Page 173 of Scourged

Mariah snapped her magic back as she stood and whirled from Finn. The boy released a sob, but Mariah didn’t hear it.

Not when her eyes clashed with a familiar tanzanite glare, shadows and death whispering around him.

It was only then, in the safety of that glare, that she let herself falter. The animal whimpered, sidling away, relinquishing control back to her.

With control came the pain, washing away the blessed numbness.

“They have them. They have my family.” She staggered a step forward. Andrian surged, catching her in his arms. His scent of rain and sandalwood wrapped around her, the only comfort in a dark and dim world.

There was movement behind her. Murmurs and shuffles, a soft whine from the boy’s throat and trudging steps as Finn was hauled from the room.

She didn’t know where they were taking him.

She didn’t particularly care.

A hand rested on the back of her head. Brushed down her neck, over the short length of her hair. Across the exposed scars on her back, the low scoop of her dress.

“We’ll get them back,nio. I swear to you.” Andrian’s words were a rumble against her cheek. She still felt his fury, his simmering thirst for blood that was answered in her own soul.

Mariah did not doubt his conviction.

She only doubted his ability to make it a reality.

Chapter 61

Mariah’s rooms belonged to a stranger.

These rooms belonged to a girl whose family was safe, enjoying a night by the fire in a quaint cabin nestled in the Ivory Forest.

To a girl who thought she might see that family again one day. Would visit them there in that cabin and enjoy a night of peace and smiles and cold whiskey. Would watch the man she loved meet them, would watch her father shake his hand, watch her mother wrap him in an embrace, watch her brother pester him about his strange, foreign magic.

What a fool she’d always been.

Mariah sat on one of the many couches, slumped against the cushions. Empty. So empty. Even the press of Andrian’s thigh against her own wasn’t enough to shake the numbness.

She’d cried as they’d walked through the halls to her rooms. The tears slowed as she tossed her bloodied dagger on the bed, stopping completely as she changed out of her coronation gown and into her familiar leggings and tunic.

She emerged from her bathroom to Andrian, waiting, her dagger cleaned and polished in his hands. He offered it to her without question, and she took it without a word.

It was back against her thigh, her fingers toying with the hilt.

Mariah would slit Shawth’s throat with this dagger, would ensure she did not leave this world until she felt his life drain out from beneath the blade.

There were murmurs around her living room. The rest of her Armature—besides Matheo and Feran, who had dragged Finn away—were perched around her, exchanging tight whispers and shooting her concerned stares. Sebastian, especially, sat close, brows pulled tight as his concern stretched across his face.

She didn’t bother getting their attention before speaking. They’d all hear her, anyway. “I need to get them back.”

“We will, Mariah. We promise, we’ll get them out.” Sebastian leaned forward, reaching for her hand.

Mariah didn’t offer it to him but didn’t pull away, either. She simply remained motionless, devoid. An empty shell of vengeance and anger.

More lurked beneath the husk of her rage. But she was too afraid of it, of the way it looked back at her with slitted eyes and burning death in its maw.

“You misunderstand me, Sebastian.” Her voice was biting. “I don’t want to get them out,eventually. I want to get them outnow. They can’t spend a single second more in that miserable pit.” She shivered, the scars on her back itching.

Mariah remembered all too well what they did to visitors in that castle.

Andrian tensed beside her. Sebastian’s jaw worked, frustration in his hazel eyes.

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