Chapter 39
“It is there, Mariah. Keep reaching.”
Mariah sat cross-legged in the soft grass, sweat beading her brow. She gritted her teeth, fingers sinking into the soil.
It wasn’t working.
She dived into herself, into the place tucked beneath her ribs where her magic dwelled. The place where that beast of claws and fangs and scales had crawled out, pulling all the gods awake with it.
It was strange. She felt it there. Knew there was power lurking, that it hadn’t left her completely.
But when she reached for it, it was like dipping her hands into empty air.
It slipped through her fingers without leaving a single trace, nothing solid or stable to grab on to.
Gone were those beautiful threads, shattered into broken particles amongst the tears in her heart.
“This is useless,” she growled through her clenched jaw. They’d been at this all morning, breaking only for a quick lunch. The sun on the mountains was bright despite the chill breeze, warming her skin beneath her cream sweater
Callamus knelt in front of her, sighing. “You are trying too hard. I can feel your struggle. Relax into yourself—the breeze off the cliffs, the sun on your face. Fall into it, and you will fall into your magic, too.”
Mariah shifted, grumbling to herself, but did as he asked.
This time though, she did so with her eyes open and let them wander.
They were on a cliffside field, tucked high in the mountains above the winding paths and connected towers of Eyarfell.
The mountain lake, the source of water for all those winding creeks and rivers that cut through Leuxrith, gleamed far below, a gemstone amongst the green-covered peaks.
Signe sat a few paces away, watching Mariah with a tilt to her head.
Matheo and Andrian lounged at the edge of the field, the former sprawled on his back in the grass.
An unbidden smile tugged at Mariah’s lips, and she didn’t fight it.
They’d been shown to their apartments yesterday after the complicated meeting with the Leuxrithian Council and their Oracle.
Led through winding tunnels carved within the mountains themselves, they were given two rooms that sat on a cliffside.
The rooms were open and sprawling, with a wall of windows that slid open to let in the clear mountain air or closed to protect against the bitter elements that often swept in.
Matheo had disappeared into his room with a yawn, leaving Mariah and Andrian alone for the first time since the road. He’d stayed quiet, padding past her to sit by the windows and watch Cielle circle lazily above while she’d taken a well-needed bath and readied for bed.
Though Andrian had eventually done the same, though he’d shared the bed with her, he hadn’t said a word. Had hardly touched her, except for the soft kiss he’d pressed to her forehead before turning away and closing his eyes.
What the Oracle had said bothered him far more than he would ever be willing to admit. With his time in Khento still lingering over them both, his refusal to talk about whatever Kol had done to him—
“You are not relaxed.”
Mariah groaned, closing her eyes. “I’m well aware, Cal.” She cracked an eye, meeting the god’s swirling galaxy stare.
If he was bothered by the nickname, he didn’t show it. Instead, something like amusement lit his ageless face.
She despised Kol. Was mostly annoyed and aggravated with Qhohena and Zadione. But Callamus and Rulene had both been normal. Friendly. Each day Mariah spent with them, she found herself inching closer to calling them friends.
Which was insane, but that was her life now, she supposed.
The amusement fell from Callamus’s face, his brow slowly furrowing. “I will not lie, Mariah,” he said quietly. “I do not know what ails you. I feel your power there, and my beast can sense one of his own. I can comprehend no reason for this block.”
Mariah flopped back into the grass, staring up at the sky. Of course, this couldn’t be an easy fix. If an ageless god couldn’t puzzle it out, then what possibly could?
Was this to be her life forever now? A queen with goddess power that she couldn’t use? And what would that mean for taking down Kol? She couldn’t defeat a god with swords and daggers alone.
Mariah made a frustrated noise and pushed to her feet. Matheo and Andrian perked up, standing as well.
“Then why are we still trying—”
“Wait. I have a question.” The wind whipped Signe’s black hair around her face. She narrowed her eyes, and something sweet brushed against Mariah’s skin.
Mariah sighed. “Just ask your question, Signe. Stop trying to hex me.”
Signe scoffed. “Please. I only hex my enemies, never my friends.” She tilted her head, brows furrowing. “When was the last time you felt your magic?”
Mariah swallowed. “Not since we escaped Khento, when we first arrived in Kreah. When I shifted back—”
Signe shook her head. “No. I didn’t ask when you last used your magic. I asked when you last felt your magic.”
Confusion prickled beneath Mariah’s skin. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do.” Signe took another step forward, a grin tugging at her mouth. “You felt it recently, didn’t you? You couldn’t wield it, but it woke up. When was that? What pulled that reaction from it?”
Mariah opened her mouth to argue, but realization struck her like a brick. She snapped her mouth shut, flames licking up her neck and into her cheeks.
The road. That tent. Her hands pinned above her head, Andrian’s mouth on hers, his hand between her legs.
Be my dreams, Mariah.
Her gaze flashed across the clearing. Andrian stood still, arms crossed over his chest, watching her.
Signe’s gaze followed hers, her grin widening into a full smile. “That’s what I thought,” she said softly. She raised a hand in the air, gesturing to the two men. “Andrian! A moment, please?”
Mariah stayed rooted to the earth as Andrian started forward, concerned confusion playing across his face.
She knew her blush had deepened and traveled higher—could feel it in the heat that crawled into her ears and over her shoulders.
Callamus moved away from her, standing behind Signe, crossing his arms and watching on with amused interest.
Mariah really didn’t like whatever look had taken over Signe’s face. The priestess had truly never looked more mischievous than she did right now.
Not even when she’d been fleeing Shawth’s troops through the palace game park, wearing a look of wild glee.
That alone was enough to make Mariah nervous.
The grass crunched under Andrian’s boots, his brow furrowed and expression wary. “Everything okay? Do you need something?”
Signe put her hands on her hips. She tipped her head in Mariah’s direction.
“Kiss her.”
Andrian blinked. “What?”
Signe rolled her eyes. “You heard me. Do us a favor, and kiss her.”
“I don’t…” Andrian’s gaze darted between Mariah and Signe, confusion etching deeper into the hard lines of his face. Mariah shifted uneasily, the fires in her cheeks blazing.
Gods, that fucking blush. Get control of yourself.
“Signe—”
The priestess interrupted Mariah’s weak protest, her spine rigid as she stared Andrian down.
“Kiss your queen, Armature,” she commanded, something ageless consuming her voice.
Magic brushed across Mariah’s skin. “We all know you want to. That there is not a single moment of your day when you don’t want to.
So, stop acting so put out about it, and kiss her. ”
They held gazes—tall warrior and petite priestess. Something in Andrian cracked, and he faced Mariah with a heaved sigh.
There was still a scowl between his brows. But there was want there, too. Like he desperately wanted to do what Signe asked but absolutely loathed being commanded to do anything at all.
It almost made Mariah smile. She could read him so easily now. Some of her amusement rose to the surface, the corner of her mouth kicking up in a half grin. His scowl deepened.
Don’t make fun of me, he almost seemed to say.
A laugh was still bubbling up in her when he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers before pulling away. A quick, chaste peck. Mariah blinked up at him in surprise, her humor stuttering in her chest, but he was already turning to Signe.
“There. Happy now?”
Signe tossed her hands in the air, groaning. “No, you idiot.”
Callamus hid a laugh behind his hands. Signe stalked forward, gripping Andrian by the front of his black long-sleeved tunic.
“Kiss her like you mean it. Like it’s the last chance you’ll ever have to do so. Kiss her like you did when you found her in that clearing a few days ago, like you are a dying man and she is death’s sweet embrace.” Signe leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Kiss her like she’s yours.”
Mariah’s heart hammered, cracking against her ribs. She tracked the bob of Andrian’s throat. Signe released him and stepped back, joining Callamus a few paces away from the cliff’s edge.
Slowly, Andrian turned to her. His scowl had fallen away, replaced by an open, broken smoothness. Ruined and vulnerable and questioning. The mountain winds swirled around him, pulling black strands of his hair onto his brow, into his tanzanite eyes.
Mariah’s breath hitched as he took a small step closer. Held herself perfectly still as he slid a warm, calloused hand across her cheek. He cupped the side of her face, fingers sinking into her hair. Energy crackled as he leaned into her, breath ghosting across her lips.
“That was true, you know.”
Mariah blinked. “What was?” she asked, voice breathy.
Andrian sighed, his grip tightening. “Everything she said. Everything, my nio.”
Mariah’s heart stalled in her chest when his lips finally met hers.
It was slow at first. Cautious and tentative. They’d kissed many times before—too many to count—but for some reason, this felt different. Like there was a question being asked, something being explored, a gentle peeling back of layers and a tumultuous crumbling of walls.