Chapter 71 #2
Andrian couldn’t deny that a similar emotion clogged his throat, too.
They’d been here for hours, talking and drinking tea and eating and watching baby Nicolas play. The sun was now inching toward the horizon, the warmth of the summer days fading, giving way to the coolness of the mountains at night.
Andrian had never had a family member that he could share any sort of kinship with—at least, not for very long.
His father had despised him. His mother had loved him but left him far too soon.
He was never allowed a relationship with his brother, settling instead for a handful of borrowed conversations and a debt that could never be repaid.
So, this? This chance to sit and talk with someone who shared his name, to meet a child who shared his blood?
It overwhelmed him in all the best possible ways.
And each time Mariah laughed or made Claire laugh or won a smile from Nicolas—a surprisingly quiet and reserved baby—Andrian fell for her just a little bit more.
“Will you be back?” Claire asked, folding her hands in front of her.
Andrian glanced at Mariah. “I’m…not sure,” he said. “We could hear from the rest of the court at any moment. When we do, we’ll likely leave. Kol has to be stopped before he leaves us with nothing left to save.”
A single tear rolled down Claire’s freckled cheek, but she nodded. “I understand,” she whispered. She took a tentative step forward, searching his gaze.
He opened his arms and she sprang into the hug, burrowing into him much the same way she’d done when they’d first met.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “for coming. For telling me you last saw my husband alive. I”—she hiccupped— “I worry about him every day.”
“Gabriel is stubborn.” Andrian’s voice was thick. “He won’t leave you here alone. I promise; he will find a way back to you.” He glanced at Mariah over the top of Claire’s head, finding her eyes shining with her own unshed tears. “It runs in the family, I guess.”
Claire nodded and pushed away, wiping her eyes. Mariah hugged her as well, whispering something in her ear that Andrian couldn’t hear.
Crickets were chirping in the evening air as they stepped from the cozy cottage. Claire gave them one final, tear-filled farewell, before closing the door to put her son to bed.
They stood there, silent in the early evening, for a long moment. Mariah softly cleared her throat, slipping her hand into his.
“We should get back.”
The walk up the mountain was much more difficult than the walk down.
Though the night was cool, a sheen of sweat formed over their skin. It shone on Mariah’s brow in the rising moonlight, the stray strands of Andrian’s hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. He fought the urge to grumble as he pushed it back.
He would need another haircut before they left Leuxrith. Had it always grown this fast? Andrian turned to Mariah, about to ask if she would help, when he noticed she was no longer by his side. He halted, twisting on his heel back down the trail.
Mariah had paused on a small overlook on the path, the cliff looking down at the lake and valley below. The wind tugged at her hair, the Marks on her hands and forearms glowing faintly.
“Nio?” He started back toward her. “Are you okay?”
“Just catching my breath.” She cocked her head, smiling. “It’s beautiful here, don’t you think?”
Andrian’s chest swelled. It was so rare that she paused like this.
He wished she would do it more.
He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her into his chest. Leaning his cheek on the top of her head, he inhaled a deep breath of her sweet, perfect scent.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Beautiful.”
He wasn’t talking about the view, and she knew it.
Mariah chuckled softly. “Thank you for taking me with you today.”
Andrian scoffed. “As if I could imagine meeting a family member for the first time with anyone else.”
Mariah paused for a long moment, her finger tracing a pattern on his forearm.
“I think today—and the staor—have made me realize something.”
“Hm?” Andrian pulled back, leaning to the side so he could see her face. “What’s that?”
Mariah worried at her bottom lip. “It’s made me realize I don’t have time to live with regret.” She twisted in his arms so she faced him fully, forest green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Her newly awakened magic glimmered there too, something he hadn’t realized how much he missed.
“I meant what I said on the Solstice,” she said.
Andrian arched a brow. “What thing, specifically?”
Humor glimmered down their bond as she smirked. “That I don’t give a fuck about traditions. I never have.”
“I’m well aware of that, princess.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
Her smile softened. “Good. Then hopefully you’ll understand what I’m trying to tell you.”
He paused, mind blank. He searched through his memories from the Solstice. So much of it was hazy with happiness and love and pleasure, all her soft sighs and sweet tastes and whispered words—
The memory slammed into him. His gaze dropped to her left hand, pressed against his chest.
To the simple tanzanite ring sparkling on her third finger.
His eyes widened, flashing back to hers. His heart thundered under his ribs, shadows slipping into his veins.
“When Kol is defeated,” Mariah said, her voice nearly a whisper, “I am going to make you mine. I am going to stand before everyone—the kingdom, the continent, the gods themselves—and declare that Onita has a queen…and a king.”
Something buzzed in Andrian’s chest. Energy hummed through him, his shadows writhing beneath his skin. Warmth crawled up his throat, down into his stomach, melting every frozen inch.
“Why?” he croaked, struggling to find the words. Struggling to comprehend what this woman—this beautiful, strong, broken, perfect woman—had just said to him.
No one had ever claimed him like that before. It was more than a bond formed by gods. This was a choice—one she didn’t have to make. She wanted him to be hers so badly she was willing to upend five thousand years of tradition to do so.
He didn’t deserve that kind of devotion. He would never be worthy of something like that.
“Oh, yes.” Mariah’s voice pushed into his mind. “You do. You deserve it and everything else that is good in this world. And I’m tired of hearing that you think you don’t.”
“This bond is becoming incredibly annoying.”
“You’re only mad because you can’t hide your destructive self-talk from me anymore.” She spoke her retort out loud, smiling as she did. Tears lined her eyes, but they didn’t spill free. “I’m being serious. I have never been surer of anything in my entire life.”
Andrian pulled in a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “I don’t doubt you, nio,” he murmured. “But is it even possible?”
“Of course, it is. I’m the queen.” She shrugged. “And besides. Why would the ancient Onitans have a word for king if they never meant to use it?”
She had a point.
Andrian’s hand slid up her body, along the soft skin of her neck, fingers winding into the thick roots of her hair. Mariah’s eyes fluttered closed, sweet breath ghosting over his cheek.
“Once this is all over,” she whispered, “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t standing by my side. Not as my Consort or my Armature, but as my equal.”
Andrian’s breathing was shaky, his heart thumping heavily in his throat. “I will never be your equal, Mariah.” He swallowed. “But I’m willing to spend every day of my life trying to be.”
Their kiss was soft and melting and uncharacteristically gentle. Mariah sighed into his mouth, arms wrapping around him. Her tears finally slipped free and he tasted their salt, tinged with bits of her moonlight-coated light.
What was this magic? It was not born from gods or celestial beings or anything lurking behind the hidden folds of their world. It was more ancient, more pure, more potent than any of that. Andrian felt like he could reach up, peel back the sky, and grip the stars if she asked him to.
There was something so incredibly damning about love. He could understand then why so many feared it, why so many tried to squash it away.
His grip around her shoulders tightened. They were alone on this path. It would take no effort at all to pull her away from the cliff and closer to the trees, to drop to his knees and worship her in every way he’d shown her he could—
A shrill cry pierced the night, followed by the unmistakable brush of feathers through the wind.
Andrian knew that cry. Knew the flight pattern that was reserved only for when she wanted to be heard.
Mariah knew it, too. They broke apart, panting softly, and turned to the trees behind them.
Where Cielle was perched, a rolled-up scroll clutched in her talon.