Page 87 of Threaded

Andrian whipped his head up at the mention of her name. Sebastian saw a look in his eyes, one he’d never seen before. It was almost like … panic? But that couldn’t be right. He blinked once, trying to control his surprise.

“Are you asking me if I intend to escort her? Are you fuckingmad?”

“Seems like a valid question to me, considering that you’ve spent every waking moment of the last week with her.”

Andrian grimaced—actuallygrimaced—before downing the rest of his drink. “Just because I’ve been fucking her doesn’t mean I want to escort her to the damnPorofirat,” he muttered into his empty glass.

Sebastian’s blood went both hot and cold. “I know you better than that, Andrian. I know you don’t mean that.”

Another grunt. He was quiet for a moment, and then he muttered, almost to himself, “You know why I can’t.He’llbe there.”

Of course. Sebastian did know.

ThePorofiratwas a presentation of the queen apparent to all the nobility of not only Onita, but the continent. And of course, that meant that the lords of Onita would be in attendance, including the Royals. Mariah had met the Royals before, but this would be on a much larger scale, and much more public.

It also meant that Lord Laurent—Andrian’s father—would be in attendance. Would be watching Andrian’s every move, and of course where Mariah was in relation to him.

Sebastian didn’t quite know why his father’s presence always set Andrian on edge, or where Mariah fit into that puzzle. But what he did know was that he’d never seen the man look more anxious, more vulnerable, moreterrifiedthan he did when his father was in the palace. Sebastian continued watching Andrian for a few more minutes; the two men—brothers, in every way it counted—sitting in silence at the grimy, destitute bar.

To Sebastian’s surprise, it was Andrian who spoke next.

“You should do it. Escort her, I mean.” He paused. “You’re better for her than I am, anyway.”

And with those words, it all snapped into place for Sebastian. Everything Andrian had done, had said, made absolute sense. Sebastian still had a piece of his heart with Mariah—always would—but any lingering traces of jealousy vanished from his mind. All he felt was a sense of true, bone-deep sadness for his friend, for the man who, for some reason, thought himself unworthy of anything that could bring him joy.

He sent a quick prayer up to the Goddess—to any god who would listen, really—that Andrian would one day be able to find the happiness he seemed to believe he didn’t deserve.

Sebastian clasped his hand on Andrian’s shoulder, gripping him firmly. He pulled the other man off the bar stool, tossing a few coins from his pocket onto the stained and grimy bar.

“Come on. No more sitting here with your misery drinking shitty whiskey. Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER39

Mariah rubbed at her eyes with her fingertips, the tension and exhaustion behind them like a lead weight.

Huffing a breath, she reopened her heavy eyelids, her gaze wandering around the table she sat at, avoiding the ancient texts sprawled open in front of her.

Most of her Armature, plus Ciana and Delaynie, were spread around the three expansive research tables in the center of the library, directly below the great glass skylight roof above. Everyone was entrenched in various tasks—some more so than others. Sebastian and Drystan sat beside Mariah, deep in a quiet discussion, not noticing her wandering attention. Quentin and Ciana were seated at the next table over, bickering over something likely unrelated to the books lying open on the polished wood. Then there was Matheo, strolling amongst the nearby stacks, restlessness urging him to his feet to stalk through the racks before returning to the tables, more volumes in his arms.

Mariah had bonded with Matheo the night before. After the Uroboros, an inner urge had swept over her to take those next steps with each of her Armature, the power those bonds might bring her becoming almost necessary to her very survival.

Of course, there was one significant block to that plan, but she didn’t often let herself dwell there for too long.

A part of her had dreaded completing the bond with Sebastian’s younger brother, fearing what could’ve been an incredibly awkward moment for the three of them. She now realized, however, her fear was both unfounded and unwarranted. Even throughout the intensity of the bonding, her thoughts of Andrian had consumed her. The itch brought on by tanzanite eyes had been scratched, but she also knew there would be no going back. Because of that … complication, she was fully capable of keeping the bonding confined to a process that, while still incredibly intimate, was also wholly platonic.

Matheo, the youngest of her Armature but still six years her senior, had struggled slightly to hide his disappointment, but recovered quickly, nonetheless.

It also didn’t escape Mariah’s attention that, unlike the golden bond between herself and Sebastian, it was the silver magic in her veins that now bridged her soul to Matheo’s. And she was still not quite sure what to think of that.

Which was partly why they were all now back in the library, poring over ancient texts and searching for answers about what it was that might lie beneath her skin.

“All I can seem to find is that Qhohena’s magic summoned the dragons. That one thing is consistent across all the texts. But as far as more details, or any other sort of magic blessed by the Goddess, there is just … nothing.”

Drystan’s voice snapped Mariah out of her thoughts.

She’d almost forgotten that she’d instructed her court to look not just at information on sources of unusual power, but the other magic, the one she’d assumed there might be more records of.

Those golden threads in her veins. Qhohena’s magic.

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