Chapter 31
Mariah stared at the dying embers of the campfire, the night breeze catching her damp hair.
It had been a long day of travel, the terrain rocky and rugged but also splendid.
The Leuxrithian countryside was wild and untamed.
They were surrounded by the picturesque Everheim Mountains, flowers blooming on the sloping ridges.
Crisp air brushed through the ancient, towering pines, the babbling brook beside the overgrown road a constant companion.
It was in that brook that Mariah had quickly bathed while the rest set up camp, rinsing the grime of travel from her skin.
The water was cold but clear, rejuvenating as it washed over her.
It was also their guide; Signe had shared that all bodies of water in this part of Leuxrith originated from a lake near Eyarfell.
Follow the brook, and they would reach the capital.
Mariah ran her fingers through the clean strands of her drying hair. It was still shorter than she liked but growing quickly after the months of good nutrition and exercise. It now fell past her chest; it wouldn’t be long before it reached her mid-back.
She was grateful for that one small piece of normalcy, even as everything around her continued to change.
The last few embers of the fire dropped into a muted glow.
Her mouth fell open in a yawn. The small clearing where they’d made their camp was mostly empty now.
Signe and Matheo had retreated to their respective tents, and only Callamus still sat under the stars, gazing up with a soft expression as he twisted a cloud of indigo magic around his wrists.
Mariah swallowed. Andrian wasn’t there, but she wasn’t entirely sure where he’d gone, either.
Having him back restored a piece of herself, but there was something still off. He was physically here, his scent and magic and presence as real as the trees around them. Yet he’d been quiet and standoffish as they’d traveled, not saying much even as his shadows coiled loosely down his arms.
That, on its own, wasn’t particularly unusual; being grumpy and aloof were some of Andrian’s defining qualities. Something about it now felt different, though, like he hadn’t yet decided if this was real.
At least he’d stayed close to her, always walking at Kodie or Mariah’s side. He’d glanced at her a few times, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Mariah let out a heavy sigh and pushed to her feet. She supposed she needed to find him—they all needed rest, even him.
“Is Andrian taking watch?” she asked Callamus. The god’s gaze dropped from the sky, landing on her as he shook his head.
“I will take watch tonight.” He gestured to Mariah’s tent, and for the first time she noticed the soft flickering glow emanating from within it. Callamus smiled faintly. “He needs you.”
Mariah hesitated, glancing between the god and the tent. Something strange wound through her chest, an unusual, unfamiliar feeling.
Nervousness? Why was she nervous? This was Andrian. After everything they’d endured over the past months, there was nothing that could come between them.
But she couldn’t shake the memory of that pained look in his eyes when she’d kissed him.
Steeling her spine, Mariah gave Callamus a soft “good night” and slipped into her tent.
Andrian sat on one of the bedrolls, a leg propped up, reading something in his lap. His eyes—those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes—shot up when she entered, but he otherwise didn’t move.
Mariah stood in the entrance for a moment, hands twisting together as she held his gaze.
She debated what to say. Ask him what he was reading? How he was feeling? How the travel was going? Was he excited to be in his mother’s country?
None of those things felt right. None of those things were what she truly wanted to know.
She’d never minced her words; especially not with him. If there was one thing they’d always been good at, it was their honesty.
Sort of.
Mariah drew in a breath and asked the only thing she desperately needed to know.
“What happened to you in Khento?”
Andrian stilled. Even the rise and fall of his chest ceased. The muscles in his arms tensed, shadows coiling down his shoulders.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he heaved a massive exhale. He quietly closed his book and slid it to the ground beside him, too fast for Mariah to see the cover. Leaning forward, he rested an elbow on his bent knee, and when he reopened his eyes, his gaze didn’t meet hers.
“You shouldn’t have found me,” he finally said, so quiet she almost missed it.
Mariah crossed her arms. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“No,” Andrian said. “But it’s the truth. You shouldn’t have found me.” He paused. “I shouldn’t have found you. You aren’t safe with me, Mariah.”
“Why?” she pressed. “Because of your connection to Kol? I burned that out of you. The day we bonded, I removed him. You’re free of him, Andrian.”
He didn’t answer. Only pressed his full lips into a thin line, head falling forward so the dark strands of his hair brushed across his brow.
Mariah stepped further into the tent, irritation flashing through her. She knew it was unfair of her to feel that way—he’d been very upfront, over and over again, about how little he valued himself or his own existence.
That didn’t mean she had to tolerate it. Not anymore. He was hers.
“I know there’s more.” She sat beside him on the bedrolls. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for his rain and sandalwood scent to hit her. “Just tell me.”
Andrian slowly lifted his head. Gods, she wanted to fall into him every time he looked at her.
Would that feeling ever end?
He parted his lips, then closed them, brow twisting. More frustration bubbled up in Mariah until he ran a lazy hand through his hair, heaving another sigh.
“Do you trust Callamus?”
Mariah blinked. Of all the questions, that certainly hadn’t been what she expected. “I do.”
Andrian nodded. “I do, too.” Silence, then: “Are all the gods awake?”
There it was. The one question that would lead to an answer Mariah didn’t want to give. One she’d been avoiding for weeks, toeing right up to the line and then sprinting away.
She gave it anyway. Because she was tired of running.
“Yes,” she said quietly, voice cracking into a whisper. “Yes, they’re all awake. Because…because of me.”
Memories flooded her before she could stop them. Gods, she’d been so good at holding it all back. But it was as if being here, being alone with him, had her heart cracking open and pouring forth all those things she’d fought so hard to keep buried.
The sobs of terror from her brother.
The bellows of rage from her father.
The gasps of horror from the crowd.
The drip, drip, drip of her mother’s blood.
The dam holding everything at bay crumbled. For the true first time since that fateful, terrible day, Mariah tucked her legs into her chest and let herself feel.
All of it.
All the horror and pain and loss that had plagued her for weeks. All the failure, all the incompetence, all the weakness.
“The gods are awake because of me,” she whispered again. “And my mother is dead…because of me.”
She didn’t know she was crying until the tears splashed on her arms, rolling off her skin to soak into the soft blankets beneath her.
“Fuck, nio.” Gods, that name. It rumbled from Andrian as if carried on a current, wrapping around her even as his very real and solid arms did the same.
“I didn’t mean—” He pulled her up and into him.
She wrapped her body around his on instinct, her face burrowing into his chest. She felt his swallow, the shaky way he drew his next breath.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t ever let him convince you it was. You are blameless in all of this.”
She shook her head. “Don’t lie to me, Andrian. You promised me you’d never do that again.”
He didn’t answer; only tightened his grip around her.
They fell into a silence, and she fell into him.
It hurt. It all hurt so gods-damned much. Not just the memories—the way he was still withholding things from her, the way he was back but had never felt so far away, the way she just wanted to fix it but didn’t know the first place to start.
And for her, sometimes a distraction was the only way to evade the suffocating panic of being trapped by her own mind.
When that dam inside her burst, all her emotions swam freely, and it was too easy for the heated ones to make their way to the surface. Her brokenness was crushing, but the feel of his skin against hers—his solid warmth, his masculine scent—was a soothing balm to all her rough edges.
Last night, they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, skin to skin. But that had been out of bone-tired relief and soul-cleaving thankfulness.
Now, with all those wounds still raw and open and aching, even with him not willing to share everything with her, energy charged between them.
It was always like this, in truth. Something magnetic and unstoppable. How even without words, everything about them just fit.
Two shattered souls, just searching for a moment of something better.
Mariah felt Andrian’s heart beat faster beneath his ribs. His fingers tightened on her skin, gripping the back of her head and her upper thigh.
She shifted in his lap, untucking her leg so she straddled his hips. She lifted her head, leaning back to meet his gaze.
Gods, the way he looked at her. Did she deserve to be looked at like that? With such raw desperation, fire flickering behind the purple blue of his eyes, dark hair already mussed and falling across a brow that always seemed to pull into an incessant frown?
It didn’t matter. She may not deserve it, but she had it, nonetheless. She shifted again, catching the hard ridge of him between them.
Heat—that dangerous, intoxicating, addictive heat—ignited in her, filling her veins before settling low. She slid her hands up his chest, running them over his shoulders, watching as the shadows there slipped between her fingers.