Page 10 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

The moment his gaze lifted, their eyes met.

Mal moved without hesitation, perching herself on the arm of his chair, pressing a kiss against his cheek. The scent of earth and iron clung to him, of smoke and steel and something ancient. His large hand settled over hers, fingers warm, grounding.

‘We need to speak privately,’ he said, his voice a whisper of thunder beneath his breath.

Mal's grip on his arm tightened.

‘I went to see the Seer today,’ she whispered back.

A flicker of something indiscernible passed through his dark eyes. He nodded once, his expression unreadable, and coughed lightly, as though clearing his throat. A distraction. The moment passed as the rest of their family arrived, the fragile intimacy of their conversation dissolving into the presence of others.

It had been their secret for many years.

It had begun when she was still a child, small enough to walk beside him and feel as though the world had shrunk to just the two of them. She had thought, perhaps, that it would be her turn, that she would have something that belonged solely to her—a connection, a closeness, something sacred.

And yet their walks had not led them through gardens of laughter and stories, but to the edge of the Forest of Silent Cries.

To the Seer.

King Ozul had taken her there time and time again, his steps steady, his voice measured, seeking something—an answer, a truth hidden between prophecy and madness. And then, one day, he had stopped.

As if whatever he had been searching for could not be found.

But Mal had never stopped. She had kept returning.

‘The favorite child has arrived!’ The exclamation rang through the great hall like a burst of sunlight through storm clouds, carrying with it the unmistakable mischief of its speaker.

Mal turned just as Kai Blackburn strode in, his arms thrown wide in mock celebration, his grin a crescent moon of wicked delight. His dark eyes gleamed with trouble, a spark of playful rebellion forever flickering within them. Without missing a step, he plucked a black, rotten apple from a passing maid's tray, winking at her in that effortless, devastating way of his. The poor girl turned away in a flustered giggle, retreating quickly before she could make a fool of herself.

‘You’re late.’ Haven’s voice was sharp, her brows arched in feigned disapproval.

Kai only smiled wider. His charm was a weapon, and he wielded it well.

He swept in beside his sister, taking her hand with exaggerated grace and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. ‘I was training to become your finest guardian, my future queen.’

Haven scoffed, rolling her eyes even as her lips twitched at the corners. ‘Oh, shut up, Kai. You finished training hours ago. You were up to no good, as usual.’

His laugh rang out, a melody of trouble and delight, bouncing against the cavernous walls, shaking loose the stillness in the air.

Kai Blackburn was, without question, a sight to behold. Years of training had forged him into something lethal, something unyielding—his strength sculpted into the solid frame of his body, his muscles shifting beneath black fabric like coiled steel. His midnight-dark eyes, shaped like almonds, bore the same abyssal depth as the rest of thewyverians—a void that swallowed all light, all secrets.

Mal moved before she could stop herself, closing the distance between them, her arms wrapping tightly around his broad frame.

‘We'll go to the temple later,’ he whispered into her ear, a quiet promise meant for her alone.

She kissed his cheek in response.

Kai no longer believed in gods, not since he had been old enough to question the silence that met their prayers. And yet, he had never abandoned her in hers. Every day, he sat beside her as she knelt before deities who never answered, never moved, never stirred. A silent devotion to her, if not to them.

They gathered around the stone dining table, the room buzzing with something unspoken, an unease Mal could not yet name.

Her father sat at the head, and though his presence was as mighty as ever, something had changed.

Mal watched him carefully, noting how he muttered his responses absently, how his gaze shifted towards the gaping sky as though searching for something beyond the horizon. Across from him, her mother reached for his hand, her fingers curling over his in a gesture of quiet reassurance. For the briefest of moments, something passed between them—a shared worry, a shadowed thought.

Mal’s stomach twisted.

Something was wrong.

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