Page 148 of Threaded

His rage still hadn’t subsided, even as they pulled through the palace gates. In fact, the more time passed, the more his fury burned hotter, growing more intense and focused with each passing second.

That monster had called her awhore. Had called his mother—his gentle, timid mother with her stories of her wild northern homeland—nothing more than aLeuxrithianbitch. Andrian had always known there was no love lost between his mother and father: it was an arranged union, forged to broker peace and keep the Onitan border secure.

Andrian let his mind wander back to the day he’d received word of his mother’s demise. How all the warmth in his world was sucked out by his father’s words, telling the tale of how she’d “slipped and fallen” in the kitchens of their keep, her skull cracking on the hard cobblestone flooring.

“A tragic accident,”his father had called it.

But after today, and those hateful words … Andrian no longer believed that to be true. He’d always had his suspicions, but it was if all the puzzle pieces were finally clicking together in his head.

His rage only grew hotter, consuming him like a dying star.

He could feel Mariah’s eyes on him, watching him as they strode through the palace hallways towards her chambers. Andrian wasn’t sure if she could sense his rage was fueled by so much more than the vile words exchanged by the lords, and truthfully, he wasn’t in the mood to explain it to her.

A quiet, softer part of him, the same part still desperately craving the happiness she could give him, gently urged him totell her, totalk to her, to let Mariah wrap him up in her beautiful light and wash away the dark rage devouring him.

The shadowy beast in his veins won, though. The gentle side of him snuffed out until all that was left was anger and hatred and darkness.

He followed Mariah through the doors to her suite and saw Sebastian and Ciana rise from where they were seated on the couches in the living room. Ciana’s face blanched as she took in Mariah’s still-numb expression. There was no need for them to ask how the meeting had gone; it was likely written clearly across Mariah and Andrian’s faces.

Andrian hung back in the archway between the foyer and living room as Mariah moved to her friend, his hands clenched and his jaw tight. He watched Sebastian run a close, inspecting gaze over Mariah, his face flickering with concern. Turning his hazel eyes to Andrian, his stare hardened as he took in the lines of tension and fury woven into every angle of Andrian’s being.

The second their gazes locked, Andrian made a decision.

His queen was home and safe, and there was something he had to do.

“I’m going back out,” Andrian said, the sound of his voice grating against what remained of his control. Mariah whipped around, her unfeeling mask slipping just enough to let her shock permeate through.

He didn’t meet her gaze.

Instead, Andrian leveled his raging stare at Sebastian, letting his thoughts flow through his gaze to the male who’d been raised with him, the male who likely knew him better than anyone else.

She’s in your care, brother. Whether I return or not.

Somehow, by the grace of the gods or goddesses or whoever thefuckwas in control of their miserable existences, Sebastian understood him. He dipped his head in the faintest whisper of a nod. Andrian steeled himself one more time before moving his stare to Mariah, letting himself fall into those forest green depths one last time.

The dam she must’ve had on her emotions was clearly burst, a line of tears now streaming down her face. She looked so … broken, so lost, so desperate for an answer he could sense she was about to come to him for.

An answer he didn’t have, and even if he did, couldn’t give her.

But … he could give her this.

“I love you,nio. No matter what happens, that will always be true.”

Before his resolve could shake, he turned on his heel and strode from her suite. Her choking sobs behind him were a sound that would haunt his nightmares for an eternity.

* * *

The hooves of Andrian’s horse pounded down that pristine paved street, the estates lining it flying by in a blur of frost-covered trees and iron fences.

It wasn’t long before Andrian wheeled up his stallion, turning off the street and through a set of polished, bronze gates. He pulled up on the horse and came to a stop before a proud, gleaming manor house made of ancient golden brick. Servants were milling about the courtyard, loading carriages with various household goods, and many of them turned to look at him with shock written on their faces. He paid them no heed as he swung himself from his horse, the beast’s sides drenched in sweat from their furious ride from the palace, and fixed his gaze on the pale oak doors leading into the Verithian residence of House Laurent.

He strode up the front steps. Kicked in the doors. Anger drove every move he made. More servants inside greeted him, scrambling frantically out of his way as he stalked into the house of a family that had never felt like his.

He’d once thought being Marked was his greatest curse. Now, he realized it was his greatest blessing. It had saved him from spending a lifetime in this gods-damned place, with people who’d barely seen him as anything more than a disappointment.

He may have lost a title that day, but he’d gained a family.

Andrian came to a halt at the end of the foyer, a grand double staircase rising before him.

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