Mal was utterly, completely, totally screwed.
After the insane woman was taken away, the library was cleared. Two days later, he was summoned. The same man the woman was accusing of imprisoning her stood in front of Mal, watching him with gleaming eyes.
Mal stared anxiously at the ground.
"Two days ago, when the guest in the top of the tower was here, did you aid her?"
Mal looked up in shock, shaking his head sharply. He hadn't even known there was a woman up there. For all he knew, it could have been a ghost or a banshee. Though, banshee didn't really form words like 'Atticus' so clearly.
"So you're going to tell me your disarming of the guard was purely on, instinct?" He asked suspiciously.
Mal looked down at the ground again and nodded.
"How would you even possess this 'instinct'? You've been an apprentice in the Green Wing for years."
"I've been training, first with my dad, and then on my own since I was five or so." Mal said quietly.
He could tell the man was nodding slowly. "Rather interesting. What is your father's name?"
"Inti Jaksil."
"And your mother?"
"Thalia Jaksil."
"Maiden name?"
"Thalia Jaksil. My father changed his name."
"How peculiar. What was your father's first name?"
"I don't know." Mal practically whispered, hunching almost in on himself. The man nodded again, writing something down on a piece of paper in front of him.
"As a response to this new information, you will be doing a small service each day on top of your regular duties. It is simple: you will take a tray of provided food and give it to our lovely guest at the top of the Tower. Once delivered, you will remain in the room for an hour. This will happen twice a day. You are not required to speak to the guest, though she may try to speak to you. You will enter the room in light armor and armed with a weapon of your choice." The man said, and Mal forced himself to look up.
The man was already walking away.
Mal stood outside of a huge, solid black iron door.
Two large guards stood outside, eyeing him warily.
Mal swallowed as they started to open the door. He was dressed in silver chainmail and light black armor: a cuff around his lower arms and a chest plate complete with a high collar cuffs around his lower legs.
"What happened to the last one?" He whispered before he walked in.
One of the guards cast a pitying gaze in his direction, before saying quietly, "She killed him."
Then, Mal was shoved inside the room as the door shut behind him. A silver tray was in his hands, and he carefully walked into the octagon-shaped room, setting it down on a small table in the center of the room. There was a door ajar on one side, and a black iron dresser on the other. Towards the front of the room was a nice sized bed with a black duvet and white pillows.
On the bed was a woman.
She was wearing puffy black pants with a white belt securing them around her waist, a white off-the-shoulder top completing the ensemble. On her feet were simple black flats, and her hair and eyes had changed color. Instead of the golden brown, it was now black with tighter waves and a single partition on either side of her face, the right one a bright cyan and the left a red. Her left eye had changed to be the same shade of red, and this time they really did emit an ethereal glow. Around her wrists and ankles were heavy black manacles, but she seemed to take no heed of them or their weight as she slowly rose from the bed.
Mal was reminded of a viper uncoiling from its nest.
She moved like a predator, her movements sleek and smooth. Each, unmistakable in each step, was heavily controlled power. As she stood straight, looking Mal in the eyes, she looked like a queen. A god.
No. Mal pushed the thought down. There was no way she was a god.
"Who are you?" She asked quietly in a rough voice.
Mal swallowed hard. "Malor."
She nodded. "You do not like to go by that."
What? It was impossible for her to know that.
"Call me Mal." Mal said after a second of silence. He walked forward and set the tray down on the table before lowering himself to sit with his legs crossed on the floor.
The woman tipped her head to the side gently, looking a little bemused as she walked over and sat down across from Mal. He slid the tray over to her side of the table.
She watched him, making no move to even acknowledge the tray.
He swallowed hard. "What is your name?"
At the question, her lips curved into a small, lazy smile. "I feel you already know that."
Mal looked down at the tray, not responding.
Before he could do anything, she reached across the table and used her hand to tilt his head up, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"What is my name?" She asked, voice thrumming with a quiet intensity, smile seeming to sharpen.
"Adela." Mal said quietly.
She nodded, pulling her hand back. "Good."
Mal resisted the urge to look back down the tray. He felt his face heat up. This woman was so completely and utterly insane.
"Did you really kill that guard?" He blurted out without thinking. His face turned beet red.
She took a minute to answer. "Because I needed it."
"Needed it?"
"The chaos."
Mal could piece some of it together. Killing someone was one way to cause mayhem, he supposed.
"Why did you need it?"
"Because. It is part of me. I'm an addict." She said with a small smile.
Mal made a face. She was certainly odd. The rest of the time passed quickly, with not very much talk. Mal took the tray when she was done, and left the room quietly.
He guessed she spent all of her time in there. Wasn't that suffocating?
Or was there more to the supposed god than she was letting on?