Page 12 of Malicent
Annabeth lifts her gaze, and the moment her eyes find me, her entire body stiffens.
Fear. Pure, instinctive.
Nearly as tall as Kalix, I know what she sees. Bright silver eyes, unsettling and inhuman, are set in a face that offers no warmth. Black ink crawls up my throat curling over the edges of my tunic. My shoulder length hair falls in shaggy, unkempt waves, just unruly enough to hint at disorder.
Kalix smiles up at her. His expression still holds traces of amusement, but his eyes are sharp now. Focused.
Me? I don’t smile. I don’t need to.
Kalix places his hands on her knees—firm, steady, careful not to wander. He likes to make them flustered. It makes his job easier, just another part of his method.
“Annabeth,” he says, the charm gone from his voice, replaced by something colder, sharper. “Where is your father?”
She flinches. Her breath stutters. She tries to speak but chokes instead. Coughing, struggling, her body resisting the words forming on her tongue.
Her frantic gaze flicks between us, realization dawning on her in a slow, creeping horror.
She can’t lie.
Annabeth gasps, throat tightening like a noose. She claws at her collarbone, desperate for air.
“He is at the guest house,” she chokes out.
Kalix doesn’t let up. “Doing what? Why the secrecy?”
Her body convulses with another attempt to resist, but the drug doesn’t allow for hesitation. Her lungs constrict.
Annabeth is learning quickly.
Her face turns a deeper shade of red. Panic arises with every shuddering breath until—
She breaks.
“He will not tell me exactly what he does,” she blurts, the words spilling out in desperation. “But there are times, sometimes hours, when he disappears there. He doesn’t always come back the same.”
Her fingers tighten in her lap. “Sometimes he seems…off. Shaken. I worry about him, but I’m supposed to tell no one!”
The realization of what she said hits her all at once.
“That’s enough.” My voice cuts through the night air.
Annabeth flinches.
“You did well, Annabeth.” I take a measured step forward, silver light flaring in my eyes as my power bleeds into the air. Shadows shift—thickening, stretching, responding to my call. “Forget this conversation. Forget our faces—or else.”
Kalix rises. His voice, sharp and commanding, leaves no room for argument.
“Off with you now.”
Annabeth bolts from the bench, nearly tripping in her haste. Her fear is now a tangible thing in the air. She won’t stop running until she’s back in the safety of the ballroom.
It would be of little consequence if she told someone, anyway. Even if she told someone, what could they do?
I am the black mage. The title alone demands fear, commands silence. The strongest mage of our time. The only one who has a bonded dragon.
No one woulddarechallenge me.
The hunger stirs.
