Threaded, p.10
Threaded, page 10
A small man wearing a chef’s apron around his front was bustling around the kitchen, his wild, curly strawberry blonde hair pushed out of his face by a thin strap of worn gray cloth. He sported a youthful face that made it hard to tell his true age, his skin heavily freckled, his eyes creased with smile lines.
Mariah quietly stood from the couch as he continued to labor in the kitchen, her eyes darting to where she’d discarded her grandfather’s dagger on the kitchen island the night before. It lay there, that precious piece of steel, right behind where the small man was hard at work. She watched him for a few more heartbeats, holding herself as still as a statue, before deciding her curiosity outweighed the potential threat.
After all, who could possibly touch her here, deep in the heart of the great palace? She was likely safer here than she’d ever been in her entire life.
She padded on near silent feet into the kitchen, eyes never leaving the newest arrival. As she neared, traversing the massive living space, a jaunty tune filtered over the sound of crackling bacon—humming. The man was humming to himself, his body swaying slightly to his music, the tune off-key and unrecognizable. Mariah continued to move closer until she stood before the kitchen island, the dagger now within an easy arm’s reach. The man was oblivious to her approach, however, too immersed in the preparation of the, frankly, glorious breakfast coming together in that kitchen. There was even a full carafe of what appeared to be coffee, the rich aroma tickling at Mariah’s nose. After a few increasingly awkward minutes, Mariah finally cleared her throat as softly as she could.
The man jumped at least a foot in the air, the utensils in his hands flying from his grip and clattering to the ground. He whirled around, meeting Mariah’s gaze, his own eyes widening as he realized, finally, that he wasn’t alone.
“Oi, darkness between the stars! Ya scared me half to death!” The man pressed a palm to his chest, breathing deep as his wide eyes took in Mariah, whose own expression slowly morphed from curiosity into one of pure incredulity.
“I’m … sorry?” Mariah said, twisting her hands in front of her. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but … who are you, and what are you doing here? Did Queen Ryenne send you?”
All valid questions.
The stranger’s eyes widened even further. “You … you wouldn’t happen to be Her Majesty Mariah, would ya?” His accent was thick, clearly not Onitan, but not one Mariah could place.
Not that she’d much experience with different accents.
Mariah blinked slowly at the man. Her Majesty Mariah. She hadn’t expected that.
While she found it excessive … she didn’t hate the respect it commanded. And that shocked her more than anything that’d happened the day prior at the Choosing.
She composed herself before answering the small man. “I am, actually. Pleased to meet you, I suppose. And you would be …?”
The man flushed a bright ruby red before bending deeply at his waist, his head nearly disappearing below the countertops. “My Queen!” He rose ever so slightly, so he could peer up at her from beneath thick strawberry blonde lashes. “Please accept my humblest apologies for the intrusion and my lack of manners. I believed ya to be in your sleeping quarters, but clearly, I was gravely mistaken.” He lifted himself up fully from his bow, his head still dipped, eyes still peering up. “My name is Mikael, and I’m your appointed chef, an honor I hope to spend my entire life living up to. I’d thought Queen Ryenne had informed ya I may be coming this morning, but it appears I was mistaken. I, again, sincerely apologize for the blunt intrusion.”
An appointed chef? It seemed the longer she remained here in this palace, this place where only yesterday she dreaded beyond measure to enter, the more opportunities and amenities opened their doors to her.
If she was to give up her version of freedom, at least she’d get a personal chef in exchange.
Mariah visibly relaxed, a smile spreading across her face as she met the man’s gaze. “Please, Mikael, call me Mariah. I’m sorry for startling you; Ryenne must’ve forgotten to inform me you would be coming, but you’re welcome all the same.”
The man—Mikael—finally lifted up his head, his own smile touching his merry face. “It is my deepest honor … Mariah.” And with that, he turned back to the crackling pan behind him, flipping the slices of bacon as they continued to fill the room with their salty-sweet aroma. “There is fresh coffee, imported straight from Vatha, ready for you in the carafe on the island. I do hope that bacon and omelets are acceptable to you. Does ham, cheese, and tomato sound appetizing?”
Right on cue, Mariah’s stomach grumbled, the sound traveling around the kitchen. Something about this palace made her ravenous; she’d always loved to eat, but never had an appetite quite like the one she had now. “Yes, that sounds absolutely wonderful.” She turned away, allowing Mikael to continue his crucial labors, only to find Ciana finally staggering up from her couch, her blonde hair framing her head like a golden halo, her eyes and lips parted slightly as the smells from the kitchen reached her nose. She yawned once, stretching her arms above her head, before she spoke.
“Did someone say bacon?”
Hunger finally sated after what Mariah perhaps considered to be the best breakfast of her life, she and Ciana dressed for the day, finally utilizing Mariah’s new outrageous bathroom. Ciana was a few inches shorter than Mariah, but was able to find a gown within the deep depths of the closet to fit her more petite frame. Mariah, on the other hand, dug through a few of the drawers until she found what she was looking for: another pair of soft, wool leggings and a decadent red cashmere sweater that hung loosely off her shoulder, baring a swath of her golden tan skin.
From the vanity, Mariah found a drawer stocked with several hairbrushes. She tossed one across the room to Ciana, who immediately began working through her tangled curls. Picking up a second, she turned back to the mirror and set to work on her own appearance. She ran the brush through her straight, dark hair until it was smooth, and then began sectioning portions off into a braid that ran down her back. Pulling a few tendrils free to frame her face, she tied the braid off with a strap of elastic, which she then wrapped in a single chain of gold she’d found in the vanity drawers. The contrast of the gold was stark against her near black braid, the added weight to her hair forcing her to hold her head high. She stared back at her reflection in the mirror, and didn’t think for a second that she looked like a queen apparent.
She looked like herself. And she loved it.
Mariah and Ciana emerged from the bedroom to find Ryenne sitting, patient and elegant, at the dining table. Beside her sat Kalen, his broad frame folded into the chair, relaxed as he spoke softly to his queen. Behind them both, however, standing just in the foyer entrance as rigid as a pillar, was High Priestess Ksee, garbed in those same pale gold robes she’d worn yesterday, her expression pinched and tight. The queen and the high priestess whipped their gazes to Mariah at the same time, just as she emerged from her bedroom.
“You look beautiful—”
“What in the Goddess’s name are you wearing—?”
Ryenne and Ksee spoke at the same time, the differences in both their tone and their very words clashing in the air like swords. Ksee’s eyes widened slightly and darted to the queen, who’d tensed nearly imperceptibly in her chair. Kalen only huffed a breath as he watched his queen’s gaze frost over slightly. Ryenne broke her stare from Mariah, speaking over her shoulder at Ksee.
“I shall remind you, High Priestess, that while your place at court is vital, Mariah is now your queen apparent. As such, she may wear as she pleases, as has been the way since Xara’s reign.”
Mariah watched as Ksee stuttered over herself, attempting to regain her composure, her eyes nearly bulging out of her face. “Of course, Your Majesty, I understand. But she wears trousers. Like a man. Never has a queen strode through these halls in such attire.”
That statement caught Mariah’s tongue before she could hold it. “Never? Truly, no other queen has ever worn pants … ever? And tell me, High Priestess, what would you have me wear instead? A ballgown? As I understand it, today will be spent learning and training, not holding court. So, please, tell me why I can’t be comfortable in a place I’m supposed to now call my home?”
The room was utterly silent, Kalen’s chair creaking as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Ryenne simply watched Mariah with a look of cool curiosity. Shit. Think before you speak, Mariah. A lot may have changed yesterday, but she’s the high priestess, and you’re still … just you.
But even as she thought that, it didn’t quite feel right. For the first time today, that deep, dark place within her stirred, flashes of metallic light suddenly coiling through her veins, a sudden and instant reminder that she might never be just her again.
Fighting back her unease, Mariah turned her gaze to the queen and was shocked to find that Ryenne’s face had broken out into a very un-queen-like grin. Beside her, Kalen appeared to be doing everything in his power to keep from bursting out laughing. Mariah heaved a breath before looking back to the priestess, who continued to stand in the foyer entrance, floundered and flustered. “You—”
“Again,” Ryenne said, interrupting Ksee again. “Mariah is Queen Apparent of Onita. She may wear what she pleases. I will hear no more about it in my presence, Ksee.”
The high priestess’s mouth snapped closed, her golden eyes glowing like wrathful embers, and Mariah wondered briefly if fire was her gift, the magic that had called her into the position she now enjoyed. Without another word, Ksee turned on her heel and strode down the foyer, the doors to Mariah’s suites banging closed loudly behind her. A feeling of momentary triumph washed over Mariah, chased quickly by a wave of apprehension. She was by no means making a strong first impression upon a woman who was supposed to be one of the closest advisors to the Queen, the closest bridge to their Goddess.
A part of her couldn’t help but wonder whether her words to the priestess would eventually come back to haunt her.
CHAPTER 12
Ksee, as it turned out, hadn’t truly left them and waited in the hallway when they emerged, quiet and stewing. The priestess had been able to quell the fiery anger that flared in her gaze before she’d left Mariah’s suites, now appearing content to maintain an air of cold indifference as she, Ryenne, Kalen, Ciana, and Mariah embarked on a formal tour of the palace.
In all honesty, Mariah couldn’t be bothered to care much about how the priestess felt towards her. Not now, as she walked awestruck through the palace hallways.
It was truly more beautiful within than it appeared from the streets of Verith.
Ryenne led them all through stunning, gilded halls filled with archways which opened to either the Attlehons above or the city below. Everything about the palace was massive in scale, and the way portions of it were constructed into the foothills of the mountains themselves gave every room a cavernous feel. Ryenne led the group through aureate receiving rooms, an incredible domed library, and no fewer than five courtyard gardens, each one teeming with more life than the last. Their path eventually led them back to the main palace entrance, back through those massive, gold-plated doors, and down those grand, daunting steps. With a tinge of curiosity, Mariah realized that Ryenne was leading them to the stables. As they neared the buildings, as the sounds and smells of horses brushed over her senses, the queen glanced back over her shoulder at Mariah, a soft smile on her lips.
Mariah met Ryenne’s gaze with a look of confusion and an inquisitive smile of her own. Her eyes then drifted past the queen, landing on two horses in the large saddling area of the stables: one pitch black and massive, the other a gleaming golden buckskin. Beside them stood a tall, lean, middle-aged man with graying blonde hair, engaged in a rather animated conversation with a youthful looking stable hand.
Wex Salis. Her father. With her buckskin gelding, Kodie.
A laughing sob escaped Mariah’s lips as she broke into a sprint, breezing past Ryenne and Ksee. Wex turned from his conversation with the stable hand just in time to catch her as she crashed into him, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist as he gripped her shoulders. Once in his arms, Mariah let out a shuddering breath, breathing in his familiar scent as he squeezed her gently and chuckled, his breath warm on the top of her head. He released her slightly, looking down at her with warmth in his gold-hazel eyes.
“I should’ve known they would have a hard time making you wear a dress on your first day.”
Mariah let out another sob-laugh as she met her father’s gaze. “I like to think the Goddess knew what she was getting into when she picked me.”
Wex grinned down at her, a grin which quickly faltered, a shadow of sadness fleeting over his eyes. “Your mother … she knew. Somehow, she knew something would happen on this trip. That was why she pushed you so hard to go.”
A heavy wave washed over Mariah as she processed his words. The wave carried with it hurt, a sour twinge of anger. Her mother … knew? Mariah’s mind was blank as she stared up into her father’s weather-worn face, the pieces of her trust shuddering apart as the implication of her mother’s betrayal.
Her mother had known. Her thoughts drifted for a moment to the book she’d given Mariah on her last night in Andburgh, about the words she’d told Mariah. “If—when— you ever feel lost, truly lost, when you need a reminder of who you are and what you are capable of … that book will tell you everything you need to know.”
Had that been a warning from her mother? That she would soon be faced with an insurmountable obstacle, a course that would change her life forever?
Before she could formulate her response, Mariah felt the approach of her companions at her back. Her father, also noticing the nearing group, hesitatingly released Mariah, breaking his gaze away at the last second to dart a glance over her shoulder. In a smooth, practiced movement, he dropped to his knee, his head bowing in respect just as Queen Ryenne appeared by Mariah’s side.
“My Queen,” said Wex. “I am honored to be graced by your presence and for the invitation to your home.”
Ryenne smiled lightly at Mariah’s father. “Rise, soldier. I am warmed to see that none of the habits have been lost during your years of retirement.”
Wex lifted his head, smiling broadly at Ryenne, and rose to stand once again. “A soldier never forgets his training, Your Majesty.”
Ryenne nodded her head once to him, her expression thoughtful. “I thank you for coming to the palace on such short notice. Your presence is most welcome. I’m sure you are, by now, well-aware of what has transpired here with your daughter. You must be very proud and honored.”
Wex hesitated for a moment, his brilliant smile fading slightly as he glanced quickly at his daughter. “I’m not sure pride is the best way to describe what I’m feeling, Your Majesty. I mean this with all the respect in the world, but … I feel no pride at having raised a future queen. In fact, I care very little about what titles she now carries.” He paused for a moment, a blend of several unidentifiable emotions on his face. “I would say that I now feel excitement, joy … and, if I may be honest, a healthy dose of fear. Power may be extraordinary, but always carries burdens with it as well.”
Ksee chose that moment to step forward, her cold expression taking in the patriarch of the Salis family, her lips tightening before she spoke. “That is a fascinating way to describe it, soldier. Do you not feel surprised, then?”
“No. I feel no surprise at all. I always knew she was meant for something greater in life than what we had for her in Andburgh,” Wex answered, his tone neutral and controlled as he addressed the priestess. “She was always far too wild and strong to be happy there. Independence courses through her veins, and now that the Goddess has lifted the curtain, I’m no longer surprised as to why.”
“It is curious that you describe her independence with such positivity,” Ksee responded. “It has long been the way of Qhohena that her queen be dependent on the advice of those that surround her at court. Of course, I have no doubt your daughter will be able to learn the proper restraint, with time. As the daughter of a soldier, I expect obedience will come to her naturally.” Her smile turned sickly sweet, her gaze still piercing.
This fucking bitch.
Mariah knew she should hold her tongue, that making an enemy of this priestess so early was a terrible idea. However, she had no interest in befriending those who chose to treat the people closest to her with such disdain.
Mariah turned her attention directly to Ksee, her own sweet sneer on her face.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see what the Goddess has planned, won’t we?
Ksee’s answering glare was burning ice.
CHAPTER 13
Mariah’s reunion with her father was short-lived.
She didn’t even get the chance to pull her father away, to ask him what in Enfara’s depths he’d meant when he said her mother knew. Too quickly, too soon, Ryenne was there, telling her it was time to move on, that they had many other things to do that day.
Mariah turned back to her father, let him wrap her once more in a fierce hug, even as her heart still stung with her mother’s deception. Releasing her too quickly, her father picked up three saddle bags from the ground, pushing them into Mariah’s hands. Then, without another word, he turned and strode to his warhorse, mounting the stallion in a single, practiced movement. Her father gave her one last, lingering stare, a look filled with pride and sadness and all the words they hadn’t had a chance to say before spurring his mount away and out the palace gates.
Shoving down all the anger and confusion and heartache burning through her, Mariah turned on her heel, following Ryenne out of the courtyard. The bags her father had handed her, the bags containing the last remnants of her quiet life at the crossroads, were handed to a member of the palace staff with instructions to deposit them in her rooms. As the servant scurried off, Mariah and Ryenne continued their walk back up the steps to the palace and through the massive doors, Ksee, Ciana, and Kalen trailing just a few steps behind. Ryenne wordlessly led them into the throne room, then hooked a left into one of the many hallways spindling off the massive, central, glass-ceilinged space. This path led deeper into the palace, the floor sloping up gradually as they walked, and eventually they found themselves pushing through yet another set of double doors into a great, open space carved directly into the side of the mountains.
