Surian's Offer

Surion, clearly growing impatient, turned his gaze to Allora.

"Since we're all getting along so well," Surin drawled, "I assume you've realized why I invited you here."

Allora held his gaze steadily.

"No," she said bluntly.

Surian's lips quirked into a smile.

"Father, you're being too vague," she said, addressing Surin.

"You should just tell her why we're interested in her."

Allora's stomach tensed.

Surin set down his wine glass.

"Very well," he said, watching Allora carefully.

"You see, my dear… you've caused quite the disturbance."

She braced herself.

"A Canariae has never escaped Malec before. And yet, not only did you run, but he chased you down like a mad dog, nearly burned the palace down threatening Surion, and now—"

He gave a lazy smirk.

"Now, he's claiming you as his mate."

A small gasp came from Surian.

Gyirra's brow lifted slightly.

Even Surion, who usually looked entertained, frowned.

"He actually said that?" the King asked.

"He did."

Allora's throat tightened.

Surin's smile widened.

"And I find that quite… fascinating."

"You are his first, you know," Surin continued, his voice smooth.

"He's never kept one before. Never laid claim to one. Not even once."

His bright blue eyes gleamed.

"And now, suddenly, he brings home a dark-skinned Canariae from another world, and not only does he refuse to sell her—"

He leaned forward slightly.

"But he loves her."

Allora's chest squeezed painfully.

No.

No, that wasn't possible.

Malec didn't… love.

Malec possessed.

Malec controlled.

Malec owned.

But love?

No.

She wouldn't believe that.

She couldn't.

Because if she started to believe it…

Then she might start to believe he could change.

That he could be more than this.

That he could be something decent.

And she wouldn't allow herself to be fooled.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Surin's voice was too knowing.

Allora forced her expression blank.

"It doesn't matter," she said flatly.

Surin chuckled.

"Oh, but it does."

He leaned back in his chair, amused beyond reason.

"Because if Malec truly loves you… then what are you going to do about it?"

Allora's chest squeezed painfully.

This was a game.

A game Surin was playing, pushing her for a reaction.

But she wasn't going to fall for it.

"You're wrong," she said flatly.

Surin raised a brow, intrigued.

"Oh?"

"Malec doesn't love me. He doesn't love anyone. He's a conqueror, not a lover. He keeps me because I'm a challenge—nothing more."

Surin's blue eyes gleamed with amusement.

"And yet, you still wear his mark."

Allora's face burned as she realized exactly what he meant.

Her fingers instinctively brushed against her neck.

The faint bruising.

The possessive love bites Malec had left on her skin.

Evidence of his claim.

She yanked her hand away.

"That doesn't mean anything," she snapped.

"It means everything," Surin countered smoothly.

"Father, stop teasing her," Surian interjected, finally speaking up.

She turned her cool gray eyes to Allora, watching her carefully.

"Surin is correct about one thing, though. Malec has never done this before."

Allora exhaled sharply.

"You're telling me Malec's never had a woman before? Yeah, I don't buy that."

"That's not what I mean," Surian said patiently.

"Of course he's had lovers. But none that he's kept. None that he's called his."

Allora froze.

"Wait… what?"

"Malec has never claimed anyone," Surian said simply.

"Not once. Not in his entire life."

Allora stared at her.

"That doesn't make sense," she said. "Malec is… well… Malec."

Surian's lips quirked in amusement.

"Yes. And he is also stubborn. He doesn't believe in weakness. He doesn't trust others. He certainly doesn't allow anyone to hold power over him."

She tilted her head.

"But you? You're different. He's never looked at anyone the way he looks at you."

Allora's stomach flipped.

"He doesn't look at me any special way," she said quickly.

Surian's brow lifted.

"You truly don't see it?"

Allora folded her arms tightly.

"You all act like this is some kind of problem," she said, her frustration rising.

"If you don't want Malec claiming me, then help me escape! Help me get back to my world!"

The room fell silent.

Then—

Surin laughed.

Slow, rich, infuriating.

"Oh, little dove," he said, shaking his head.

"You truly don't understand what you've done to him, do you?"Surin sighed dramatically, swirling the wine in his glass.

"Oh, little dove," he mused, his piercing blue eyes settling on her.

"You still don't understand your predicament, do you?"

Allora's jaw clenched.

"My predicament?" she repeated bitterly.

"Yes. You belong to Malec. And if anyone—" his gaze swept lazily around the table, including Surian and Gyirra in his stare—"so much as entertains the idea of helping you leave… he will burn them to ash."

Surian shifted in her seat.

Allora felt it immediately.

The hesitation.

The conflict.

Unlike Surin, unlike the King, she wasn't as certain about Malec's so-called claim over her.

And that's exactly why Allora turned to her.

"Then what about you?" Allora asked, locking eyes with Malec's sister.

Surian blinked in surprise.

"Me?"

"You're not like them," Allora said. "You haven't dismissed me. You haven't laughed at me. You haven't looked at me like I'm an object."

She leaned forward.

"So tell me, Surian. Why can't I leave? Why can't I be free?"

Surian was silent for a long moment.

Then—

"Why do you need to leave so badly?"

Allora's throat tightened.

This was it.

She could lie.

She could tell them anything else.

But deep down…

She knew this was her chance.

Her chance to make them understand.

Her chance to show them the truth.

She inhaled deeply.

Then—

She told them everything.

She spoke of her world.

Of the collapse of civilization.

Of the Cotard-Virus.

How it had decimated her people, leaving humanity with less than two million survivors.

How she had dedicated her life to finding a cure.

How she had fallen into a glowing pool in a cave and emerged in this world.

And finally—

How she now believed the Cotard-Virus originated from here.

That it had somehow spread into her world and wiped out her species.

By the time she finished, the room was deathly silent.

Surian's gray eyes were wide.

Gyirra looked deep in thought.

Even Surin, for all his casual amusement, had gone completely still.

It was Surion—the King—who finally spoke.

"So, you're saying the Canariae plague that has killed most of your people… came from our world?"

Allora nodded slowly.

"It makes sense," she murmured.

"The sickness affects humans, but not you. It was a virus we didn't recognize—an infection we couldn't trace back to anything on Earth."

She looked up, meeting Surion's gaze.

"But now I know why. Because it didn't come from Earth. It came from here."

Surion chuckled suddenly.

The sound sent a cold shiver down Allora's spine.

"Fascinating," he said, resting his chin on his hand. "You, little Canariae, are full of surprises."

His gray-blue eyes gleamed with something she couldn't quite place.

Then—

"Malec truly picked an interesting one."

The way he said it made her uneasy.

As if she were nothing but a toy for his entertainment.

"Tell me, dear cousin," Surion continued, turning to Surian.

"What do you think? Does our sweet Canariae deserve to go home?"

Surian hesitated.

Then, softly—

"Yes."

Allora's breath hitched.

Surion laughed.

"Ah, but of course you would say that."

His gaze flicked back to Allora.

"Unfortunately, you don't get a say in the matter, little dove."

Allora frowned deeply.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

Surion tilted his head.

"Calling you what?"

"Little dove."

She shot a glare at Surin.

"You say it, too. So does Malec. Everyone keeps calling me that."

Surian smiled softly.

"That's because that's what your name means."

Allora blinked.

"What?"

"Allora," Surian continued, "is a pet name given to female children. It means 'little dove.'"

Allora's stomach twisted.

Malec had chosen that name for her.

A pet name.

A name meant for something precious, small, and fragile.

She hated it.

Surion's smirk widened.

"Fitting, isn't it?"

Allora bit the inside of her cheek.

"Well, I'm not a damn bird," she snapped.

"And I'm sure as hell not fragile."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Surin murmured, his blue eyes glittering with amusement.

"You may not break easily… but you do struggle quite beautifully."

Her jaw clenched.

Surion only chuckled again.

"It doesn't matter, little dove. You can hate the name all you want. But Malec has already decided it's yours."

And the worst part?

He was right.

Time passed quickly in the lavish halls of the Awyan palace.

Despite Allora's unease, the conversation had shifted into something almost normal.

Surin had abandoned his mind games for the night, indulging in his wine and casual debate with Gyirra.

Surion, ever the charismatic ruler, had drawn Allora into a conversation about her world's military tactics, weaponry, and war history.

Surprisingly, Surian had been the most engaged, listening intently, her sharp mind absorbing every detail.

For the first time, Allora wasn't being mocked or humiliated.

She was just… talking.

Like she was an equal.

Like she was a person.

Not a pet.

Not Malec's property.

And, for a brief moment, she let herself forget.

Forget the cage she was in.

Forget the obsessive warlord that claimed her.

Forget that she was running out of time.

But then—

Reality returned.

A courier rushed in, panting.

"Message from Commander Malec!"

Allora's stomach tightened.

"He's calling for his Canariae."

Surion and Surin exchanged amused glances.

The messenger—red-faced and frantic—continued breathlessly.

"Please, Lady Allora, hurry before he sets something on fire again!"

A collective sigh passed through the group.

Gyirra muttered something under his breath about Malec being a walking disaster.

Allora scowled.

"Damn lunatic," she grumbled, standing up.

To her mild surprise, Surian rose as well.

"I'll walk with you," she said smoothly.

Allora hesitated.

"Why?"

Surian smiled softly.

"Because I want to talk to you."

The air was cool as they stepped out into the evening corridors.

The palace was alive with soft golden lights, the halls open to the outside, revealing courtyards lined with silver-leafed trees and glowing lanterns.

They walked in silence at first.

Surian moved with grace, her delicate silver hair flowing with each step.

She didn't look much like Malec—where he was rough, brutal, and stormy, she was elegant, composed, and steady.

But… something in her eyes.

That same calculating glint.

That same quiet fire.

Allora wasn't sure if that comforted her or made her nervous.

Finally, Surian spoke.

"You're not what I expected," she said.

Allora snorted.

"Let me guess. You expected a dumb, obedient Canariae?"

Surian chuckled.

"No. I expected a dead one."

Allora stiffened.

"Malec has never kept a Canariae before," Surian continued.

"Certainly not one who has defied him so many times and lived to tell the tale."

Allora's lips pressed into a thin line.

"And what does that mean to you?"

Surian turned to her, expression unreadable.

"It means my brother is changing. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

They walked a few more steps, the sound of their boots soft against the stone.

Then, quietly—

"Do you care for him?"

Allora nearly tripped.

"What?"

Surian stopped walking and faced her fully.

"Do you care for Malec?"

Allora's instinct was to scoff.

To laugh in her face.

To deny it.

But the words wouldn't come. 

Because deep down—

She didn't know the answer.

Surian's gaze softened.

"If you don't, then you need to leave as soon as you can."

Allora's stomach flipped.

"Why?"

"Because if you stay, he will never let you go."

A chill ran down Allora's spine.

Not because she didn't already know that.

But because hearing it from Malec's own sister made it feel…

Final.