Threaded, p.15
Threaded, page 15
And with that thought, his gaze slid to hers, instantly finding where she stood hidden in the shadows of the woods at the edge of the clearing. Those tanzanite eyes hardened immediately, everything about him going tense, his easy comfort vanished.
Well, Mariah thought, I guess my spying is over.
She took a single, deep breath before stepping out of the trees and into the clearing.
The attention of the other six Armature snapped to her, their chatter instantly ceasing. Sebastian and Quentin halted mid-spar, the former not hesitating to step out of the sand pit and take a few steps toward her, a warm smile of greeting upon his handsome face.
Mariah met his smile with one of her own. “I hope I’m not intruding on anything.” She glanced around at the clearing, the weapon racks lining the edge, the sparring pit. “Although, I have to say, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t receive an invitation.”
Trefor, who stood closest to her leaning too-casually against a tree, was the first to speak. “My Qu-Mariah,” he corrected himself, grinning sheepishly. “Not that we aren’t glad to see you, but … what are you doing here?” His short blond hair was spiked with sweat, his pale cheeks flushed with color.
Mariah turned her smile to Trefor. “Well, I was just out for a morning run, but this is looking much more interesting.” She shot a glance around at all of her Armature, purposely avoiding a set of distracting blue eyes, and watched as amusement and curiosity sparked in their expressions. Sebastian was the next to speak, taking a few more steps in her direction, obvious confusion written on his face.
“Mariah … do you wish to train with us?”
Mariah met Sebastian’s stare, rolled her shoulders once, and stretched the muscles in her neck. “Yes. Why not? It’s been over a week. I wouldn’t want to get rusty.”
Sebastian’s confusion extended itself to the rest of her Armature as they darted their eyes to each other. “Maybe we could arrange a separate session where we can each dedicate time to work with you …” Quentin’s question faded as a shit-eating grin spread across Mariah’s face.
“Oh, Quentin. I don’t know you yet, and I’ll forgive you just this once because you don’t know me yet, either.” She paused. “But my father, a former special reserves fighter in the Queen’s Seventy-Seventh Legion, has been training me since the day I took my first step.” Leaning into … whatever it was she was doing, she turned from the group and pulled the hem of her tunic over her head in one smooth movement, dropping it to the ground beside her. She now wore only her tight undershirt, the thin material designed to wick away her sweat, its length cropped to just below her navel. The cold air felt refreshing on her burning skin, still hot from the frantic pace of her earlier run. She turned back to her Armature, meeting the gaze of the one with fire-red hair.
“Now, Quentin. Since you seem the most concerned with my training, I’d like you to get into this pit with me. I’m assuming your sparring with Sebastian was just a warmup?”
She moved forward and brushed past the gathered men, Quentin following after her, that same fiery grin back upon his face.
“What, exactly, are you wanting to do, Mariah?”
She knew the grin she threw him was more a baring of teeth than a true smile. “I want to spar.”
Sweat poured down her face, her lungs burned, and her teeth were still barred in that same grin as she circled Quentin, his red hair dark with sweat and his freckled skin flushed with exertion.
She knew he’d started off going easy on her, but the second she delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to his chest, sending him flying back on his ass, he’d woken up, fire dancing in his eyes.
She’d wondered, briefly, if the element lived in more than just his hair and gaze. If it ran in his veins, just as it ran in her brother’s.
Just as threads of light now lived in hers.
Since then, they traded blows evenly and regularly. She felt the attention of her Armature on her as she moved, an unfamiliar weight on her skin she didn’t mind. Quentin darted in, aiming a hook to her gut, but she dove out of his reach before driving her elbow into his side. He grunted, trying to twist, but she was one step ahead of him. Now behind him, she leaped onto his back with a nimble jump, one leg swinging around his neck. Her sudden weight and the momentum twisted him off balance, and they dropped instantly to the ground. In a heartbeat, he was beneath her, lying facedown in the sand, her knee pressed against his shoulder blade. She leaned her head down and whispered into his ear.
“If you tap out now, I promise I’ll teach you that move.”
Quentin’s bottle green eyes darted up to hers in a joking glare, pausing only a few heartbeats before patting the ground beside him twice. Shit-talking chuckles arose from the rest of her Armature as Mariah stood up, letting Quentin go. She was still breathing heavily as she walked to her discarded tunic, wiping the sweat off her brow.
Quentin stood up and quickly dusted himself off before following her out of the pit, giving her shoulder a playful shove. “You weren’t kidding, girl. That was impressive.” He froze suddenly, obviously worried he’d pushed it too far.
No matter how impressed he might be with her, she was still his queen.
But Mariah only let out a tinkling laugh, shoving him playfully back. She was thankful he treated her like how she used to be—ordinary, normal, with nothing in her veins that set her apart from all the rest. “Keep working, boy, and one day maybe you’ll be able to pin me back.”
And just like that, Quentin’s grin returned. He tossed her a wink before turning towards a pile of water canteens resting against a tree at the edge of the clearing.
Mariah let her gaze follow him, lost in her thoughts for a moment before she felt the heavy weight of several stares on her. The rest of her Armature still stood there, watching her, most of their expressions a blend of mixed awe and blatant interest. Even Andrian, though he lingered as far from her as he could, couldn’t hide the disdainful surprise in his tanzanite eyes.
Suddenly, she felt an urge to move. Standing there, idly, a specimen being watched …
It hadn’t bothered her before, when she’d been in the pit with Quentin. But now, standing leisurely, it was making her skin itch. She turned toward the targets at the other end of the clearing; her feet, desperate for movement, carrying her quickly.
“I’m assuming there are arrows over here, as well?”
But before her question could be answered, a feminine cough sounded behind her. Mariah whirled to find Ciana standing on the edge of the clearing, dressed in leggings and a long cloak, unabashedly eyeing every single one of the men around Mariah. She had no idea when the other girl had arrived, or how long she’d been standing there, but Mariah nearly broke into hysterics at the expression on Ciana’s face. Her friend turned her gaze to meet Mariah’s, swallowing once before speaking.
“Goddess-damn you, Mariah! One day with your new boyfriends and you’re already abandoning me. Next time, the least you could do is extend an invitation.”
CHAPTER 18
“Absolutely not, Ciana. No. Not a chance.”
Ciana huffed, popping a hip and crossing her arms over her chest. “Ksee will be pissed if you don’t.”
Mariah barked a laugh before shrugging at her friend. “Ksee is always pissed at me. Wearing this … monstrosity isn’t going to change that.”
Lying on the bed before them was a massive emerald ballgown, the bodice consisting of a paneled corset, capped sleeves, and full tulle skirts. Mariah had hissed the second Ciana walked out of the closet with it, staggering under its weight, then had promptly sworn to Qhohena herself that the atrocious article of clothing would never touch her skin.
“Well, then, by all means, what do you want to wear, Your Majesty?”
“Don’t call me that,” Mariah grumbled, her fingers idly scratching at the layers of green tulle covering her white comforter. “It’s just a personal preference. For example, you like gin; I prefer whiskey.” She gestured to the dress. “This is another one of those preferences. Except, instead of this being gin, it’s backwoods piss-water that someone out near Tolona tried to call ale.”
Ciana only stared at her, her amber gaze thoroughly unamused.
“Don’t look at me like that, either,” Mariah said. “If green is the color Ksee wants me in today … then I might’ve seen something in the closet that will work. And don’t worry; you can assure the priestess it was all my idea.”
An hour earlier, Mariah had strode back into the palace, still sweaty and flanked by Ciana and her Armature, her tunic dangling from her fingers. And, naturally, the first person they’d encountered upon entering through one of the side-entrances nearest the stables was Ksee. The priestess had landed a crushing glare on Mariah, fires dancing in her eyes, and issued a pointed remark about the heightened expectations of Mariah’s new position. Mariah had nodded once before stalking away, not in the mood to enter another sparring match after the training that morning. She’d felt the priestess’s gaze burning a hole between her shoulders as she’d rounded the hallway corner, the feeling only vanishing when she was finally out of Ksee’s sight.
A part of her knew she should reconsider her approach to dealing with the priestess.
But she also had no interest in treating with a woman who clearly believed her to be inferior, just because of the circumstances of her birth. As if that were something she’d been capable of controlling.
Mere moments after she’d closed the door to her suites, stretching in the morning sun filtering in through the wall of windows, Ryenne had come bustling in, followed closely by Mikael, his strawberry blonde hair again pulled back by that strip of brown cloth. The chef went to work in the kitchen, the sounds and smells of breakfast food filling the space as Ryenne settled herself at the dining table. Mariah had excused herself to quickly shower, and when she’d reemerged had found a plate with poached eggs, fresh toast, and tomatoes waiting for her on the island.
Ryenne had spent no time waiting to quell the happiness that rose in Mariah at the spread of food.
“Today, you will be introduced to the heads of the Onitan Royal families.”
Mariah’s blood had run cold, and those twin balls of thread in her soul had roiled in response. They’d been resting so quietly all morning, content to lie dormant as she’d trained with her Armature. Now, though, at the mention of the Royals, they leapt and cracked through her veins as whips of burning light. Despite how delicious the food in front of her looked, she suddenly had no desire to eat any of it.
Ryenne had waited in silence, watching as Mariah stared blankly at her plate. When several long moments had passed without a response, the Queen spoke again.
“You knew this was coming, Mariah. They are the closest to nobility that the kingdom has. The Royals have always been important advisors to the crown, and it is important for the queen to heed their advice when she can.”
Mariah still didn’t respond. Eventually, Ryenne had heaved an aggravated huff and stood.
“This is expected of you, Mariah. The Royals arrived last night and will be ready to meet in an hour. You will attend; your queen commands it.” Mariah’s gaze had snapped to Ryenne, the Queen’s ocean eyes looking more like icy depths. And in that moment, Mariah knew she wasn’t speaking to the woman she’d come to respect, come to think of as a friend; she was speaking to her queen. While the magic behind the crown now resided almost entirely within Mariah, she didn’t yet hold the true power within those palace walls.
So, Mariah heeded Ryenne’s words, and a little under an hour later, she stood with Ciana in her bathroom wearing the dress she’d pulled out of the depths of the closet.
“Alright,” Ciana said. “You win. This is a million times better.”
The dress was made of soft green velvet, the same shade as the ugly mess Ksee had wanted Mariah to wear. However, instead of a full skirt and capped sleeves, it was form fitting, hugging Mariah’s curves as if it was painted on. The neckline scooped down Mariah’s chest, just enough to highlight her collarbones and a hint of cleavage, but not enough to be scandalous. The sleeves were long, ending at Mariah’s wrists, and the material clung off her shoulders and dipped low on her back to create a stunning silhouette. There was a single slit up the left leg, ending near the middle of her thigh, and a short train pooled beneath her feet. As Mariah surveyed the material closer, she found that the entire gown was adorned with delicate golden designs, swirling up and around the dress, making the material shimmer when she moved.
Ciana’s warm amber gaze met Mariah’s in the mirror. A simple sweep of kohl along Mariah’s lash line had the green of her irises blazing. “Go get ‘em, My Queen.” Ciana winked.
Mariah groaned, but a smile touched her lips.
Mariah’s Armature waited outside her chambers, all dressed in clothing fit for the occasion. Mariah allowed herself one appreciative sweep of the group, and a few of them—Sebastian, Feran, Drystan—nodded their heads as her gaze briefly met theirs. She ignored the dark figure lingering near the back, the prickle of his blue gaze raising goosebumps to her skin. It wasn’t until she felt that attention drop from her face and sweep down her form and the dress she wore that she finally decided to acknowledge him. Mariah locked her eyes on Andrian then, waiting for his gaze to rise. When their eyes collided, she couldn’t help but smirk.
Caught you.
She turned on her heels and began striding off down the hall, feeling his burning glare as she chuckled softly to herself. Her steps faltered slightly, however, as she remembered his words to her last night.
“I look forward to seeing just how much you come to regret this decision tonight.”
Her mind still whirled from those words.
What had he meant by that? And if he meant it … why had he sworn the oath?
Shaking the thoughts from her head like cobwebs, she strode further down the hallway, finding Ksee, Ryenne, and Ryenne’s Armature waiting for them at the end of the Queen’s wing. Ryenne smiled at Mariah, looking relieved, but Ksee’s glare sparked with flames. Making a point to not look at the priestess, Mariah approached Ryenne and dropped into a graceful curtsey.
“Good afternoon, My Queen.”
Ryenne bowed her head in return, the snowdrop crown of Onita nestled within the golden waves of her hair. Mariah couldn’t help but notice the faint streaks of gray that now slightly dulled the brilliance of that gold as the queen spoke. “Queen Apparent. You look stunning. And, I must say, quite a sight with your new Armature guarding your back.”
Mariah smiled. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. They do clean up nicely.” She turned her head to Sebastian, who now stood on her right, and winked. She caught his soft answering grin in the periphery of her vision as she turned back to face Ryenne, nodding once.
“Shall we?”
Ryenne watched Mariah, her gaze guarded. Whatever the queen was thinking, her expression revealed little. Finally, the queen dipped her head before turning on her heel, leading them down the winding palace corridors.
The Royals waited for them in a cavernous meeting room, the monstrous table within covered with all manner of fine foods: cheeses, fruits, eggs, meats, and even fish fresh from the boats that moored in the docks along the Bay of Nria. Mariah’s mouth watered as her stomach silently grumbled, suddenly wishing she’d forced herself to eat more of her breakfast after that morning’s workout. Especially as she took in those who also occupied the room.
Seated around the table were six men, all of varying ages. Some appeared younger, around the age of Mariah’s Armature, some middle-aged, and one grizzled man who looked to be nearing seventy. And every single set of those male eyes were trained on her, scrutinizing, judging, dissecting. Mariah met each as she followed Ryenne to the head of the table, where two high-backed chairs were placed. Mariah sat to Ryenne’s right, the queen taking her seat in the larger of the two chairs as both their Armatures spread themselves around the room. Mariah could feel their watchfulness, their wariness, as they assumed their posts. The Royals instantly quieted, their attentions turning fully to Ryenne.
“Good morning, My Lords. I trust your travels to Verith were smooth and you have all settled comfortably into your rooms.” Ryenne’s voice rang through the room with practiced ease. The Royals answered with their mumbled thanks, the occasional, “Your Majesty” and “My Queen” interspersed throughout. Not one rose from their chairs or so much as inclined their heads.
Mariah felt her magic stir further in her gut, agitated and frustrated. It was then that she realized the slight, the insolence of these lords to not bow to their queen. She wondered how—or why—Ryenne tolerated it. The queen continued, the lack of decorum shaking her little. “Wonderful. Well, I am conscious of the reason for your journey, so I will not keep you waiting any longer.” She paused, shooting a warning glance at Mariah. Mariah read the words in those ocean-blue eyes as if the queen had spoken them to her directly.
Play nice.
She swallowed hard and dipped her head. But her magic … her magic only twisted harder, rebelling against the order. It was all still so new, so foreign. Mariah shot up a silent prayer that she had the control to keep it restrained within her veins.
Ryenne spoke again, “I would like to formally introduce you all to Qhohena’s Chosen, our new queen apparent, Mariah.”
Mariah dipped her head respectfully to the gathered Royals and the movement … it nearly brought her physical pain. The threads in her veins wrapped around her muscles, her bones, and Mariah fought against them just to bend her neck.
She pushed back the urge to grit her teeth. This meeting was important to her reign. The queen needed the support of the Royals in order to rule.
Her reign. Still such a foreign concept, yet one she unwillingly grew more accustomed to with each passing hour she spent in that palace.
