Page 57 of Scourged

She cracked, truly smiling. “You get a beer with me.” Her brightness dimmed, just a touch, as she swallowed. “You bring our girl home, and you bring yourself home. Don’t you dare leave me in this city alone; I will never forgive you and will haunt your soul once my time is spent. And then, once you—and Mariah—are back, you’ll get a beer with me.”

So many emotions burned behind Sebastian’s eyes, in the back of his throat. Sadness, and fear, and hope, and happiness, all melting together and dripping through him like scalding fire. He swallowed, forcing an inhale.

With a slow, measured movement, he reached out a hand and rested it against Ciana’s cheek, sinking his fingers into her thick golden curls. She leaned so subtly into his hand, and every part of him burned with something new and indescribable and terrifying.

“I promise, Cee. Iwillbring her home. For both of us. And then …” His throat closed, the wind brushing her hair across his skin, alighting him like the rays of his very own, personal sunshine. A sunshine he swore to carry with him north, into the cold shadows of Khento.

“And then, we’ll get that beer.”

Chapter 22

Mariah had never seen the servant girl before.

Every day, like clockwork, the same mute servant brought her a single paltry meal. Her hair was always up, and her face shrouded. She never once said a word to Mariah, only simply opening the small grate at the bottom of Mariah’s door, slipping in the tray, and vanishing back into darkness.

Today’s girl, though … today’s girl was different.

She had long, ash blonde hair, and her rags were torn and stained. A kitchen maid, most likely, given the flour dusting her hollow cheeks and the burn scars on her hands. She carried anallumelamp, eyes darting like a nervous mouse as she stumbled gracelessly down the hall. She halted outside Mariah’s cell, clumsily fumbling for her keys.

Instinct alone had Mariah rising from her cot. She still wore her ridiculous pink dress—now stained and tattered, but still just as demeaning—but she ignored the brush of tulle against her thighs as she gripped her paring knife behind her back.

The girl awkwardly balanced the tray on her hip as she slid a key into the iron lock to Mariah’s cell.

The door. Not the small grate at the bottom.

“I look forward to seeing all he has planned for you.”

No. Mariah would not sit idly by to find out what Shawth meant.

She dove into herself, into the part of her soul that was still too dark and shadowed. Her threads had slowly come back to life, but they were still weak, only a glimmer of what they once were. But she latched onto them, wrapping around them and drawing them to the surface.

They seemed to grumble against her, almost lethargically, but they obeyed. Mariah could have sighed with relief.

The moment the girl opened the cell, still trying to balance that tray of frozen, nutritionless food on her hip, Mariah exploded.

Light shot from her free hand like coiled vines, striking the girl in the chest. She stumbled back with a cry, hitting the far wall, the tray crashing to the ground and the cell door clanging open.

“No—wait! Stop!” the girl yelled hoarsely as light rippled off Mariah. She lunged for the exit, pausing for a flash of a heartbeat at the threshold. Her light still held the girl pinned to the wall, her struggles weak as she sobbed.

The girl was innocent in this. And she might die for her failure.

But Mariah was too broken to care about all those she couldn’t save.

“I’m sorry,” Mariah said in a sad whisper, before she sprinted down the corridor, leaving the servant girl there, whimpering and terrified. Her light snapped back under her skin, leaving a faint, luminescent glow as she reached those steep, slick stairs.

And began to climb.

Mariah’s heart was pounding in her ears, atrophied muscles in her legs holding her up only through the flood of adrenaline pouring through her veins. When she reached the landing,stumbling out into the cold, quiet hallways of Khento, she paused, panting heavily. Her body trembled, and her mind was focused on one singular goal.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

The word thrashed and hammered through her skull, lurching her frozen feet back into motion. They led her through the halls, kept company only by the soft patter of her footfalls, the heavy wheezes of her lungs, the faint glow of her skin.

Mariah didn’t know how long she ran. Only that if she stopped, it would all be over.

A pair of massive oak doors loomed at the end of the hall. She stumbled, steps faltering, but kept pushing forward. Slamming into the wood, she fumbled for the handle. With a final shudder, her hand found metal, and she wrenched it down as she pushed with all the strength she had left.

The door swung open with a too-loud groan, and Mariah stumbled outside into a decadent garden spotted with late winter snow.

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