Page 154 of Scourged
She met his stare, and for just a moment, a surge of fear—anxiety, nervousness, trepidation—washed over her.
But instead of pushing it away, she let it exist. It rolled through her before receding, washing away as a wave returns to the ocean. With a final, deep inhale, she spoke.
“Andrian, what doesniomean?”
Chapter 53
“Andrian, what doesniomean?”
Andrian’s heart dropped to his feet.
It wasn’t the question that panicked him—not exactly. And it wasn’t the thought of answering it, either.
It was hearingthatquestion,thatword, from her lips. After all this time. When she’d told him so clearly not to call her it anymore, after he’d slipped up and done it anyways and she’d retreated from him.
And yet, there she was. Standing a few feet from him as he knelt on the cold marble floors in her ridiculous bathing chamber. Asking him the meaning of a word that had slipped from his mouth many months ago. A word he’d tried to convince himself he meant as an insult, a dig at her and her power.
A word he’d always known meant so much more.
He lifted his head, lips curling into a sad smile.
“Really? Are you sure you want to know?”
Her brow furrowed, a mark of her hesitation. But silver-gold light flickered in her forest green eyes as she lifted her chin and nodded.
Always so defiant, even to her fear. He huffed a desolate laugh and dropped his gaze to his hands, where they rested on his thighs.
“Nio,” he began, “is an old Leuxrithian word. My mother always told me it was special—that for her people it held special meaning, special powers.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I hadn’t thought of it in years. Not since that day she first taught it to me. I couldn’t have been older than eight years old. But then, for some reason, when I met you it just … slipped out. I couldn’t control it, just like I couldn’t control any other gods-damned thing about myself around you. I tried to convince you—convincemyself—that it was some sort of insult, something you should be disgusted by. But I think eventually, I could no longer fool myself and therefore could no longer fool you.”
He knew he was rambling. The meaning was just there, on the tip of his tongue. But it was catching in his throat, and he couldn’t quite push it out.
Until she took another step closer, standing so near that her eucalyptus and jasmine scent wrapped around him. He could’ve leaned forward and rested his head on her hip if he wanted.
But he didn’t. He remained immobile, waiting for her. As he always had and always would.
“Andrian,” she repeated hoarsely. “What doesniomean?”
He exhaled. A long, steady release of breath. A weight unfurled from his chest.
The answer spilled from him.
“It means ‘moon.’ Specifically, ‘my moon.’ The Leuxrithians have stories about the moons, about how there may be two now, but that wasn’t always the case … and that wouldn’t be the way of it forever.” He looked up at her and felt his heart crack in his chest.
“It was always a word of worship,nio. It always meant I was worshipingyou.”
Tears filled those magnificent eyes. The silver-gold living within the forest pulsed like a heartbeat, pushing up from her skin with each rasping breath. She lifted her hands, and they trembled slightly.
He didn’t shut his eyes until the calloused skin of her palms met his cheeks, when her fingers slid along his face and curled into the now-short strands of his hair. Her hands tightened and her scent grew stronger, heady and crisp, like a forest at night.
He couldn’t stop his sharp inhale the moment her forehead met his, her skin hot and burning against his. Her exhale brushed gently across his skin, carrying more jasmine with it.
“Andrian.” Her voice was a soft, shuddering whisper.
He smiled. “Mariah.” He hesitated and then spoke again. “Nio.”
She shivered, the movement traveling through her body and into his own. He forced his eyes open and found his vision filled with a forest.
A tear splashed against his cheek, and he wasn’t quite sure whose it was.