Page 99 of Threaded

CHAPTER43

The band had taken their cue from Ryenne when she’d dragged Donnet from the dais, and the music instantly filled the throne room once again. The melodies leaped and swirled, rose and fell, a tumultuous wave Mariah could never hope to keep up with.

That was, until Andrian pulled her against him and began to move.

The feel of his body against hers instantly snapped her attention away from everyone else in the throne room, tendrils of his shadows whispering against the bare skin of her shoulders, their touch like a caress.

He set the pace, leading them skillfully through the steps of the dance, twisting and twirling, her skirts splaying out around her legs andswishingacross the polished white and gold marble floor. Wherever she needed him, he was there, ready to grasp her hand or guide her body or catch her at the small of her back.

In those few moments, Mariah forgot about everything—her past, the realities of her new life, the vile truthfulness of Donnet’s words, the Goddess’s magic thrumming in her veins. The way Andrian looked at her now, the way he watched her as she moved with him across the dance floor, made her feel so alive and so …worthy.

Which was stupid, considering the words he’d shared with her only yesterday in the darkness of the library.

The spell snapped. The memories came screaming back into her mind before she could stop them. The crushing pain she’d felt at his words. That she would never be more than adistractionto him, that he would bring her nothing butpain.

And yet, here she was, getting lost with him while the entire continent watched on.

No. He may have defended her to Donnet, but she wouldn’t let this happen. Shecouldn’tlet this happen. She could feel herself crossing into dangerous, foreign territory, her heart beginning to pull her in a direction she would not go.

Love is a weakness, Mariah.

At that moment, the song ended, the final notes dissipating into the open air of the throne room. Mariah and Andrian halted in the center of the dance floor, staring at each other as their breaths heaved with exertion. She yanked her eyes from his before she turned her attention to the rest of the room, to the crowd that had gathered around them.

They were the only pair on the dance floor, but thePorofiratattendees watched on, wearing expressions of curiosity and fear and anger. She could hear their words in those gazes, two sides to the same disapproving coin.

Is the queen apparent dancing with the Laurent heir? The one who looks too much like his foreign Luexrithian mother? Shameful. Qhohena’s light has no business mingling with northern darkness.

Did you hear Lord Donnet’s words? Disgusting. How could our Golden Goddess choose a whore like that? And Lord Laurent’s lost son defending her and now dancing with her … What shame that must bring upon that noble family.

It was unbearable, the mutterings of the crowd scratching down her spine like the claws of a demon.

Her heart thudding in her ears, Mariah frantically shoved away from Andrian before spinning on her heel. She pushed through the crowd, shouldering her way into one of the many hallways spindling off the throne room. Once there, she ran, not stopping until she found an exit from the stifling air of the palace, the glass doors to the hallway balcony clicking softly closed behind her.

* * *

The cool, late autumn air burned Mariah’s lungs as she inhaled deeply, leaning heavily against the balcony railing.

She’d known—justknown—this night would go poorly.

She hadn’t exactly predicted she would be called a whore before the entire continent by the lord of her hometown, but … given her luck, she supposed she should have.

Mariah dropped her chin against her chest with a sigh, fighting back the harsh tears that threatened and burned behind her eyes. Sure, Andrian had made things better for one brief, fleeting moment, but the reminder of what he’d spat at her yesterday still rattled around in her head. She’d told herself, over and over, that it shouldn’t—didn’t—matter what he thought of her. It shouldn’t matter if he despised her or if he wanted to fuck her … or if he might, unbelievably, feel something real towards her.

But yet, somehow … it still did.

“Love is a weakness, is it not?”

Mariah froze, the breath rushing from her lungs in a startled exhale. The silver threads deep within her separated themselves from the gold and leaped to the surface of her skin, something they hadn’t done in weeks. Power crackled along where they rose, tingling in her fingers as alarm slammed through her.

Slowly, Mariah turned to face the balcony doorway and the origin of that voice.

Standing in the dim light of the paneled double doors was a woman, dressed in a fine, yet simple, silver gown, the sleeves long and heavy. A veil of silver draped over her head and face, obscuring her features. By her dress, Mariah knew she was clearly not Onitan, but nothing about what she wore was familiar enough to firmly place her origin. The woman took one step towards Mariah, her movements flowing across the tiled floors, and unease prickled across Mariah’s skin.

But … Mariah didn’t feel threatened. Her unsettled senses had nothing to do with a fear that this strange woman might harm her.

No … she was suddenly afraid of what this woman might know. What this woman might say.

Especially since she’d greeted Mariah with the single, secret phrase that had been whispered to her all her life.No oneknew about that.

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