Book 3: Chapter 51: The Bait of Enmity
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Malachi glared at the sparkling forest river that seemed to serve as a tether for the mortal Shadow Army he was now tied to. Once more, Captain Weylin and his impatient mercenaries had gathered at the river to await orders from their Marquess. The scent of the men's uncertainty and unease only added to the pureblood's distaste for these stray dogs pretending to be wolves.
All Malachi wanted was a chance to get even with the ice witch that had cost him his prized sun hawk! Pyrrhus had been more than just a military raptor; he had also been Malachi’s eyes, ears, and protector through many battles. Now all the pureblood had left of the once majestic bird was the small egg-shaped black agate stone he'd dug from the river where Pyr had fallen. It wouldn’t bring his feathered friend back, but it still held a spark of the bird's flame that flickered in recognition whenever Malachi fed the stone his fire. He would carve it into a necklace and wear it proudly in memory of his fallen comrade.
“He’s late,” one of the mercenaries called out, pulling Malachi’s attention from the black stone gripped in his hand.
“He’s being cautious,” Captain Weylin replied, smoking leisurely from his pipe. “Anyway, we can’t do much until he gets here.”
“Bloody cowards,” Malachi snarled, ignoring the glares sent in his direction. They had gotten used to his rudeness to an extent, but after Pyrrhus’s death, the fire witch’s contempt now carried with it a sadistic sting. “Your Marquess has been arrested. Maybe his spy has been arrested too! Maybe they're both swinging from a tree somewhere in this godforsaken forest.”
“We’ll give him till the sun comes over the ridge,” Weylin responded with forced calmness as he gave his men a warning look that clearly said, ‘Don’t engage with him.’
“And then?”