Chapter 51

Chapter 51

“ Y ou almost had me there on that last move. I’ll give you that much.”

Mariah cast Matheo a sidelong glance as she panted, smearing sand across her sweat-drenched skin. His face was streaked with sand and dust and dirt as he sprawled across the grass outside the sparring pit, grinning broadly. “‘ Almost ?’ I had a dagger to your throat.”

“Yeah, well …” Matheo’s grin faltered as he shrugged, grumbling, “you weren’t supposed to have the dagger, anyways.”

“Oh, dear Matheo.” She leaned over, clasping a hand to his bare shoulder. “I always have my dagger.”

Behind them, Trefor snickered, his laughter turning into a cough with the glare Matheo shot over his shoulder.

This morning was one of many like it before. Always Trefor, usually Matheo, and sometimes the others, meeting in the game park to train. The build felt slow, but Mariah was feeling strong again.

She was still underweight, but when she looked in the mirror her cheeks were no longer sallow and sunken, her bones no longer jutted out at odd painful angles. Her curves were filling back in, muscle forming in her arms and legs.

That morning, she’d picked up her favored twin short swords for the first time since being freed.

Mariah grinned, releasing Matheo. “Either way, it was a good spar. Thank you for joining us.”

Matheo sagged into the soft grass, messy brown hair falling across his forehead. “Of course. I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled but didn’t answer.

She was proud of herself, too.

“C’mon,” she said. “We need to get to the aviary before today’s hawks are sent out.” She reached for the pocket of her training leathers, feeling the outline of the small, folded letter.

The letter to her family.

Matheo sprang to his feet. Trefor brushed his shoulder against hers, a playful shove.

“Lead the way, queenie,” Trefor said with a grin. Mariah chuckled, adjusted her dagger on her thigh, and set off down the forest trail.

The woods were quiet, save for the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. Mariah tilted her chin skyward, savoring the sun’s warmth on her cheeks. It was past the Spring Equinox now, when the moons vanished from the sky. She’d been born on an Equinox—the Autumnal Equinox—but always felt the most uncomfortable during those nights. The darkness of the night left her feeling wary and nervous.

She was always glad when the moons emerged the next night and only grew more at ease as they waxed through their next cycle.

Which, in this case, would be the Summer Solstice. As much as the thought of that magic energized her, she wasn’t ready to deal with how it would be handled. Not with the schemes of the Winter Solstice still lingering.

The stables appeared through the trees and Mariah paused on the path, glancing around.

“Mariah? Everything alright?”

Mariah shook her head, brow furrowed. “I just realized I’ve never actually been to the aviary before.”

Matheo chuckled. “It’s just around the stables. This way.” He veered right down the path, heading away from the palace. Mariah followed, Trefor at her side.

They passed by the sprawling stables, the low-roofed buildings replaced by taller, multi-story facilities. They were still within the palace gates, but Mariah had never been this far from the main courtyard. Her brow creased as she studied the simple structures with their unadorned windows and plain doors.

“It’s the barracks.”

Mariah turned to Trefor. “What?”

He nodded at the buildings. “The barracks. City Guards stationed at the palace stay there while on assignment. It was also where we—the Marked, I mean—lived and trained for twenty-one years.”

“You lived here? All of you?”

“It’s nicer than it looks,” Matheo said over his shoulder. Trefor grinned.

“It is,” he said. “It’s really not bad. When we were young, we all shared a large dormitory together, but we were given our own rooms as we grew older. But it was nice to have a place that was ours, away from the sophistication of palace life.”

Mariah snorted. “Sophistication. Right.”

Trefor bumped her with a shoulder. “Things only got debaucherous after you arrived.” Their laughs rang out into the clear morning.

“The aviary is just up ahead.” Matheo pointed at a domed structure tucked against the wall ringing the palace land. It was made of woven metal, a solid barrier against the outside world, but one that still allowed light and air to pass through it. Towering roosts sat in a corner and the screeches of falcons and hawks cut through the air.

A middle-aged man pushed through a hinged gate, his weatherworn face twisted into a scowl. His shoulder-length gray hair was pulled back in a low bun, revealing a savage scar across his left cheek. In his gloved hand, he carried a hooded falcon, the bird quiet and calm.

“What do you boys want? I’m busy,” he called out gruffly. The falcon jostled its neat pewter feathers.

Mariah stepped out from behind Matheo, grimacing as her hand shot up in an awkward wave. “I need to post a letter. To Andburgh.”

The man’s eyes widened, his mouth popping open. “Oh—Your Majesty, I—please forgive me?—”

“It’s fine.” Mariah smiled. “I often have the same reaction when these two come around.”

“Hey,” Matheo said indignantly. “What do you mean?—”

“Can you help me? Post the letter, that is?” Mariah interrupted, her smile sweetening as Matheo crossed his arms and huffed.

The man nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He whispered something to the falcon on his arm, just before removing its hood. With a shake of its head, it spread its wings and launched into flight, soaring up through the trees and vanishing from sight.

The man turned. “This way, Your Majesty.”

Mariah followed him through the gate and into the domed aviary. Birds were perched on tall limbs, soaking in the sun’s rays, while a few roosted quietly in their nests.

“What’s your name?”

“Aldric, Your Majesty.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aldric. Please, call me Mariah.”

Aldric smiled. “I thank you for the kindness, but having lived most my life on the outskirts of the palace, I prefer to give our queen the respect she is owed.”

Mariah liked this man.

He turned back to his birds, trilling softly. A medium-sized red hawk landed on his glove, and Aldric quickly slid a hood over its eyes before setting it on a perch. He tied a small leather cylinder to its leg, just large enough to carry a handful of rolled letters.

“To Andburgh, you said?”

Mariah nodded. “Yes.”

Aldric extended a hand. “If I may have the letter? It should arrive in two days. Shaye here is one of my swiftest flyers.”

“How do they know where to go?” Matheo asked curiously, leaning against the roosts, fingers dangerously close to the beak of a sharp-eyed falcon.

“I assume, lad, that you’re familiar with Onita’s system of post.”

“Well …” Matheo shrugged. “I know there are aviaries just like this one all over Verith and through Onita. I know each city, town, and castle has a roost, and they can distribute letters quickly throughout the kingdom. But how do they do it? The birds, I mean?”

Aldric huffed indignantly. “Because they are bred to do it. They are trained to. The messenger hawks and falcons of Onita are no ordinary hawks and falcons. Maybe it’s our goddesses’ blessed magic or just the paths of nature, but they are born knowing where to fly when asked. Some are more stubborn than the others, but they know this land better than we do.”

“Okay, but … do they need a special language? Or do they speak the common tongue?”

Trefor’s question, and Aldric’s exasperated response, faded from Mariah’s ears as she withdrew the folded piece of paper from her pocket. She stared at it, heart hammering in her ears, before slowing unfolding the cream page and reading the words she’d spent hours agonizing over.

Mother, Father, no darkness plagued his gaze. He looked as he probably should’ve been, if his father hadn’t used him in his desperate grasps for power and his mother was accepted in this kingdom despite her northern heritage.

So much about Andrian’s darkness was forged by his fate, and Mariah’s heart broke to see what he could’ve been. As bright and brilliant as the sun, instead of tragic like a falling star.

Andrian’s attention drifted away from Sebastian and snagged on Mariah through the glass doors. He held his smile, but it softened, settling into his usual smirk. Something tugged in her mind, feelings of warmth stretching into her soul.

The bond.

He had figured out how to grab into their bond and pull .

Good goddess.

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing as she pushed through the doors. Sebastian quickly took in her appearance before a similar, easy grin stretched across his face.

“Good morning, Mariah. Looking beautiful as ever.”

“Why, thank you, Seb.” She wore a grin now, unfamiliar—but not unwelcome—lightness bubbling in her chest. “I always feel my best when I’m a little bit dirty.”

“Careful, princess.” Andrian leaned back in his chair, settling against the suede. “You keep talking like that, and we’ll start to think you’re flirting.”

“Hm,” she hummed, tilting her head. Something surged in her—something hot and wild and desperate. “But what if I am?”

“And on that note.” Sebastian cleared his throat to mask his laugh and stood. “I should get going. I hear you’re to be coronated in two days.”

Mariah stiffened. She’d forgotten; or, at least, she’d forgotten as best she could. Delaynie was working with Ryenne’s ladies and Liliane, the young priestess, to arrange Mariah’s coronation. It was to be a small affair, something quiet and intimate, as all coronations were. This was not a ceremony for the people, but a moment shared between queens. The opposite of Mariah’s Winter Solstice, but just as powerful in its own way.

And with Mariah’s ascension, with the rise of a new queen … her predecessor would return to the stars. Mariah refused to dwell on what that would mean. She hadn’t seen Ryenne since the day she’d visited Mariah after her return and, in truth, had been too afraid to call on her again.

The thought of a world without Queen Ryenne, the one guiding force she’d had since arriving in Verith …

It was paralyzing.

Mariah plastered a smile on her face. “Yes. Exciting times.” She glanced at them both one more time. “I need to go shower. I’ll see you both later?”

Sebastian smiled and nodded.

Andrian, however, said nothing. He simply sat and watched her with an unreadable expression, running a finger across his lips.

Mariah swallowed and left the room, dashing to her bathroom and the shower waiting for her like something chased her.

The water was scalding, dust and sand and dirt sleuthing off her skin and down the drain, and all it had done was boil her blood more than it already was.

Mariah quickly dressed in a pair of leggings and a mustard yellow cotton blouse, staring at her reflection as she toweled off her short hair. While she missed the length and was looking forward to it growing … This cut suited her. The new her. The one that was dragged through Enfara itself and spit out the other side, damaged but stronger.

Setting the brush down, she squared her shoulders and strode from her bathroom and through her room into the living and kitchen space beyond.

And halted.

Sebastian had left, as he’d said, but the room was not empty.

Andrian sat at her dining table, leaned back too-casually in a chair, arms folded across his broad chest.

Watching her.

A nervousness sparked in her belly, fluttering about like butterflies. “Something I can help you with?”

His lips twitched. “Yes, actually.” Andrian sat forward, pushing back from the table. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Mariah eyed him cautiously. “A … favor?” She shifted from foot to foot before crossing her arms herself. “What do you need?”

“Well, now that’s a complicated question, princess.” He now wore a full smirk, but it faltered, just slightly, as he took a step from around the table. He walked to her slowly, as if afraid she might flee.

She hated that she’d made him feel that way. That she was a flight risk, too afraid to stand near him.

She’d decided to no longer be a slave to her fear.

So she took her own step forward, meeting him halfway. His eyes widened, and his nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

They stood no more than a foot from each other, gazes locked.

“What do you need, Andrian?” Her repeated question was pitched low, her voice rough.

He’d spoken those same words to her, too, once. In this very room.

He smiled down at her. Reaching a hand into his pocket, he pulled out something long and shiny and … metal? Her brow twisted, and he opened his hand to reveal a delicate pair of scissors.

The kind Ciana had used on her, just a few weeks prior.

The kind used for cutting hair.

She met his brilliant blue stare. His smile was soft and hesitant, something so unlike him yet so painfully beautiful.

“I need you to give me a haircut.”