The first thing Aurelia felt was cold.
Not the simple chill of morning dew, but the kind that crawled into her bones — the breath of stone that had forgotten sunlight.
Her eyes fluttered open to a half-broken ceiling where vines hung down like green ghosts. The faint hum of wind slipped through cracks in the tower walls, carrying the scent of earth and rain. She shifted slightly, realizing she was lying on a cloak — his cloak — soft velvet against the rough stone floor.
Memory came back to her in flashes: the carriage, the forest, the fall… and Malion.
She sat up slowly, clutching her aching shoulder, and looked around. The room was circular and narrow, littered with forgotten things — shattered goblets, rusted chains, and a wooden chair missing a leg. A narrow staircase spiraled upward into darkness.
Aurelia's breath caught when she saw him.
Through the archway that once held a door, Malion stood outside. The dawn spilled across his shoulders, gilding the dark fabric of his clothes and the edge of the sword he was sharpening. Each scrape of the blade against stone echoed softly through the ruined tower — steady, calm, merciless.
For a while, she simply watched him. There was something about him that didn't quite belong to this world — the quiet power, the stillness, the way he seemed to command the air around him without trying.
But to her, he was still just Malion — the man she had come to call friend.
"...You're awake." His voice broke through the silence. He hadn't even turned to look, yet somehow he knew.
She hesitated before stepping toward the archway. "I— I suppose I should thank you," she said, brushing the dust from her skirt. "If you hadn't come after me, I might still be lost in the forest."
He finally looked at her, eyes cool and unreadable. "You should've stayed in the carriage."
"That wasn't an option," she replied. "They were taking me to marry a man I've never met — a man everyone fears."
Malion sheathed his sword and leaned it against the wall beside him. "So you ran."
"I had to." Her voice trembled, but she lifted her chin. "Wouldn't you, if you were being dragged to marry the Mad King?"
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than comfort allowed. "Perhaps."
She crossed her arms, frustrated by his indifference. "Perhaps? That's all you have to say?"
Malion tilted his head slightly. "You speak as though the king is a monster."
"Isn't he?" she countered. "They say he killed his own council, that no woman has ever lasted long beside him." Her words tumbled out before she could stop them. "Tell me, what kind of man earns such a title and still dares to call himself king?"
He looked away, the faintest flicker crossing his expression — something sharp, almost pained. "Rumors," he said at last. "People always fear what they do not understand."
"That sounds like something the king's men would say."
"And what if it is?" His tone deepened slightly, the air shifting between them.
Aurelia frowned. "Then I'd say you defend him too easily."
Malion smiled faintly, though the smile never reached his eyes. "Maybe I just know him better than you do."
She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind howled through the tower. "Then you'd know why I can't do this. I'm not ready to marry anyone, let alone a man I'm supposed to fear."
He studied her quietly. "So it's not just the king you're running from. It's marriage itself."
She hesitated. "I suppose… yes."
"And Rowan?" he asked suddenly. "Your mother spoke of marrying you to him."
"Rowan is a good man, but that doesn't mean I should marry him," she replied. "He's more like a brother to me."
Something in Malion's chest eased, though his face betrayed nothing. "Then who would you marry, if you could choose?"
Her cheeks flushed. "No one. At least not now. I just want to live freely — without a crown or cage waiting for me."
Malion's eyes softened. "Freedom always comes with a cost."
"Then I'll pay it," she said quickly. "I can't stay here, Malion. I need your help."
"My help?" His voice dropped to a near-whisper.
"Yes. I'll find work somewhere far from here — in another kingdom, perhaps. I can't be the only girl in this land the king could marry." She gave a nervous laugh. "Surely the Mad King won't notice if one runaway disappears."
He smirked, though his gaze darkened. "You think it's that simple? To vanish from a king's reach?"
"It has to be," she insisted. "I just need to get far enough away."
Malion stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the cracked floor. "And what of your family?"
Her smile faltered. "They'll be fine. The king wouldn't harm them. He's cruel, but not—"
"But not that cruel?" Malion interrupted, his tone suddenly sharp. "You have faith in the very man you dread to marry."
"I just don't think he'd hurt innocent people."
"Then you're a fool to believe that," he said coldly.
Her eyes widened. "Why are you talking like this? Why are you defending him?"
He looked at her — really looked — and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw something ancient flicker behind his eyes. "Because I know what he's capable of."
"Do you?" she challenged. "Or are you just afraid of him like everyone else?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned toward the forest beyond the archway, gaze distant. "You don't understand the kind of man a crown makes."
"Then help me understand," she said softly.
Before he could reply, the faint sound of hooves echoed in the distance — distant but closing fast. Malion's entire posture changed; his hand moved to his sword as his jaw tightened.
"Someone's coming," Aurelia whispered.
"Soldiers," he murmured. "Stay here."
"Malion—"
"Stay." His tone left no room for argument. He stepped outside, disappearing into the trees as the sunlight glinted off his blade.
Aurelia clutched her cloak, heart hammering. Through the cracks in the stone wall, she saw figures on horseback approaching — six, maybe seven men in black armor bearing the royal sigil. Her stomach twisted.
She couldn't hear everything, but voices carried through the forest — muffled words, fragments that sent chills down her spine.
"...Your Majesty…" one voice said.
"…the bride… fled into the woods…"
"…orders to bring her back alive…"
Her breath caught. Your Majesty?
Her pulse quickened. It couldn't be. Malion…? No. That was impossible.
Moments later, the soldiers turned their horses and rode off, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the scent of iron behind.
When Malion returned, his cloak was streaked with dirt and his expression unreadable. Aurelia rushed to him.
"Who were they? What did they want?"
"Nothing that concerns you," he said curtly.
"They looked like royal guards—"
"They're gone now." He brushed past her, retrieving his sword from the wall.
"Malion," she said softly, stepping in front of him. "I trust you."
For a second, his eyes softened — just enough to betray something deep, something fragile. Then the steel returned.
"You shouldn't trust anyone else," he said, voice low as thunder. "Even when they are nice."
Aurelia froze. The tower seemed to shrink around them, shadows deepening as his words lingered in the air.
And in that silence, she realized two things — that he wasn't the man she thought she knew, and that whatever truth he carried was far darker than she ever imagined.
Outside, the wind howled through the cracks of the old tower, carrying with it the faint echo of a name whispered by fate.