Page 5 of Threaded

That got the other girl’s attention.

“You are leaving?” Annabelle gasped. Mariah fought back an eye-roll; again, leaving the city wasn’t uncommon for women in this part of Onita.

What was uncommon was a woman leaving of her own accord, and not tied to some man with a noose around her ring finger.

“Yes. Leaving. Something I’ve waited far too long to do, anyway.”

Annabelle turned her stunned expression to Lisabel. “And you, Mrs. Salis … did you know of this?”

Mariah’s mother, as calm and stoic as ever, kept her reply soft and even. “Of course.”

Annabelle was clearly floundering. “But … but …” She glanced between Mariah and her mother. “Don’t you wish to … to enter courtships? To find love? To marry?”

Not even if the stars winked out and the moons fell from the sky.

“Why would I need a courtship if I could get whatever I wanted from a man by just walking into any tavern in Onita?” Mariah shrugged, reveling in the horrified look that flashed across Annabelle’s delicate face. “Besides, love is just like everything else in this town: pathetic and weak. I’m ready to see what else the world has to offer.” With that, Mariah stood from the bench, her appetite suddenly gone. She wrapped up what remained of her turkey sandwich, stuffing it back into the leather bag she’d brought with her into town.

“I’ll ready the horses,” she said to her mother without meeting her gaze. Annabelle had already taken a few steps back, still too stunned by Mariah’s confessions to speak. “Always a pleasure, Annabelle.”

Mariah strode back to where their horses were tied, her mind twisting and catching on the words that had woven their way from her mouth. They mirrored the phrase that chased her from dreams and nightmares her entire life, said in a voice that whispered of shadows and starlight.

Love is a weakness.

CHAPTER2

“Ellan, I think that’s enough. You’re going to singe your beard.”

Mariah swallowed down her swig of whiskey, using it to force back the snort bubbling in her chest at her mother’s words. The second the burn from the liquor faded, she turned her head to look at where her mother and brother sat across from her, the monstrous bonfire between them flickering in the dusk light.

“I’m sorry, but … what beard?” Mariah’s voice cracked with laughter.

Ellan puffed out his chest, sitting straighter on the log bench. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it. Mom obviously did.” He stroked his chin, which was notably absent of any facial hair.

Mariah turned a baffled look to her mother. Lisabel only stared at her son, a smile on her face and amusement dancing in her eyes. When she looked back to her daughter, that was all it took.

Mariah burst out into whooping, cackling laughter.

Ellan grumbled to himself under his breath, his words lost to Mariah over the crackling and popping of the great bonfire between them. Her brother looked down at his hands, and in his palms a small kernel of flame began to grow, a shimmering ball of red and gold and blue. Once it was about the size of an egg, he tossed it idly into the already monstrous fire, the flames sputtering up briefly before swallowing it whole.

“Ellan.” This time, Lisabel’s voice was stern. “I told you that was enough. This thing is already close to being out of control.”

“It’s not out of control, Mom. I’ve got it.” His voice was still a mutter.

Mariah glanced away from her mother and brother and stared deep into the flames. Her mother was right; it was a ridiculous blaze. But she also trusted her brother in that instance.

Ellan was, after all, a wielder of fire magic.

And Onita was a kingdom rich in magic.

Allume, the raw magic native to the realm of the gods, collected and transported all throughout the kingdom through a complex system of piping and panels made oflunestair, or moonstone, provided warmth and light and energy to every building and structure in Onita. It even powered the small rechargeable lamp sitting beside Mariah on the log bench, the soft golden light dim against the roaring of the fire.Allume, and the ability of Onitans to harvest it twice a year on the Solstice and contain it withlunestair, had long ago set Onita apart as being a nation of technological advancement and comforts far outpacing those of the neighboring kingdoms.

Then, of course, there was the magic existing in the veins of Onitan people, power said to have been gifted by Qhohena, the Goddess of the Golden Moon, herself. Not in the same way the Queen of Onita had been gifted magic, but a privilege, all the same.

A privilege Mariah was fucking thankful she didn’t have.

It had been unlikely, but it nevertheless used to be a fear of hers.

After all, it was rare for a woman to have magic. Most gifts, elemental in nature and almost always specific to fire or air, manifested in men around the time of puberty. Not every Onitan male had magic—her father, for example, bore no gifts—but there were more with magic than without. In fact, Mariah couldn’t remember a single male during her schooling years who didn’t end up exhibiting a gift of either fire or air.

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