Page 41 of Threaded

The dress was made of soft green velvet, the same shade as the ugly mess Ksee had wanted Mariah to wear. However, instead of a full skirt and capped sleeves, it was form fitting, hugging Mariah’s curves as if it was painted on. The neckline scooped down Mariah’s chest, just enough to highlight her collarbones and a hint of cleavage, but not enough to be scandalous. The sleeves were long, ending at Mariah’s wrists, and the material clung off her shoulders and dipped low on her back to create a stunning silhouette. There was a single slit up the left leg, ending near the middle of her thigh, and a short train pooled beneath her feet. As Mariah surveyed the material closer, she found that the entire gown was adorned with delicate golden designs, swirling up and around the dress, making the material shimmer when she moved.

Ciana’s warm amber gaze met Mariah’s in the mirror. A simple sweep of kohl along Mariah’s lash line had the green of her irises blazing. “Go get ‘em, My Queen.” Ciana winked.

Mariah groaned, but a smile touched her lips.

* * *

Mariah’s Armature waited outside her chambers, all dressed in clothing fit for the occasion. Mariah allowed herself one appreciative sweep of the group, and a few of them—Sebastian, Feran, Drystan—nodded their heads as her gaze briefly met theirs. She ignored the dark figure lingering near the back, the prickle of his blue gaze raising goosebumps to her skin. It wasn’t until she felt that attention drop from her face and sweep down her form and the dress she wore that she finally decided to acknowledge him. Mariah locked her eyes on Andrian then, waiting for his gaze to rise. When their eyes collided, she couldn’t help but smirk.

Caught you.

She turned on her heels and began striding off down the hall, feeling his burning glare as she chuckled softly to herself. Her steps faltered slightly, however, as she remembered his words to her last night.

“I look forward to seeing just how much you come to regret this decision tonight.”

Her mind still whirled from those words.

What had he meant by that? And if he meant it … why had he sworn the oath?

Shaking the thoughts from her head like cobwebs, she strode further down the hallway, finding Ksee, Ryenne, and Ryenne’s Armature waiting for them at the end of the Queen’s wing. Ryenne smiled at Mariah, looking relieved, but Ksee’s glare sparked with flames. Making a point to not look at the priestess, Mariah approached Ryenne and dropped into a graceful curtsey.

“Good afternoon, My Queen.”

Ryenne bowed her head in return, the snowdrop crown of Onita nestled within the golden waves of her hair. Mariah couldn’t help but notice the faint streaks of gray that now slightly dulled the brilliance of that gold as the queen spoke. “Queen Apparent. You look stunning. And, I must say, quite a sight with your new Armature guarding your back.”

Mariah smiled. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. They do clean up nicely.” She turned her head to Sebastian, who now stood on her right, and winked. She caught his soft answering grin in the periphery of her vision as she turned back to face Ryenne, nodding once.

“Shall we?”

Ryenne watched Mariah, her gaze guarded. Whatever the queen was thinking, her expression revealed little. Finally, the queen dipped her head before turning on her heel, leading them down the winding palace corridors.

The Royals waited for them in a cavernous meeting room, the monstrous table within covered with all manner of fine foods: cheeses, fruits, eggs, meats, and even fish fresh from the boats that moored in the docks along the Bay of Nria. Mariah’s mouth watered as her stomach silently grumbled, suddenly wishing she’d forced herself to eat more of her breakfast after that morning’s workout. Especially as she took in those who also occupied the room.

Seated around the table were six men, all of varying ages. Some appeared younger, around the age of Mariah’s Armature, some middle-aged, and one grizzled man who looked to be nearing seventy. And every single set of those male eyes were trained on her, scrutinizing, judging, dissecting. Mariah met each as she followed Ryenne to the head of the table, where two high-backed chairs were placed. Mariah sat to Ryenne’s right, the queen taking her seat in the larger of the two chairs as both their Armatures spread themselves around the room. Mariah could feel their watchfulness, their wariness, as they assumed their posts. The Royals instantly quieted, their attentions turning fully to Ryenne.

“Good morning, My Lords. I trust your travels to Verith were smooth and you have all settled comfortably into your rooms.” Ryenne’s voice rang through the room with practiced ease. The Royals answered with their mumbled thanks, the occasional, “Your Majesty” and “My Queen” interspersed throughout. Not one rose from their chairs or so much as inclined their heads.

Mariah felt her magic stir further in her gut, agitated and frustrated. It was then that she realized the slight, the insolence of these lords to not bow to their queen. She wondered how—or why—Ryenne tolerated it. The queen continued, the lack of decorum shaking her little. “Wonderful. Well, I am conscious of the reason for your journey, so I will not keep you waiting any longer.” She paused, shooting a warning glance at Mariah. Mariah read the words in those ocean-blue eyes as if the queen had spoken them to her directly.

Play nice.

She swallowed hard and dipped her head. But her magic … her magic only twisted harder, rebelling against the order. It was all still so new, so foreign. Mariah shot up a silent prayer that she had the control to keep it restrained within her veins.

Ryenne spoke again, “I would like to formally introduce you all to Qhohena’s Chosen, our new queen apparent, Mariah.”

Mariah dipped her head respectfully to the gathered Royals and the movement … it nearly brought her physical pain. The threads in her veins wrapped around her muscles, her bones, and Mariah fought against them just to bend her neck.

She pushed back the urge to grit her teeth. This meeting was important to her reign. The queen needed the support of the Royals in order to rule.

Her reign. Still such a foreign concept, yet one she unwillingly grew more accustomed to with each passing hour she spent in that palace.

“It is an honor to meet you all, My Lords.”

There was no response to her greeting; only continued stares from the men in that room. Mariah bit her tongue, annoyance rising fast, and bringing with it the silver-gold of her magic. She felt sparks in her mouth and clenched her jaw closed, her vision flashing with light.

Ryenne, thankfully, took over once more. “Mariah, I would like to introduce you to Lord Campion of Kasia, Lord Beauchamp of Sacale, Lord Hareth of Ettervan, Lord Cordaro of Tolona, Lord Laurent of Antoris, and Lord Shawth of Khento.”

Recognizing that as Ryenne’s own family name, Mariah shifted her attention to the Lord of Khento. He was not young, but certainly not old either, with wispy blonde hair, watery blue eyes, and the growing hint of a gut. His entire presence was slimy, and the slight, pervasive sneer he directed at Mariah made her want to crawl out of her own skin.

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