Chapter 82
Mariah quietly snuck from her and Andrian’s tent before the sun had crested the horizon, when the waning moons still hung heavy in the sky. The summer air was warm, especially in this part of Onita; dew sparkled on the meadow grasses, butterflies flicking between the wildflowers.
None of them black, though. She hadn’t seen the small insect that had haunted her after Khento in so long. She often thought it might’ve been a figment of her imagination, something her mind had crafted in the aftermath of trauma.
Did it really matter if it was?
Her footfalls were silent as she padded into the open meadow. She sat in the grass, savoring this stillness, and tilted her head to the sky.
This moment…she felt like she’d lived it before. It reminded her of that last morning before heading back into Khento with her Armature, filled with desperate hope for a successful rescue of her family.
There had been eight of them then. And only three of them now. As terribly as Khento had gone, where they were headed was likely to be so much worse.
Was she making a mistake by forging ahead instead of waiting for her allies? What would happen if they returned to Leuxrith and rallied everyone she could to her before meeting Kol in the open?
Mariah sighed heavily, stirring the humid air. No. She remembered what happened the last time she waited, the last time she followed advice to be careful with her movements.
She’d thought strategizing would help her fix her mistakes. Fix the fact that she’d failed to protect her family. All it had earned her was her mother dead, bleeding out over a pile of aberrant, a sacrifice to set a dark god free.
Never again. Never again would she hesitate like that. There would be no more waiting; not from her. Not for this.
Canvas rustled behind her. Booted footsteps stalked through the meadow.
A bond that never closed rippled with magic, the scent of rain and sandalwood wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.
Andrian settled in the grass, propping his forearms on his bent knees.
Mariah said nothing; she just tipped to the side, resting her head on his muscled shoulder, her gaze never leaving the sky.
It was filling with color, the purples and pinks and oranges of dawn.
They sat like that long enough for the chirping of the birds to fill out, for the sky to brighten enough to dim the light from the setting moons.
“Nio.”
Andrian’s brow was creased like he was lost in thought, and from their bond she could feel everything that warred in him.
Which meant his next words were no shock to her.
“I don’t know if we’re ready for what we’re walking into. I will follow you anywhere, but…” He swallowed, throat bobbing. “I’m worried. I’m afraid.”
Mariah closed her eyes. “I know.” And she did. Fear is what had chased her from sleep that morning.
But as she’d decided long ago, she was done letting her life be dictated by fear.
“I can’t stop,” she whispered. “No matter how afraid I am. Not when we’re so close.”
“I know,” he said, echoing her words. “I know.”
A tenseness filled their silence that was not there before.
Mariah dropped her gaze to her hands. The opalescent Marks wound around her wrists, pulsing softly in the dim light. The eyes hidden within the leafy vines stared at her, unblinking, like an eerie presence she could never shake.
“When I was in the staor,” she said quietly, “I saw something.”
Andrian’s stare warmed her face.
“Not just something,” she continued. “Someone. A being that exists above the gods. A being that created the gods.” She swallowed thickly. “The Crieré.”
“You mentioned this before,” Andrian said. “Callamus said they Marked you. That your fate belongs to them now.”
Mariah nodded. “It’s more than that, though.” She raised her head, the first rays of the sun stretching across the sky. “I spoke to them.”
“I also assumed that. What did they say?”
“I’m…still not sure.” Mariah toyed with a blade of grass. “They told me that in order to be ready, I had to fail.”
“Fail?” Andrian dipped his head, catching her gaze. Urgency shone in his blue eyes. “They told you that you were going to fail, and you still want to move forward with this? Now?”
“It’s not that simple.” Mariah frowned. “Yes, it sounded like they were telling me of something that hadn’t yet happened.
But they also told me time works differently to them.
That they exist beyond time. So, what if—” Her stare caught on the ring on her finger, the achingly familiar gemstone sparkling in the dawn light.
“What if what happened in the spring was that failure? What if I’ve already failed, and now I’m ready, and if I don’t move now I won’t have a chance again?”
“And what if you’re wrong?” Andrian challenged. His tone was tight; shadows danced along his shoulders. “What if we are walking into your failure right now? What if they gave you that warning so you could recognize that truth and ready yourself without failing first?”
Mariah tightened her jaw. Resolve flooded her—and yes, it was resolve born from hate and anger and vengeance. All the broken parts of her that she’d never bothered to piece back together, choosing to welcome the pain instead.
“I’m not.”
She put a force into those two words that she knew he heard. He slung his arms back over his knees, shoulders tight, but said nothing further.
Mariah wished he would let it go. He would follow her no matter what; of that she was more than certain. She knew he trusted her.
His fear—the fear she could feel, too—was starting to hurt, when all she craved was focused numbness.
“It’s barely sunrise and you’re already fighting?” Matheo grumbled, steps heavy in the grass. “I suppose the honeymoon phase had to end sometime.” He dropped heavily to the ground on Mariah’s other side, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn.
Though Mariah was still frustrated, still worried, still feeling too much, she couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“We’re not fighting,” she said. “Just talking.”
Matheo snorted. “Right.” There was humor in his words, but Mariah didn’t miss the way his hazel eyes glazed over. Like he was thinking about something—or someone—he wished were here but wasn’t.
“I’m happy for you, you know.”
Matheo’s cheeks flushed with color. “I, um…” He cleared his throat. “Why?”
Mariah bumped her shoulder into his, laughing softly. “You know why.”
Matheo rubbed the back of his neck, his blush crawling higher into his cheeks. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“What, that you were following Signe around like a puppy with stars in your eyes?” She scoffed. “Of course, I noticed. And it makes me happy.”
Matheo met her gaze. Though he was a few years older than her, at that moment, he looked younger than Ellan. “Really? It does?”
“Yes, Matheo.” Mariah grabbed his wrist, looping her arm through his. “It makes me happy to see you happy. You deserve that—you all deserve that. When this is over, I hope you let yourself have it. It’s a special kind of magic to find someone who sees all of you and loves you for it.”
The smile Matheo gave her was blinding. “You see me, Mariah.”
“I’m your queen. Of course, I see you.” She squeezed his arm. “But Signe can give you something that I can’t. And I hope that if it's something you want, you’ll take it.”
The three of them fell back into an easy silence, the tenseness from earlier washed away by Matheo’s warmth. The sun crawled higher into the sky, chasing away the lingering night.
“Have you checked in on the others?” Matheo asked, his question nearly making Mariah jump.
She swallowed heavily. No, she hadn’t. She wished there was a good reason that she hadn’t opened her bonds, but the truth was that she just didn’t want to. She didn’t want to know how bad it was. She didn’t want to feel their misery, their terror, their uncertainty.
She knew it made her a terrible person. A horrible queen. She was selfish and despicable and immature and weak. She knew all of this about herself, swam in the knowledge of it, bathed in all the ways she had abandoned them.
This was what the world had made her. It had stolen all those redeeming things about her, replacing them with a single, driving purpose.
Complete this last mission. This final task. End the darkness, so maybe she could one day find the light again.
So she could maybe find the strength to heal.
“Yes. They’re managing. And they need us to end this,” Mariah lied, pushing it past her teeth. She stood, hoping neither of them would notice. “I’ll start readying the horses, if you two can break down camp.”
Matheo grumbled but obeyed, padding back to camp. Andrian lingered for a moment, his gaze on her heavy.
He knew she was lying. He always seemed to know.
He said nothing, though. The sun scorched Mariah’s skin as she readied the horses, her Marks flickering in the heat.