Page 17 of Threaded

However, today, right now, she was far too distracted by the pounding of her heart and the ringing in her ears to appreciate the wondrous beauty around her. All she could focus on was the feel of the smooth, cold wooden bench below her.

She could also notice the throne room was massive, cavernous in scope, its ceiling tall enough to make the structure of the room feel impossible. At the front of the room, situated upon a raised dais, sat a beautiful golden throne, the intricacies depicting the best of Onita’s history—rich harvests, golden skies, tall mountains, curving rivers, and membranous wings—carved into its surface visible even from the very back of the room. On either side of that golden throne were two towering pillars made of a shimmering, opaque stone—lunestair, if she had to guess. Those pillars were glowing softly, golden light pulsing ever so gently within their cloudy depths.

Long, wooden pews were arranged in neat rows down the entire length of the room to accommodate all the women in attendance, and it was upon one of those pews on which Mariah sat. Despite the hardness and the slight chill, the wood felt solid andrealand was the only thing keeping Mariah grounded as she forced herself to take deep inhales and long exhales. Ciana sat beside her, fanning herself incessantly, lacking all of Mariah’s nerves but also looking like she would give anything in that moment to be free from her full skirts and tight corset.

Mariah didn’t know her new friend well, but something told her that if Ciana could’ve stood and stripped down to her undergarments right there in the middle of the throne room of Onita, she would have.

Upon entering the great palace gates, they—along with every other woman there—were funneled and ushered into the throne room, reluctantly finding nondescript seats somewhere in the center of the room. Mariah had wanted nothing more than to hide, to blend in with the crowd until this ritual was over and she could get out.

The stream of women was nearly endless, until eventually it slowed to a trickle, and movement through the doors to the throne room stopped. Everyone found a seat, and nervous whispers and the brushing of fidgeting skirts filled the cavernous room, scratching against Mariah’s skin like mosquitos in the summer. The great wooden doors of the throne room shut behind the last of them, a boom echoing throughout the vast space. A hush swept over the amassed women, and even Ciana dropped her arms to her side as her eyes widened, the anxiety of the moment written clearly across her bright features.

And of course, because Mariah needed one more issue to concern herself with in that moment, the strangeness deep within her she’d shoved down in the cabbie on the way to the palace stirred again, unspooling itself through her gut like a ball of yarn and stretching tendrils out into her limbs.

Mariah forced a breath out through her nose and closed her eyes, diving inside herself, desperately trying to halt whatever it was weaving its way through her. She pushed and pushed andpushed, but it wouldn’t retreat, seemingly content to drift idly through her veins.

She had no idea what was happening and had never felt less in control.

Shehatedit.

“Mariah? You okay?”

Ciana’s light, gentle voice had Mariah’s eyes snapping back open. She forced herself to swallow, the strange crawling sensation in her veins still there, as she turned her head to the other girl and smiled wanly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The anticipation is just killing me.” The lie burned as it was pushed through gritted teeth.

Ciana looked unconvinced, but before she could respond, the doors behind the grand golden throne opened on slow, silent hinges. Everyone in the throne room rose to their feet in a single wave, Mariah and Ciana being drawn up with the tide.

Out of those doors walked a beautiful woman, appearing to be just a few years older than Mariah, garbed in a stunning crimson velvet gown that trailed behind her in a long train. Her hair was long, blonde, and wavy, falling nearly to her waist, and atop her head rested a golden crown. Even from the distance at which Mariah sat, she could still make out the shape of delicate snowdrop blossoms in the golden metal, the flower that grew deep in the steppes of the Attlehon Mountains, the ancient symbol of the Queen of Onita.

Mariah could feel herself holding her breath as Queen Ryenne Shawth, Lady of Verith and Qhohena’s Chosen, walked slowly, gracefully, to stand before her golden throne. Out from those same doors behind her followed six other women—her Ladies, her closest confidants and advisors sworn to serve the queen for the entirety of their lives. As the Ladies took their place in the seats on either side of thelunestairpillars, seven men melted out of the shadows behind the raised dais. Mariah’s blood pulsed in her veins as she beheld Queen Ryenne’s Armature, her blood-bonded knights, themselves each chosen and blessed by the Goddess and the Consort God, their lives linked to their queen for the entire long length of her life.

One of those knights stepped closer to the throne than the others, standing by the right arm of that golden chair. “That must be Kalen,” Ciana whispered to Mariah. “The Queen’s Consort.” Mariah nodded slightly, taking in the male, his light brown hair slightly tousled and roguish, his sharp eyes missing nothing in the cavernous room.

Standing before her throne, Queen Ryenne glanced to her left, to where a middle-aged woman with hair that must’ve once been golden blonde but was now streaked through with soft gray stood. The woman was dressed in pale golden robes, and stepped up onto the dais to stand beside her queen. Mariah didn’t miss how Kalen’s eyes narrowed, the tightening in his face clear even from a distance, as he watched the woman move forward.

The two women stood in silence together for a few heartbeats, their intense gazes staring out at the masses of women gathered before them. Mariah began to feel her own skin crawl under the heavy weight of those eyes.

It was the middle-aged woman who spoke first, breaking the expectant silence.

“Warm greetings to you all. I am Ksee, High Priestess of Qhohena, Beloved of our Golden Goddess. It is my honor to introduce Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ryenne of House Shawth, Chosen of Qhohena, Protector of Onita and Lady of Verith. You may kneel in her presence.”

The power in Ksee’s voice washed over the throne room, and on instinct the gathered women, Mariah included, dropped to their knees, their heads bowing to the queen, who stood, as regal as a goddess, before her golden throne.

Ryenne herself spoke next.

“Rise.”

Her voice was soft, yet carried a power that couldn’t be ignored. It slid over Mariah’s skin like a cat, pulling her up from her knees, her head and gaze lifting …

… to directly meet the ocean-blue stare of the queen.

No, that can’t be right, Mariah thought. The throne room was massive, and there were thousands of women packed into its space. Out of everyone there, it was impossible for the queen to suddenly be noticingher.

Mariah continued her defiant inner monologue but couldn’t shake the way the air kept poking at her skin.

The queen’s gaze snapped away, continuing her survey of the throne room.

“I would like to begin by thanking you—each and every one of you—for traveling however far your journey was to join me. Whether you hail from the market district here in Verith or from Tolona at the southern border, I welcome you to my home and to the birthplace of our grand and blessed kingdom.” Ryenne paused, drawing a breath, before continuing.

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