Page 3 of Threaded

“You lost your focus again.”

She pushed herself up until she knelt on the hard dirt, wiping dust from her sweaty brow. “No shit,” she grumbled, before tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Can we just say this lesson was a raging success and never speak of this day again?”

Wex chuckled. “I’m not sure about the ‘raging success’ part, but if you’re asking if we can be done for the day, then yes.” He shot a glance at the clear sky above, the crisp air of early autumn still warm on their skin. “Why don’t you head inside and clean up. Your mother should be finishing up her shift at the clinic soon. Bring her lunch and ride with her home.”

Mariah blanched as she met her father’s hazel gold stare. “But—”

“Just do this for her, Mariah. One last time.” Wex’s voice was calm even as he interrupted her. “And then tomorrow, you can disappear off to wherever you want to go. But give your mother this one final day.”

That silenced Mariah quickly. Her family knew her plans, knew what she wanted. She wasn’t sure how she would make it happen, not yet. All she knew was once she was twenty-one, once this society of theirs considered her a full adult, she would leave this place and never come back.

She knew it would break her family’s—hermother’s—hearts. But she didn’t care.

She didn’t belong here, and they all knew it.

Caged beast. Chains. She needed freedom as much as she needed the air she breathed.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice tight. “I’ll go.” She pushed up to her feet with a soft grunt, wiping even more dirt from her black leggings.

Gods, she really was disgusting.

“I’m going to take a shower first.” She glanced over at her brother, noticing he’d now inched his way closer to the racks of bows and arrows at the edge of the training clearing. Mariah favored the short sword—something nimble that allowed her to draw her sparring partner in close before she struck with a wicked grin on her face.

Ellan, however, preferred the bow. Soft hearts called to softer weapons, it seemed.

“I’m sure Father would appreciate the help in moving this log out of the clearing, Ellan. Why don’t you help him?” Mariah’s voice dripped with sugared sweetness as her brother whipped his head back to her, his dark hair brushing around the face that looked so much like her own. The two of them could’ve been twins, truthfully. Mariah was two years older, but the differences between them were small. They both had the same full lips, the same high cheekbones, the same almond-shaped eyes. But where Ellan’s hair was a dark auburn, Mariah’s was near-black, and where Ellan’s eyes were soft green-gold, Mariah’s were sharp forest green.

And where Mariah was all wild, untamed mountain lion, Ellan was a gentle, sensitive fawn.

But that certainly didn’t stop him from glowering back at her as their father smiled brilliantly at Mariah’s words.

“What a wonderful idea, Mariah! Come, Ellan—while your sister is showering, you can help me hitch up my horse and move this log out of the clearing. We could even chop it up and use it for a bonfire tonight!”

A grin spread across Mariah’s face at her brother’s dejected expression. She quickly turned away, sprinting towards their small cottage nestled in the woods before she, too, could be pulled into chopping firewood.

Heading into town might be a terrible prospect, but at least it was better thanthat.

* * *

Mariah washed down the bite of her roast turkey sandwich with a swig of water, the liquid cool on her tongue under the warm autumn sun.

She’d met her mother just as Lisabel Salis was leaving the clinic, her mother’s eyes tired as she led her gray mare into the quiet side street. Together, they’d ridden back into the main square of Andburgh, tying their horses at a post before finding seats at one of the many picnic tables in the bustling town circle. It was really just a ring of buildings with faded wooden facades surrounding an open expanse of cobblestone, but for some reason Mariah couldn’t fathom, it was considered the most desirable place to spend time in their crossroad city.

It smelled like horseshit.

Mariah’s gaze continued to wander as she took another bite from her sandwich, the flavors exploding in her mouth. Gods, she would miss her father’s cooking when she left. That was a guarantee.

In her idle staring, she took in the various shops and boutiques that made up the square. Nothing of particular note; clothes could be fun, sure, but to Mariah it was such a waste to spend so much on something it would only be acceptable for her to wear once. But nestled between those bright shops filled with prints of floral and lace were the taverns, their dark-tinted windows hiding what she knew were rooms dimly lit by weakallumelamps and occupied by patrons who’d helped her find a little bit of the escape she’d always so desperately craved.

Yes, she hadn’t been a fan of those boutiques, but she loved those taverns. Losing herself in the bottom of a glass was a favored past-time.

Thank the Goddess there were guaranteed to be taverns in wherever her journeys might take her. People always needed a place to get drunk.

There was one particularly seedy establishment where she felt her attention linger. Its door was painted black, its windows tightly shuttered, but Mariah knew what it looked like. Red leather booths. A black, stained bar. Dark floors sticky under her boots. The smell of sweat and beer and hazy memories, the feeling of hot skin against hers, the sound of ragged breathing in her ears.

She’d spent the Summer Solstice there. And besides her arrival and eventual meandering to its rooftop … she didn’t remember much else from that night.

Or, at the very least, she’d chosen to forget.

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