Chapter 25

Chapter 25

T hey snuck across the frost-covered ground, the bare pads of Mariah’s feet burning against the chill, and all she could think was that they would be spotted. That Anniliese had lied.

That any moment, this happy reunion would come crashing down in a wave of blood and despair.

But her fears never came to fruition. Somehow, they reached the trees, Sebastian ushering them all into the cover of the thick brush. They ran several yards deeper, the impenetrable canopy above blocking the moonlight; Mariah tripped twice on a twisted tree root, caught both times by Quentin’s outstretched arms. They were guided only by instinct, intuition, and training.

And Rylla, the black cat’s shining hazel eyes seeing far better than theirs in the dark. Numb shock had rocked Mariah when Sebastian whispered an order to the feline, dull recognition sweeping through her.

After a few wild minutes, they stood in a small glade, panting into the cold night air.

Mariah waited for the horns and alarms to pierce the quiet darkness.

When they didn’t come, she began to worry.

That apprehension only grew as they walked deeper into the forest, the sound of the woods at night offering her little comfort. The glade opened into a full clearing, early wildflowers pushing up past the frost to dance in the moonlight. Seven horses waited there, saddled and ready. Mariah’s Armature leaped into action, checking cinches and swinging into saddles. Mariah lingered a few feet away, staring at the seventh and final horse.

And Andrian, who stood beside it.

She was aware of him. Achingly, painfully aware of him. It was like it always was after the bond, but exponentially heightened. She didn’t know if it was because their bond was so new or if it was something she would not—could not—think about, but energy pulsed and raced between them on a current that made the hair on her arms stand on end.

Staring at that final horse, and despite the deep, ripping pull coursing through her veins … she couldn’t do it.

Every part of her body wanted to be near him, to touch him … but her battered soul screamed in agony at the thought.

Her magic snapped and bit beneath her skin, but with gritted teeth, she turned herself away from him. Walked in the other direction, to the other side of the clearing.

Where Feran stood beside his horse, his open face watching her with a curious, heartbreakingly sympathetic expression. She stopped in front of him, meeting his dark stare.

“Can I ride with you?”

He blinked and nodded. “Of course.”

With that, she climbed into the saddle, Feran settling in behind her. Across the clearing, Andrian mounted the seventh horse.

It took every fiber of her being to ignore the burning itch of his stare as they rode into the night.

A breeze pushed in from the north, and Mariah wrapped the wool cloak tighter, shifting deeper into the saddle. Feran’s warmth seeped into her bones, the gentle rocking of the horse between her thighs comforting and familiar.

They’d been riding for some time under the cover of darkness, the steady clip of the horses’ hooves beating a soothing melody against the forest trail. Their pace was swift, Sebastian leading them with his quiet urgency.

The trail dipped down a gentle bank, and the tinkling of a clear, starlit stream could be heard over the nocturnal woods. They crossed it without stopping, the water lit with silver-gold moonlight reaching the knees of Feran’s gelding. It splashed Mariah’s legs, bitingly cold. So cold Feran took a sharp intake of breath behind her.

But she didn’t even flinch. She’d learned how to find comfort in the chill.

Rylla was last to cross, shaking water from her sleek fur as she raced ahead, droplets raining around her like fallen stars. She slowed when she reached Sebastian, glancing up as he looked down. He pulled his horse to a halt, scanning the small clearing walled in by a towering copse of pine trees.

“We’ll rest here for a few hours—at least until sunrise. We’re far enough away, and we haven’t been followed.” Sebastian looked again at Rylla, and she nodded her head as if in confirmation.

Strange. The existence of shifters was … Mariah hadn’t yet been able to rationalize that to herself. It was extraordinary but certainly useful.

Sebastian slid from his mare’s back, concerned gaze landing on Mariah. “Trefor, Feran, you take first watch. Drystan and Matheo will relieve you. Quentin and I will take the final shift.”

At his command, Mariah’s Armature set about making camp, pulling pallets and bedrolls from saddles and clearing forest underbrush to create some semblance of comfort. Rylla retreated to the edges of the glade, near the banks of the stream, grooming her still-damp fur before drinking straight from the crystal-clear water.

Feran swung himself from his horse, offering a hand to Mariah with a patient smile. She tightened the cloak around her shoulders, taking his hand and sliding from the gelding’s back.

She tried to fight the pull.

But it was futile.

Her eyes locked on a dark figure over Feran’s shoulder. Tracked him as he dismounted his horse and walked with hesitant steps toward Sebastian.

“I can take a watch, too.” Andrian’s voice was low, but it still echoed around the clearing.

Everyone paused. Mariah’s heartbeat was in her throat.

Sebastian turned slowly, a strange, uncharacteristic fury written across his face. “You are lucky you’re not in chains , Armature,” he growled. “The only reason you’re not is because my queen commanded we let you travel with us. You will sleep where we can watch you, but Enfara will freeze over before I place our safety— her safety—in your hands again.”

“Sebastian, that’s enough.” The surge of protectiveness that washed over Mariah shocked her, pulling words from her throat before she could stop them. But deep down, she knew why.

She had no desire to see Andrian in chains. Not again.

She especially didn’t want Sebastian to be the one to place them there.

“No, it’s fine. Really,” Andrian said, voice unusually soft, carrying with it a hint of unfamiliar defeat. Mariah darted a glance at him and wished she hadn’t.

He stared at her with utter anguish. Other emotions lingered on his face, too. Emotions she’d once acknowledged and given herself.

Never again.

Love is a weakness … but also your retribution.

“It’s fine,” she echoed Andrian as she turned back to Sebastian, exhaustion suddenly settling into the depths of her bones. “Let’s just focus on getting home. Then we can figure out … everything else.”

She didn’t linger on what everything else meant. Instead, she watched her Armature settle into their temporary camp, enjoying something she never thought she’d know again.

Safety.

She still couldn’t believe it was real. That they were all here . Anxiety still twisted in her gut, a nauseating worm, at the thought that this was all a dream. That she would lay her head down to rest, and tomorrow she would wake up in that cold, dark, terrible cell and find this was all just some new trick invented by the lords to torment her.

She couldn’t get over how it had all been so easy . From the new servant girl to the lack of guards patrolling the halls to the absence of alarms, it had all lined up so perfectly.

Every lord in Onita, every member of the aristocracy, was in Khento, and it seemed as if they’d just … let her go.

The threads of her magic bubbled around her, feeling her drifting panic. She toyed with one between her fingers, the soft glow of the light and the brush of magic against her skin weaving a soothing pattern.

She let the magic dissipate into the air as she curled herself onto a bed roll, nestled into the soft forest floor between Sebastian and Matheo. Despite the frayed disquiet of her mind, her exhaustion won.