The night air hung heavy with tension as Malachi stormed back to his wing, a brooding silence enveloping him. My anger simmered from Minerva's cutting comment, but his fury was palpable. It dawned on me that perhaps I had underestimated the impact of her jabs on him.

As we entered the wing, Malachi abruptly released my hand and headed straight to the balcony. His posture revealed the depth of his frustration—head bowed, arms spread across the ledge, muscles visibly tightening, and fists clenched. Concern gnawed at me, urging me to bridge the distance between us.

"Malachi..." I began cautiously. A deep sigh escaped him, and he spoke, his voice heavy with regret, "I am sorry, Elara. Tonight was supposed to be joyous." His words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere.

I couldn't let the weight of the night rest solely on his shoulders. "No, I am sorry. You and your friends would have had a great time if I wasn't there," I confessed, feeling a pang of guilt.

That caught his attention. Malachi turned to me, his grip firm as he took my waist in one hand and cupped my face with the other. Our eyes locked, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Don't say that, darling. Everything was going great. I loved seeing you with them. They are my inner circle, and that is where you belong," he asserted, his words resonating with passion.

His plea echoed in the quiet balcony, and I couldn't help but be moved by the sincerity in his eyes. "It was Minerva that ruined the mood. She had no right to say what she did, so please don't listen to her," he implored, a protective edge to his voice that made my worries momentarily fade away.

"But what if she's right?" The question escaped my lips, a whisper carried by the evening breeze. "I am an outsider. There is a history between you that runs deep. Compared to everyone at dinner tonight, I really am just a delicate noblewoman who isn't even a real noble." The wine had loosened my tongue, prompting a wave of honesty that I couldn't suppress any longer.

Malachi seized my hands, his touch grounding, as he looked into my eyes. "You are delicate," he declared, pressing a tender kiss to one of my palms, "and you are noble," he continued, kissing the other. "But there is nothing wrong with that. And as for history, there is plenty of time to make some history of our own, little bird. Trust me on that."

His words were a balm to my insecurities, yet my expression betrayed lingering doubts. Sensing my unrest, Malachi guided me to the couch in the sitting room, pulling me onto his lap which I surprisingly let happen. The warmth of his embrace offered reassurance as he spoke.

"Remember that I was an outsider to those people before, and my blood is not purely from the Stonehearth tribe. Felix, who was at dinner, is a mutt too with origins in Umbralis and Pyrithos." My surprise was evident. Felix, seamlessly part of the inner circle, had always seemed a native to the Stonehearth tribe.

"Really?" I inquired, seeking confirmation.

"Really. Elara, the Stonehearth tribe and Frosthelm are a big part of my life, but they are only a piece of my story. Minerva is just hard to win over with anyone new. I mean, it took me years to get her to see me as more than a pesky kid who was in over his head," he revealed, his tone carrying a mix of nostalgia and determination.

"But you are you, and I am just me," I admitted, a heavy acknowledgment of the perceived disparity between us. Malachi, incredible and undeniably strong, seamlessly fit into the group, even leading it with a natural authority that drew everyone in.

"Just you?" he questioned, his eyes searching mine. "What do you mean by that?" The intensity of his gaze compelled me to look away, reluctant to expose my insecurities.

"Look at me, darling," he urged, and I obeyed, knowing he would insist on meeting my eyes. Malachi had a way of making eye contact a non-negotiable aspect of our conversations. "Please explain to me what you mean," he pleaded, a sincerity in his voice that urged honesty.

With a sigh, I began to unravel my thoughts. "I mean that I am no one special. My father's name is all I have going for me, and even that is muddied by my commoner blood." As he attempted to interject, I pressed on, determined to convey my perspective. "I know that you made your own name, but that is my point. I haven't done anything. I have only ever sat inside the walls of my family's home idle in the background."

Malachi's expression softened, but I continued, my frustrations pouring out. "Sure, I may feel insecure and complain to myself about certain things, but I never made a move to do anything about it. You took your life in your own hands and made a difference. You are incredible, and I am just me. Just a silly girl who is fooling herself if she really thinks that she can make a tangible difference." I finished my rant with a huff, the weight of my own words lingering in the air.

"Are you done?" Malachi asked, and I nodded, a sense of vulnerability lingering in the air.

"Elara, you are the most special person in the world to me. I don't care about your father's name or your mother's blood. I care about you. You have affected more lives than you know, mine included. How could you say you have done nothing? I have seen the difference you have made in this palace since I've arrived. We have different strengths, sure. I make change through force, you do through kindness. If you think so highly of me, then you should know that I want to be with you for a reason. You are incredible, and I wish you could see that," he affirmed, his words a soothing melody in the quiet room.

His compliments flattered me greatly, but a lingering doubt persisted. Sensing my hesitation, he continued, "What can I do to get you to see yourself the way I see you?" The truth was, he had done everything right, providing me with every assurance. The issue wasn't with him; it was within myself. My own insecurities made it impossible to fully believe his kind words. The challenge lay within me, and only I could unravel and solve it.

"You are doing everything right, Malachi. It's me who isn't," I insisted, the weight of my own self-doubt heavy on my shoulders. "Elara..." he began, but I cut him off, seeking answers and emboldened by the wine.

"Why don't you just marry Minerva? She is strong and sure of herself. She would make a great queen, and she is clearly interested," I said with a huff, avoiding eye contact. The words spilled out, fueled by a mix of insecurity and frustration but also truth.

Malachi let out an audible sigh, his patience evident. "Is that what has you like this? Minerva?" he inquired, gently turning my face towards him. I resisted, pulling my face away, a silent confirmation of my unsettled emotions. I knew I was acting like a child, but vulnerability had taken hold of me.

"Darling, I have no feelings for Minerva. I will admit that I did admire her when I was a child and still do today, but I have never been interested in her like that," he admitted, his words a soothing balm to the wounds of my imagination. The truth had a way of cutting through the shadows of uncertainty.

Seeing that I still hadn't changed my attitude, Malachi released a heavy sigh. "What can I do to get that smile back on your face?" he asked, gently turning my face towards him.

"Nothing," I said with a pout, caught in the grip of a stubborn mood that seemed impossible to shake.

"Nothing?" he questioned, a sly smirk playing on his lips. I sensed he was up to something, but the mystery of his intentions lingered.

"We'll see about that," he mumbled to himself, and before I could comprehend his plan, his hands found their way to my sides, launching a surprise attack of tickles. Shocked, I burst into laughter, unable to resist the playful assault. It was a sensation I hadn't experienced since childhood, when my siblings and I would playfully torment each other.

Amidst the laughter, I couldn't help but recall fond memories. "Okay, okay, I'm smiling!" I yelled, the tickling proving effective in breaking through my gloomy mood. Malachi relented, a victorious smile on his face.

As I caught my breath, the realization struck me. This powerful man, normally exuding strength and authority, was now in a playful mood, acting like a child to lift my spirits. It was a sweet and unexpected gesture that melted away the clouds of my discontent.

"So, you are ticklish? I will keep that in mind," Malachi remarked with a playful smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. In a playfully threatening whisper, he added, "You will never be safe again, darling." His words elicited a giggle from me, appreciating the shift in his mood.

"Oh yeah?" I questioned, a mischievous glint in my eyes. Planning my counterattack, I received a nod from him, accompanied by that big grin. I proceeded with my plan, catching him off guard and launching my own tickle assault. Two could certainly play this game. His chuckles filled the air, and I paused, looking at him with curiosity as his laughter seemed controlled.

"Impossible. Are you not ticklish?" I inquired, to which he shook his head.

"No, darling, but feel free to keep trying," he replied with a hint of amusement.

Pouting, I confessed, "That's not fair! I want to be the one with power over you for once."

His laughter resonated, and he shook his head. "Trust me, love, you constantly have power over me in ways you could never understand," he assured me, the insinuation not lost on me.

Normally, I might have backed away from such intimacy, but perhaps it was the wine or a daring impulse within me. Regardless, I could always blame it on the wine later. Amidst the tickling assaults, I found myself straddling his lap. In this moment, I felt a surprising sense of empowerment. Glancing at his lips, I decided to seize the moment, leaning down to initiate a kiss.

Malachi responded with a surprising fervor, his hands gently gripping my waist as the playful banter transformed into a more intimate exchange.

Breaking the kiss, he looked into my eyes, a playful glint still present. "You see, little bird, you always have the power to surprise me," he teased, his tone a blend of admiration and amusement.

I couldn't help but giggle, a newfound sense of confidence coursing through me. "Maybe I like surprising you," I retorted, enjoying the playful back-and-forth.

"Oh, I have no doubt about that," he replied with a smirk, his fingers tracing light patterns on my back. The ticklish assault had turned into a delightful dance of closeness.

As our kiss deepened, the playful scene taking a more passionate turn, an unexpected interruption occurred. The annoying corset I was wearing decided to dig into my skin in an especially uncomfortable way, prompting a small groan of pain that I tried to stifle. Malachi immediately took notice, pulling away with concern evident in his eyes.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked, his brows furrowed with worry as he scanned my body. His concern warmed my heart, but I was determined not to let it derail our moment. "It's nothing," I insisted, leaning in for another kiss.

But he leaned away, grabbing my face to look directly into my eyes. "Trust me, darling, I can tell when someone's in pain. I've seen enough of it to know. What's wrong?" he asked again, his concern unwavering.

"Really, it's nothing, just my corset," I responded, attempting to downplay the discomfort.

"Your what?" he asked, confusion clouding his features, and I couldn't help but giggle at his lack of knowledge about women's fashion. "My corset. It's the thing under my dress binding my waist and chest. It is considered women's fashion, but it is more like a torture device," I explained, watching as understanding dawned on his face.

Suddenly, I heard the shing of a knife, felt the movement of my dress, and experienced the relieving release of pressure on my midsection. "Malachi!" I exclaimed, surprised, as he cut my corset, liberating me from its binds.

He grinned mischievously, "There, problem solved. No need for torture devices when we're having a moment, right?" he quipped, his playful tone bringing a renewed sense of joy to our intimate exchange.

"Besides, no one has the right to bind my queen. Except me, of course, but only if you ask," Malachi remarked with a sultry tone, eliciting laughter from me. His playful and protective words resonated deeply, a comforting reassurance.

We shared another kiss, the night's tumultuous emotions finding solace in our connection. As the moments passed, a drowsiness crept over me. I leaned my head on his strong chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he caressed my hair and rubbed my back. His occasional pecks on my head added to the comforting embrace, and I succumbed to the darkness, finding a serene peace in his arms.