Mutual, because Geza was a link between them. Malin shared a father with Geza, as Geza shared a mother with Surah. Malin’s mother, Ciodaru’s only legal wife and Consort, had tolerated Adagia, but never liked her. And despised Surah for her human father, though she had never abused the girl. That would have been showing far too much emotion. However, people sometimes forgot Malin and Surah shared no blood as they’d all, more or less, been raised as siblings in the court. Something Malin rebelled against as he grew older and realized the love he felt for Surah was far from brotherly. The love he sometimes imagined the reticent doctorreturned.
But as a Prince, by birth if not by function, he wasn’t given to foolishness or self-delusion. So he said nothing, did nothing, when otherwise he might have spoken. Because the threat of rejection still far outweighed the possibility of acceptance.What could he offer her in their world? He was a grounded gargoyle, a former Prince stricken from his throne. And despite her work, she’d shown no interest in existing among humans, which might have given him a chance. But she was young, and beautiful, and intelligent. Wealthy and still royal, despite her human blood. Eventually, Geza would contract an advantageous marriage for her. That was the right thing. The best thing for her, despite what Kausar said. Malin told himself this all the time—and even began to believe thelie.
“Sit down,” Surah said shortly, rising from her desk, the previous night’s dissolution manifesting itself in her habitually short temper. When the woman was sober, she had the easy countenance of an angel–although mischievous. But she was rarely sober these days. Malin noticed a slight tremble in Surah’s hands as she opened the cabinet in the corner, withdrawing a tiny, sealed bottle and packagedneedles.
“Do you need more tablets?” sheasked.
“Yes.” Malin didn’t explain why he’d already run out, and Surah didn’t ask. She didn’t haveto.
Malin sat down on the paper covered examination table, watching with some amusement as Surah sprayed her hands with a protective sealant. Force of habit, since it wasn’t necessary. Not with a gargoyle’s superior immunity–and since they were friends, it was doublyunnecessary.
Pulling up his sleeve, Malin eyed Surah dubiously, but said nothing about the tremble as the doctor prepped his arm, then slipped the tiny needle into his flesh, injecting him with the serum that was a stopgap measure to halt the symptoms of his degenerative disease. A stopgap that was increasingly ineffective. The tablets addressed the seizures, and those were beginning to fail. Malin knew he didn’t have long left before the inevitable; before the night skies were taken away from himforever.
Malin touched the back of Surah's hand, meeting her eyes. Surah's gaze flicked away for a moment, then looked back on his, seeming almost reluctant. “Have you thought about what I said the otherday?”
Surah grimaced. “This seems to be my week for people telling me I have a drinking problem.” She pulled away, presenting her back to Malin as she busied herself cleaning up supplies. “I don’t have a problem. I’m not analcoholic.”
Malin didn’t say anything. Sometimes it was better to let a person’s conscience do the talking. Malin knew Surah's self-accusing spirit wasn’t dead, just buried under a brick load ofpain.
They all hadpain.
“I have a question,” Surahsaid.
Malin stilled, the tone of her voice alerting him. “Yes?”
Surah turned, locking eyes on him. “When I find the cure for this–when you’re completely healed, what are yourplans?”
Malin blinked. “What do youmean?”
Surah stared at him, inscrutable, a hand resting on the counter. “What are you going to do with your life? You have a successful corporation with the humans. You’ve built a life for yourself. What’s next? A mate, garlings?Will you let Geza find you awife?”
Malin laughed, harshly. “Never.”
Surah hesitated, looked down. “I think that would be ashame.”
His brow arched. “You want to see memarried?”
She looked over Malin’s shoulder, fingers tapping on the counter. “No. But…I would like to have your sons. I mean, see yoursons.”
He wondered about the slip of the tongue, especially as it was accompanied by a faint tinge of color on her cheekbones. Malin slid off the table, instincts alerted, closing the distance between them in one languid step. They were almost of a height, though Malin had always been the taller by a fewhairs.
“I won’t take a wife of my brother’s choosing,” Malin said, watching Surah carefully. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t continue my father’s line.” He paused, lowered his voice. “I would need a partner to help raisethem.”
Surah's gaze returned, unreadable. Not for the first time the female’s beauty struck Malin. Surah's mother had been famed for her angelic features, wings with the sheen of a black pearl, face and form so perfectly symmetrical, she may well have been one of the statues humans liked to say they were. Not to their faces, of course. Though diluted by her human father, Surah's face still echoed her mother’s—and she didn’t even knowit.
When the doctor didn’t respond, Malin sighed internally, and continued the conversation. “Why, Surah? You’ve never asked me about this aspect of my life before.” Malin watched her eyes flicker in thought as she chose aresponse.
“Lavinia asked me to stop theresearch.”
“What?”
A male with less control would have put a fist through the wall. Malin’s shoulders swelled, fangs itching to burst from his mouth. It pained him doubly because it was daytime. Hopefully the serum would kick in soon. Surah didn’t move, unaffected by Malin’s temper. She’d grown up with it, afterall.
“She thinks you’ll kill Geza and take thethrone.”
Malin stumbled back a step. “Thatbitch.” He’d practically raised that boy, being well into early adulthood when the garling prince was born. In fact, he still remembered that day; a solemn, round-faced Surah, with messy braids, staring down at the bundle in her mother’s arms as the woman looked at Malin, formally applying to him for protection of her son. Ciodaru had been wild by then, his mind nearly gone from the ravages of thedisease.
“And what do you think,Surah?”
“I think you have honor,” Surah said softly. “I think you’ll keep your promise to mymother.”
After a moment, Malin looked away. “Don’t place me on a pedestal, Surah. You’ll bedisappointed.”
“You haven’t yet.” She paused, looked away. “Disappointedme.”
Malin’s knuckle brushed Surah's cheek. “You look like your mother. I’ve…tried not to fail her. It would be hard for me to fail you aswell.”
Their eyes locked, and for a moment a strange, thrumming tension arched between them. Then Surah shifted and it was over, leaving Malin to wonder if he had imagined the flare ofconnection.
