father-daughter dances are supposed to be more fun

Once he was sure that her fits were manageable, Malachai had summon Malik, his orders clear. Novella would be returning with him to his estate, her condition requiring further stablisation and investigation. He spared her wife no heed, no acknowledgement, his focus was firmly on the well-being of the one in his arms, even delegating the Eyes and Deme of his absence.

This was a Family Matter.

Mal was glad of the foresight, having to wrangle her demon once more back behind wards. His little spitfire had more fire within her than previously known. Magic. Well hidden, but there, caused by some imbalance his responded to. Curious and irritated, Mal had kept to her bedside, leaving only to hear and answer messages, or to study the rebalancing further.

Ordering the restraints both kept her and others safe in his absence. While Mal had no doubt she would wound him greatly, he would best her in the end with her own blood if she forced his hand. The Chancellor returned though, in time to witness the rukus of healers and orderly’s.

Get. Out. All of you. Hands finding the clasp of his coat and shoving it into the hands of a servant. Bring us some food. No knives either. He’d roll his eyes as the gaggle of silent healers ushered themselves out of the Chancellor’s way, rolling his sleeves up to approach a nearby chair.

So… he’d glance at the closing door, slumping deep into the chair with a heavy sigh. I thought I knew all your secrets, little Novella. He’d tsk a few times before his expression softened, exhaustion evident on his face. But you’ve never been aware of it, have you?

@Novella Tilani