Chapter 12
Mariah, once again, couldn’t sleep.
She tossed and turned on the soft mattress, the light sheets twisting around her legs.
Trapped, trapped, trapped…
She bolted up, heart pounding. A bead of sweat dripped down her temple. It was just before dawn, only the barest hint of purple tinging the otherwise dark sky.
Mariah released a sigh, struggling to calm her racing heart.
Tensions remained high after the Elders had left yesterday.
Quentin brought up a cask of wine from Amasis’s cellars, but even that hadn’t been enough to chase the looming shadows away.
Rulene had bought them a temporary peace, but how long would that truly last?
Untangling herself from the cotton sheets, Mariah slipped from bed. She padded to the dresser, slipping into her usual leggings and a loose-fitting shirt. Her dagger was strapped to its familiar place on her thigh as she quietly opened her door into the silent hallways of the serekah.
It truly was so quiet. This was not a palace with servants awake at all hours or guards taking turns at their shifts.
This was a manor house, and the only people there were Amasis and Mariah’s court.
Even the others who’d fled with her court from Verith—Mikael, the seamstress Brie, and Ryenne’s ladies—had taken up residence in a few neighboring serekahs and apartments.
Mariah snuck down the stairs, heading for the kitchens. The room was still warm and fragrant from dinner. She grabbed a basket hanging on a hook and filled it with a leftover loaf of fresh-baked bread, some assorted fruits, and a few wedges of spiced goat cheese.
“Where are you going?”
She froze, releasing two plums into the basket with a thud. Matheo must have been on watch that night, and based on his deep yawn, he was either finishing his shift or just starting it. Turning slowly, she lifted the basket, giving him a weakly sheepish grin.
“Going for a picnic. Want to join?”
Matheo’s expression softened, lightening with a pinch of humor. “A picnic…at dawn?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Before it's too hot.”
He took the basket from her. “I’ll join, because it’s my job. But only if you tell me where you’re actually going.”
“Nice to know you only want to spend time with me because it’s your job.”
“Mariah.”
She glanced away at his gentle scolding, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I want to see them.”
Matheo watched her for a long moment before nodding. “Lead the way, Queenie.”
The simple door was more daunting than any she'd ever faced. Even the throne room doors in Verith couldn’t compare.
She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, stealing a quick glance at Matheo. She wasn’t surprised to find him watching her, concern etched across his handsome brow, messy dark hair falling into his face.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Mariah nodded. “I need to do this.” She paused. “I need this. To see them.” Her fingers wrung themselves around the woven basket handle. “I’m not the only one who lost someone that day.”
“You needed time. They understand that.”
Mariah fell quiet as she stared at the door, her thoughts winding a single, painful stream through her mind.
“Everything is so empty now,” she whispered. “I’ve choked and smothered it so well, just to get out of bed every day, that I no longer even feel the things I want to.” She released a hand from the basket, raising it in front of her.
“Maybe that’s why my magic is gone. It needs more than an empty vessel to thrive.”
Before Matheo could respond, she was rapping lightly on the simple door.
They waited there in silence for a few moments, quiet shuffles from the other side of the door telling them they’d been heard. The door swung open, revealing an uncharacteristically haggard Wex, his gold-gray hair in disarray and deep, dark circles beneath his eyes.
The moment those eyes locked on Mariah, everything about him softened. Crumpled. Wex Salis, the fierce and decorated retired soldier of Onita’s Royal Infantry, surged toward his daughter with tears falling down his cheeks, wrapping her in his thick arms and hugging her tight to his barreled chest.
Mariah’s battered heart cracked at the contact.
Some of that sweet, blessed numbness faded away, a surge of joyful heartbreak seeping into the hollow crevices of her soul.
Both her arms wrapped around her father—the basket she’d been carrying smartly snatched away by Matheo—and she buried her face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, father and eldest daughter, trying to ground each other in their shared love and joy and devastated sadness. They could have stood for days, and it wouldn’t have been long enough to heal what was broken inside her.
“Hi, Dad,” Mariah finally murmured into his cotton shirt. His arms tightened around her.
“Hi, M,” he said, slowly releasing her. She tipped her head up to meet his gaze, finding him smiling down at her, sad but warm. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” The apology poked at her skin.
She was sorry for so much more than just that.
Wex placed a large hand on the back of her head, softly kissing her crown.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. We knew you would find us when you were ready.
” He released her, and she immediately felt the loss of his warmth.
Wex glanced over her shoulder. His brows pinched, as if trying to recall something.
“Sebastian, is it?”
Matheo stepped forward, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Close. I’m his younger and better-looking brother, Matheo.”
Wex winced. “Yes, I knew that. I’m sorry; it’s hard for this old mind to keep track.” He extended a hand to Matheo, who took it eagerly. “It’s nice to meet you again, and under better circumstances this time.”
Warmth bloomed in Mariah’s chest. “Don’t feel so bad, Dad.” She nudged Matheo with her shoulder. “I have a hard time keeping them all straight myself. Especially when they’re annoying and won’t let me visit my family on my own.”
“I told you, it’s my job—”
“She’s teasing you, Matheo,” Wex interrupted with a laugh. He stepped back from the doorway, gesturing into the room. “Please, come in. Can I get you both some coffee? I was just about to put a pot on for Ellan and me.”
Mariah nodded absently, striding into the warm living space.
There was a simple seating area to the left, a square table in the center, and a kitchen in the corner.
Lights flickered in recessed alcoves on the ceilings, along with a few fans to ward off the desert heat, all powered by those strange panels that lined every roof in Desva.
A staircase ran along the back wall, leading presumably to the bedrooms.
And seated at the table, rising to his feet with a bleary expression that slowly, slightly brightened, was Ellan.
Mariah rushed to her younger brother, wrapping him up in her arms and holding him tight. They’d never been particularly close—no closer than any pair of siblings—but something about his familiarity tugged at her cold and empty soul, refilling it with warmth she hadn’t known in days.
Yet, as she held him, she noticed something different.
Pulling back, she raked her gaze over him. “You’ve grown.”
Ellan smiled—or attempted to. Sadness still hung behind his green-hazel eyes. “A bit.”
Mariah scoffed but her own smile spread across her face. “You used to only be an inch or so taller than me. What happened to my stunted little brother playing at being a warrior?”
Ellan shrugged. “He’s still here, I guess.”
He didn’t look it, though. In all the chaos at Khento and their fractured arrival in Kreah, Mariah hadn’t noticed all the ways he’d changed since she’d left Andburgh.
Gone was the scrawny boy she could look directly in the eyes, the one who only had a few pounds on her—if that.
Before her stood a man, looking much more like their father than he ever had, but with rich auburn hair instead of golden blond.
He’d grown at least four inches, now standing well over six feet.
His shoulders and back had broadened, filling in with muscle that was also visible in the arms of his short-sleeved shirt.
Mariah crossed her arms. “That’s good. Because no matter how much you grow, I think I could still take you down.”
Ellan’s eyes flashed with challenge, the first true spark of life. “Let yourself keep thinking that, M.”
“No sparring before coffee.” Their father shouldered past, heading to the kitchen. “Assuming you still want some, Ellan?”
Ellan nodded. “Yes, please.”
Amusement danced in Matheo’s eyes as he set the basket down on the table. “Mariah also brought some food from Amasis’s serekah. Fruit, cheese, and a loaf of Mikael’s famous bread.”
“Let me guess. She made you carry the basket here.”
“Hey.” Mariah playfully shoved her brother’s shoulder. “I carried it myself, thank you. Matheo only took over when we got here.”
Matheo grinned again. “Nice to meet you, by the way,” he said with a friendly dip of his head.
Ellan nodded back. “You, as well. I’m Ellan.” His brow furrowed, cheeks flushing slightly. “Are you one of them?”
Mariah’s amusement doubled. “Yes, Ellan. He’s one of my Armature. But don’t worry.” She leaned in conspiratorially, whispering, “He’s only seen me naked once.”
“Oh, by the Goddess.” Ellan groaned, cheeks staining darker. He returned to his seat at the table, pulling out the chair and settling in. Mariah, still laughing, took the seat diagonal from him as Matheo sat across from Ellan.
That strange, foreign warmth still danced and spun in her chest. It wasn’t happiness; too much darkness still lingered over them and the world for that.
It was something comforting and familiar, something that served to distract her from the emptiness in her soul better than any amount of despairing solitude could.
This had been a good idea. She needed this.