Page 69 of Threaded

A window she distinctly remembered closing, locking, and checking every single night before stepping into bed, with last night being no exception.

Forcing her breath to remain steady and her body still, she slowly, carefully, quietly slid her hand under the pillow beside her, wrapping around the hilt of her grandfather’s dagger.

The second her fingers touched the cool leather, she saw it.

Movement. A shadow creeping across the floor, a wave of slimy darkness permeating the aura around it.

Mariah’s eyes tracked it as it moved through the shadows of her room, slithering along the floor. The shape moved into a patch of weak silver moonlight, just enough filtering in through the clouds that had moved in throughout the night. The silver moon was the only one even slightly visible—the clouds had clustered thickly in front of the golden moon, its light darkened completely. Lit by that faint light, Mariah saw what was there with her in her room, disturbing her rest. And she knew instantly what it was.

Her blood ran ice cold, her magic leaped instantly through her veins, the spools unraveling from the place within her in thick, banded threads.

It was an Uroboros. A serpent-like creature she’d only read about in history books, a creature crafted in the darkest depths of Enfara. Its two foul, venomous heads gleamed with wicked fangs in the pale moonlight, its ugly tongues flicking out to taste the air, taste the beating life in her veins as she lay there in her bed, her hand still gripping her family’s dagger. Her magic thrummed, begging to be set free.

It was a demon straight from the legends of the First War. Mariah couldn’t dwell on how it had gotten there, in what should’ve been the most protected place in the palace. All she could think of at that moment was saving herself, of gettingout of there.

She shoved her magic down again, forcing everything in her to quiet. She couldn’t risk her skin beginning to glow, to alert that creature in any way to the fact she’d woken. She kept her eyes locked on its dark form as it continued to smoothly slink across the marble floor, moving closer and closer to the foot of her bed. She stopped breathing altogether as it reached the post, arching its two heads off the ground and twisting around, winding its way up.

It kept coming and coming, and Mariah didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare look at it. She could hear its deadly soft hisses, could feel the slight dip in the mattress as it finally made its way onto the foot of her bed. It was massive, and she swore the smell filling her nose was one of death, decay, of rotten flesh and the misery of souls long since trapped away from this world.

She didn’t let herself move, even as she felt it come up right beside her. She felt it arch up off the bed, those heads bearing the long, wicked, poisonous fangs that would bring her demise.

And then the Uroboros struck.

As it dove, its twin heads aiming for the soft, vulnerable skin of her neck, her hand whipped out from under the pillow, still gripping the leather hilt of her grandfather’s dagger, the silver blade etched with dragon wings gleamed in the moonlight.

She moved as fast as the snake, all her magic pouring itself into her arm to lend it every pound of supernatural strength and speed she needed to strike her blow.

The winged dagger sliced clean through the heads of the Uroboros, black blood spraying her face and hands as the heads and body dropped with a heavy thud onto the mattress beside her.

Finally, letting the adrenaline coursing through her system take over, Mariah rolled from her bed, away from the creature of death and decay that now lay in pieces in the very spot where she’d been lying only seconds before. Staring down at her hands, covered in black blood, she took in the vile smell permeating the entire room and the bed in which she’d once thought herself safe. Her hands went loose at her sides, her grandfather’s dagger clanging to the marble floor as she sank to her knees, her mind screaming with all the anger, fear, and panic her throat wouldn’t let out.

CHAPTER33

Andrian’s chest heaved, his heartbeat thudding like the beats of a drum. His shadows wound uncontrollably through the air around him, a writhing mass of ebony ropes snapping in agitation.

He sat up with a jolt, sleep still heavy in his eyes, clutching his chest and his racing heart. His skin was slick with sweat, and his muscles trembled with adrenaline andfear.

Something was very, very wrong.

He didn’t know what it was—instinct, magic, some sort of curse—but he couldfeelthe vileness in the air, the evil licking against his skin, pulling him out of his bed.

Pulling him across the hall, to the rooms of the dark-haired siren who lived there.

The panic that hit him with the realization was like an icy dagger slowly sinking into his gut and twisting.

His mind shut off. Instinct drove his movement. Not bothering with a shirt, he slipped on a pair of black cotton pants, the soles of his feet barely registering the feel of the cool marble floor. Andrian grabbed a sheathed dagger from where he’d discarded it on his island, strapping it across his back before sprinting from his room, blood still pounding in his ears.

The entrance to Mariah’s suite was directly across from his. When they’d all picked their rooms, he’d been the first to claim the one closest to hers, had glared daggers at his brothers in challenge. None of them said a word, though Sebastian had watched him with a wary question in his eyes.

He’d told himself the proximity would make it easier for him to avoid running into her unnecessarily.

But even he’d known that had been bullshit.

Slamming his body into the gold and white doors, he flung them open with a loud crash. His pace was still frantic as he was pulled toward her bedroom. Fear and panic still clawed at his belly, his stomach churning.

Andrian didn’t want to know what he would find past those doors. Didn’t want to know, but alsoneededto know.

If something had hurt her, if someonehadtouchedher, had reached her there in the protected heart of the palace …

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