Page 6 of Scourged

At least he wasn’t holding her where she now bled freely, ruby-red droplets dotting the ground. Small blessings, she supposed.

With a grunt, the guard threw her to the ground in the corridor at the top of the stairs. Mariah landed heavily on herinjured knee and arm, letting out a yelp of pain, vision spotting. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, gasping for breath on the cold floor, scraping the very dredges of what little fight she had left.

She forced a deep inhale through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. The trembling in her body slowed, just enough for her to crack open her eyes, even as blood continued to drip down her forearm and streak her hands.

Two booted feet filled her vision, spotted with scarlet. They shifted, and a large, familiar hand gripped her chin, twisting her head to meet his crushing blue stare.

“Stand up, princess. You need to be on your feet when you greet our Royal hosts.”

The lightsof the room were blinding, a fierce, burning reminder of the darkness Mariah had dwelled in for the past several weeks.

She blinked blearily against the brightness—it wasn’t sunlight, but was instead the warm glow ofallume, the magic harvested twice a year on the Solstices that powered light and technology throughout Onita. It’s normally comforting, magical glow was now harsh and unforgiving, and her eyes adjusted slowly.

She was exhausted and weak and defeated, but that didn’t stop the anger from sparking low and warm in her stomach, pushing into her fingers and toes, burning against the black and gold stone shackles on her wrists as she took in her surroundings.

It was a throne room. Or, perhaps, a mockery of one.

The aisles were clear, the black stone floor empty except for Mariah and her escorts. Gathered in raised galleries flanking either side of the open space were lords and ladies, the wealthy and privileged of Onita. Clothed in their richest velvets and rarest furs, they watched the girl who was supposed to be their future queen be paraded out of a dark tunnel wearing nothing more than dirty, shredded rags. Their leers and murmurs grated against Mariah’s raw skin, pulling out what remained of her pride and raking it across the inky marble floor.

But she paid those lords and ladies and merchants no heed. Her focus turned to the man sitting in a chair upon a raised dais, his thinning blond hair dull in the light of theallume, face bearing a familiar sneer. Behind him stood a second figure, also blond but with scorching golden eyes set into a face devoid of any warmth.

Heads of two of the six Royal Houses of Onita: Lord Victor Shawth, the man whose grasp on power was threatened by Mariah’s very existence, and Lord Julian Laurent, Andrian’s father, who had once promised to end her reign—and her life—if Andrian ever bonded with her.

At least she didn’t have to worry about that second part anymore. Silver linings.

Andrian peeled away from her side to stand beside the dais, a dark shadow wearing an ambivalent expression. The foul-tempered guard behind Mariah gave her one final shove, forcing her to her knees. Sharp pain speared through her as a bleeding knee met the black marble with a wet thud. Even as she bit her cheek to swallow her cry, Mariah did not pull her glare away from the lords on the dais.

She may not have her magic, but she still had her soul. And despite the brokenness she felt inside, she would not let these men bear witness to it.

Shawth lifted an eyebrow, lips twitching and watery blue eyes shining. With a cavalier wave of his hand, the crowd fell silent, filling the room with an eager expectancy. Shawth stood slowly from his seat, hands shoved in his pockets as he gazed down at Mariah, smile widening.

“Well, Miss Salis. What a difference a month or so can make. One moment, you’re the most beautiful creature in the kingdom, and the next, you’re … well … this.”

Chuckles and laughs sounded from the galleries.

Mariah clenched her jaw, sparks of hatred and rage igniting in her gut. She stared up at Shawth, letting her wrath fill her eyes, baring her teeth in a vicious, animalistic grin.

“I may not be much to look at right now, Shawth, but I can promise you still have no fucking chance.” Her voice cracked from disuse and dehydration, but she forced the words out regardless, thankful for a moment to throw back some of the hate festering in her chest.

Shawth only chuckled. “Chance? A chance at what? To fuck you?” More laughs from the galleries. “My dear, if I wanted to fuck you, I would have done so already.”

A growl surged up her throat, bitter and hollow. Laurent rose from his seat and stepped to Shawth’s side, and the rumble in Mariah’s chest died when she caught the cruel glint in Laurent’s eyes.

Her blood ran cold when he turned that cruel stare upon his son. Andrian had stood still, immobile, but his spine straightened with that look from his father, his own lips tilting up in a smirk.

Mariah’s bravado faded quickly as her eyes lurched from Andrian, bounding between Shawth and Laurent. Her strength washed away like rushing water, her anger settling into tired resignation.

Shawth sighed before stepping down one level of the dais. “No, my dear. Contrary to what you might believe, I do not want to harm you. In fact, I have brought you here, before the people who truly rule this kingdom, to offer you a choice.”

Mariah cocked her head, the matted length of her hair shifting across her back. “A choice?” She scoffed. “I can tell you right now, I’m not interested in anychoiceyou offer.”

Shawth grinned again. “Oh, but I think you might be interested in this one. I could give you everything you’ve always wanted. I could give youfreedom.”

Mariah’s heart gave an unsteady lurch in her chest, sweat breaking out beneath her palms. He couldn’t possibly know that about her; couldn’t possibly know the one thing she’d always craved. Only a few people on the continent—in the entire world—knew what she’d most deeply desired, knew the true reason she’d attended the Choosing all those months ago.

Mariah wouldn’t entertain the possibility that Shawth had learned that about her from anyone close to her. She glanced, one more time, at Andrian, pain striking her gut with every beat of her heart.

He wasn’t looking at her, but the rot of betrayal wound its roots deeper into her blood.

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