Page 36 of Storm

Sunny is surrounded by a handful of children, ranging in age from two to ten, in the living area, shaking the wrapped presents underneath the large fake pine tree he decorated in tinsel earlier today. They’re all captivated by whatever story he is weaving as he holds each present up to his ear. He knows how to knit a decent story courtesy of the fantasies I piece together each evening for him, including the few poems I repeat—mostly for myself—in secrecy. No doubt he’s told Melek those, too.

The only books we have in this house live in my husband’s study, which is locked behind a keypad. Sunny has a few picture books with no written words. There’s also the mysterious words carved into the trees next to his treehouse, but even Melek has no idea how they originated.

Does Melek know I can read? It’s not common practice for the “lower born” Halo to read, I’ve surmised, especially the women. From what I’ve seen—when I used to leave the house—Halo women are firmly entrenched in the keeping of the household. Whatever that entails. Nothing more.

All I’ve ever known is a mother who worked herself to the bone to keep a roof over mine and Nix’s heads and food on our table, so to only keep a household seems like a luxury. However, I’m not so blind as to see that it’s also just another prison. Especially as I’ve spent the last twelve years in Melek’s pretty cage.

It’s easy, and it’s comfortable.

Despite that, living here doesn’t stop the sick feeling I get in my stomach, the pain in my chest, or the eternal boiling of my solence. The air is constant ash on my tongue.

It’s off—putrified.

Just because Halo is pleasant, clean, and seemingly “wholesome” doesn’t make it right. Moral.

My glazed blue eyes remain on our son from the wide-set staircase in the foyer. I almost miss the man who parks himself beside me at the bottom of the banister. “He’s already got three marriage proposals.”

Coming back from the eternal toil of my mind almost seems impossible. Grasping onto the thick, gravelled timbre of his lingering notes, I pull my way back up for air. “He does not?!” I question the grin on my husband’s face. The Haloians auction off their children for power, so this barely surprises me. Melek warned me this would happen early on. I didn’t plan on sticking around to find out.

“Unfortunately, Alora, that is not a lie.”

“Fuck me.” The words slip out from under a frustrated groan. I descend the remaining stairs and take my husband’s hand. A current zaps through our fingers at the contact.

“Later, wife.” He lowers his voice, kissing my heated cheek.

I blink up at his dark grey eyes. Irises I hate, but they have become so familiar to me in this place. I’d almost believe mine are the same. “I’ll hold you to it,” I jeer back. Anything to bring my thoughts back from the melancholy. I try to move away from him. He tugs me back into his arms, taking hold of my hips.

Everyone keeps their distance from the commander. I catch hushed voices that meander our way. Melek is being way too intimate with my body. Hollow stares bore into us from every angle, making me want to hide, propelling me to sink further into his warm hold.

“You’re coming with me. I have some people who want to see the tamed swine.”

Weight settles heavily in my gut.

Bastard. “If you expect any of this later tonight, I’d refrain from calling me that,” I respond in a hushed tone, gesturing down the side of my body.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be nice to you.”

Right. That. Pivoting, I rub my newfound ample chest against his toned physique, gripping his top. “Maybe I want you to be nice to me.”

Leaning down, he places his lips against mine, pulling us closer together. Gasps ring out around us. Apparently, the drink has not lubricated the wives of the hollow council to a sufficient standing yet. We all know once they start gulping down the fairy solence, it’ll be a different tune they sing. Walking pillars of ethicality, the Airiel Council are.

What I expect to be a chaste kiss turns to Melek’s mouth opening to mine, letting me sink further into a man I have no business finding solace in. And just as soon as it’s begun, he’s biting gently on my lip and pulling back, promising me more later with a piqued eyebrow.

I’m a quivering, hot mess—damn husband—as Melek drags me towards a group of hollow standing around the shiny onyx grand piano that usually sits idle in our formal sitting area—a relic of past times.

Faces blur as I scan the older men around me. Where Melek has aged like a fine whisky, these men all merge into one another. The solence they drink may provide them some respite from aging, but it doesn’t hold off the foulness that permeates the air around them. When Nix and I used to assess the sinister ashen clouds before a strike, we’d often get a feeling. A vibe, we would call it. We knew when things would go wrong. Mam used to say it was our guts knowing when something felt off.

Right now, my gut is screaming to run.

The vibes are so far off the scale around these plump-faced men that any part of me holding contact with Melek superglues me further into him. Seeking refuge from my enemies with their commander makes my logical mind scream, STUPID. Melek has never been a logical choice. He is pure vibes.

He is a magnet, drawing me in, my power feeding off of him.

There’s no logic in us.

“Alora, I’d like you to meet our newest council member, Adam.” Melek guides me around to his front, his chest plastered to my back, his frame towering over the council members before us—over everyone except the man I overlooked.

The man I can’t comprehend.