Page 94 of Threaded

He nodded once, attention again trained on her. “Do you know what to expect?”

Did she? “I think so,” she said. “I know that it’s my formal presentation as queen apparent. All the lords of the realm will be in attendance, not just the Royals, as well as representatives from the continent’s other kingdoms.” She felt like she was reciting a line from one of those dusty old tomes in the library, stagnant words with no true feeling behind them.

Sebastian nodded again. “Ryenne will preside over everything, so there isn’t much for you to worry about. Just go where she tells you, shake the hands that are offered, and for the love of all thegods,don’t try to stab anyone.”

Mariah gave him a feral grin. “But that just takes the fun out of it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, the neat, dark strands of his hair brushing his forehead. “You can also select one of your Armature—or, really, anyone—to be your escort. Guide you in your first dance, stand by your side, all that.”

“Dance?!” Mariah knew the basic steps, but she by no means considered herself someone able to step into a royal ballroom and stun a crowd.

“Relax,” Sebastian laughed, his grin slightly crooked. “All your Armature are trained in the steps. Let us lead you and you’ll be fine. Besides, dancing is not so different from sparring, and I know you’re plenty good at that.”

She only eyed him, cocking an eyebrow as his words stretched between them.

“Well, this feels like an easy choice. Obviously, you’ll be escorting me.”

His answering grin was blinding, but a steeled hardness lined his hazel gaze. “Are you sure? There’s not … someone else you’d rather try to make amends with by asking to escort you instead?”

A dry, humorless laugh pulled itself from Mariah’s throat. “Trust me, that would be theworstdecision I could possibly make at this moment.”

Sebastian regarded her thoughtfully for one more moment before sighing heavily. “Of course, Mariah. I would be honored to escort you.” He glanced quickly behind her. “Speaking of which, it’s about time we begin getting ready.” He stood, walking to her side of the table, offering his hand to her. She took it and rose, his warm and masculine scent wrapping around her like a blanket and the feeling of home.

He was so perfect; everything she could ever want and need.

And she despised the part of her that didn’t want him. But she also knew he was someone who would be so easy to fall in love with, and she could never let that happen.

Love is a weakness.

She didn’t want to think about how that weakness was starting to stare back at her with sinister shadows and tanzanite eyes.

* * *

Gazing at her reflection in the large, full-length mirror in her bathroom, Mariah hardly recognized the queen who stared back.

For that was what she looked like: a queen.

Her gown was floor-length, the long train pooling on the ground around her feet, the material the color of the night sky—a black that really was the darkest blue when hit by the light. The short sleeves fell off her shoulders, revealing the muscular slope of her shoulders and collarbones, highlighting the rise of her breasts. Sewn into the dark fabric, curving and threaded in all the right places, were swirling designs of shimmering gold and silver. Somehow, the patterns spoke to Mariah of starlight, loss, change, and power. She blinked, shaking her head slightly at the feeling, and returned her gaze back to the mirror.

“You designed this yourself?”

The young woman behind her, who’d tasked herself to reorganizing Mariah’s collection of beauty tools, turned back around to meet her green gaze in the mirror. She smiled softly and nodded once to Mariah in answer.

“I did indeed, Your Majesty.”

Mariah regarded the girl carefully for a moment. She was on the shorter side; her figure full, with curly, light-brown hair and creamy skin smattered with freckles. Her eyes were a light gray and twinkled with fire and intelligence and somethingotherthat Mariah couldn’t quite place, but the threads of magic in her soul felt and strangely desired to reach out to.

“You said your name was Brie?”

The girl nodded again, hesitant, unasked questions lingering in her gray gaze. Mariah turned her attention back to the mirror and her gown.

“Well, Brie … this dress is truly incredible. It feels like something very different than would be expected for an Onitan queen to wear, but … I love it.”

Brie’s face exploded into a beaming smile, her chest almost puffing up with pride. “I’m deeply honored, Your Majesty. When I was tasked with making it for you by the head seamstress, I … well, please take no offense to this, but I’d heard of you. And from what I’d heard, something told me you wouldn’t be like any other queen in recent memory, content with dressing and flouncing about in gowns of all gold. So, I let the fabrics speak to me, and this is what resulted. I’m … I’m happy you love it.”

I let the fabric speak to me …

Those words burned into Mariah’s mind, her magic reacting just enough to pique her curiosity. She forced it to the side, however; later, after whatever awaited her this evening, she would find this girl again and ask her what, exactly, she meant by that.

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