Page 16 of Scourged

Sebastian knew this game for what it was; the timing was too coincidental. The pirates arrived, toying with them on the coast, a mere week before the wards began to fail. And there was no reason for the wards to fail; nothing had changed. The pillars burned bright, the magic was not running low, and Ryenne had no answers.

The only thing different about Verith was Mariah’s absence. The connection was obvious.

Whoever had orchestrated her abduction was connected to the pirates and their arrival. And it was all an effort to keep Mariah’s Armature distracted, to keep them from searching for their queen.

They rounded a corner, stalking toward a spiraling staircase. They ascended the floors, heading higher to the top floors of the palace. A heavy, tired silence hung around them as they walked down a long hallway lined with black oak doors, not stopping until they stood before the one set of doors that differed.

Sebastian paused outside the white painted wood, golden paneling mocking in its brilliance.

The others preferred to meet here because it gave them hope. To be reminded of her—of her scent, her possessions, her glowing aura—kept them going each time the pirates launched a new attack, each day they had to forgo their search to protect this city.

To him, though, it was his punishment to meet here. A reminder of his failure, of all the ways he’d trusted the wrong man, of the ultimate betrayal that had happened under his watch.

As Sebastian placed his hand on the heavy gold handle and pushed open the now-repaired door he’d splintered on that fateful night six weeks ago, he made a vow.

If—when—they found Mariah, and if Andrian was with her … he wouldneverforgive him.

“You’re back!” A bright voice, like tinkling wind-chimes, greeted Sebastian as he stepped into the foyer of Mariah’s suite, Drystan and Feran following through behind him. There was a flash of golden curls, and then Ciana was there, tossing her hands around his neck. He grunted but couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across his lips as he was wrapped in her honeysuckle and lilac scent.

“Hi, Cee,” he murmured, her curls tickling his cheek.

She peeled off him, settling on the balls of her feet as she looked him over, nose crinkling. “You smell awful.”

“Yes, well.” Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “Dealing with those pirates since dawn isn’t exactly a day at the spa.”

Quentin stood from the couch, flipping a knife over his fingers. “Are they, then? Dealt with? For the day, at least.”

“For today, they are.” Drystan brushed past Sebastian, walking to the island in the center of Mariah’s kitchen. There was a full bounty of food and drink spread there, likely prepared by Mikael and a few other chefs earlier in the day. Sebastian’s stomach grumbled as Drystan picked up a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water before turning back to them.

“Feran made the hit this time,” he said quietly, lifting his pitcher as he shot the other man a casual grin.

Feran merely shrugged. “It was a lucky shot.” But he, too, was smiling as he filled a plate, downing half a pitcher of water in a single gulp.

Sebastian glanced down at Ciana, still standing in front of him, wearing a vaguely amused expression on her face. Gently, he grabbed her hands from where they still gripped his arms, placing them back by her sides. The contact jolted her, and she flushed as she stepped away.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Sebastian gave her a soft smile. “It’s fine. Just hungry.” She nodded, and he strode to the island, his hunger taking the reins from his exhaustion.

A few minutes—and several pitchers of water—later, they all sat strewn about Mariah’s couches, silent and staring.

This was how they so often were now. Trapped in a game, waiting for something to change and free them. Empty and hopeless.

The lights flickered again as if to emphasize the point.

Quentin blew out a heavy breath and shoved back further into the couch. “I’m getting so fucking tired of those lights.”

Matheo nodded. “I think I could tolerate the lights, if only the wards worked.”

“The wards don’t even matter. Those pirates would sail to the docks, regardless,” Trefor quipped, pale blond hair messy. He sipped from his mug of ale.

“They could do that right now.” Sebastian’s voice cut through the conversation, low and hollow. “They could sail right past us every single day, but as long as we are on those battlements, they don’t.”

Drystan growled, a frustrated, angry sound. “It just doesn’t makesense. If they’re here to sack the city, then just sack the fucking city.”

“They’re not here to sack the city, Drystan, and you know that.” Feran’s response was quiet and measured. “They’re here to keep us distracted.”

Sebastian nodded, as did the rest of them.

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