Chapter 71
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Andrian gritted his teeth with each rap of his knuckles on the simple wooden door. The house was tucked down the mountainside near the lake on the outskirts of Eyarfell. It was quaint and quiet, birds trilling in the thick foliage overhead.
The peacefulness didn’t calm the nervousness swirling beneath his ribs.
“Hey.” A warm, familiar hand rested on his forearm. Mariah gave him a soft smile. “Are you all right?”
Andrian winced. “I should be the one asking you.” His gaze slid to the softly glowing tattoos wrapping around her hands, crawling up her arms. They still hadn’t talked about it; all that had happened to her in the staor. Why she had those Marks. What she might’ve awakened in the gods’ plane.
Why the Oracle had collapsed at the sight of them, that cursed prophecy on her lips.
He was willing to wait until Mariah was ready. But he also worried about what they might be up against.
The man he’d been a year ago would’ve scoffed at how much he cared. The man he was now couldn’t imagine caring any less.
“I,” Mariah said, tugging back his wandering attention, “am fine. I’m also not the one about to meet a family member who up until a few weeks ago I didn’t know existed.
” She lightly squeezed his arm, the touch reassuring and grounding and perfect.
Down their bond, he felt her quiet strength, her unwavering energy.
He’d nearly forgotten what it was like to share that connection with her. How it felt to be linked to her. How much he’d come to value and crave that level of closeness.
Their new ability to share words down it was also a new development. One he couldn’t deny gave him a bit of a thrill.
Hopefully there wasn’t another secret hidden with that new gift, as well.
Andrian swallowed, staring back at the plain door. The handle twisted and it opened, revealing a pretty young woman with strawberry-blonde hair, freckled cheeks, and round brown eyes.
On her hip bounced a baby boy, blond curls falling across his red cheeks, soft gray eyes wide and watching.
Mariah’s hand dropped from his arm, turning her warm smile on the woman and her son. Andrian shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, palms suddenly damp.
“Hi.” He swallowed another wince. “You don’t know me. But I’m—”
“Andrian?” the young woman interrupted, tears springing into her eyes.
Andrian could hardly steady his feet before she lurched forward, her and her infant son crashing into his chest. Her small arms flung around him, the scent of honey and freshly baked bread and the soft sweetness of her son following her.
“I knew you would come,” she murmured, voice muffled and thick with tears. “Gabriel said there was no way, that you were with the queen and you wouldn’t come north. But I was right.” She hiccupped, squeezing him tighter. “I was right.”
“I…” Andrian didn’t know what to say. Was it panic swimming through his chest, beating his heart faster? He shot a glance at Mariah over the woman’s—over his sister-in-law’s—head, finding her gaze soft and lined with tears.
She must’ve seen that panic in his expression. The corners of her mouth tugged into a smile, and she opened her arms, gesturing a hug.
Right. Return the hug.
Carefully, slowly, he wrapped his arms around his brother’s wife, careful not to jostle his nephew. The babe's wide gray eyes still watched him, open and curious.
“I wasn’t supposed to come north,” Andrian heard himself saying. “But…plans changed. Gabriel told me to find you. I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to do so.”
His sister-in-law sniffled. She wiped her eyes hastily, color flushing into her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she said, laughing softly to herself. “How unladylike of me to assail you like that. I haven’t even properly introduced myself!”
Mariah rested a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “It’s quite all right,” she said. “I can’t imagine how isolating it’s been, being in a strange country all alone.”
She turned slowly to Mariah, her already-wide eyes growing comically wider. “Oh, my gods,” she breathed out. “You are—”
“Family.” Mariah’s interruption was firm. “To you, that’s all I am.”
The woman’s cheeks flushed. She adjusted her baby on her hip, gaze dancing between them. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I know we’ve never met. But Gabriel has told me so much about you. You left home so young, but I hope you know how much he looked up to you.”
Emotion burned in Andrian’s throat. “I’m sure whatever Gabriel told you was exaggerated. He’s a bit of an idealist.”
The woman smiled softly. “He might be,” she said, “but he wasn’t lying when he said I would know you by your eyes.”
Warmth crawled up Andrian’s neck. “It’s a little embarrassing that you know so much about me, and all I know about you is that you’re married to my brother.”
The woman froze, then blanched. “Oh, by the goddess!” she exclaimed, free hand covering her mouth. Balancing her son on her hip, she dipped into an awkward curtsy, wobbling slightly. “I’m Claire. And this is my son, Nicolas.” She lifted her gaze. “Your nephew.”
“Don’t do that.” Andrian moved before he spoke, softly gripping Claire’s elbow and pulling her to her feet. “Like Mariah said, we’re family.”
Claire’s cheeks flushed again. “You know that means little in our world.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re not in that world anymore, isn’t it?”
Claire whirled at Mariah’s words, again looking flustered as she bounced Nicolas on her hip. She regarded Mariah with those wide, open eyes, throat bobbing as if she were trying to decide what to say.
“Why don’t you both come in,” she finally said, stepping back toward her open door. “I don’t have much, but I can make some tea, if you’d like?”
Mariah smiled. “Tea would be lovely.”
They followed Claire into the cottage. The scent of fresh bread and cinnamon greeted them, the cool mountain air blowing through the few open windows chasing away the heat from the simple hearth.
Andrian blinked in surprise; it was unusual for a lady of Claire’s station to be comfortable living so domestically or to know how to cook at all.
He remembered Gabriel saying she was from Tolona, but beyond that…
“Where are you from, Claire?” Mariah must’ve been thinking the same thing, her question clear in the small room. He glanced at her, catching her stare and her smirk.
“Your thoughts aren’t exactly quiet, you know.”
Oh. “I truly have no more privacy, then?”
“Don’t act so put-out, Armature. You’re not fooling anyone.”
He couldn’t stop his grin. Fine.
Claire set Nicolas down on a mat near the hearth, toys and blankets spread around him, before turning to her simple kitchen.
She set a kettle filled with water on the stove and pulled three pewter mugs from a cabinet.
Mariah lingered in the middle of the room, attention divided between the lady making tea and her infant cooing softly on the floor.
Something in Andrian’s chest tightened. He knew what being an Onitan queen meant; everyone knew. It made sense that carrying the grace of a goddess would change more than just someone’s soul, but their physical body as well.
Mariah had certainly never been the motherly type. But what if there was a part of her that mourned a future she would simply never have?
“I’m sorry.”
She turned, head tilting. “For what?”
Andrian’s gaze slid quickly to Nicolas, then back to Mariah. He said nothing else down the bond; she would understand.
Her brow furrowed. “That—”
“My family is from Tolona.” They both started at Claire’s voice, turning back to the kitchen with sheepish faces.
The lady didn’t notice, busy spooning tea leaves into the mugs.
“My father was a merchant who did a lot of business with Idrix. He met Lord Laurent through a business venture with Lord Cordaro and brought me to Antoris with him on one of his trips. I knew the purpose in bringing me was to meet Lord Laurent’s younger son, but…
” She flushed again, tucking a strand of red-gold hair behind her ear.
“When I met Gabriel, I didn’t mind it so much. He was always so kind to me.”
“You were lucky,” Andrian said softly. “Matches like yours aren’t always so well-suited.”
“I know. I thank the goddess every day.”
Mariah winced slightly but said nothing.
“Until the venture with the Royals, my father was…less than fortunate in his business.” It was Claire’s turn to grimace.
“My upbringing was vastly different from most ladies who might marry into a Royal house. But it’s why Gabriel knew he could send me away if he needed to.
” Those wide brown eyes lifted, filled with a steady grit that shocked Andrian.
“I am more than capable of taking care of myself and my son, if necessary.”
Mariah padded forward, stopping beside Claire at the counter. The water had started to boil in the kettle, and Mariah lifted it from the stove, pouring the steaming liquid over the fragrant tea leaves.
“I knew you were strong the moment I saw you,” Mariah murmured. “This world loves to break strong women. I’m glad it didn’t get the chance to break you.”
Claire swallowed. “Your Majesty—”
“Mariah.” Mariah’s voice was gentle yet firm.
Claire blushed. “Mariah,” she said slowly, tentatively, as if testing out the name. “You speak as if this world has broken you. But you are the Queen of Onita. You are stronger than I could ever hope to be.”
Andrian’s stomach lurched, but he held his tongue and his thoughts. Especially as Mariah smiled, though it didn’t ease the sadness around her eyes.
“Power isn’t the same as strength, sister.”
“Please, take some! It’s such a long walk back up the mountain to the city!”
Mariah pushed the bundle of freshly baked bread back into Claire’s arms. “Don’t give us your food,” she said with a laugh. “We ate plenty already. We’ll be fine.”
Claire hesitated, but relented and nodded, setting the bread on the kitchen counter. She turned to Andrian, tears springing into her eyes, her bottom lip quivering.