Threaded, p.11
Threaded, page 11
The floors of this new room were smooth and flat, and three of the four walls were non-existent, a simple guard rail the only thing to serve as a barrier to a drop-off that had Mariah’s stomach twisting into knots. The cliff was sheer, and far below was a great, forested valley, a hidden vale sitting between the palace and the rest of the Attlehon foothills. Despite the harrowing drop, Mariah inhaled deeply, reveling in the scent of the mountain breeze tinged with early autumn, and shifted to look at Ryenne.
“What is this place?”
Ryenne continued further into the room—if it could even be called that—to sit in one of two chairs placed in the center. “It is a place for us to exercise our gifts—the magic from the Goddess flowing in our veins—without fear of leveling another part of the palace.” She smiled back at Mariah. “It is not much of a concern for us with the Goddess’s light in our veins, as our magic is more … symbolic in nature. And serves more purposes beyond just its physical manifestation.” Ryenne then looked to Ksee, who’d chosen to linger in the shadows by the entrance. Kalen had remained outside the room, ever watchful by the double doors, and Ciana found another chair along the wall, far from the priestess, where she’d promptly sat with curiosity dancing in her amber gaze.
“But for the priestesses, this is a place for them to connect with their gifts safely. Our high priestess, for example, has the gift of fire, and she and her acolytes frequent this place.” Mariah followed Ryenne’s gaze to Ksee, only to find the priestess studiously ignoring them, inspecting the engravings within the double doors instead.
Mariah turned back to look at Ryenne. She knew that Ksee had fire magic. Her brother had it, too, after all. She knew she’d seen that spark in her tarnished gold eyes.
But where her brother’s fire was all playful life, Ksee’s only seemed to be low, flat smoldering of coals.
Ryenne gestured to the chair across from her, long, blonde hair shifting as she nodded. “Sit, Mariah.”
Mariah did as she was commanded. Now, seated in the center of the circle, she couldn’t help comparing this space to a landing, almost like a roost for some great beast of the past. The stone beneath their feet was scored with ancient scratches, worn and faded with age. Mariah had never heard of someone in Onita with the ability to wield earth, but she supposed the gift was possible, and that those marks could’ve been caused by a young wielder still learning the depths of her strength.
Or they could’ve been made by something far larger and wilder than a mortal priestess.
She pulled herself from those thoughts with a shake of her head, meeting the queen’s ocean-blue gaze once again. Ryenne smiled at her, softly, kindly, before she spoke.
“Now, Mariah, this will be a lesson in learning to speak to your magic. It is not a matter of control, not truly; the magic is a part of you, yes, but it still ultimately belongs to the Goddess, and at many times will serve its own purposes. The queen’s gift is different from all other magic in that way—we do not bend and warp our power to our will, but instead seek a partnership with it, a unified bond.” As she was speaking, Ryenne had lifted a hand, and from her fingers delicate drops of golden light spilled out, wrapping in a thin rivulet around her hand and fingers before soaking back into her skin, leaving behind a lingering glow. The queen looked back to Mariah, smiling at the awe Mariah didn’t try to hide.
“The magic manifests itself—both physically and internally—differently to each queen. As you can see, the magic has always been like water to me. I can pull out single droplets, a stream, or a wave, depending on the need. And when it is—was”—Ryenne faltered slightly before composing herself, continuing—“at rest within me, it felt like a lake or an ocean. Some great body of water.
“To start, I want you to close your eyes. Focus your attention and energy inside yourself, beyond your physical being. Find that place deep within where that power now resides. And I want you to tell me what you see, what you feel.”
Mariah closed her eyes, obeying the queen’s demand. It didn’t take much thought or focus to find what Ryenne referred to. She’d felt that place the queen spoke of since the day she’d received the letter on her twenty-first birthday.
And, no more than a few seconds later, there it was—an inky black pit at the center of her being, and within it two spheres of glowing light. She drifted her consciousness a bit closer, closer, trying to get a better look at what those clusters of light were made of.
Then she saw it and was able to make out each and every individual strand of both silver and gold light.
“Threads,” she said, her eyes still closed. “It looks like threads. All wound together in a massive ball.”
Mariah expected a reaction from the queen, some sort of praise, but instead … nothing. She cracked her eye back open to find Ryenne regarding her with a stunned expression.
“That was … quick.” Ryenne smiled slightly, but her shock made the movement stiff. “And … threads? That’s what you feel? Are … are you sure?”
“I’m positive,” Mariah answered firmly, her confusion at the queen’s reaction like pin-pricks in her belly. “Is … That’s not a bad thing, is it?” Of course, it would be just her luck to not only have her life upheaved in a single day, but also for the magic that caused the very disruption to be wrong in some way.
However, Ryenne quickly regained her composure, the shock vanishing from her face. “No, there is nothing wrong with that at all,” she assured Mariah. “If anything, I’m jealous it has manifested for you in such a physical form. You cannot imagine how difficult it was for me to learn how to grab onto and build a bond with droplets of water.” She laughed, the sound only slightly forced as it tinkled from her throat.
But Mariah wasn't convinced. She did not, however, push the issue, content to accept the simple explanation for what it was instead of giving herself yet another thing to lose her sleep over.
Ryenne met Mariah’s gaze again, her smile still tight, before she pushed forward with her lesson. “Now that you have found your magic, I want you to try to do exactly what I did earlier. I want you to reach into that place and coax out a single thread, draw it up through your veins, into your skin, and then to your fingers. Remember—it is not about control. You make the request, and then build the bond.”
Mariah nodded once before again closing her eyes, turning her attention back to that dark place illuminated by silver and gold light within her soul. She dove down, the masses within her growing larger and larger the deeper she went. She looked first to the great tangle of silver, its wildness eager and alive. Something about it called to a feral part of her, a part that craved blood and ruin and vengeance but also sought freedom and joy and laughter—
She turned from the silver mass suddenly, whipping her attention away and towards its golden twin beside it. Those feelings … they would consume her, devour her, and she would let them.
She couldn’t let that happen. For some reason, the longer she stayed in the palace, the more determined she was to make the most of her situation. To take these new obligations seriously, to earn her place here amongst those who ruled their kingdom behind gilded doors and raised daises.
So, Mariah moved closer to the mass of golden threads dwelling deep in her soul, the lengths of magic coiled so neatly compared to the chaos of its silver sister. She reached a part of her consciousness into that golden mass, and the threads instantly leaped to her, as if they’d been eagerly awaiting her invitation and arrival. A bundle of gold wrapped around her consciousness, twining into her being, warming her with comforting light that chased away all thoughts of wickedness.
Where the silver threads had emitted feelings of wild darkness, these golden threads felt only of tamed light.
Just one, she thought to herself, to the threads crawling around her. I only need one.
Slowly, those threads peeled off her, almost reluctantly, leaving behind a single, shimmering thread of golden light. Alone, in her mind’s eye, Mariah marveled at its beauty, studying it just as it studied her.
At her metaphysical back, she could feel threads of silver licking at her with curiosity.
She ignored them. She was curious, but … something told her to explore that part of her in private.
It was difficult to predict what might happen if she were told to procure golden threads for Ryenne, only for that light to manifest as silver.
Shoving that aside, she wrapped herself around the single golden thread, and rose out of the void inside her and back into her physical body. She became aware again of her breathing, of the breeze swirling her hair, of her heart beating steadily in her chest.
And then there was that thread.
It followed her up, sitting just in the pit of her stomach, in that same spot where she’d felt so much roiling in the days after her birthday. Remembering Ryenne’s words, she beckoned it into her veins, pulling it forward to her arms, to her skin, and then opened her eyes just as she gently coaxed it into her fingertips.
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs as she beheld that delicate golden thread twisting and winding between her fingers, around her hand, the feeling as it moved along her skin both foreign and familiar.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, a true smile finally touching her lips. “It’s … beautiful.”
“Yes,” Ryenne’s voice was soft and sad. “It is.”
Mariah raised her gaze from her hand, still ringed in that subtle golden light, to look at the queen, her own blue eyes locked on Mariah’s hands. Her face held that same wistful sadness that had been in her voice as she continued. “You mastered that much, much faster than I did. I had a feeling you would.” She smiled sadly. “I remember it took me at least a week to be able to get a strong enough grip on the liquid of my magic in order to summon it to the surface. But I am glad you took to this much more naturally than I did.”
Mariah was silent, watching Ryenne, unsure what to say to the queen and opting for nothing at all. She suddenly noticed Ryenne, while still filled with supernatural youth, looked ever so slightly older than she had yesterday. What had been flawless, smooth skin around her eyes now bore soft smile lines that hadn’t been there the day before.
Wrenching her gaze from the magic still glowing on Mariah’s skin, Ryenne looked her right in the eyes. “You are ready, just as I had planned. We will proceed with your Selection tonight.”
“Is it really that simple? I speak the words, I summon my magic, ask it the question, and then let it … what, get to work?”
Ryenne chuckled. “Yes,” she said, “it really is that simple.”
Mariah inhaled, held her breath for a heartbeat, and then let it out in a deep exhale. “Okay.” She paused, thinking. “I just have one other question.”
Ryenne’s eyebrows show up. They were now alone in that training space, and the sun was beginning to move into the afternoon hours. Lunch had been brought up while they’d worked, Mariah learning both how to create that partnership with her magic and what would be expected of her tonight. Ksee and Ciana had long since left them, giving them the privacy to discuss one of the more intimate rituals of a queen. Mariah assumed that Kalen still remained, though, still standing just on the other side of those double doors. Ciana had excused herself to formally get settled into her new chambers, exclaiming that she was sure her belongings had arrived at the palace and she needed to begin unpacking. Ksee hadn’t given a reason for her departure, only slipping silently out of the training room, her face a rigid mask after Mariah’s display with her magic. Mariah could only assume she’d left to prepare for the Selection, which would take place in Qhohena’s temple there in the palace.
“Well, please. Ask away.” Ryenne’s eyebrows were still raised in amused curiosity.
“I just have to ask … why? If I—the queen—has all this magic, why do we need to select and bond with seven men for the Goddess’s gift to become fully matured? Not that I’m opposed to the concept in any way—I’m actually quite curious about that—but it just seems a bit … antiquated, is all.”
Ryenne’s face relaxed as she smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to ask that.” She thought for a moment. “It’s … complicated. And even I don’t know the full truth of it. But from what I’ve learned of our history, the queens’ history, it was something Qhohena wanted when she blessed the first queen, Xara, with our gift. I suspect—and these are only my thoughts—that our Goddess knew giving one single person that much power, without surrounding her with others who could help shoulder those burdens, could create a monster better suited to razing kingdoms than ruling them.” Ryenne paused again. “And even our Goddess leans upon her Consort, Priam, for support. Perhaps she also wanted for her queen to find that same comfort during the loneliness of her extraordinarily long life. It may also be the most valuable lesson we have to learn from Qhohena: that every sword needs a shield, every great power must be grounded, and even the strongest need protecting.”
Mariah was silent, her mind churning over the words. They made sense to her, she supposed. But then a new question leaped from her mind to her tongue before she could stop it.
“What of the other goddess? Zadione?”
All of Ryenne’s warmth instantly vanished, and her face paled. She almost seemed to age even further in a matter of heartbeats.
“It isn’t wise to discuss the Goddess of Death here, Mariah. Especially before you have fully bonded with your Armature and ascended your throne. Even then, doing so could still carry with it heavy risks. She vanished from the world thousands of years ago, and it’s far wiser to pretend she never existed, because as far as we are now concerned, she might as well have not.”
Cold silence descended upon the room, the whistling of the wind off the Attlehon’s brushing talons over Mariah’s skin. Her heart and mind raced with adrenaline and fear at the queen’s words. What in the Goddess’s name was that about?
“I apologize, Ryenne. I was just curious. I won’t bring it up again; you have my word.”
Color slowly returned to Ryenne’s skin, and she relaxed back into her seat with several deep inhales. “It is alright, Mariah. You did not know. There is nothing to apologize for.” Several more breaths from the queen before she turned the ever-composed mask of the Queen of Onita back to Mariah. “Do you have any other questions about what is in store for you tonight?”
Mariah shook her head. “No, I understand. I still have plenty of questions about what, exactly, it means to ‘bond,’ but I also understand that is something I will have to learn from my Armature directly, not from you. But as far as tonight … it seems simple.” She paused, then asked the one final question that had been lingering on her tongue. “Have you seen them? The men who were Marked for me?”
Ryenne’s composure cracked again at that, this time with humor as a laugh escaped her lips. “Of course, they’ve lived and trained here at the palace since they were boys.” Her eyes glinted with coy understanding. “I would be very excited to meet them, if I were you.”
Mariah knew her answering smile was more akin to a flirty smirk. “And what am I to wear? I can only imagine Ksee will never approve of anything I would pick for myself.”
Ryenne’s answering smile could only be described as foxy. “Let me handle Ksee. I have the perfect dress for you.”
CHAPTER 14
“So, you’re telling me Ryenne, Her Royal Majesty and all that, personally picked out this for me to wear tonight?”
Ciana's answering grin was wicked. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. She told you that she had a dress for you. And then she handed this one to me herself.”
Mariah could only stare at the full-length mirror in her bathroom. “It just doesn’t seem very … queen-like, does it?”
Ciana’s face was suddenly serious as she held Mariah’s gaze in the mirror. “Oh, quite the opposite, Mariah. I think this is exactly the dress needed to bring every man in the kingdom to his knees.”
Is that what I want? To bring them all to their knees? Mariah couldn’t hide the dark place deep inside her that flickered with excitement and curiosity at the idea. But … no. She’d seen firsthand, in Andburgh, what tyranny and control did to a people.
She was better than that. She would be better than that.
“But isn’t the point tonight to bring only seven of them to their knees?”
Ciana rolled her eyes. “Look, Mariah, if you don’t want to wear it, just say so. But if you do want to wear it, then please by all that the Goddess has blessed, would you stop complaining and just appreciate this outfit for a moment … because, well, shit.”
Mariah couldn’t help but smile as she refocused her attention on her reflection. She should’ve known better than to fear Ryenne would pick one of those thick, heavy ballgowns Onitan women seemed to prefer—especially given the look on the queen’s face when she’d told Mariah she had something for her to wear. And, Mariah thought, she had yet to see Ryenne wear one of those massive ballgowns herself.
Even still, what she now wore was the last thing she would’ve expected. And, truthfully, Ciana was right.
This could bring men to their knees.
The dress was made of black lace and almost entirely sheer. The neckline cut a deep v down her chest, plunging to her sternum, highlighting the curve of her cleavage. The straps were about three inches thick and made of more black lace, and the back dipped even lower than the neckline, revealing the expanse of tanned skin between her shoulder blades. The bodice clung tightly to her body, and was mostly sheer, except for black paneling over her breasts to offer the slightest modicum of decency. It cinched tightly just below her waist before spilling into the skirts, which were really just panels of more sheer black lace, split up all the way on the sides to her hips. Sewn into the bodice of the dress were black shorts of the softest material, the only opaque portion on the entire bottom half of the gown. The black lace pooled at her feet, swishing against the ground softly, her tan legs on full display. On her feet were black heels, simple but wicked, much like the dress itself. Her hair had been softly curled, spilling over her shoulders and down her back, a simple sweep of kohl across her eyes and her lips painted blood red.
