Chapter 68

Chapter 68

T he woods were silent during the starlight hour. The insects had retreated into the ground, and it was still too early for the birds to wake.

Beside Andrian, Mariah sat up on the bedroll they shared, drenched in sweat and panting as she clutched at her chest. He could feel her roiling emotions down their bond—panic and fear and rage. He reached for her, but before his fingers met her skin she stood, padding away from their camp. She sat beside Feran, who was on watch and curled her legs under her chin.

Andrian watched her, not yet ready to stand. She needed this, he realized. Needed this moment alone, with one of her Armature who was least likely to ask questions.

They’d left the inn early that morning, riding hard north through the day. They were now only a half-day’s ride from Khento and had taken shelter in the small glade, one last chance to find rest.

He laid on his bedroll in the grass until night fell away and the birds chirped. The first rays of dawn and the anxious, charged energy still churning from Mariah pulled him to his feet, and he joined them there on the edges of camp.

Feran gave him a short nod, which Andrian returned, but Mariah didn’t move. Not until a few long minutes after he sat, when she reached out a hand, resting it atop his in the grass. His fingers curled around hers as they watched the sun rise over the woodland canopy above.

“We need to go,” Feran murmured. Mariah turned to Andrian, and they shared a look that said more than they could ever speak. Andrian tightened his grip on her fingers.

He’d never been very good with words, at least not the ones about how he felt. But this? This he could do.

Mariah gave him a slow nod and a tight smile, and then they were packing their camp and mounting their horses, ready for the last stretch of their ride to Khento.

The woods were darker this far north. Even on the cusp of summer and the sun bright and shining overhead, there was a biting chill in the air. The shadows of the trees seemed to nip at their heels, a pack of rabid wolves chasing them as they galloped.

Mariah pulled Kodie to a stop beside a bubbling spring running through a quiet dell. She glanced at Feran, who nodded. “Here,” he said.

She faced the rest of them. “This is where we leave the horses. Untack, but make it organized. Like we discussed.”

They swiftly set into action. Their silence was tense and heavy, broken only by the clinking of metal and leather and the thud of packs and saddles to the ground.

This part of their journey was planned in detail. The horses would be left here, untacked and untied; as warrior horses, they were trained not to leave their area, even without fencing. Not unless something chased them away.

They were only a short distance from Khento now and needed to move undetected, so they would finish their journey on foot. Once at the castle, Quentin, Trefor, and Matheo would split away to create a diversion—which was part of the reason they needed three days to prepare—while Sebastian, Andrian, and Mariah would sneak in through the gardens and down into the dungeons. Drystan and Feran would stand watch just beyond the walls, their bonds with Mariah staying open to alert her of any approaching danger.

It sounded so simple, yet something nagged at Andrian. A hidden instinct, perhaps.

Or just the feeling that whatever they were walking into … there was nothing any of them could do to prepare for it.

Minutes later, they all stood around Mariah. She was a warrior-goddess, dressed in her dark fighting leathers, twin short-swords crossed behind her back and her red-sheathed, dragon-winged dagger at her thigh.

It filled Andrian with a dark, feral sort of pride. His goddess, his moon, his woman.

His .

“I don’t know what we’ll face in there,” she said softly. “But I do know that I’m thankful to have all of you by my side while I do.”

“We are with you, Mariah.” The words passed Andrian’s lips without a thought. The others murmured their agreement, and Mariah’s lips tilted up in the hint of a smile.

“Let’s go rescue my family.”

Andrian’s anger was a cool fire as he stared at the spires of the castle at Khento from behind the tree line, the stone piercing the bright cloudless sky. The eight of them knelt together in the dense underbrush, scanning the castle in silence.

The parapets lining the castle walls were empty. No guards walked alert with bows and arrows. Just as it had been when they’d escaped the last time.

Everything about it made Andrian’s skin crawl.

“Alright,” Quentin said, shouldering his pack. “Matheo, Trefor, you know the plan?—”

“Wait.”

Quentin stilled, and they all turned slowly to Mariah. A mask of cold determination was painted over her intoxicating features.

“I’m changing things. I’m going up to the front door and knocking.”

Sebastian made an exasperated sound, and Drystan blanched. But Andrian …

A smirk twitched at his lips. Mariah had never been one for hiding in the shadows, always opting to embrace the light. Of course she would want to walk right in through the front gates.

That’s my girl.

“Mariah. Absolutely not. That is a terrible idea.” Sebastian shifted, his knee dropping to the moss-covered ground. Mariah faced him slowly, blinking with mild disinterest.

“We have a plan for a reason . Let Quentin and the others lay their diversion while we sneak in through the gardens. Just because we suspect a trap doesn’t mean we need to walk right into it.”

“They didn't just take my family for no reason, Sebastian. They took them to get to me. ” Mariah’s words were so low they were almost a growl. “I want those lords to look me in the eye and tell me why they thought they could get away with threatening my own. I have the full power of the queen, and I’m blessed by two goddesses. Who in there can stop me?”

Sebastian made a frustrated groan. He glanced at Andrian. “Please, Andrian, tell her this is a bad idea.”

Andrian prickled, brows pushing together in a scowl.

Of course he despised the idea of Mariah putting herself in danger. But she was right; who could stop her?

And he never wanted to be the man who told her to stand by while others fought her battles. She could burn the whole world down herself, and he’d be there proudly at her side.

“Actually,” he said in a low voice. “I agree with Mariah.”

Mariah watched him with a feverish brightness in her forest green eyes and a slight tilt to her head.

“I agree that she should not be afraid to make her presence known. But the rest of us still need to split up.” He met Sebastian’s hard glare. “Here’s our new plan …”

Andrian braced his feet, hands shoved deep in his pockets, as Mariah’s fist connected with the massive castle door.

His idea hadn’t exactly been well received; not at first. But the more he’d explained, the more Mariah’s eyes had sparked, her mind working to catch up with his.

By the end, even Sebastian couldn’t argue against the logic.

They’d split into three groups. Sebastian, Drystan, and Feran would slip in through a servant’s entrance by the stables while Matheo, Trefor, and Quentin went through the gardens. Sebastian’s group would comb the castle for Mariah’s family, and the moment they found them, they would alert Mariah through their bond. Quentin, Matheo, and Trefor would set off their diversion in the gardens—which Andrian still wasn’t sure what it would be, exactly, but was ensured it would guarantee their escape.

Meanwhile, Mariah and Andrian would walk in through the front door. No matter what chaos Quentin created, nothing would cause as much commotion as the queen herself appearing on the doorstep. The focus would be on them and away from the three men searching the castle.

And once Mariah’s family was out and safe, well … hopefully Quentin’s diversion, and their own magic and swords, would be enough.

That was the part Sebastian had liked the least. But even he couldn’t deny that unleashed, Mariah and Andrian’s magic together—light and shadows—would be unstoppable. Even against other wielders.

Footsteps and shouts rang behind the door. Mariah glanced up.

Back.

He didn’t know how he’d heard it. It wasn’t the first time, either. Every so often, their bond would flare with light, and he could hear words pushed across to him.

He wondered if it was the same for her. If he could speak to her in return.

Before he could try, he was following her backward steps, hurriedly rushing away as the door gave a heavy groan and swung away from them. The hinges shrieked and cried, as if they hadn’t been used for centuries.

A guard stepped through the open doorway, clothed in Shawth’s blood red livery. His face was familiar in a way that made Andrian’s shadows dance down his arms and roil with agitation through his blood.

The sickening grin the guard gave Mariah certainly didn’t help.

“It is so wonderful to see you return to us, Your Majesty,” the guard sneered. “We missed you so dearly .”

Anger and terror pulsed down the bond.

Mariah knew this man. From her time here before, she knew him. And not in a good way.

Andrian’s fingers itched toward the pommel of his broadsword strapped across his back. But a pointed look from Mariah had him holding himself still.

The guard shifted his attention to Andrian, sneer tightening. “And if it isn’t the little lordling. What a waste you were. A pliant little queen placed right in your lap, and you decided to deprive us of a treat. Shame.” He tsked, expression shifting into something sinister as he raked his gaze down Mariah’s body. “I would’ve liked a chance to show her what it’s like to be with a real man for once.”

Andrian saw only red and darkness. A low growl rumbled from his throat, shadows spilling from his palms.

A hand met his arm. Light and warmth danced across his skin, pulling away his shadows. Andrian’s attention sharpened on Mariah as she took a step toward the guard.

And chuckled.

“It is so nice to see you again, Ellis,” she said, voice low and carrying a hint of poison. Her smile widened, light winding around her fingertips. “Glad to see you’re just as desperate for pussy as you were the last time I saw you. Or maybe you can only get it up when the girl is drugged?”

Everything around Andrian stilled.

Had this man … he couldn’t even finish the thought.

But before he could spiral down into his rage, before he stalked forward and cleaved this man’s head from his shoulders right then, Mariah sent him another message down their bond. No words this time, only a feeling.

Calming. Comforting. Assuring.

He exhaled through his nose, masking his relief.

She was merely playing a game.

Ellis took a staggering step back. “You insolent little bitch ?—”

“Ah, ah,” Mariah scolded, lifting her hand. Her magic shimmered in the sun. “That’s no way to speak to your queen. I might not be wearing my crown, but that’s only because it doesn’t travel well; I’d hate to lose it. You understand.”

Ellis froze as if remembering where he was. He straightened, fixing his face back into a condescending sneer.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I assume you are here to meet with our honorable Lord Shawth?”

Mariah lifted her chin defiantly. “Your honorable Lord Shawth took my family. I demand answers and will exact my punishment, if necessary.”

Andrian tried to hide his smirk of pride, but it died as he watched Ellis’s face.

No flicker of surprise. No flash of fear. Only that same insolent smirk, the same sniveling smile.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Lord Shawth has all the answers waiting for you, just inside.” He stepped back through the doorway and into the entry hall beyond. He gestured to them, welcoming them inside. “Please, follow me.”

Alarm bells again rang through Andrian’s skull.

“Mariah—” He tried to whisper to her, to capture her attention.

But she was too set on her mission. She strode toward the doors, passing beneath the arching entrance, following too closely behind that ferret of a man who Andrian wanted nothing more than to sink his blade into his gut.

And, of course, because he would follow her into death itself, Andrian had no choice but to stalk after her, shadows clawing at him to go anywhere else but into that castle.

The heavy doors closed behind them with a thud. Ellis faced them, hands clasped behind his back, a sneer still plastered on his face. “Your weapons.”

Andrian’s hands tightened into fists. Something felt off within the walls of the castle, as if there were unfamiliar shadows grasping at his own.

He really, really fucking hoped Mariah didn’t turn over her weapons. Because that would mean he would, too.

Mariah regarded the contemptuous guard with her own icy expression. “No.”

Andrian’s shoulders sagged with relief. He watched Ellis, waiting for his reaction.

But none came. Ellis merely shrugged, almost nonchalantly.

It only added to Andrian’s feelings of wrongness about this place.

“Suit yourselves,” Ellis said, giving them a cool smile. “Follow me, please.” He turned on his heel and strode away, not bothering to see if they followed.

Mariah shot Andrian a glance, her mask slipping for a moment to reveal her confusion. He gave her the slightest shake of his head.

He didn’t understand it either, but what choice did they have? At least they still had their weapons and their magic.

They were led down long, winding corridors. A well-decorated receiving room. A spacious meeting hall. They walked and walked and walked.

Andrian’s trepidation crept in further with each step. It lurked over his shoulder, his shadows whispering against the back of his neck.

This wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right.

He felt for the bond. Latched onto it, like a lifeline.

When he did, he received one feeling back.

Dread.

Not terror. Not panic. Only a deep, grating sense of foreboding, an awareness telling them something was wrong. That it should not have taken so long to reach their destination.

Andrian pulled back from the bond and glanced around the hallway. He’d been to Khento before. Just a few months ago, yes, but he hardly remembered those days.

No, most of his memories of Khento were from his childhood. From the few trips his father had made to visit Lord Shawth, the few times Andrian had glimpsed more of their kingdom, paraded around like a prized horse for his father to flaunt before the other lords.

And this hallway … it was familiar. Not just from his childhood, either.

They’d walked this way before, only a few minutes ago.

His mind reached blindly for Mariah, the warning that raced through him shoving its way down the bond. She faltered—a small misstep, slight enough to be masked by a shortened stride. She glanced at him, a question in her eyes.

“Been here before.” He mouthed the words and forced them across the bond.

Mariah scanned the hallway, and he knew she’d gotten the message. She leveled a hard stare at the back of Ellis’s head, her body tense with fury.

Fast as lightning, she drew her short-swords, magic dancing around her fingertips and down the blades. Ellis stopped at the sound of steel slipping free from sheaths. He turned slowly, looking bored.

“Your Majesty?” His tone was so insolent, it took all Andrian’s control to not rip his vocal cords from his neck.

“Stop fucking around, Ellis. You’re leading us in circles. Take us to Shawth. Now.”

Ellis regarded her for a moment, and then with another sneer, chuckled. He took a step closer to the corridor wall. There was a single recessed door, the wood unassuming. It looked to be nothing more than a coat closet.

“Relax, Your Majesty. We’re here.” Ellis gripped the handle and pulled, gesturing to Mariah and Andrian.

Andrian watched Mariah, her chest heaving as she slowly slid her blades back into their sheaths and straightened her stance.

She reached for him, just a slight flick of her fingers, and together they rushed past Ellis through the door.

Andrian had to blink against the sudden, blinding light.

Sunlight.

As his vision cleared, he realized they now stood outside, at the very edge of the castle gardens. The flowers were in full verdant bloom, blossoming trees dripping with yellow and purple and blood red. Risers were built around an open, central space, filled with Onita’s upper echelon: lords and ladies, wealthy merchants, anyone either born to power or with enough coin to make it for themselves.

Nearest to Mariah and Andrian was a dais adorned with six chairs, and seated in each was a man. The Royals, Lord Shawth and Lord Laurent in the center. Andrian’s dread cooled, settling into true, unadulterated fear.

Because kneeling on the dais steps below them …

Andrian’s throat went dry, his lungs constricting around his heart.

Trap.

The other six of Mariah’s Armature were there, bound and gagged. Around each of their wrists were cuffs of a familiar black and gold stone.

Deistair. Even though they had no magic of their own, they’d been cuffed with it. To keep Mariah from knowing what was happening. To keep her from being warned.

Had she felt their bonds go silent? Or had she kept them closed to avoid the distraction, until she knew they would be able to escape?

On a second platform, in the middle of that open space and on display for all to see, was Mariah’s family. Andrian knew them from Mariah’s stories. Wex, the loyal soldier, a deep cut on his face oozing dark blood. Ellan, the gentle and kind brother, his hands cuffed in deistair and his face streaked with tears. Lisabel, the wise and mysterious healer, chin still lifted defiantly despite the bruise forming on the side of her face.

Terrifying monsters—humanoid demons straight from the darkest histories of their world—held serrated claws to their exposed necks, tongues snaking past deadly maws, vicious teeth begging for a chance at death.

It was the last thing he saw before he was rushed from behind. Before more deistair was locked around his wrists, his shadows snuffed out.

It was the last thing he saw before he realized how badly they’d all failed.

It was the last thing he saw before Mariah’s cry of rage pierced the air, a sound far more animal than human.