Chapter 45

Chapter 45

M ariah dropped like a stone tossed into a lake, and Andrian’s stomach went with her. His shadows whipped and writhed, and he surged across the room.

But he was too late.

She hit the floor just as he reached her, sliding to a halt as his shadows curled beneath her to keep her head from cracking on the filthy concrete floor. Everything in his world narrowed as he threw himself to the ground next to her, searching desperately for the pulse in her neck, the rise and fall of her chest.

When he found the steady thrum of her heartbeat, he relaxed slightly. Until he lifted his gaze to the altar she’d touched, to the stone obelisk sitting atop it.

He swore again, this time much lower and much more vicious.

Sebastian appeared by his side, his own terror wafting from him.

“What the fuck was she thinking …”

Andrian growled, low and deep in his chest. “I have to get her back to the palace.”

Sebastian reached for Mariah. “ I will take her.”

Andrian turned his snarl and glare on Sebastian. His brother, his fellow Armature, held his stare, his jaw working and anger sparking in his hazel eyes.

Until his shoulders sagged, conflict still warring in his expression as he leaned away.

“Fine. I’m trusting you, Armature,” Sebastian said. “I don’t think you deserve it, but I’m going to do it, anyways. Don’t make me regret it.”

Andrian bared his teeth but said nothing. He only slid an arm behind the back of Mariah’s knees, another arm wrapping around her neck and shoulders, and lifted her from the ground.

“Find Ryland. There may be more to learn from this place.” He turned on his heel and stormed toward the exit.

Everything about him was sizzling energy, shadows snapping around his shoulders, icy flames igniting in his vision. The only thing that kept him grounded, kept him from exploding and decimating that entire gods-cursed building, were Mariah’s soft exhales against his neck, the warm and steady thrum of her heart where she lay curled against his chest.

Ryland started in surprise when Andrian rounded the corner, then backed away as his eyes darted between Andrian and the unconscious Mariah in his arms.

“What …”

“Find Sebastian. Search the building. Make sure my horse gets back to the palace.” Andrian’s orders were harsh and biting as he pushed past the captain. He stepped into the afternoon sunlight, the setting spring sun casting golds and oranges across the Bay of Nria just visible beyond the edge of the rundown slums.

Not that he was noticing things like the sunset.

He rushed to the waiting horses. Kodie lifted his head, ears pricking, intelligent brown eyes focusing on his mistress. Andrian stepped to the buckskin’s side, shifting Mariah in his arms.

He knew Mariah would kill him if she found out he’d left Kodie behind. And, given what had just happened, he wasn’t sure he trusted any other beast to carry them safely back to the palace.

Standing still as a statue, Kodie waited as Andrian carefully settled Mariah into the saddle. Kodie lifted his head and caught her as she slumped forward, her hair falling over her face. Andrian placed his foot in Kodie’s stirrup, swinging himself behind her in the saddle. He reached around her, grabbed the reins, and pulled her body back so she rested safely against his chest.

“Back to the palace, Kodie,” he whispered, pressing his heels into the gelding’s side. “Quickly.”

The horse tossed his head and surged forward, hooves clipping on the ground as he leaped into a gallop.

They flew down the streets, now significantly less crowded as the evening hours crept nearer. They left the slums, twisting up and up through the colors and rows of the market district. Andrian’s fear was still ice in his veins, and when the rise of the orderly buildings of the mountain district rose before them, he quietly urged Kodie faster.

They had just rounded a bend in the golden-cobbled street when he felt Mariah shift. Her head rolled to the side, just slightly. A soft groan spilled from her lips.

Once again, everything in his world stood still.

He pulled back on Kodie’s reins, pushing his seat into the saddle. The horse slowed, his gallop dropping into a steady walk, before he stopped, snorting and tossing his head, sides heaving and drenched in sweat.

Mariah groaned again. She lifted her arm, running a hand over her eyes and down the side of her face. Andrian watched, everything still frozen, a bit of disbelief coursing through him.

If what she’d touched was what he thought it was … she really shouldn’t be awake right now.

And yet …

“What happened?” Her voice was low and groggy as if she’d merely been taking a nap.

“Are you alright?” He was still holding her, one hand wrapped around her midsection. Slowly, he leaned around her so he could see her face, his hand moving to the juncture of her hip.

He tried, desperately, not to think about how his thumb grazed the sliver of flesh on her stomach.

He also tried not to think about how when he saw her face, she wasn’t looking at him but at that same hand.

“Yes,” she said, somewhat slowly, before lifting her gaze to meet his. They were so close, too close, and he was sure she would pull away. There was something unreadable in her forest green eyes, but …

“What happened?” she repeated. Still not moving away. Still not pushing his hand away.

Not pushing him away.

He watched her for a moment longer, scouring her face for something, anything. When she gave him nothing, he answered, “There was an altar. Back at the apartment. With an obelisk atop it. You touched it and collapsed.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s it?”

He reeled back, just slightly. “That’s … it? Mariah, do you have any idea what that was? Why did you feel the need to touch that thing ?” He tried not to think about the way her name tasted on his lips.

He was trying very hard not to think about a lot of things. Every single one of them were inappropriate at that moment.

That fucking bond in his chest, leaping beneath his ribs as his adrenaline faded, wasn’t helping.

She watched him, then shrugged. “No, I didn’t know what it was. But I wanted to know. That’s why I touched it.”

“Gods,” Andrian breathed out. “That was aberrant , Mariah.” Her name again.

She blinked. “What is aberrant ?”

“Something that shouldn’t fucking exist. Especially not in the middle of Verith. They say it’s a conduit, between … Between our realm and Enfara.”

Silence. He looked at her again, and that same quizzical expression twisted her face.

“So why is it here?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, it shouldn’t be. I had only ever read about it; I didn’t think it was real.”

There was another brief pause. He could nearly see her mind working behind her eyes.

“Hm,” was all she said, turning away from him.

“‘ Hm ?’ That’s all you have to say? Mariah, it could have killed you—leeched you of all your magic and life until you were nothing but an empty shell?—”

“Yes, well.” She lifted a hand. Light danced and twined between her fingers, her usual trick. “Seems like there was nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”

Andrian stared at her, exasperated. And she stared back, unperturbed.

She shifted again in the saddle. Leaning forward, she ran a hand down Kodie’s black mane.

Pressing her hips further into his own.

He swallowed, holding back his groan.

Fucking gods . He regretted not taking his own horse.

“How are we on Kodie? How are you on Kodie?” She settled back against him, relaxed and pliant.

Andrian clenched his jaw.

“When you collapsed, and I realized it was aberrant , I knew we had to get you back to the palace. And I knew you would likely kill me if we left Kodie behind.”

She hummed, and the sound traveled through his chest. Where they touched. “Finally, you do something smart.”

“Excuse me? I’m not the one who touched the dangerous, forbidden, cursed rock on top of an altar covered in blood.”

She waved a hand in front of her face again, clicking her tongue to Kodie. He started forward, settling into a relaxed walk. She shifted against Andrian with each step, her body moving with the sway of the horse.

Gods, save him.

“I mean, how did he let you on him?” She twisted in the saddle, her face again dangerously close to his. Her eyes sparkled still, but this time, he could read what was in them.

Mischief.

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Her gaze dropped to his lips, just for a heartbeat, before she turned back around. “He just doesn’t let anyone other than me ride him. That’s all.”

Andrian knew the game.

“Perhaps you’re not as special as you thought, princess.”

“I highly doubt that’s why.”

“This confidence is unbecoming.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Andrian.” She purred his name, shooting him a glance over her shoulder. “I think you, of all people, should know that this confidence is earned .”

“Careful,” he said, his voice low, far rougher than he intended it to be. Every single place where they touched was ablaze, the bond between their souls awake and alive and burning. The same fire he felt was reflected in the green of her irises. “Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish, nio .”

She stiffened, turning away from him.

He didn’t know why he’d said it. She’d told him not to. But it meant more—gods, so fucking much more—than he could ever express to her. And he couldn’t stop calling her it. It was the only piece of his past that he still clung to, a piece he hadn’t meant to impart to her but that she now owned, even if she didn’t realize it.

But he could feel the way she changed. The way she shut down. All the heat he’d felt from their bond only a few seconds ago cooled to marbled ambivalence, solid stone closing him off from her once again.

His hand fell from where it had rested at the juncture between her hip and thigh. She shifted forward, just a touch, no longer pressed to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, a barely-there whisper spoken to the back of her head.

She didn’t speak to him again as they rode through the palace gates. Didn’t glance at him as she slid from her horse, leaving Kodie with Andrian and the two stableboys who sprinted from the shadows. She strode away, heading for the palace, her hands clenched into fists.

Even with the coldness Mariah had left him with, Andrian couldn’t shake the heat of his memories. Of her against his chest, of her body between his thighs. Of her breathy laugh against his cheek and the wicked gleam in her green eyes.

The way she’d glanced at his lips, if for only a second.

The way she’d leaned forward, pressing her ass into him .

The way she shifted and moved with the rocking of the horse, with him, as if her body had been fucking made for him.

Fuck .

He rolled his shoulders, running his hands through his hair. Too long. His hair was too fucking long, and the way it fell into his eyes and curled against the back of his neck made his skin crawl. He ran his hand through his hair again, this time grabbing onto the ends and pulling, hoping it would shake the tension ripping through him.

The feeling brought back a memory. Memories. Of bare skin under his hands, smaller hands in his hair, pulling much the same way he was now?—

He dropped his hands, clenching his jaw and fists, and pushed his steps faster toward the game park.

He’d nearly sprinted to his room after their arrival back at the palace, quickly changing into training clothes and heading right back out the door. Outside once again, the setting sun warm against his skin, he hoped a run through the park would clear his head. Release some of this energy desperately trying to claw its way out of him.

His feet pounded the packed earth, and each step jolted his teeth.

Fuck, that bond between them … He’d thought it was bad enough just having it exist. Feeling so connected to her, always knowing what she felt or wanted or needed. That was the real reason he’d drowned himself in booze during those initial days after discovering the truth about what had happened to her in Khento; it was the only thing that dulled the onslaught, numbed the reminder of her embedded in his fucking soul.

But then he’d touched her.

Not just touched but had her there . So close to him that he could feel every inch of her, could breathe in her intoxicating jasmine and cedarwood scent. It turned that bond between them into a live wire, a thing with too much power and charged energy that wrapped around his chest to where he could barely breathe.

That they’d found aberrant in the city, that she had touched it, made his restless energy even more unbearable.

He pushed his pace faster. His lungs were burning, sweat forming on his face and at the back of his neck.

But the energy from the bond kept licking down his spine, eating away at his control.

He stumbled a step, catching himself with a growl.

Andrian ran until the sun had set behind the mountains, only the faintest rays of orange and red still streaking the sky. By the time he returned to the side entrance to the palace, he was winded and drenched in sweat.

And still, the energy in him clawed .

He stormed into the palace. Down the winding stairs. Into the subterranean levels, where the palace staff scurried about as they attended to their tasks. Many of them shot him curious glances, giving him a wide berth.

Andrian stormed into the long dining room neighboring the kitchens, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted game enough for him to notice but not enough to loosen his thoughts. In a corner at one of the long benches sat Drystan and Feran, smiling as they talked with several empty plates of food around them. Feran's head tilted slightly toward Andrian.

Andrian ignored him, moving to the buffet line that was set up each night as palace occupants came and went. They could cook and eat in their rooms, of course. But this was always an easy option on nights like tonight when Andrian couldn’t focus much beyond putting his left foot in front of his right.

He blindly scooped food onto a plate, not even sure what he was grabbing, before moving to the nearest table and slamming his body onto the bench. His ears were ringing, the pressure on—and in—his body suffocating.

He was sure his food was delicious.

He couldn’t taste any of it, though.

No, with every bite he forced past his teeth, all he could think about was the way that dark hair had brushed his cheek. The tightening of the muscles in her stomach, still too fucking thin, as his thumb traced her skin.

His tastebuds exploded with his next bite of food. But it tasted like something very different from the lamb chops he was eating.

His fork clattered to the table as he dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes. He fought to control his body, breathing deeply through his nose and out through his mouth.

This was not good.

Appetite—for food, at least—gone, Andrian rose from the table, leaving his tray with the dishwasher before striding from the room. He could feel Feran and Drystan’s eyes on him, watching him with abject curiosity, but he didn’t care.

He needed a fucking cold shower and a shot of whiskey.