The Vale home was not always lively at dusk. The sweet scent of roasted herbs filled the little cottage as Aurelia sat with her mother and her younger sister, Liora, mending a torn sleeve while Rowan chatted from the corner of the room. The conversation was easy, filled with laughter and the crackle of the fire — until a sharp knock echoed against the door.
All sound stopped.
Aurelia's head snapped up, her needle pausing mid-air. Her mother frowned, exchanging a look with Liora. "Who could that be at this hour?"
Aurelia set the cloth aside and stood, smoothing her simple dress. "I'll go check."
The knock came again — firmer this time, measured, as though the visitor knew exactly what they wanted. Aurelia's pulse quickened. The sound was familiar — too familiar. Her stomach twisted as she approached the door.
When she opened it, her breath caught in her throat.
Malion stood there.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, tall and composed, dressed in a black velvet shirt and fitted trousers that made him look impossibly regal for a commoner. The golden sunset spilled over him, painting his face in hues of fire and shadow. His silver eyes — cold, striking, and a little too knowing — met hers, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly upward.
"You—" Aurelia whispered, barely able to keep her voice steady. "What are you doing here?"
His lips twitched in quiet amusement. "You weren't at our usual spot tonight. I was starting to think you got bored of me."
"I wasn't bored," she said quickly, her heart pounding. "But you shouldn't have come here. My mother—"
"—will think I'm a friend dropping by," he interrupted smoothly, lowering his voice. "Don't worry, I can play polite."
Before she could protest, her mother's voice called from the other room. "Aurelia, who's at the door?"
Aurelia's eyes widened in panic. She turned to Malion, silently pleading with him not to say anything that would reveal how often they'd been meeting in secret.
He tilted his head, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
Her mother appeared before Aurelia could think of an excuse. She stopped when she saw him — the stranger at her door — and blinked in mild surprise.
"Good evening," Malion greeted first, his voice calm and rich. "I'm a friend of Rowan's."
Rowan, overhearing from the sitting room, looked up, startled. "A friend of mine?" he echoed under his breath.
"Oh!" Lady Vale said, her tone softening instantly. "Then you're most welcome! Rowan hurt his ankle yesterday, poor boy. Come in, come in."
Malion stepped inside, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots. "Has he?" he murmured with a faint smirk. "He hasn't seen bad yet."
"What was that?" Lady Vale asked curiously.
"Ah—" Malion smiled faintly. "I said it looks bad. You should have it checked by a physician."
"Indeed," she nodded, impressed. "You sound well-mannered for someone from this town."
"Just trying to be helpful, ma'am."
As they entered the living room, the warm light of the fire illuminated the tension between the three of them — Malion, Aurelia, and Rowan.
Liora, who had been quietly by the window, froze the instant her eyes landed on Malion. Her jaw went slack, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She had never seen anyone like him — tall, broad-shouldered, and with an air that made every movement feel deliberate.
"Who's this?" Liora asked, pretending innocence but unable to hide the admiration in her tone.
"Malion," he said with a small nod, eyes fixed on Aurelia. "A… friend."
Aurelia shifted uncomfortably, aware of Liora's growing curiosity.
Liora smiled sweetly. "Aurelia, why don't you get our guest some water?"
Aurelia blinked. "Oh. Right." She excused herself to the kitchen, biting her lip.
Malion turned slightly, his gaze following her until she vanished through the doorway. Then, with the faintest hint of sarcasm, he asked Rowan, "So… how's the ankle? I heard you had a little accident."
Rowan's brow furrowed. "It's nothing serious."
"Good," Malion said softly. "I'd hate to see you limping around her too much."
Rowan looked up sharply, trying to read his tone. "Her?"
Malion only smiled. "Aurelia, of course. She worries easily."
Before Rowan could respond, Aurelia returned, balancing a tray with trembling hands. As she approached, Liora subtly slid her foot forward — a small, mean trick she'd done countless times before.
Aurelia tripped.
But before she could fall, a hand caught her waist firmly, spinning her slightly. The water splashed from the cup — right into Liora's face.
Liora gasped, blinking in shock.
Aurelia froze, mortified. "Oh no! I'm so sorry—"
Before Liora could speak, Malion's calm voice cut in, smooth as silk.
"You should change, miss. You'll catch a cold."
The way he said it — with authority laced beneath politeness — left Liora speechless. She swallowed, cheeks burning, then gave a quick, breathy laugh. "Of course," she murmured, flustered, and left the room.
Aurelia's heart hammered in her chest as she turned to him. "Thank you," she said softly.
Malion's fingers lingered for half a heartbeat before he let her go. "You're welcome," he murmured, his voice low. "But you should be more careful. Not everyone's as quick as me."
Their eyes locked, the air thick between them.
Her mother, sensing something unsaid, cleared her throat loudly. "So, young man," she said, her tone teasing. "Since you're a friend of Rowan's… tell me, don't you think Aurelia and Rowan would make a fine couple?"
Aurelia stiffened. Mother!
Malion blinked once, his expression unreadable. "A couple?" he echoed quietly.
"Yes," Lady Vale said cheerfully. "The king canceled the bride selection this year, so it's a good time for her to settle down with someone kind. Don't you think?"
Malion's lips curved in a faint, dangerous smile. "I try not to involve myself in… other men's affairs."
Rowan laughed nervously. "I wouldn't mind, honestly," he said, stealing a glance at Aurelia. "She's always been a good friend."
Aurelia's cheeks heated. "I should go check on dinner," she blurted, and hurried to the kitchen again.
Malion watched her go, his jaw tightening as Rowan's gaze lingered after her.
Lady Vale looked between the two men and smiled faintly. "You're both such good company. I'm glad my daughter has friends like you."
Malion tilted his head, his voice dangerously calm. "She's… special. I'd hate for her to be hurt by anyone."
Rowan frowned slightly. "She won't be."
"Good," Malion replied, but his eyes said otherwise.
Before the atmosphere could grow heavier, Rowan suddenly winced, clutching his leg. "Ah—my ankle—it's throbbing again."
"I'll take him," Malion said at once, rising to his feet. "There's no need to trouble yourselves."
Without waiting for permission, he bent down and lifted Rowan effortlessly, ignoring his startled protest.
"Don't worry, ma'am," Malion said smoothly. "I'll take him to the physician."
Aurelia appeared just in time to see him carrying Rowan through the doorway. Her breath hitched. Malion's gaze brushed hers, full of quiet promise.
Once they were far enough down the path, Rowan exhaled sharply. "You didn't have to carry me like a child. What are you trying to prove?"
Malion said nothing at first. The night air was cool, brushing against his cheek.
Then, softly, "You ask too many questions."
Rowan huffed. "You've been around Aurelia a lot lately. Who are you, really? Because something about you—"
He didn't finish.
Malion's hand moved faster than sight, striking the back of his neck with precision. Rowan's words died on his lips as his body went limp.
Malion sighed, adjusting his cuffs. "You talk too much."
"Nyx," he called.
The shadows rippled. A dark mist gathered beside him, forming into the shape of a man — silent, cloaked in darkness.
"Yes, my lord."
"Take him to a physician," Malion said. "Make sure he wakes… eventually."
"As you wish."
In seconds, Nyx vanished with Rowan, leaving Malion alone in the quiet street. He turned his gaze back toward the Vale home, his eyes darkening. The sound of lady vale questions still echoed faintly through the windows.
"Her mother," he murmured to himself, "should be careful what she wishes for."
By the time he returned to the palace, the anger burning in his chest had turned into something sharper, hungrier.
He entered his study without a word, tossing his coat onto a chair. "Send a maid," he ordered.
When she entered — small, trembling — he didn't even look up. "Come closer."
She obeyed, her eyes glazed as he compelled her. His fangs extended, glinting faintly in the candlelight. He drank — slow, controlled, enough to calm the storm rising inside him. When he released her, he murmured, "Forget."
She blinked once, dazed, and left silently.
Malion loosened his collar, stepping out to the balcony where the moon hung high above the city. He pulled a golden lighter from his pocket, the dragon-engraved metal catching the light. The flame flickered as he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke drift into the cool night.
"Nyx," he said softly.
The shadow reappeared, kneeling.
"Tell Theron to report to me as soon as he returns from Welsire. I want him here before sunrise."
"Yes, my lord."
Malion took another drag, eyes on the horizon. The faint scent of smoke and moonlight mixed in the air as he murmured to himself—
"Aurelia Vale… You have no idea who you've let into your house."
He smiled faintly, a dangerous curl of lips. "Your household should expect a beautiful announcement soon."
The wind caught his words, carrying them into the night — a promise and a threat intertwined.