Page 17 of Scourged

This was how this conversation always went; they’d made this realization weeks ago, after all those lives on the docks were lost. This wasn’t about the city; it was aboutthem. Mariah’s Armature, and the other members of the City Guard and Royal Infantry who were loyal to her.

“We need Mariah back.”

Sebastian’s head snapped to the figure sitting at the far end of the couch. Beautiful, delicate, clothed in a baby blue gown, but with ice blue eyes glowing with inner fire. Delaynie locked her gaze on Sebastian. “The magic is failing because Mariah is gone. I know it, you know it, Ryenne knows it … weallknow it. We need to get her back.”

Sebastian held her fierce stare. “Trust me, Delaynie. I know how bad we need her back. But …” He swallowed, shame and failure clogging his words in his throat. “But we can’t sacrifice innocent lives for that. Mariah wouldn’t want that.”

Delaynie’s eyes narrowed at him before she pursed her lips and stared out the wall of windows lining the living space.

Ciana cleared her throat. “Maybe … maybe I could help. Both Delaynie and me. We have our obligations here, but with the pirates, those meetings are few and far between. Maybe, when we can, we can organize searches, start focusing on finding Mariah?—”

“No.” Sebastian’s interruption was harsher than he intended. But the fear that swallowed him as Ciana spoke, the desperation that clenched around his chest, was unbearable.

He hadn’t been able to keep Mariah safe. He would rather damn his soul to Enfara than risk Ciana, too.

Ciana blinked at him in surprise, before her brow twisted, amber eyes sparking. “Excuse me?”

Bodies shifted uncomfortably around the room. Sebastian cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “It’s not safe outside the palace, Ciana. And none of us can be spared to go with you. You know what happens when we try.”

“None of you need to go with us. There are plenty of Marked in the Guard and Infantry; not all of them are needed on the Bay. Let them go with us?—”

“I said no, Ciana.” Sebastian was so tired. He needed her here, safe, so he could focus on defending this city. Why didn’t she understand that?

The tension in the room was thick as Ciana glared at him, breathing heavily before shoving to her feet.

“Mariah was taken from inside the palace, you know. If you think it’s any safer in here than it is out there, then you’re more lost than I thought.” She whirled away, storming toward the exit. The door slammed behind them, the pressure in the room swirling like a tempest.

Sebastian could only stare at the spot on the couch where she’d been, her words drawing out all the feelings of failure and fear and rage and dropping them heavily on his chest.

They needed Mariah back, or he feared more than just this city would fall.

But he was utterly lost on how to find her.

Chapter 7

Aweek had passed, and Mariah was still rocked by the miraculous healing of her wounds.

Well, perhaps less miraculous and more divine.

The infection had retreated, the fever no longer clawing hot fingers down her spine or squeezing her heart too tight. The deep ridges left by the whip’s spiked metal tip were healed, still occasionally tingling and itching, but Mariah didn’t mind.

It reminded her she would not die today.

Mariah picked at the plate on the ground in front of her. It was pathetic, as it always was: a meager portion of half-frozen, moldy bread and a cup of tepid water. The bread was like sawdust, but she did what she could to wash down the taste, grimacing as it hit her empty stomach like lead.

She sometimes felt like she’d dreamed the encounter with Zadione. Everything was so hazy—the goddess wreathed in silver, Mariah’s fever threatening to burn her away from this cold, dark cell. The story of an epic love that razed and destroyed far more than it built and grew. She wasn’t sure how the goddess’s appearance, if it had all been real, was even possible; she was no expert on the gods, but they didn’t just appear on the earth in physical forms like the one Zadione had taken.

Mariah didn’t ponder the puzzle for long. Somehow, she was healed; that’s all that mattered. She now bore some nasty scars on her back and forearm, but … she was proud of that.

Let them see what they’ve done to her. What they’ve made.

Zadione’s words, while hazy as a rapidly fading dream, still rang through her mind.

“Your love used to be a weakness, Mariah. But now that you have fallen, you must find a way to make it your retribution.”

Mariah liked the sound of that.

Love was her weakness, but it would also be her retribution.

---