Page 194 of Scourged

Half an hour later, Mariah was dressed in one of Andrian’s shirts and sitting cross-legged on the tiny bed, toying with her grandfather’s dagger. She threaded light between her fingers, her body clean and sated but her stomach still twisted into knots.

The door hinges whined and Andrian slipped back into their room. He’d gone to check on the watch order for the night, and the floorboards groaned beneath his weight as he padded to the bed, dropping to a knee before her. He slipped a finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his, taking the dagger from her and setting it on the tiny bedside table.

Andrian searched her face before brushing back her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “They are strong,nio. Just like you. We’ll get them out.”

Mariah swallowed. “I’m glad I made everyone stop. But now that we have, I want to be back on the road. I don’t want to be here, comfortable and resting, while they’re in that place.”

“I know. But your gut was right; we needed this. It’d be useless to them if we arrive tired and drained.” He dropped his hand from her chin. “Try to sleep tonight, Mariah. Then tomorrow, we can ride like the Scourge himself is chasing us.”

Mariah blinked and he stood, pulling off his boots before sitting beside her on the bed. She drew her magic back beneath her skin, sliding up the bed and slipping beneath the covers.Andrian followed her, wedging himself between her and the wall.

The moment he settled, she twisted into his chest, wrapping her arms around his middle as his hands brushed down her spine. His breath brushed the top of her head as she burrowed into his neck, taking a deep inhale of his rain and cedarwood scent. The smell of the Ivory Forest, of a quiet cottage in the woods, of the only home she’d known for the first twenty-one years of her life.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “I worry because I think he might be.”

Andrian didn’t answer. Only tightened his hold, fingers tracing patterns along the scars on her back as she eventually faded into sleep.

Chapter 68

The woods were silent during the starlight hour. The insects had retreated into the ground, and it was still too early for the birds to wake.

Beside Andrian, Mariah sat up on the bedroll they shared, drenched in sweat and panting as she clutched at her chest. He could feel her roiling emotions down their bond—panic and fear and rage. He reached for her, but before his fingers met her skin she stood, padding away from their camp. She sat beside Feran, who was on watch and curled her legs under her chin.

Andrian watched her, not yet ready to stand. She needed this, he realized. Needed this moment alone, with one of her Armature who was least likely to ask questions.

They’d left the inn early that morning, riding hard north through the day. They were now only a half-day’s ride from Khento and had taken shelter in the small glade, one last chance to find rest.

He laid on his bedroll in the grass until night fell away and the birds chirped. The first rays of dawn and the anxious, charged energy still churning from Mariah pulled him to his feet, and he joined them there on the edges of camp.

Feran gave him a short nod, which Andrian returned, but Mariah didn’t move. Not until a few long minutes after he sat, when she reached out a hand, resting it atop his in the grass. His fingers curled around hers as they watched the sun rise over the woodland canopy above.

“We need to go,” Feran murmured. Mariah turned to Andrian, and they shared a look that said more than they could ever speak. Andrian tightened his grip on her fingers.

He’d never been very good with words, at least not the ones about how he felt. But this? This he could do.

Mariah gave him a slow nod and a tight smile, and then they were packing their camp and mounting their horses, ready for the last stretch of their ride to Khento.

The woods were darker this far north. Even on the cusp of summer and the sun bright and shining overhead, there was a biting chill in the air. The shadows of the trees seemed to nip at their heels, a pack of rabid wolves chasing them as they galloped.

Mariah pulled Kodie to a stop beside a bubbling spring running through a quiet dell. She glanced at Feran, who nodded. “Here,” he said.

She faced the rest of them. “This is where we leave the horses. Untack, but make it organized. Like we discussed.”

They swiftly set into action. Their silence was tense and heavy, broken only by the clinking of metal and leather and the thud of packs and saddles to the ground.

This part of their journey was planned in detail. The horses would be left here, untacked and untied; as warrior horses, they were trained not to leave their area, even without fencing. Not unless something chased them away.

They were only a short distance from Khento now and needed to move undetected, so they would finish their journey on foot. Once at the castle, Quentin, Trefor, and Matheo would split away to create a diversion—which was part of the reasonthey needed three days to prepare—while Sebastian, Andrian, and Mariah would sneak in through the gardens and down into the dungeons. Drystan and Feran would stand watch just beyond the walls, their bonds with Mariah staying open to alert her of any approaching danger.

It sounded so simple, yet something nagged at Andrian. A hidden instinct, perhaps.

Or just the feeling that whatever they were walking into … there was nothing any of them could do to prepare for it.

Minutes later, they all stood around Mariah. She was a warrior-goddess, dressed in her dark fighting leathers, twin short-swords crossed behind her back and her red-sheathed, dragon-winged dagger at her thigh.

It filled Andrian with a dark, feral sort of pride.Hisgoddess,hismoon,hiswoman.

His.

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