Chapter 78
Mariah dropped her bag onto the grass of the cliffside knoll. She knelt beside it, carefully slipping her dagger into one of the pockets. The black dragon wings gleamed in the afternoon sun, almost mocking.
Not for the first time, she wondered how she could have been so blind.
Mariah shook her head. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. There was no point dwelling on the past; not when the future yawned before them, daunting and ominous.
She supposed she could’ve shifted and left the dagger strapped to her thigh, as she had in the past. Somehow the magic of the change always preserved the things she wore. But knowing now what this truly was and not understanding exactly how her god magic worked, she didn’t want to risk it.
Two more thuds sounded in the grass beside her.
Andrian and Matheo adjusted the weapons strapped to their bodies, loosened after their climb up the cliff.
That was one thing Mariah would not miss about Eyarfell: all the climbing.
Yet there was nowhere else in the city where two dragons could take flight.
She would miss the beauty of this place, though.
“Are you sure about this, Mariah?” Callamus waited at the edge of the cliff, indigo hair blowing lightly in the breeze.
“What isn’t there to be sure about?”
Callamus crossed his arms. “You go alone. No army, no allies. Only two of your Armature. I will stand with you, but that is all you have. I would counsel you to wait, even though I know you will not.”
“You’re right. I won’t.” Mariah stood, hands tightening into fists. “I waited too long before and lost my mother because of it. I won’t be making the same mistake again.”
Callamus sighed, and though he looked like he had more he wanted to say, he simply nodded.
Mariah faced Andrian and Matheo. Andrian’s longsword was secured across his back, another blade belted at his waist, more daggers on his thighs.
A bow and quiver were secured tightly to Matheo, a curved sword at his hip.
Their armor was lightweight yet solid, the kind perfect for both travel and war.
They looked like warriors. They were warriors. They were her friends, her partners, her guards. One of them was a love she’d never thought was possible.
She wished all seven were here, but she was happy to at least have them.
“I suppose it’s time to—” Footsteps crunched up the path, halting Mariah’s words in her throat.
Signe appeared over the rise, cheeks flushed, long black hair flowing in the breeze. Matheo straightened, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Decided to join us after all?”
Signe glanced at Matheo with a smile, though there was a certain sadness to it that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t want me with you on this; trust me. I am no warrior.”
Matheo’s smile fell and he opened his mouth, then closed it. “How’s your grandmother?”
“The Oracle is recovering, but she still needs me.” Signe swung her violet stare back to Mariah. “She reminded me of something, actually. Something I need to tell you about before you leave.”
Mariah cocked her head, curious. “There’s always something more with you, isn’t there?”
Signe’s mouth twitched. “I’m a seer. It’s what I do—tell people things they don’t want to hear when they least want to hear it.”
Mariah chuckled softly. “At least you’re self-aware.”
“I know I’ve told you so much,” Signe said, tone shifting into something more earnest. “But this is serious. The Oracle and I—we can’t see you where you go. But we have tried to give you what you need to succeed, even when the darkness clouds the way.”
Mariah’s skin prickled. “Just tell me what I need to know, Signe.”
“Do you remember the play? The one from the eve of the Solstice?”
The play. The one in the cavernous theater, with its rows and rows of private booths, and the resplendent dinner that followed.
The one Mariah most definitely did not watch, choosing to occupy the time in…other ways. She couldn’t stop the flames that licked up her neck and into her cheeks, fueled brighter by the flicker of humor racing down a shadowy bond that never closed.
“Y-yes,” she said, softly clearing her throat. “The play. I remember.”
Signe nodded, not seeming to notice Mariah’s blush.
“Good. I know it was short. But it tells a story that is deeply important to my people. One that has been passed down from generation to generation—a story of one of the first prophecies ever told after Callamus went to rest once the First War was over.”
She took a few more steps forward, grasping Mariah’s hands. “I asked them to perform it—for you. Because I knew you needed to see it. I hoped that if you did, you would understand what it meant.” She paused, eyes searching Mariah’s face. “Did you? Understand it?”
Mariah swallowed. Her heart pounded so violently in her ears, she feared Signe would be able to hear it.
How could she have been so fucking stupid? So reckless? So desperate for a distraction, a return to something normal, that she’d ignored a gift from a friend who had risked everything, again and again, to help her?
She felt the same emotions from Andrian. She reached out to him, desperate for a lifeline.
“You have to trust in yourself, nio. Whether watching that play could’ve helped you or not, you have to trust that whatever comes next, you have all you need to face it.”
It settled her some. Not enough—not nearly enough—but it was good enough to help calm her racing heart.
Mariah gave Signe a nod. “I did. Thank you. I’m ready.”
Signe loosened an exhale of relief, shoulder sagging slightly. “Thank the gods,” she breathed out. Her gaze wandered, first to Andrian, then to Callamus with a nod of respect, and finally to Matheo. That sadness flitted back across her face, flickering in her amethyst eyes.
“Whatever comes next,” she said, “was decided long ago. There is no changing it; all that can be done is to weather the storm and hope you are prepared.” She released Mariah’s hands.
“I will tell the Vigamor to send their forces to Andburgh when they are ready.” With a final, lingering sad smile to Matheo, Signe turned, starting back down the cliffside path.
Matheo looked about ready to chase after her, conflict flowing across his face.
Mariah’s heart tugged in her chest. She went to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“You’ll see her again,” she said. “When this is over, we are all going to finally find the happiness we deserve.”
Matheo smiled and nodded, but his hazel gaze was uncharacteristically muted.
He said nothing further as they finished their preparations.
Light flashed against the setting sun as Mariah and Callamus shifted, leathery wings rustling.
Matheo climbed aboard Callamus, Andrian settling between the ridges of Mariah’s spines.
They leaped into the air, banking south, Signe’s words ringing in Mariah’s mind.
All that can be done is to weather the storm and hope you are prepared.
Mariah ignored the chill worming down her spine. She was ready. She had to be.
Beneath her scales, the Crieré’s Mark burned.