Page 28 of Threaded

She pulled herself from those thoughts with a shake of her head, meeting the queen’s ocean-blue gaze once again. Ryenne smiled at her, softly, kindly, before she spoke.

“Now, Mariah, this will be a lesson in learning to speak to your magic. It is not a matter of control, not truly; the magic is a part of you, yes, but it still ultimately belongs to the Goddess, and at many times will serve its own purposes. The queen’s gift is different from all other magic in that way—we do not bend and warp our power to our will, but instead seek a partnership with it, a unified bond.” As she was speaking, Ryenne had lifted a hand, and from her fingers delicate drops of golden light spilled out, wrapping in a thin rivulet around her hand and fingers before soaking back into her skin, leaving behind a lingering glow. The queen looked back to Mariah, smiling at the awe Mariah didn’t try to hide.

“The magic manifests itself—both physically and internally—differently to each queen. As you can see, the magic has always been like water to me. I can pull out single droplets, a stream, or a wave, depending on the need. And when it is—was”—Ryenne faltered slightly before composing herself, continuing—“at rest within me, it felt like a lake or an ocean. Some great body of water.

“To start, I want you to close your eyes. Focus your attention and energyinsideyourself, beyond your physical being. Find that place deep within where that power now resides. And I want you to tell me what you see, what you feel.”

Mariah closed her eyes, obeying the queen’s demand. It didn’t take much thought or focus to find what Ryenne referred to. She’d felt that place the queen spoke of since the day she’d received the letter on her twenty-first birthday.

And, no more than a few seconds later, there it was—an inky black pit at the center of her being, and within it two spheres of glowing light. She drifted her consciousness a bit closer, closer, trying to get a better look at what those clusters of light were made of.

Then she saw it and was able to make out each and every individual strand of both silver and gold light.

“Threads,” she said, her eyes still closed. “It looks like threads. All wound together in a massive ball.”

Mariah expected a reaction from the queen, some sort of praise, but instead … nothing. She cracked her eye back open to find Ryenne regarding her with a stunned expression.

“That was … quick.” Ryenne smiled slightly, but her shock made the movement stiff. “And … threads? That’s what you feel? Are … are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” Mariah answered firmly, her confusion at the queen’s reaction like pin-pricks in her belly. “Is … That’s not a bad thing, is it?” Of course, it would be just her luck to not only have her life upheaved in a single day, but also for the magic that caused the very disruption to be wrong in some way.

However, Ryenne quickly regained her composure, the shock vanishing from her face. “No, there is nothing wrong with that at all,” she assured Mariah. “If anything, I’m jealous it has manifested for you in such a physical form. You cannotimaginehow difficult it was for me to learn how to grab onto and build a bond with droplets of water.” She laughed, the sound only slightly forced as it tinkled from her throat.

But Mariah wasn't convinced. She did not, however, push the issue, content to accept the simple explanation for what it was instead of giving herself yet another thing to lose her sleep over.

Ryenne met Mariah’s gaze again, her smile still tight, before she pushed forward with her lesson. “Now that you have found your magic, I want you to try to do exactly what I did earlier. I want you to reach into that place and coax out a single thread, draw it up through your veins, into your skin, and then to your fingers. Remember—it is not about control. You make the request, and then build the bond.”

Mariah nodded once before again closing her eyes, turning her attention back to that dark place illuminated by silver and gold light within her soul. She dove down, the masses within her growing larger and larger the deeper she went. She looked first to the great tangle of silver, its wildness eager andalive.Something about it called to a feral part of her, a part that craved blood and ruin and vengeance but also sought freedom and joy and laughter—

She turned from the silver mass suddenly, whipping her attention away and towards its golden twin beside it. Those feelings … they would consume her, devour her, and she would let them.

She couldn’t let that happen. For some reason, the longer she stayed in the palace, the more determined she was to make the most of her situation. To take these new obligations seriously, to earn her place here amongst those who ruled their kingdom behind gilded doors and raised daises.

So, Mariah moved closer to the mass of golden threads dwelling deep in her soul, the lengths of magic coiled so neatly compared to the chaos of its silver sister. She reached a part of her consciousness into that golden mass, and the threads instantly leaped to her, as if they’d been eagerly awaiting her invitation and arrival. A bundle of gold wrapped around her consciousness, twining into her being, warming her with comforting light that chased away all thoughts of wickedness.

Where the silver threads had emitted feelings of wild darkness, these golden threads felt only of tamed light.

Just one, she thought to herself, to the threads crawling around her.I only need one.

Slowly, those threads peeled off her, almost reluctantly, leaving behind a single, shimmering thread of golden light. Alone, in her mind’s eye, Mariah marveled at its beauty, studying it just as it studied her.

At her metaphysical back, she could feel threads of silver licking at her with curiosity.

She ignored them. She was curious, but … something told her to explore that part of her in private.

It was difficult to predict what might happen if she were told to procure golden threads for Ryenne, only for that light to manifest as silver.

Shoving that aside, she wrapped herself around the single golden thread, and rose out of the void inside her and back into her physical body. She became aware again of her breathing, of the breeze swirling her hair, of her heart beating steadily in her chest.

And then there was that thread.

It followed her up, sitting just in the pit of her stomach, in that same spot where she’d felt so much roiling in the days after her birthday. Remembering Ryenne’s words, she beckoned it into her veins, pulling it forward to her arms, to her skin, and then opened her eyes just as she gently coaxed it into her fingertips.

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs as she beheld that delicate golden thread twisting and winding between her fingers, around her hand, the feeling as it moved along her skin both foreign and familiar.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, a true smile finally touching her lips. “It’s … beautiful.”

“Yes,” Ryenne’s voice was soft and sad. “It is.”

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