Page 13 of Threaded

They rode for another fifteen minutes, their only company soldiers and city guards either coming or going from their posts throughout the city. Mariah remembered with a jolt that her father had once been one of those soldiers, dressed in the black and gold garb of the queen, spending his days either training or keeping the people of the kingdom and this city safe. She glanced over at him, noticing the ease and confidence with which he guided his black stallion down the streets.I bet he once roamed these streets to the point where they were all but memorized to him, she thought.

Eventually, her father pulled his horse to a halt in front of a quaint, quiet little inn located on a side street just off the main road, its freshly lacquered sign hanging over a solid oak door.The Silver Moon, it read.Odd, Mariah thought. Everything in this kingdom wasGoldenthis orGilded Moonthat. Their world had two moons that hung in the night sky, but it was only ever the gold one that received notice.

Onitans, for some reason, chose to pretend that the second moon, the silver light beside the gold, didn’t exist. Mariah had always been slightly baffled by it, but had never cared enough to learn more as to why.

Much as they had every other night on the road, Mariah and her father left their horses in the care of a stable hand and carried their saddlebags into the inn, Mariah clutching tightly to the canvas sack she refused to let out of view. She adjusted her grandfather’s dagger on her thigh, shifting it around so it was fully hidden by her dark cloak, just as they were greeted by a short, full-bodied woman with gray hair standing behind a well-polished bar. She called out her greeting while hand-drying a mug, but it wasn’t until she turned her gaze up to take them in that her eyes went wide.

“Wex Salis?!”

An answering, brilliant grin spread across Wex’s face. “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it, Beva?”

The woman’s face broke into her own beaming smile. She set her mug down carefully on the bar top, her rag tossed carelessly beside it, before wiping her hands across her apron and walking out from behind the bar. At the same time, Mariah’s father moved forward, and within seconds enveloped the woman in a great embrace.

A joyous laugh burst from the woman’s—Beva’s—lips. “It has been so many years, my boy!” She pushed back from Wex’s hold to look him in the eye. “What are you doing here? How is Lisabel? Beautiful as ever, I am sure. Is she here in Verith with you?”

Wex chuckled and smiled at Beva. “Lisabel is wonderful. She remained at home for this journey, but I’m sure she sends her regards.” He paused a moment before continuing, “I am actually here with my daughter.” He turned from Beva to look behind him at Mariah, who still stood in the entryway to the inn. “Beva, I would like to introduce you to Mariah.”

Beva’s attention snapped to Mariah, her gaze warm yet shrewd and intelligent. She took in Mariah for a few moments, eyes seeing far more than Mariah was willing to show, before shoving Wex out of the way unceremoniously and bustling towards Mariah. Before Mariah could speak her greetings, Beva wrapped her up in a giant hug, the shorter woman somehow managing to grip Mariah tight, the smell of apple cinnamon and warm bread wafting over her.

“It is so wonderful to meet you, my dear.” The woman pulled back from Mariah, tears lining her eyes. “The last I knew of you, you were but a small thrumming heartbeat in your mother’s belly.” Her stare turned intent then, taking in Mariah’s complete appearance before her eyes widened slightly.

“Wex, are you sure this is your daughter?”

Mariah’s father, slightly puzzled, answered slowly, “…yes? Why?”

Beva’s smile turned light hearted again. “Because she is far too beautiful to hail from your line. Takes much more after her mother, I reckon.”

Wex’s face twisted back into a grin. “Now, I couldn’t agree with you more on that.”

Mariah could only smile lightly as she watched her father settle into light banter with his old friend. It was fascinating to see her father like this—he seemed younger, in an element that had been lost to him during their life in Andburgh.

She wondered absently if he missed it—the bustle of the city, the demands of the life of a soldier, the vibrancy of living in the beating heart of their continent. Whether he craved the same escape she was no more than a few hours from finally reaching, but his love for his wife and his family kept him rooted firmly in place.

Beva turned back to Mariah, pulling her from her thoughts. Her face grew serious, her gray eyes darting from Mariah to Wex and back to Mariah again.

“You are here for the Choosing.” It was not a question.

Mariah answered anyway. “Yes. I am.”

Beva nodded once, accepting the simplicity of that answer, not asking for all the words unsaid in the air around them. “Good. Now, Mariah, I am going to put you up in one of my best rooms. Your father can have the room across the hall.” Wex looked ready to protest, but Beva shut him down with a hard glare. “It is my honor. After everything your father has done for me, it is the least I can do.”

Wex only grumbled a response. Mariah, on the other hand, spoke without thinking.

“That is very kind of you. We can pay, of course—” She was cut off by a sharp look from her father, a clear warning for her to shut her mouth.

Interesting. So, while Beva was a friend, her father didn’t want her flashing her stolen gold, even here.

Beva scoffed. “Nonsense. It is only one night, and I owe your father much more than a couple rooms and a hot meal. It is nothing. Now, I’m sure you’ve had your horses tended to out front. Sit down, and I’ll get some food and ale out to the both of you. And don’t you dare argue with me, Wex.”

So Mariah and her father sat. As her gaze wandered absently around the inn, she noticed they were some of the only patrons in the quaint main hall. Taking in the well-lacquered tables and bars, the roaring hearth, and the comfortable seating, Mariah knew it must get more business than just this, but with all the newcomers to the city, it was a shock to see it so empty.

Her father, noticing her gaze and furrowed brow, answered her silent question. “It is a few hours before shift change.”

Mariah looked back at him, still utterly confused.

He sighed. “Beva has long been a friend of the Royal Infantry. When stationed here, this is the soldiers’ first bar of choice—close enough to the barracks, yet far enough from the watchful gazes of their captains. And when they filter through here, many of those young soldiers haven’t had a hot meal in weeks. You’d be surprised how much you’d pay from that freshly cashed soldier’s salary for a well-cooked meal and cold ale away from all the orders and rigid structure. And everyone knows that Beva’s is the best place in the city for both.”

Mariah glanced around again, the new knowledge like a fresh film over her eyes. Sure enough, therewereother patrons in the inn: a young man, still dressed in his black and gold soldier livery, quietly sipping his ale by a window, and a grizzled man with his daughter, almost mirrors of Wex and Mariah.

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