec was dangerous.

"That's none of your business," she said sharply.

His grip tightened on her hand.

"You belong to me," he reminded her, his voice darkening.

"Everything about you is my business."

She snatched her hand away.

"I don't belong to anyone."

"You do," he said simply.

"And if this Eron thinks otherwise, he can try and take you from me."

His tan eyes glowed in the dim candlelight.

"But I promise you, dove—"

He leaned in, his breath against her ear.

"It won't end well for him."

Allora's stomach dropped.

She knew without a doubt—

Malec would kill for her.

And that terrified her more than anything.

Allora's heartbeat pounded in her ears.

She needed to be careful.

Malec was dangerous—but even worse?

He was obsessed.

If he ever found out the truth about Eron…

If he ever knew that Eron was her brother, not a lover…

He might still kill him anyway.

Because in Malec's twisted, possessive mind, Eron would still be someone she wanted to return to.

And Malec would never allow that.

So she did the only thing she could.

She lied.

"Eron was an old master," she said carefully, keeping her expression blank.

Malec's tan eyes flickered dangerously.

"You were owned before me?" he asked darkly.

She nodded slowly.

"I ran away from him."

Malec's jaw clenched.

"Then I'll find him and make sure he never comes near you again."

Her stomach twisted.

"No need," she forced out. "He's already dead."

Malec stilled.

Something in his gaze shifted, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.

"Good," he murmured.

Allora swallowed her guilt.

She would burn for this lie later.

But for now?

She had to protect Eron.

Before Malec could press further, the door suddenly swung open.

"Well, well. What a sweet scene."

Malec's head snapped up, his tan eyes darkening immediately.

Standing in the doorway, with a shit-eating grin, was none other than King Surion.

Malec's temper flared.

"You could have knocked," he growled.

The King shrugged.

"Why would I? I like surprises."

His gray-blue eyes flickered to Allora.

"Especially ones as rare as this."

Allora shifted uncomfortably, feeling the King's gaze sweep over her.

It wasn't lustful.

It wasn't curious.

It was something else.

Something she couldn't quite place.

"What do you want?" Malec snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Surion sighed dramatically.

"Relax, cousin. I simply need you at the Barracks. Erolyn left without assigning the new border guards, so now it falls to you."

Malec gritted his teeth.

"That's not my responsibility anymore."

"And yet, you're the only one who can do it."

Malec could see through it instantly.

This wasn't about border guards.

And now—

Surion was smirking.

"Don't worry. I can watch over your Canariae while you're gone," the King added smoothly.

Ah.

That's why.

Malec's entire body tensed.

His tan eyes burned, his fists clenching at his sides.

"You think I'd let you anywhere near her?"

Surion chuckled.

"I don't need your permission. I'm the King."

Malec took a slow, dangerous step forward.

"If you so much as touch her…" His voice was low, venomous.

"If I even smell you on her when I return…"

His tan eyes gleamed murderously.

"I will burn this palace down. With you in it."

The air grew thick with tension.

Surion's smirk only widened.

"Duly noted," he said lightly.

Malec didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't even breathe.

Then—

Without another word, he turned and stormed out.

The room was silent.

Until Surion laughed.

"Oh, he really is getting worse, isn't he?"

He turned to Allora, grinning.

"Obsession has made him more dangerous than ever."

Allora glared at him.

"What do you want from me?" she asked coldly.

Surion's grin widened.

"Come, little dove. Let's take a walk."

Allora was led through the palace, escorted by two silent Awyan guards.

She had no choice but to follow.

When they arrived at a grand atrium, her breath hitched.

It was… beautiful.

Towering trees draped in golden fruit.

A sea of colorful flowers, some glowing faintly in the dim light.

Birds chirped softly in the massive glass dome above them.

It was like stepping into another world.

In the center, a long table was set with wine and fresh fruit.

Three Awyans sat around it.

One was older, his reddish-brown hair streaked with silver, his long facial hair neatly groomed.

His eyes were sharp, his posture straight-backed and authoritative.

The second was a young, strikingly beautiful female.

Her platinum blonde hair was elegantly braided, her gray eyes watching Allora with amusement.

And the third—

Allora's breath caught.

A voice slipped into her mind.

"Hello, Canariae. It is nice to see you again."

That familiar, hypnotic tone.

She didn't need to turn her head.

She already knew who it was.

Surin.

Malec's father.

Her stomach twisted.

Of course he was here.

Allora forced herself to stay still.

Forced herself to breathe.

This wasn't just a casual meeting.

This was something else.

And she had a terrible feeling…

That she was the real subject of discussion.

Surin's voice slipped into Allora's mind, smooth as silk, rich with amusement.

"Shall we entertain ourselves, little Canariae?"

Allora kept her expression neutral, but inside, her instincts sharpened.

She knew what he was doing.

He was testing her.

Just like his son always did.

"Do you want to know anything about Malec?" he continued, his tone playful.

Allora's mind whirred.

If Surin was offering information, she needed to use it wisely.

She could learn Malec's weaknesses—find out what made him tick.

She leaned back, feigning nonchalance.

"Alright," she said. "Tell me about his weaknesses."

Surin chuckled softly, swirling his wine.

"Oh, little dove, you are dangerous."

She smirked.

"Tell me something I don't know."

Surin's blue eyes gleamed.

"Ask your questions, then. Let's see how much trouble we can stir up."

Allora didn't hesitate.

"What does Malec fear?"

Surin's brow lifted.

"Losing control."

Allora filed that away.

"What makes him irrational?"

"Jealousy."

She already knew that.

"What does he desire the most?"

Surin took a slow sip of wine before answering.

"Something he can never have."

That made her stomach tighten.

"Has he ever loved before?"

Surin laughed softly.

"Not until now."

Her heart skipped.

She quickly masked her reaction.

"What's his biggest mistake?"

Surin's smile didn't fade.

"Ask him yourself."

Allora narrowed her eyes.

He was toying with her.

But before she could press further—

A grumbling voice cut through the air.

"How rude," King Surion muttered. "Speaking in mind speech and leaving the rest of us out of the conversation."

Surin sighed dramatically, as if scolded by a child.

"My apologies, Surion," he said smoothly.

Then, to Allora's absolute irritation, he winked at her.

She shot him an off-colored look, and he laughed outright.

A real, genuine laugh.

The room fell silent.

Everyone stared.

Allora glanced around.

Surin's laughing… was rare?

Gyirra, the stern-looking general, actually looked mildly surprised.

Surian, the young platinum-haired woman, tilted her head in curiosity.

And Surion?

The King just shook his head, muttering, "Unbelievable."

Interesting.

She had somehow amused Malec's father.

Not sure if that was a good thing or a terrible one.

Allora let her gaze drift to Surian, the young woman with silver-white hair and gray eyes.

Something… clicked.

Her expression shifted slightly.

"Surin. Surion. Surian," she mused aloud.

Her eyes snapped to Surin.

"Why do all your names sound similar?"

Surin grinned, delighted by the observation.

"Ah. That would be because they were named after me."

He gestured to the King, then to the young woman.

"Surion, my dear nephew. And Surian, my daughter."

Allora's stomach flipped.

Daughter?

Then that meant…

"Wait," she started.

Surian turned to her, smiling.

"Yes," she said simply.

"I'm Malec's little sister."

Allora's brows shot up.

She stared at the young, elegant woman, trying to process it.

She had never once imagined Malec with a sibling.

Much less a younger sister.

Surian's gray eyes twinkled with curiosity.

"You're very interesting, Canariae," she murmured, studying Allora like she was an unsolved puzzle.

Allora shifted uncomfortably.

And she wasn't the only one.

Surin was watching both of them, his amusement only growing.

"And our final guest," he continued, motioning to the older man with reddish-brown hair and a well-groomed beard.

"This is Gyirra, General of the Awyan Army."

Gyirra gave Allora a slow, calculating nod.

"So you are the cause of all the recent chaos," he mused.

She met his gaze unflinchingly.

"I don't like being locked in a cage," she replied coolly.

Gyirra actually smiled faintly.

"Neither does Malec," he said.

Allora blinked.

Surin smirked knowingly.

"Oh, yes. You two have more in common than you realize."

Allora had no idea what to make of this room full of Awyans.

But one thing was certain—

This wasn't just a casual gathering.

They had brought her here for a reason.

And she intended to find out why.

Allora's mind whirled.

Surian.

Malec's sister.

Surin's daughter.

Another piece to the puzzle of Malec's twisted, aristocratic bloodline.

Surian was beautiful, like all Awyans—her platinum-blonde hair arranged in elegant braids, her gray eyes watching Allora with quiet amusement.

Her presence was different from the others.

Malec was brutal, Surin was manipulative, Surion was smug—but Surian?

Surian was curious.

That made Allora wary.

Curiosity in an Awyan usually meant danger.

"You intrigue me, Canariae," Surian murmured, studying Allora like she was an exotic artifact.

"I can see why my brother is obsessed with you."

Allora forced herself not to react.

She wouldn't let them see how much that statement unsettled her.

She was already trapped in Malec's possession.

Now she was in a room full of his kin, with no idea what they wanted from her.

And worst of all—

Surin was still in her head.

She could feel it.

That mental presence lingering, skimming just beneath the surface.

Like a fox circling a wounded bird.

He was enjoying this.

"What's wrong, little dove?" Surin's voice purred inside her mind.

Allora's jaw tightened.

"Get out of my head."

Surin chuckled, sipping his wine.

"I thought we were enjoying ourselves."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"What do you want, Surin?"

"I already told you. Entertainment."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Would you like to play another game?"

Allora narrowed her gaze.

"Depends. Do I get to kill you at the end of it?"

Surin laughed outright.

Surion, the King, groaned.

"Are you going to keep talking in mind speech like rude little children, or are you actually going to include the rest of us?"

Surin gave a dramatic sigh, then smiled at Allora.

"My apologies, Surion," he said smoothly.

Then—

He winked at her.

Allora shot him a flat, unamused glare.

Surin only laughed again.

The whole room paused.

Surian tilted her head, intrigued.

Gyirra raised a single brow.

Even the King gave Surin a bemused glance.

Allora frowned.

What?

Surin laughing was… rare?

She glanced at the silent reactions around the table.

Interesting.

So, she had managed to amuse Malec's father.

Not sure if that was a good thing or a terrible one.