Page 12 of Scourged

Zadione smiled. “Why do you think your mother and the women of your line have always been so talented at healing? That magic wasmygift.”

It made such perfect sense. Of course, the Goddess of Death would also be one of healing, of injury and sickness, of the deathbed that ushered lives from this plane into the next.

Mariah swallowed. “Thank you.”

The goddess’s silver eyes hardened and flashed. She’d been so solid a moment before but was fading into the shadows of the cell, her light dimming with each pound of Mariah’s heart.

“Your love used to be a weakness, Mariah. But now that you have fallen, you must find a way to make it your retribution.” The goddess’s parting words were soft, barely audible, but they brushed across Mariah’s skin like the final rattle of life in a dying creature’s lungs.

Zadione winked out of the cell in a burst of starlight, and Mariah was left alone in the darkness, confused and wondering.

Chapter 5

At eight years old, Andrian learned how to be a man.

At least, that’s what his father told him. In addition to the daily training with Master Borus, Andrian was expected to follow Lord Laurent throughout the day, joining him in every meeting and learning from each encounter.

“Do you know what it means to be heir to House Laurent, Andrian?” His father’s words were kind enough, but Andrian knew them to be a test.

They were always a test. And when Andrian failed them—as he often did—he was lucky if the worst punishment he received was a stinging lash of fire magic across his knuckles. Not enough to leave burns, but enough to draw tears.

Sometimes, he wasn’t as lucky.

“It means that one day, I’ll be you … right?” The hesitancy forced its way into his voice, fear making him desperate for reassurance from a man who’d never give it.

His father narrowed his gleaming, golden eyes. “You will always be you. You will never be me. But it does mean that you are my firstborn son. And one day, you will sit in my seat in the great hall, and you will do the job that I now do. Do you understand?”

Andrian was confused—why would he do his father’s job if Father could just do it better?—but he knew better than to say anything other than, “yes, Father.”

Lord Laurent regarded his son with a look so cold it should be impossible for one with fires in his blood. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, when a bustle of movement at the door to his study drew away his frigid attention. A rare, exuberant smile spread across his face.

“Ah! There’s my boy!”

Andrian twisted in his chair to see Nadya, the nursemaid, standing in the entry of his father’s office, a giggling, blond-haired baby boy bouncing on her full hips. Behind them walked Andrian’s mother, dark hair coiled primly around her neck.

“Mama!” Andrian leaped from his seat and rushed into his mother’s embrace. He heard his father’s disapproving grunt, but he didn’t care. His mother was here.

She stroked his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “You need a haircut, Andrian.”

He perked up. “Will you give me one?”

She smiled. “Yes. Of course.” She glanced behind him. Andrian released his hold on her, turning around and standing at her side. His father had taken Andrian’s baby brother, Gabriel, from Nadya, and the three stood beside Lord Laurent’s massive desk, smiling and laughing.

“My Lord,” his mother said meekly. “If I may have a moment of your attention.”

His father hardly spared her a glance, still bouncing Gabriel on his hip. “What is it?”

Something in his dismissive tone sparked a feeling deep in Andrian’s chest. He had a sudden urge to stand up for his mother, to defend her from his father’s coldness. He straightened his spine, opening his mouth to speak, before his mother’s hand on his shoulder washed the fight from him.

She was stopping him because they both knew that challenging Father never went well. He would receive something far worse than little singeing lashes to his fingers. Something that would upset Mother much more than just the way Father spoke to her.

“I would like to give our son a haircut.” His mother kept his hand on his shoulder as she spoke.

His father hmphed. “Yes, alright. I will have Nadya return Gabriel to you shortly.”

Andrian’s mother dipped her head. “Thank you, My Lord.” She grabbed Andrian’s hand and led him out of the office.

They walked through drafty hallways toward the wing housing his mother’s rooms. Andrian was nearly giddy, doing everything he could to not skip along beside her, trying desperately to stay dignified and … lord-like.

---