Chapter 20

Chapter 20

T he solitude was her companion. The cold, her friend. The anger, her ally.

And the confusion … her nemesis.

Mariah stewed over the strange encounter with Andrian the night before. Everything about it was … bizarre. Not only his appearance—shirtless, bleeding, haggard—but even his steps were jilted, expression twisted yet blank, eyes shadowed yet manic. None of what he’d done made sense. From the moment he’d unlocked the door to her cell, then stepped closer to her with that small black key in his hand.

When he’d unlocked the shackles around her wrists, the stone falling to the ground at their feet, before rushing from her cell like some sort of man possessed.

She’d been left dumbfounded … until her gaze had landed on the cuffs, now lying on the ground. Elation had soared around her, and she’d braced herself against the onslaught of her magic, joyously freed from its binds.

An onslaught … that never came.

When the cuffs fell from her wrists, she’d felt nothing but empty nothingness. Not a whisper of those threads wound through her, not a single one stirred.

She’d spent the entire night reaching and grasping for it, sloughing through the trenches of her shattered soul.

Several hours later, and Mariah could finally summon enough light to give a faint glow to her skin. Just a single, delicate thread.

She watched that thread, a meager morsel trailing sluggishly around her finger. Tried to search for more from it—more spark, more fire, more warmth. Clawed into the oblivion of her mind for the six bridges of silver and gold that once existed there. Her bonds with her Armature felt like missing limbs she’d forgotten in the many weeks she’d been trapped in the miserable dark of this cell.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed the other light that began to grow at the end of the hallway. Was almost too slow at pulling back that paltry thread, hiding it back beneath her skin. Mariah buried her hands in her thin blanket, shielding her now-bare wrists from view.

She was beyond glad for her intuition as Shawth appeared in the hallway, his strides slow, face wearing his usual twisted, sour grin. He stopped in front of her cell, peering at her through the iron bars.

“Once again, I am shocked by your beauty, Mariah. Captivity truly does suit you.”

“To what do I owe this visit, Shawth?” Mariah kept her face expressionless as she leaned back against the wall, seeking its cold companionship.

Shawth regarded her with a thoughtful twist to his brow, just for a moment, before pulling a stool from the shadows of the hallway. He placed it in front of her cell, teetering himself on the wood as he rested his allume lamp on the ground.

“I must admit.” He scratched his chin. “You are stronger than I’d thought.”

Mariah narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing.

Shawth sighed, leaning back on his stool. “At first, once we realized we couldn’t control you, we thought we could just kill you. Do it quickly and silently. Sure, we would have to wait another twenty-one years for a new queen, but what of it? Things would be as they should, without some bratty little slut snatching our power away.

“That Uroborus …” He heaved a sigh. “You have no idea the lengths we went to obtain one of those. And for you to just kill it, with nothing more than a simple dagger …” He scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “It shouldn’t have been possible. That was when we changed tactics. If we could do something public, make it seem like the people had plotted and were rejecting you, we’d have more success.”

Mariah’s breath was caught in her throat.

None of this was a surprise to her; she’d always suspected the Royals were behind the attempts on her life.

But to hear him admit to it, so casually, as if discussing the weather …

“Cedoric,” she whispered, hands clenched as more threads of her magic were roused from their slumber. “You failed to kill me, but you killed a member of Queen Ryenne’s Armature. He was a good man.” Her voice rose from a whisper to a growl. “An innocent man.”

Shawth gave her a quizzical look. “You hardly knew him. Why do you care?”

She ground her teeth. “I care because his death forced me into ruling far sooner than any of us wanted, you swine.”

“Oh, my dear.” Shawth chuckled, leaning back. “Don’t pretend that you weren’t looking for a way to grab control. Besides, there are no innocent losses in our quests for power. There are few sacrifices that are not worth it.

“Which is what led us to our new benefactor. He has shown us a new path. An easier path.” He grinned at her, yellow teeth glowing in the light. “We learned your death would not be necessary for us to get what we want—at least, not yet. Rather, keeping you alive would be in our best interests. All we had to do was break you.”

Mariah’s blood chilled, before heating again on a rush of fire through her belly.

Her capture. Her abandonment in the darkness of the dungeons for six weeks.

The metal-tipped flog.

Anniliese and Andrian.

The drugged food. The hands on her skin.

“That’s truly what this has all been about? Breaking me?” Memories—brutal, painful, terrible memories—swam through her as she clung to her bravado with every shred of herself that she had left.

She’d been ripped apart, body and soul, but as she met Shawth’s pale blue gaze, she vowed that nothing these men could do would shake the light from her veins.

Shawth scoffed. “Well, there is a bit more to it, but for the most part, yes.” The stool creaked as he shifted. “We thought it would be easy. When we sent Andrian to collect you, we had six other guards go with him. Not because we thought he would need that much support; what could you do, unarmed and without magic?” He chuckled. “We wanted you to think that your Armature had turned against you.”

Mariah didn’t even flinch. She’d dwelled on this exact coincidence during the early days of her captivity as the madness of solitude crept in. Her captors were veiled and hooded, faces obscured from sight, but even in the darkness of her thoughts, she never truly believed them to be her Armature. She’d walked with their souls, and a piece of herself stayed with them.

“But you weren’t the least bit perturbed.” Shawth uncrossed his arms, leaning forward. “So, we turned to … other means.”

“Yes,” Mariah whispered. “You certainly did.” She loaded as much of her rage and anger and pain into her stare. The scars scourged on her soul rumbled awake, more threads of newly freed magic shaking loose and unraveling in her gut.

Instead of cowering before her, he simply smiled. “I suppose I underestimated you. You truly care very little for your well-being. Even after everything, you still have that ridiculously defiant look.” He sighed, smile broadening.

“I had hoped the fun we had with the uxosil might finally do it. Tricky to obtain, but Lord Cordaro had a connection in Idrix. Quite skilled with poisons, those southerners. Perhaps, once this is all over, it might be time to lift the embargo and open the borders. I’d like to learn more about such magics.”

Embargo? “I think I would be interested in the same. If only to make sure every last drop of that shit is wiped from the earth.” Her voice was distant to her ears, holding a confidence she did not feel.

Shawth huffed a chuckle again, before meeting her stare and scratching his chin. They watched each other, pompous lord and ragged prisoner, his stare sliding over her grimy skin and too-thin body.

“You could end it all, right now, you know.” His voice was quiet, and … almost genuine.

She’d be a fucking fool if she believed it.

“After that confession? Knowing that you wanted me dead, before my reign even began, and all the things that came after? I think we’re just getting started, Lord Shawth,” she said hollowly. “I’ve told you that I never wanted this. If I wanted to get rid of this magic and get myself out of this miserable prison, I would’ve done so already. I would’ve done it after the fucking Choosing .” She snarled the last word, forgotten frustrations spilling all too easily from her tongue.

“Well, you see, my dear, I simply do not believe that.” Shawth’s voice carried a hint of sadness. “You cannot lie to me. The magic would not have Chosen you if you had not wanted it. The Goddess, or whoever else pulls our strings, must have seen your ambition.”

Whoever else pulls our strings? Mariah was reminded of Shawth’s mention of a new benefactor, and Ksee’s words describing something similar. She fully believed they’d abandoned Qhohena, led astray by … something.

“Ambition?” She clenched her fists beneath her blanket. “I remember coming to you and Laurent for your help in running the kingdom because I knew I couldn’t do it alone. It wasn’t the same deal you had with Ryenne, but you still would’ve had power.”

“Power? It would have been a mockery to call you Queen.” He propped his feet out in front of him. “Power is the only currency that matters in this world, and if you still possessed more than me—you, some little slut from the hovels of Andburgh—that simply would never do.”

“That is truly all you care about? Power?”

He laughed. “Don’t lie and tell me you do not feel the same! I can see the same drive in you, the same hunger. It’s how you have lasted this long, and it's why we simply cannot allow you to remain on the throne.”

Mariah hated that he was right. She hadn’t wanted this life—not at first—but no, she thirsted for that strength. The ability to change the world required power, and she had no desire to give it up.

“What of the other lords?” she asked. “You come to me seeking power, and I’ve never known you to be a man willing to share it. Do they support you in this little vendetta?” She supposed at least three of them did. Laurent had been instrumental in her capture, Hareth had offered his daughter as part of her emotional torture, and Cordaro had helped secure the uxosil . But she still had to ask the question.

Anything to sow seeds of discontent. That was the only game she had left.

Shawth’s eyes glinted in the pale gold light. “Despite what they say, you certainly are a smart little witch.” He rubbed a hand across his chest. “The other lords are weak and soft. So long as they may remain the masters of their castles, they care very little about the politics of the continent. Except, of course, Lord Laurent … But his allegiance has been bought in other ways,” he said, a gleeful and malevolent grin spreading across his face.

The hair along Mariah’s arms rose.

“What do you mean?”

Shawth scoffed. “Oh, come now, Mariah! As if I would share those delicious morsels with you. I think I’ve shared more than enough with you tonight. Rest assured, though—when the veil is lifted, I cannot wait to see what he has planned for you.”

Mariah’s spine locked as the temperature in her blood dropped. “He? Your new … benefactor?”

“You were paying attention.” Shawth chuckled. “Good. For now, let’s just say he is very, very excited to meet you.”

Fuck.

“Shawth, listen to me.” She pressed her palms into the mattress, leaning forward with a sudden, desperate urgency. “I cannot transfer the magic. It’s not a decision that’s up to me. And even if it was, you can’t force a new queen; the magic will choose who it chooses. You could be stuck with someone even worse than me.” She forced air into her lungs and filled herself with all the pleading she could muster. “But I promise, right now. I swear, in Qhohena’s name. I’m done fighting. It’s over. You’ve won. I’ll … I’ll be the figurehead that Ryenne was. I keep my crown, but you would rule.”

As the words left her lips, she begged desperately that her silent prayer be heard. That he would believe her, would call off his mad pursuit that would only end poorly for them both. She would find another way to change the world. There would be plenty of opportunities to undermine him, and even then, her life would last centuries, while he had only a few decades left.

Shawth’s grin stretched wider across his sallow face, blue eyes festering. “What pretty words you say, little queen. Such a shame I do not believe them.” He rose from his stool and dragged it back against the wall, away from her cell.

She must’ve prayed to the wrong goddess.

Mariah’s jaw hung open with her disbelief. “Why come, then? Why bother, even when I offer what you say you want?”

Shawth’s hand rested on the wall, and he turned back to Mariah with a wide smile that failed to reach his eyes and showed too many cracked, yellowed teeth.

“Sleep well, Your Majesty. I look forward to seeing all he has planned for you.” He picked up his allume lamp and sauntered off down the dungeon hallway, whistling an off-key song.

The terror and rage in Mariah’s blood sank lower, settling through her veins. Her magic pushed out through her skin, just a bit stronger than before. Her fingers grazed the hilt of the paring knife still tucked between her mattress and the wall.

She had no intention of ever meeting this mysterious benefactor. Had no intention of being trapped here, at less than her full power, when she now had everything she needed to unleash her light upon this castle.

Mariah would wait for her moment, then she would get the fuck out of this place.