Page 41 of Scourged

Mariah rose, turned to the man with onyx hair and gemstone blue eyes, and walked. His gaze tracked her, and she could sense something off about him. That same unsettledness that was in him the other day, when he’d visited her in the cell.

Something familiar and awake flickered in his cobalt irises.

When she stood before him, he shifted in his seat, opening his thighs.

“Sit,” Andrian said without breaking her stare.

Mariah wasn’t sure at that moment if it was the drugs, or just him, that compelled her to obey. To settle her legs on either side of his, the pose so familiar and so painful she could hardly breathe.

The second their skin touched, however, something happened. That familiar charge, that lightning of power that had graced them only a few times before when they’d taken a step that would alter their lives. It whipped and curled around her, lancing across her skin and into the coiled ball where she’d curled herself. She knew he felt it, too: could feel his body go rigid, could see his pupils widen and dilate. Everything about him shifted, no longer hidden by a layer of confusion and shadow. He looked awake and alert, his eyes darting across her face, her body, and the room.

“Well, go on then, Andrian.” Shawth’s voice spliced the magnetic energy between them in two. “Looks like you’ve got our little guest all to yourself tonight.” The evil insinuation dripped off Shawth’s tongue like knives and venom.

Andrian’s eyes hardened, but he didn’t look away from Mariah’s face. Instead, he pulled her closer before he leaned forward and stood, her legs wrapped around his torso.

Mariah shivered, deep inside, at how familiar it all was. A distortion of what was once a moment they’d shared when they’d needed each other the most.

“I don’t fuck in public. I’ll take my prize in private if you don’t mind.” He dipped his head to Shawth and his father. “My Lords.”

With a tightening in his jaw, he strode toward the exit of the dining hall, Mariah still pressed tightly against his chest. The calls and whistles from lords who’d indulged in too much wine and unearned power chased them away.

Andrian’s steps were steady and even at first. But the further they grew from the hall, the closer they drew to the downward stairs and the cells beyond, the more they faltered. Mariah still didn’t have control of her body, but she tried to convey to him that he could put her down, that she could carry herself.

Nothing caught his attention.

Soon, they were outside her cell. He was pushing open the door and stepping inside. He deposited her on her cot made of stone, casting one last confused, broken glance at her, before walking back to the door of the cell.

Mariah only watched him, bewilderment and something else stirring in her belly.

Just before he walked from the cell, Andrian paused. Reached into a pocket. Withdrew a sharp, wicked looking paring knife clearly meant for slicing thick roasts of meat.

He tossed the knife at Mariah’s feet before pushing from the cell, locking the door, and disappearing down the hall.

Mariah stared after him for a moment before glancing down at the knife. The handle was gold, and the blade tempered steel. It was not meant for killing, but it was beautiful, nevertheless. She picked it up, her movements slow and jerking as she fought against the fading drugs still tearing through her system.

She tucked the blade under the mattress, wedging it between the cot and the wall, and was filled with foreign certainty.

Everything since the courtyard was a lie.

Her Andrian was still in there, just as trapped as she was.

And she had to get him out.

Chapter 15

Andrian was sixteen, eating in the mess hall where he and the rest of the Marked took their meals, when a letter arrived from Antoris.

In ten years, it was the first letter from his previous life he’d ever received.

The moment he saw the familiar scrawling script of his father, his blood ran cold. Shadows raced through his veins as he tore open the seal and flipped open the pieces of parchment.

The words written there shattered his entire world, clothing it in loathsome darkness.

Andrian,

I write with sad news. Your mother took a terrible fall in the kitchens. Unfortunately, she did not survive. May Priam guide her soul.

Cordially,