Page 16 of Threaded

The girl was silent for two heartbeats, and Mariah felt her face fall, worried she might’ve gone too far.

It wasn’t as if she’d had much practice at making—andkeeping—friends back in Andburgh.

Until the girl burst out laughing, a laugh like chiming bells, the sound bringing a chuckle to Mariah’s own lips.

Once the girl had regained control, carefully wiping tears from her face, she stepped closer to Mariah, sticking out her hand in greeting. “I’m Ciana. We’re going to be friends—sorry, you don’t get a say in that. Either accept it or … well, accept it.”

Mariah was laughing again as she clasped Ciana’s hand in her own. “I think I’ll accept it. I’m Mariah.” She paused, releasing Ciana’s grip but still smiling as she gestured toward the palace steps. “Do you want to try to walk up those gods-awful stairs with me and make fun of all the other bitches here who think they look good?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Ciana stepped forward, reaching to loop her arm through Mariah’s as if they were childhood best friends, but then suddenly froze, her gaze darting over Mariah’s shoulder, back towards the lines of carriages and the stables just behind them. At that same moment, Mariah felt a wave of awareness wash over her, like she was being prodded with thousands of tiny needles, the hairs on her arms and back of her neck rising.

“Holy shit,” Ciana whispered, her voice suddenly breathless. “If they work in the palace, then I’m never leaving. Will gladly take that job opening as a cake-topper.”

Mariah slowly turned, unsure at all what to expect, her senses still erratic.

She wasn’t prepared for what she saw.

A carriage had just pulled out, leaving a gap that opened to a direct view of the palace stables. It was there, no more than two dozen feet away under the awning over the stable walls, where a group of about twenty men lounged, all appearing to be somewhere in their late twenties to thirties. Even at the distance, Mariah could tell by the way they all either sat or stood with too-casual grace that they were some form of soldier or guard in service to the palace. The weapons adorning them only further convinced her. But none of those things were why her throat suddenly went dry and her heart leaped into her throat.

Every single one of them wasridiculouslyattractive.

And all of their eyes were trained on her.

The men were vastly varied in appearance: all ranges of hair color, skin color, and eye color. Despite the pounding of her heart, Mariah met the stare of each one, holding it for a second before moving on.

One of them was making her skin crawl, and she had to know who.

She made her way down the line, reaching the end, growing increasingly more frustrated when that twinge in her gut refused to relent, until—oh.

Her eyes finally landed on a tall form hidden almost completely in the shadows of the stable entrance, melding into the darkness as if he belonged there more than he did in the bright autumn daylight. It was like he wanted to avoid being seen at all costs, but the way he was staring at her … it was with such burning intensity she thought she might leap out of her own skin.

Even hidden from the light, Mariah could tell that his hair was black, a light-consuming onyx, as was his clothing. His shoulders were broad, the muscles in his crossed arms flexed, and just like the others gathered with him, he oozed the preternatural grace of one trained for war from birth.

But what really caught Mariah’s attention were his eyes.

They were a bright, glowing, gemstone blue, but not quite sapphire—they were deeper, clearer somehow. Then she remembered a stone her father had once shown her, a stone only mined from deep in the northern Everheim Mountains, a stone of the exact same shade of rich and wild blue.

His eyes were the color of tanzanite.

That feeling of awareness intensified, her ears beginning to ring, the world starting to shake and crumble around her—

Until it all suddenly stopped.

The supernatural feeling that had threatened to overwhelm her vanished in an instant, and the world came to a stand-still. The ringing in her ears was replaced by the din of the crowd around her.

Mariah blinked, flitting her gaze back to the man in the shadows. There was a moment, before he regained control of his expression, when she saw a look mirroring the confusion and nausea still roiling through her own gut. He met her stare again and a cold mask slid instantly over his attractive features, his tanzanite gaze turning to daggers.

The only thing Mariah could think to do in that moment was smirk andshovedown the turmoil still tangled in her mind before dragging her gaze from him. Still feeling the weight of the other men’s stares, she tossed her hair over her shoulder one more time before turning back to Ciana. Mariah grabbed the other girl’s arm and drug her away, heading across the courtyard towards the palace steps.

As strange as that encounter was, she refused to let it distract her.

Today was the day Mariah would finally get free.

CHAPTER7

On any other occasion, Mariah would’ve been enthralled with the gilded, sweeping architecture of the throne room of the palace.

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