Chapter 59

Chapter 59

“ T he Royal Lords of Onita have taken the Salis family. They are being held at the castle at Khento, the seat of Lord Victor Shawth. The lords hope the queen finds the urgency in this situation and comes willing to reach an amicable solution.”

Andrian heard the words, but his eyes never left his queen.

Mariah’s hand gripped Ryenne’s. Their blood—still glowing with the last drops of Ryenne’s power—dripped onto the golden throne. It wasn’t until the last of the messenger’s words rang out through the room that Mariah finally moved.

She dropped the old queen’s hand, sparks and magic and power glimmering in her eyes and along her skin. She lurched down the dais just as Ryenne sagged into the throne, Kalen rushing to catch her.

Before he collapsed, too. Before the rest of Ryenne’s Armature collapsed, frail bodies slumping into cushioned chairs.

Andrian didn’t need to test their pulse to know what had happened.

Mariah took another slow, jilting step. Ryenne’s ladies rushed to their queen and the Armature they’d served for most of their lives. A scream pierced the veil of silence, but Mariah didn’t flinch. Instead, her light pulsed brighter, coiling around her fingers and up her arms in shimmering silver-gold ropes.

It woke Andrian’s magic, shadows slithering through his veins. They branched off his shoulders, some twisting into his hair while others reached out for his queen with desperate, hungry fingers.

The bond between them was still open, but from it … he couldn’t read anything. Her mind was a vicious storm, a whirlwind of too many emotions snapping like animals against their chains. All he could do was latch his mind to hers, squatting amongst the chaos, and stand by her side.

She took another step down the dais.

“What did you say?” Her voice was whisper-soft, dangerously quiet.

The messenger boy paled, despite the exertion still panting from his lungs. “It was just a message, Your Majesty. I was told to deliver?—”

A silent snap of gold and silver, the rope of magic wrapping around his throat, cut his words short.

Sebastian pitched forward a step, eyes wide, but froze when Andrian fixed him with a pointed, jabbing stare. The rest of Mariah’s Armature settled defensively around her, hands gripping their weapons, eyes flickering with all the rage and suspicion Andrian felt himself.

But everything he felt … it was nothing compared to what seethed across the bond.

Mariah’s lips pulled back in a snarl, fingers twitching at her side. The magic around the boy’s throat tightened, his eyes bulging slightly in their sockets.

“ Who ?”

The messenger gasped like a fish. “Majesty … I don’t … can’t …”

Andrian inched closer to Mariah. He brushed a tendril of shadow down her arm, tracing across the exposed skin of her collarbone.

He leaned down, whispering in her ear, “Not here. There are always eyes, even in the most secure of places. Release the boy so he can speak.”

Another stroke of shadow over her skin. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms, the distraction of his touch calming some of that rage burning down their bond, around her soul.

Somewhere, in a faraway place, he was elated that he could do that for her. That he could calm her, just for a moment, even if it was simply a distraction.

Andrian turned to meet the wide, terrified expression of the messenger. It took a few heartbeats, but slowly, the silver-gold noose around his neck loosened, the rope of light falling away and slinking back beneath Mariah’s skin. The boy sagged, his hands wrapping around his throat, coughing and sputtering as he gasped for air.

Mariah lifted her gaze to meet Andrian’s own.

When he saw what shined in those forest green depths—rage and regret and anguish and disbelief—his thoughts left him, animalistic instinct taking hold.

The messenger was just regaining his breath when a new rope wound around his neck. This one, though, was made of onyx shadows, the opposite in every way from the light it replaced. Andrian’s pulse raced through his magic as if it were his fingers wrapped around the boy’s thin throat. Could feel hands scratch and claw at the shadowy bindings, even as they lifted the messenger into the air, feet swinging wildly beneath him as he struggled helplessly.

But that look in Mariah’s eyes, the same one she still wore, reminded Andrian of something he’d always known about himself.

He was not a good man.

He sometimes pretended to be, when that was what she needed. But for her, he would always be willing to let his darkness loose.

His shadows tightened around the boy’s neck. The boy’s face turned purple, lack of oxygen streaking his eyes red.

“Your queen asked you a question.” His words were growled, but his shadows made sure they carried. “I’m going to set you down, and you are going to answer her. Understood?” Somehow, the boy blinked, his head barely nodding.

Good enough.

He dropped the boy, letting him fall heavily to the floor, his coughing and sputtering echoing harshly off the glass-ceilinged hall. Andrian’s shadows lingered close, vipers waiting to strike.

Mariah pushed her shoulders back, light dancing at her fingertips.

“Why did the City Guard let you past the palace gates?”

Andrian froze.

The entire room froze.

It was a question he hadn’t thought of, and he cursed himself for it.

Tonight was a private ceremony. Meant only for the members of Mariah’s and Ryenne’s courts. The City Guard was instructed to keep the gates closed, all entrances protected.

And yet this messenger had burst through, unimpeded.

The boy’s face was still flushed, but his eyes widened. “I-I don’t know. The guard at the gate,” he croaked. “The guard at the gate. He let me in.”

“Which guard?”

Sebastian stepped forward. “Mariah, I doubt he knows the name of the exact guard?—”

“I do. Know it. I … I’ve met him before.” The boy still struggled with his words, but he forced them past his teeth.

Sebastian’s hand returned to the hilt of his sword, lips turning down into a scowl. Mariah took another step forward, a predator stalking her prey.

“Who?” she growled again.

“Ryland,” the boy whispered. “His name is Ryland.”

Fuck.

Andrian’s magic snapped forward again, this time wrapping around the boy’s wrists, binding them together in front of him. Not that the messenger would try anything—his eyes were wide and terrified at the shadow magic holding him—but it was enough time for Trefor and Matheo to surge forward, each grabbing one of the boy’s arms.

Once he was secured, Andrian pulled his magic back to him, just beneath his skin. He turned to Mariah, light tremors of her rage washing through her frame.

“ Nio ?” he said gently, barely more than a whisper. She darted her gaze up to him, an unearthly wildness still blazing in her eyes. “What do you want to do with him?”

Her jaw worked. “Take him to the meeting room. I have more questions for him.” She raised her voice. “The more forthcoming he is, the less this will hurt.”

Matheo and Trefor hoisted up the boy, dragging him from the throne room, heading toward the meeting room they’d used so many times over the past few weeks. The boy had pissed himself in his fear, a dark stain spreading across the front of his pants as his sobs sputtered through the cavernous space, pleading for his innocence, that he was only doing a job.

The boy had to learn the lesson at some point. A job for the wrong people would get one killed.

“Mariah.” A feminine voice rang out, hesitant yet clear. Mariah was rigid as she turned, her beautiful face cold and brimming with power.

The power of an ascended queen.

Pride—dark and vengeful and eternal—swelled within Andrian, even as his knees threatened to buckle before her.

Ciana stood with Liliane, the latter pale-faced as she stared at Ryenne and Kalen’s bodies. Behind them was Delaynie, slumped over a male form as silent sobs wracked her body, her mother beside her.

Ciana swallowed. “Mariah … they need to be taken to Priam’s Antechamber.”

The room was still. So still, an unearthly quiet that raised the hair along the back of Andrian’s neck.

Mariah’s gaze was focused on Ryenne’s lifeless body, now pale and empty of the magic that had given her long life.

“I know.” She cocked her head. “It’s all been arranged. Liliane will see to it.” The sound of her name roused the young priestess, raising a wide-eyed stare to Mariah.

“Give honor to our departed queen and her court, priestess. The rest of you, we meet in the meeting room. Now.”

“Mariah.” Ciana’s voice was firmer now. The tone was not of a queen’s lady but of her best friend. Mariah’s gaze snapped to Ciana’s, and Andrian could feel the battle of wills clashing between them.

Without another word, Mariah stepped back toward the dais. Up the steps. Past where Ryenne and Kalen lay, where Liliane had bolted to gather the assembled assistants who would help her take their bodies to the antechamber and begin the death vigil.

Mariah stopped above Delaynie, kneeling with her mother beside her father, tears streaking her high cheekbones. She turned up to face her queen, auburn hair shifting across her back.

Mariah bent, resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Stay, Delaynie. Mourn your dead. Join us when you can.”

Delaynie nodded, and out of the corner of Andrian’s eye, he saw Quentin tense, as if he might spring up those steps. But he didn’t move, simply remained standing beside Andrian, bouncing subtly from foot to foot.

Mariah rose and turned to Ciana, who gave a tight nod. Mariah’s face was still blank, empty of all except that deep, unending fury as she started toward the dais’ steps.

She stopped again, right beside Ryenne’s prone body. Her eyes flickered downward.

With a slow, drawn-out movement, she knelt beside Ryenne, the old queen’s gray hair splayed around her head. Mariah’s fingers wrapped around something, a surge of wild desperation clawing down their bond.

When Mariah stood, she had the golden snowdrop blossom crown of Onita clutched in her fingers.

She considered the crown for a moment, tilting her head like an animal regarding its next meal. With that same slow movement, she lifted the crown, resting it atop her head.

When she raised her gaze to Andrian, her eyes sparkled and cracked with something that wasn’t quite human.

Without another word, she turned on her heel, stepping down the dais and striding from the throne room. Andrian fell into step behind her.

It was time for her to plan her vengeance, and he would do everything in his power to help her capture it.