Page 110 of Threaded
Mariah froze.
The entire room froze.
She could’ve sworn that everyone could hear the pounding beat of her heart against her ribcage.
But then Andrian did something she could’ve never expected.
Helaughed.
It was more like a huff, the sound surprisingly warm, brushing across her skin in a way that heated her blood and left goosebumps in its wake, the ghost of a smile dancing across his full lips. His eyes darted almost imperceptibly to Mariah, something like humor in his blue gaze.
“Fair enough,” his low voice rumbled, and that was that. Andrian moved out of the shadows and sat himself in the last open chair in the room, leaning forward on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him before leveling an expectant stare at Mariah.
This time, the sound she released was a full groan, confused and frustrated. She moved to sit beside Sebastian on one of the couches, sinking deep into the plush fabric as she leaned forward, her posture similar to Andrian’s as she pressed her face into her hands.
Mariah allowed herself three full breaths before she lifted her head and began to speak to her court.
“There is much more going on here than just one pissed off lord.”
* * *
“So, to recap,” Trefor said. “The Royals pissed you off, so then you pissedthemoff, and then Andrian’s father—ourAndrian—issued a threat to your life. Not only that, but you have more magic than just what you received at the Choosing, and you still aren’t sure where it comes from and what it is.” He paused and looked around at the rest of the gathered court. “Did I miss anything?”
“Thanks for the summary, Trefor,” Andrian said, his voice dry.
Sebastian spoke next. “But seriously, Mariah.” His gaze darted once to Andrian before returning to her. “This is …serious. There has been a threat made to yourlife. Are you sure we can’t take this to Ryenne? Insist that Laurent be detained, or at the very leastquestioned? And Andrian, you’re my brother; you know that. But you—all of us—swore an oath to protect our queen. If that is compromised, you must tell us. Now.”
Andrian’s cold, tanzanite eyes glinted, his teeth baring in a snarl as he turned his attention to Sebastian. Shadows danced and drifted around his broad shoulders, the entire room going dark in a matter of seconds.
“Enough of that.” It was Drystan this time. “Sebastian, I know you mean well. But Andrian is one of us. With this threat, we cannot start suspecting each other—that will only make it easier for anyone who wishes harm to our queen to get to her.” He paused, and then added quietly, “They already almost succeeded once.”
No one had a response to that. Everyone could feel it in the air, and Mariah felt the emotions running down the five bonds: feelings, and memories of feelings, from that night, panic and fear that, despite their lifetime of training, someone—or, rather, something—had almost gotten to her.
Thank the Goddess she’d long ago refused to be dependent on the protection of men.
“We don’t need to relive that night,” said Mariah. “I survived. I’m safe. We’re moving on from it.” She paused. “As far as bringing this to Ryenne … Lord Laurent is one of the Royals. He carries almost as much power in the kingdom as Shawth. Certainly more than Ryenne herself. When it comes down to it, who do you think the politicians at court will believe: one of their own, or a girl they still view as an outsider pretending to be queen?”
Every Armature in the room averted their gaze, the air tense and silent.
Drystan, once again, was the one to break the quiet. “I will move on. However, we still want to help.” A murmur of acquiescence ran through the room. “Maybe we aren’t the ones to assist you in navigating the politics of being queen; that’s what your Ladies are for. But maybe the mystery of your magic is something wecanhelp with. If you’ll let us.”
Mariah raised her gaze to meet his brown stare. Drystan was so much like a lion—a natural leader, all golden strength and hidden wisdom.
“I’ll always welcome your help.”
Drystan let out a breath. “Good. Because I’ve had some thoughts.” He paused. “We’ve tried to explore any historical bullshit that might lead us to something only to come up with nothing every time. But … what if the answer isn’t one found in history?”
Beside Mariah, Sebastian frowned. “I’m not following, Drystan. Explain.”
Drystan’s stare was dry, yet there was a feverish glint hidden in their tawny depths. “If it’s not something found in history or from the sacred texts … what if it’s family magic? Something long repressed that, out of coincidence, happened to reemerge in you? Magic in Onita has always been a bit mysterious; no one quite knows how it works. Families can go generations without any gifts, and then suddenly a son will be born tossing fireballs from his cradle.”
What if it’s family magic?
That question struck Mariah like a blow, sending her reeling. The strange conversation with the silver woman on the balcony at thePorofiratleaped into her mind, the mysterious words twisting and snagging in her thoughts.
“You know of the Ginnelevé, your Majesty. Do not forget her. The journal you have been gifted shall guide you, but let what is inside of it lead you.”
“Oh, Goddess.”