Page 53 of Threaded

The past week since she’d bonded with Sebastian had been much of the same: her days were spent with Ryenne, practicing her magic, learning the inner workings of how one rules a kingdom. She’d been taught more about theallumethat powered Onita and thelunestairpillars beside the throne that housed it, about the Solstice and its importance to the kingdom.

It all bored her to tears.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the information or didn’t want to know more about how, exactly, those pillars functioned, how the queen played her role whenallumewas harvested on the Solstice, or why the light flickering in the opaque stone was so weak compared to the depictions in the ancient texts Ryenne had her poring over. Instead, her boredom stemmed from the feeling that she was back in school, a place she’d never truly enjoyed and had been more than thrilled to finally put behind her.

Her only true escapes, where she was able to experience a morsel of the freedom she’d always craved but still managed to elude her, were in the early mornings with her Armature, deep within the thick trees of the game park.

Her feet pounded the packed earth below her as her mind wandered to the cabal of men who now called themselves hers.

After her bonding with Sebastian, she’d told herself that now she knew what to expect, she would be able to keep her impulses in check. She wouldn’t again allow herself into a situation where she might be forced to hurt one of these men, asked to give them something she never could.

She’d gotten lucky with Sebastian. She didn’t think that luck would hold.

So, last night, when she’d tapped Quentin as the next to complete the bond, she’d told herself she was ready.

She could almost laugh at herself now for how wrong she’d been.

The ritual was, thankfully, less intense, but … not by much. And while she’d been able to control most of her physical impulses, had kept herself from crawling into his lap, one look at him with his fiery hair and wicked grin had her throwing all her self-control off that candlelit balcony.

She hadn’t allowed him inside her, but she’d let him between her legs all the same.

A shudder skittered down her spine, a shudder not entirely attributable to the brisk morning air, and she almost missed a step as she recalled the feeling of him …everywhere. He was all chaotic fire, nothing about him tamed or controlled. Even as she remembered his wicked laugh, his breath rough against her skin, she got the feeling that while he would always serve and protect her, he wouldneverobey her.

And she was beginning to suspect why.

Before the ceremony, when she’d dipped within her soul to collect the thread of magic that would forever bind him to her, she’d attempted to coax forth some of those golden tendrils. But this time, they’d all but ignored her, choosing to stay quiet and dormant.

But the silver threads … they were all too fucking happy to oblige.

That silver magic had leaped forward, twisting and winding around her, and just as it had at the Selection, it had gripped her soul tightly and drawn her up, back to where her body and Quentin waited. When she’d opened her eyes, she’d been far more annoyed and confused than scared, to find her hand glowing silver in the flickering candlelight. She’d looked at Quentin, expecting him to notice, but he’d stayed silent. Perhaps to him, just as it had at the Selection, the two different magics looked the same.

Not that it mattered much, since he now carried a piece of that silver power in his own soul.

Mariah was tired of the wondering, the questioning of the strange, foreign magic dwelling within her. She felt like she was being forced to tiptoe around something that would never go away, and it exhausted her.

No more.

It was high time, Mariah thought, for her to figure out what, exactly, she carried in her veins, and what it might be able to do. She needed answers, and she also knew she needed help in finding them.

And she knew exactly who to ask.

* * *

The crisp water in the canteen cooled the pounding in Mariah’s throat as she drank from it deeply. She was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching from exertion, but was thankful that the run and training had taken the edge off the anxiety rolling through her that morning. She glanced around the clearing, watching her Armature retreat to the various corners for their own water breaks. Sunlight warmed the clearing, the cold frost of dawn long since chased away by the break of day.

They were all there … except for one, of course. Mariah was unsurprised to note that Andrian had long since left the clearing, stealing away into the shadows as he always did.

Good.She was glad he chose to make himself scarce. He trespassed into her thoughts far too often for her liking, those disgustingly incredible eyes eating away at any pleasure she was ever able to find for herself. She was thankful that at least she hardly ever had to see him in the light of day, his self-imposed exile a welcome reprieve from the torment he caused in her dreams.

Or perhaps she should call them nightmares.

Mariah sucked in a breath, shaking her head to clear those thoughts from her mind. Looking back around the clearing, she raised her voice, calling out to two who stood on opposite ends.

“Sebastian? Quentin? Can I speak with you both, just for a moment?”

She knew she hadn’t needed to call out as she did; she could’ve simply tugged on the bridges now built between their minds. Sebastian’s was still slate gray imbued with gold, while Quentin’s was burning flame touched by silver.

But with this many men in her court, she still had her games to play. Best to keep the rest of them guessing, wishing they were on the inside, wondering when it might be their turn to bind themselves to her for eternity.

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