Page 199 of Scourged
Mariah turned her own wrathful, broken glare to her family, bound and bruised and bloody on the central platform. To the creatures straight from nightmares holding serrated claws to their throats.
Too late.
Her family was captured by demons, all because she’d been too afraid to confront her own.
Lord Shawth rose from his seat on the dais near Mariah. He faced her, pushing his hands into the pockets of his embroidered black and red suit. His pale blond hair was greased, and his watery blue eyes shone with excitement.
“Ah, Your Majesty!” He clapped his hands, silencing the chatter from the risers.
Rough hands on Mariah’s shoulders shoved her forward between the gallery stands and the lord's dais. More of the garden came into view; guards and more demons lined every exit, the men shooting the monsters nervous glances. Below her family’s platform squatted a mound of black stone, its vileness tangible even from the distance.
She knew that stone. Had touched the same substance in that abandoned apartment, the one where horrible atrocities were committed on the gods most sacred night.
Mariah’s world went quiet, narrowing like a predator on her prey. The beast prowled beneath her skin, watching, feeding her rage.
“I am so glad you could join us!” Shawth boomed, cheeks flushed an excited shade of cherry red. “I was sorry to have to interrupt your coronation—congratulations, I suppose—but thisday has been many months in the making. Maybe even years; it is hard to say. I wouldn’t want you to miss it.” He chuckled, grinning darkly, showing too many yellowed teeth.
“My esteemed guests!” Shawth faced the galleries. “You are representatives of Onita’s finest. I assume some of you have met her, but I would like to be the first to introduce you to the eleventh Queen of Onita, Mariah Salis!”
The attendees in the galleries hissed and booed and jeered. Shawth’s grin widened.
“Now, now! That is no way to greet a queen. Especially with her family in attendance. They deserve our respect!” He turned halfway to Mariah. “Isn’t that right, little queen? Why don’t you tell us all how deserving your healer mother and soldier father are of our deference?”
Mariah could nearly taste the venom in Shawth’s words.
“Let them go, Shawth.” The earth trembled at the darkness—the threat of broken violence—in her voice.
A gasp rippled through the crowd. Shawth exaggerated his surprise, leaning back on his heels and splaying his fingers across his face. But he couldn’t hide the morsel of doubt and fear that flickered in his eyes.
“Oh … my, is that what you truly want, Your Majesty? I did not think their presence would bother you.” His ruthless smile returned. “I find it hard to believe that you ever truly cared for their well-being. In fact, I find it hard to believe that you truly care for anyone other than yourself.”
He tapped a finger to his chin, a mockery of a pensive expression. “How often did they cross your mind after you were Chosen to live in your pretty palace? All that time, and you only wrote themoneletter, and a sad excuse for one at that.”
Mariah wanted to feel more anger. Wanted to give herself to her rage, to her blind fury. Wanted to let the beast in her soultake over and loose her sword and dagger upon this crowd of rotting, jealous monsters.
But she couldn’t do it. Not even as the galleries grumbled and whispered, not even as Shawth’s smile turned smug.
Because Shawth had confirmed her worst fear. That her letter—that short, pitiful, desperate excuse for a letter—had never made it to its destination.
That she had failed the only people who had never let her down.
Shawth’s words fell around her like coins tossed into a well, and she was pulled down with them. Her shoulders sagged with the weight of her guilt, her head hanging with her shame.
“What do you want?” Her words were a hoarse whisper. The crowd fell silent. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the flowering trees and the sweet-smelling blossoms.
“What do I want?” Shawth laughed, his head tipping back before stepping down the dais, hands still in his pockets. He passed Mariah’s Armature, ignoring their baleful, hateful glares. His cool, watery gaze slid down Mariah, mouth curving into a sneer.
Beside her, Andrian strained against the hands holding him. Mariah stilled him with a quick glance, his brilliant eyes wide with panic and fear and rage.
She blinked slowly and turned back to Shawth.
“Just tell me what you want. Tell me what you want and let them go.”
Shawth chuckled. “My dear, little queen. If only it were that simple.” He lifted a brow. “I don’t want anything you can give me. I wanteverything. Do you not understand?” He spread his arms wide, and something cracked in Mariah’s chest.
“I want your throne. Your crown. Your magic. I want yourpower. I want all of it. Why should you be the only one amongst us who carries the might of a god?” He snorted. “It has all beenpromised to me by someone far stronger than your little moon goddess.”
He gestured behind him to the platform with her family. To the creatures who held them, leathery wings shifting in the warm air.