Page 21 of Scourged

There must’ve been something there that Anniliese saw. Something that made her brown eyes flash with victory, something that made her pretty lips twist into an evil grin.

Mariah supposed brokenness and heartbreak, no matter how empty they made you feel, never quite left the eyes.

“He never loved you, you know. He only played his part so deliciously well,” Anniliese purred, leaning closer. “He fed you exactly what you wanted to hear, and you ate it up like the desperate little slut you are.” She rose to her feet, glancing once more at Andrian before looking down her nose at Mariah, kneeling at her feet.

“Why don’t I prove it to you?” Anniliese hummed, sweet and sinister.

With that same wicked grin, Anniliese strode away, her path leading her to where Andrian lounged, casual and devastating, beside his father.

As much as Mariah wanted to look away, to not watch whatever was about to happen … she couldn’t. She was frozen in place, the ice that held her sliding over the beating of her heart, forced to watch the scene unfold before her.

Anniliese ambled behind Andrian, running her long-nailed fingers along his shoulders and into his thick, dark hair. His answering smile was as empty and hollow as his eyes. She bent, whispering into his ear. His shoulders tensed, a shadow flickering across his features, a shadow that was quickly shuttered as he returned that hollow smile to Anniliese with an answering chuckle.

The lords around them grinned and snickered, their attention shifting away to continue their meaningless discussions.

But Mariah did not look away.

She did not look away as Anniliese settled herself across Andrian’s hips, pushing up her heavy red skirts as she straddled his muscular thighs.

She did not look away as Andrian’s hands settled on those thighs, on the creamy skin peeking out from beneath the fabric.

Did not look away as Anniliese purred into Andrian’s ear, as she ran her hands through his hair, mussing it in a way that was reminiscent of the day he’d surprised Mariah in a forgotten palace gallery. She’d thought his hair had looked much the same way—like possessive hands had been run through it too many times.

Did not look away, even as Anniliese lowered her mouth to his, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss.

Everything in Mariah flooded and broke and drowned. Every piece of her washed away, hopelessness and despair both emptying and filling her.

How could she have been so blinded? So wrong?

Zadione had tried to warn her. Tried to help her avoid making the same mistakes the goddess herself had once made.

And Mariah hadn’t listened. Now she was here, watching her first love, her only love, kiss another woman like Mariah never existed.

As if she’d called his name, Andrian’s eyes snapped open, the blue clashing with hers across the room. He yanked away from Anniliese, chest heaving as waves of raw, heavy emotion warred and raged across his face.

But Mariah was too empty to contemplate his changed expression or what thoughts might battle behind his walls of ice. It was too late for her. She’d been drowned, and she was lost to the emptiness of her pain.

Despite the hollowness, she held Andrian’s stare until Ellis approached, roughly undoing her binds. The gag was yankedfrom her mouth, and she was pushed out of the dining room, back down the stairs to her dungeons.

It was only once the lock hadsnickedinto place and the light of theallumelamp had faded from view that her tears fell.

Chapter 8

It had been three years since the Mark of the next queen appeared on Andrian’s chest, and he still wasn’t quite used to calling Verith home.

It was easy to pretend during the day. They—he and the other nineteen boys who’d been Marked with him—spent their days training with the best weapons masters in the kingdom, the same commanders who trained the most elite of Onita’s military. When they weren’t on the training pitch, they were in the classroom, continuing their education and learning the pieces of history that would be most valuable to a potential member of a queen’s Armature. Those history lessons, as they’d always been, were a solace to Andrian.

It was the nights when things became difficult.

He was always driven awake by a panic and fear that he could never quite place. Images would flash through his mind—the faces of his father and younger brother, Gabriel. His mother, crying quietly as she said goodbye to him through the closing door of a carriage. There were more … flashes and glimpses of a small dark-haired girl he didn’t know, teetering wildly through a lush forest of trees dripping with leaves like emeralds.

Tonight was no exception.

The dreams dissipated from his mind as he woke with a jolt, stomach in knots. A sensation coiled deep in his gut, the feeling of something yanking and grabbing at his skin before pulling pieces of him away. It felt like the night he’d been Marked but without the pain. No, this feeling didn’t hurt, but it also didn’t feelright.

His fear deepened when a hand gripped his skin, fingers digging into his arm as it roughly shook him into consciousness.

“Andrian! Wake up!” A voice whispered urgently in his ear.

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