Page 122 of Threaded

Mariah’s own emotions were still frozen in her chest, and she had no tears to offer the queen. She wanted to say, “I’m sorry,” wanted to offer a condolence, a sob,anything, but she also knew better than anyone that no words or actions would ever be enough to make up for what had been lost. The thought of losing an Armature, and losing them like that … she thought of Sebastian, how he was so much like what Ryenne had described Cedoric to be. If it had been Sebastian to take that arrow today, if the solid ground beneath her feet had been ripped away so violently, she didn’t think she would’ve been able to stand. So, she remained quiet, and simply slipped her hand into Ryenne’s, gripping the older woman’s fingers tightly.

She felt Ryenne tense slightly at the contact, but after a few heartbeats she relaxed, and squeezed back.

“Please … just …” Ryenne choked on her words again, tears again welling in her blue eyes. She took another deep breath before continuing. “Just tell me one thing.”

Mariah kept her gaze fixed on Cedoric’s golden shroud, the outline of his body on the black marble pedestal, as she answered. “Anything, My Queen.”

Several more heartbeats filled the quiet space before Ryenne continued.

“Tell me he is dead. Tell me you killed him.” Mariah knew exactly who Ryenne meant, could feel the fury and anger and loss spiraling out of the queen from where their skin touched.

“I buried my dagger in his stomach before I slit his throat.” How strange, to speak those words in a place reserved for the presence of the gods. But if Mariah opened her senses, let the whispers of the universe filter around her, let her magic inch out just a bit from her skin, she could almost feel a subtle hum of approval reverberating through her.

Perhaps the gods were more vengeful and bloodthirsty than the priestesses wanted the world to believe.

Ryenne’s exhale was audible against those silent whispers.

“Good.”

Mariah squeezed the queen’s hand one more time before dropping it and turning away, leaving the queen to her vigil.

She did not turn back, even when she heard Ryenne’s final words chase her from the room.

“Thank you … Your Majesty.”

CHAPTER52

Mariah went straight from the temple to the hospital wing.

She’d put off seeing Trefor for long enough. While she knew he was well cared for, and had been assured by Quentin he would make a full recovery, the guilt had still eaten away at her since she’d stepped out of the shower the day before.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the arrow he’d taken, the one meant for her.

Just like the one that had ended Cedoric’s life. Had severed him from Ryenne as one might sever a limb from a body. Mariah imagined it must feel about the same.

She shoved it all down, the ever-fracturing pieces of herself she was still desperately trying to hold together. If yesterday had shown her anything, it was that she had to stay strong, had to stay alert and vigilant and watchful for the threats she now knew were very,veryreal.

When she entered the hospital wing, she was greeted not only by Trefor, but by her entire court: all seven of her Armature, plus Ciana and Delaynie. Even Brie was there, lingering to the side behind Ciana, her sharp eyes quiet and watchful. At the sound of the door swinging open in front of Mariah, all ten sets of eyes snapped to her, their attention settling instantly on their queen.

That was what she’d realized on the walk here, as she’d pondered Ryenne’s parting words.

“Your Majesty” was not a title given to a mere queen apparent.

It was a title reserved for a queen.

For Ryenne, with the death of Cedoric, so too her time as monarch had ended. She’d lost a member of her Armature, a piece of her soul vanishing along with him, and was no longer fit to lead a kingdom. Especially with most of her magic gone and the immortality it had brought her failing.

With those words, the burden of leadership had fallen heavily onto Mariah’s shoulders, whether she was ready for it or not.

And with all those cracking pieces of herself, Mariah didn’t think she was. But the gods had left her with no other option than to bear it.

“My Queen!”

A bright male voice cut through the dark tenor of her thoughts.

Trefor. Alive. Well. Speaking.

For the first time since the attack—sincebothattacks—Mariah’s face broke out into an uninhibited smile, the kind she’d almost forgotten how to make.