Page 169 of Scourged

A silent snap of gold and silver, the rope of magic wrapping around his throat, cut his words short.

Sebastian pitched forward a step, eyes wide, but froze when Andrian fixed him with a pointed, jabbing stare. The rest of Mariah’s Armature settled defensively around her, hands gripping their weapons, eyes flickering with all the rage and suspicion Andrian felt himself.

But everything he felt … it wasnothingcompared to what seethed across the bond.

Mariah’s lips pulled back in a snarl, fingers twitching at her side. The magic around the boy’s throat tightened, his eyes bulging slightly in their sockets.

“Who?”

The messenger gasped like a fish. “Majesty … I don’t … can’t …”

Andrian inched closer to Mariah. He brushed a tendril of shadow down her arm, tracing across the exposed skin of her collarbone.

He leaned down, whispering in her ear, “Not here. There are always eyes, even in the most secure of places. Release the boy so he can speak.”

Another stroke of shadow over her skin. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms, the distraction of his touch calming some of that rage burning down their bond, around her soul.

Somewhere, in a faraway place, he was elated that he could do that for her. That he could calm her, just for a moment, even if it was simply a distraction.

Andrian turned to meet the wide, terrified expression of the messenger. It took a few heartbeats, but slowly, the silver-gold noose around his neck loosened, the rope of light falling away and slinking back beneath Mariah’s skin. The boy sagged, his hands wrapping around his throat, coughing and sputtering as he gasped for air.

Mariah lifted her gaze to meet Andrian’s own.

When he saw what shined in those forest green depths—rage and regret and anguish and disbelief—his thoughts left him, animalistic instinct taking hold.

The messenger was just regaining his breath when a new rope wound around his neck. This one, though, was made of onyx shadows, the opposite in every way from the light it replaced. Andrian’s pulse raced through his magic as if it were his fingers wrapped around the boy’s thin throat. Could feel hands scratch and claw at the shadowy bindings, even as they lifted the messenger into the air, feet swinging wildly beneath him as he struggled helplessly.

But that look in Mariah’s eyes, the same one she still wore, reminded Andrian of something he’d always known about himself.

He was not a good man.

He sometimes pretended to be, when that was what she needed. But for her, he would always be willing to let his darkness loose.

His shadows tightened around the boy’s neck. The boy’s face turned purple, lack of oxygen streaking his eyes red.

“Your queen asked you a question.” His words were growled, but his shadows made sure they carried. “I’m going to set you down, and you are going to answer her. Understood?” Somehow, the boy blinked, his head barely nodding.

Good enough.

He dropped the boy, letting him fall heavily to the floor, his coughing and sputtering echoing harshly off the glass-ceilinged hall. Andrian’s shadows lingered close, vipers waiting to strike.

Mariah pushed her shoulders back, light dancing at her fingertips.

“Why did the City Guard let you past the palace gates?”

Andrian froze.

The entire room froze.

It was a question he hadn’t thought of, and he cursed himself for it.

Tonight was a private ceremony. Meant only for the members of Mariah’s and Ryenne’s courts. The City Guard was instructed to keep the gates closed, all entrances protected.

And yet this messenger had burst through, unimpeded.

The boy’s face was still flushed, but his eyes widened. “I-I don’t know. The guard at the gate,” he croaked. “The guard at the gate. He let me in.”

“Which guard?”