Page 32 of Threaded

Though the men gathered before her did not react heavily, she could sense their surprise as it thickened the air, the slight shuffles and raising of cloaked heads the only sign that their interest was now focused wholly on the dark-haired woman standing on the dais above them. Mariah gathered herself, the lace of her dress brushing softly against her legs and the feet of the altar, before stepping out from behind it and moving to the top of the dais stairs. With a single glance over her shoulder at Ryenne, the queen’s eyes glistening with something that Mariah tried to convince herself was pride, Mariah turned once more to the men before her. She closed her eyes, and with a deep breath, dropped herself into that place in her soul where her magic lived.

Her consciousness swirled amidst those threads of silver and gold magic, stunned at how much more alive they’d become today as she’d coaxed them out, forging the partnership Ryenne had spoken of. Now, instead of tightly woven masses, both masses were loosened, relaxed, freely winding around her and each other as they awaited her question.

She let them, threads of both silver and gold, coil closer to her, before she finally asked the question Ryenne gave her earlier that day.

Who is my shield?

The magic paused, its movement halting for the briefest of moments. Suddenly, the silver threads retreated back within itself as a bundle of gold shot out, wrapping around Mariah and pulling her back up into her body. It filled her veins for a heartbeat as Mariah opened her eyes, reeling, unsurprised to find her skin glowing in the dim light, before the light leaped out of her fingertips and into the air in front of her.

The brilliant threads of light paused for a moment before diving off the dais, twisting and winding down the steps and through the men gathered below. They came to a sudden halt in front of one of the tall, cloaked figures, a rope of light connecting Mariah to her first Armature.

Mariah let out a shaky breath, her hands falling to her side. She stepped down the dais steps, one at a time, and walked slowly through the crowd, following the rope of light until she stood before the magic’s first pick.

She still couldn’t see his face, and with a snap like a whip, her magic dove back beneath her skin, content with its choice. It still lingered there in her veins, watching, waiting, and her skin glowed faintly because of it.

Oh, well.Maybe he’ll be flattered for making his queen glow.

She inhaled once, exhaled deeply, then spoke the words Ryenne had instructed her on earlier.

“Soldier, Marked by Priam. Qhohena has requested your service to me and my court, to be my armor against the world and to guard my back against those who might wish this kingdom harm. Do you answer my call?”

The tall figure before her slowly kneeled, one booted foot scuffing across the floor as he rested it behind him. Even kneeling, his head came to Mariah’s torso, his face still veiled from her view. Hands slipped out from under his cloak—calloused, warrior hands—and grabbed the edges of his hood, pulling it back to finally bare his face to his queen.

His hair was short and medium brown, and the planes of his face were classically handsome. His face was clean-shaven as he titled it up to meet Mariah’s gaze, a solemn look filled with both unequivocal joy and unquestionable determination filling his dark hazel eyes as he spoke back to her.

“On this day, and on every day of my life, I will answer your call, My Queen. I swear my life, my sword, my shield, and my soul to you. I promise to be your armor against the world and to guard your back against those who might wish this kingdom harm.” His voice filled the room with a rich timber, the sound offering to Mariah a calmness she leaned into, willingly.

She felt a smile spread across her face. “What is your name?”

His answering smile was soft, compassionate. “Sebastian, My Queen.”

She extended a hand to him, slowly, before speaking again. “Then welcome to my court, Sebastian.”

With a shaky breath, he reached out his hand, gripping hers and rising. The feel of his skin against hers was rough, but warm and comforting, much like the rest of him. As she looked up into that hazel stare, she started to feel the steady strength he could offer her; like a rock beneath her feet, he began to feel like the only thing keeping her standing in that dark room.

Hand in hand, she led him back to the dais, releasing his grip just before ascending back up the steps. As if on instinct—and, perhaps, itwashis instinct—he moved to stand at the feet of the dais steps, alert and watchful, despite the utter lack of threats that this room posed to her.

That wasn’t so bad.

One down, six to go.

Breathing deep, she shut her eyes again, returning to the home of her magic. The threads of silver and gold magic again leaped to greet her, welcoming her back like an old friend. And again, she asked that question.

Who is my shield?

This time, though, the magic was slower to react. It slowed its dancing movements around her, retreating to its respective mass of silver or gold. Mariah watched, and it appeared as if the threads were …conversing. Which was impossible. But Mariah remembered what Ryenne had said—the magic had a mind of its own, and would never be a slave to her will. And as those silver and gold threads mingled closer, as if reaching some sort of agreement, she started to realize exactly what the queen had meant.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the strands of silver threads that started to band together. Didn’t notice them as they formed a rope of silver light that wrapped around her mind and pulled her back to body, just as the golden threads had done before. Before Mariah could stop it, her eyes were flying open, panic gurgling in the back of her throat as the wild silver power filled her veins, clawing its way to her skin, ready to reveal this secret to the world.

But what she saw instead shocked her more than the rope of light now dancing in the air before her.

The light of that magic—it looked no different than the golden threads had. Even in the near darkness, it just looked like brilliant light, gleaming with supernatural intensity that hid its true color. She couldfeelthe difference, and if she focused closely, she could see the silver threads forming that rope of light, but that was it. She wondered, distantly, if Ryenne could feel the difference, could recognize this wasn’t the same magic that once dwelled within her.

Problem for a later time, she thought. So, she took a single step off the dais, and the silver rope of magic leaped forward, weaving through the crowd just as its sister threads had done for Sebastian.

This time, it led her to the other side of the temple, stopping before a figure standing a bit closer to the dais than Sebastian had been. This magic, just as it had in Mariah, felt more playful, wild, full of glee at its choice. Once she was standing before her second Armature, that light again spooled back inside her, the glow once again lingering on the surface as it watched in anticipation.

Standing before this new male, she repeated the same words she’d spoken to Sebastian. And again, without hesitation, he dropped to his knee before her, pulling back the hood to his cloak.

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