Page 171 of Scourged
She considered the crown for a moment, tilting her head like an animal regarding its next meal. With that same slow movement, she lifted the crown, resting it atop her head.
When she raised her gaze to Andrian, her eyes sparkled and cracked with something that wasn’t quite human.
Without another word, she turned on her heel, stepping down the dais and striding from the throne room. Andrian fell into step behind her.
It was time for her to plan her vengeance, and he would do everything in his power to help her capture it.
Chapter 60
Her family.
Her family.
Her family.
It was a taunt that ran through her head on a loop, laughing at her as it wound its noose tighter and tighter.
They have her family.
It was like her worst nightmares had come to fruition. All the reasons she’d been so hesitant to mention them, to visit them, to ask them to visit her. She’d kept her distance on purpose ever since that first meeting with the lords that had resulted in the death of Lord Beauchamp. She’d created powerful enemies who’d made their commitment to her destruction more than clear. Her fear grew with Donnet’s presence in Khento, but that same fear kept her trapped in stasis, too broken to send word.
And when she finally summoned her courage to send that short, unassuming letter, it was too late.
She should’ve known. Despite the goddesses she felt breathing down her neck, any higher power had abandoned her long before tonight.
The tip of her dagger, the one that had belonged to her mother’s father, the same one she’d stolen back from that greedy lord along with a sack full of repossessed coin, dug into the messenger boy’s slender neck. A bright red bead of blood dripped down his skin, splattering on his soiled trousers.
“What’s your name?” Her voice was too soft, too quiet for her ears. She was detached, not present in her actions.
That same beast she always knew dwelled beneath her skin had taken over, just as it had the day of the parade, on the rooftop with the assassin. She’d given into it then, surrendering to the sweet bliss of its anger and power and vengeance, and she gave into it now.
Vengeance was a drug; she lost herself to it.
The messenger boy blubbered. “Pl-please … Your Majesty … I was just doing a job?—”
“Shh. That’s enough.” She tsked. “Yes, you were doing a job. But doing a job doesn’t excuse you from what you know. And youwilltell me what you know.” She pulled the dagger back, twirling it against her thumb. “I’ll ask one more time. A name?”
The boy’s lip trembled. “Finn, Your Majesty. My name is Finn.”
Mariah hummed. “Finn. Pleasure to meet you.” She dropped her dagger again, leveling it with the crook of his neck, right where she’d previously drawn blood. “Now, Finn. I need you to tell me exactly who sent you and where you came from.”
The boy swallowed. “Your Majesty, I don’t understand. I told you, I was sent from Khento.”
“Yes, yes. I know. Khento.” She sighed. “But I recall at least a half dozen lords currently residing in Khento. So, which one sent you? Who is your employer?”
The boy’s eyes were light brown and blown wide with his terror. “Lord Shawth, Your Majesty. I work for Lord Shawth.”
She cocked her head. “Did he not want you to tell me that you work for him?”
More tears sprang to the boy’s eyes. “Please. Your Majesty, please. I don’t know anything—just what I was told.”
Her dagger pressed further into his throat. More blood dripped over the blade onto his stained trousers. The animal beneath her skin watched it fall, fascinated by the metallic scent filling the air.
“I don’t believe that, Finn.”
The boy was shaking harder now. “Your Majesty?”
Mariah nodded, more to herself than to the boy. Her Armature shifted on their feet behind her, hands readied on their weapons.