Page 43 of Scourged

Quentin mostly just made for a fun drinking companion.

Andrian met their stares. If they had the gall to ask him what was wrong … he would tell them. But he wasn’t one for idle chit-chat and did not volunteer information without first being asked.

At least, not unless he had a very, very good reason.

Sebastian cleared his throat again. “Andrian,” he repeated. “Is … is everything okay?”

Andrian’s jaw clenched. He shoved his hand into his pocket, balling up the piece of parchment. He withdrew his hand and tossed it to the other boys with all the carelessness one might throw a piece of trash.

Quentin caught the note, flattening it out. Sebastian leaned over his shoulder and read it with him.

Andrian watched them with icy numbness. Slowly, they lifted their eyes back to his, shock and horror and despair written on their faces.

They were always so much better at wearing their emotions than he was. Everyone was.

“I think he did it.” Andrian spoke with all the cold darkness of the shadows that ran through his blood, the last gift of his mother he had left.

They both blinked in surprise. “Who did what?” Quentin’s voice was unusually subdued but curious.

“My father. I think he did it.” Andrian turned away to stare up at the peaks of the Attlehons towering above the valley of the game park. “He always despised her for sullying his bloodline. For creating me. Something more Leuxrithian than Onitan.”

“Andrian,” Sebastian said, insistent. Andrian glanced back. “You are just as much Onitan as the rest of us. And … we are here for you.” Sebastian looked at Quentin, who nodded. “All of us.”

Andrian cocked his head.

“Thank you.” But he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean anything anymore, not when he felt so empty inside. Hollow and worn.

Chapter 16

Mariah wasn’t stupid enough to pull the slender, sharp paring knife out from between the mattress and the stone wall of her cell.

But her mind spun around it, nevertheless.

It started the moment her skin had touched Andrian’s in the dining hall. At the bolt of energy that shot between them.

She swore she saw something flicker in his eyes, something haunted and familiar and real. It had wavered, in and out, as he’d spoken to the lords, excused them from the table, walked her back to her cell.

There was a moment of utter clarity, when the haze had cleared from his eyes, leaving only the gleaming richness of tanzanite, as he’d tossed the knife at her feet.

Even with all her thinking, she couldn’t figure outwhy. Why this was what he’d chosen as his singular act of defiance before he’d slipped back away into his prison of flesh and shadow.

Mariah was still lost in those thoughts when, once again, steps sounded from down the dark, lonely hall leading to her cell. She sat up straighter, leaning her rigid back against the cold stone, focusing on the soft thump of approaching footfalls.

She noted they were light, delicate feet garbed in slippers instead of boots. They weren’t the footfalls of a man. They were the steps of a woman, dressed in finery, who had no idea how to move without alerting others of her approach.

The faint gold glow ofallumeappeared around the corner, and Mariah schooled her expression into neutrality as Anniliese Hareth strode from the darkness, dark hair pinned into a mass atop her head, her creamy neck bared and framed by a gown of rich fuchsia.

All the money in the world, and this girl chose to dress in fucking flower pink.

The sight of Anniliese roused something dark in Mariah’s blood, pulling out her anger despite her current defeat. Her jaw clenched, hands tightening around her threadbare blanket. She forced glittering knives into her stare.

Just like the knife now hidden below her bed.

But when the other girl came to a halt outside the heavy iron door of Mariah’s cell, peering through the bars, her rage faltered. Still hot, still burning, but tempered. Doused with a mist of cool water.

Despite her polished appearance, Anniliese’s honey-brown eyes were rimmed in red. As she stared at Mariah, who still wore the ugly, demeaning monstrosity from the night before, something in her expression dimmed.

“Why are you still putting yourself through this?” Anniliese’s voice was soft and muted.

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