Page 72 of Scourged

Especially with the last words she’d left him with, the last look she’d tossed his way.

He’d called hernio, and her response had nearly split him in two.

“I don’t think I want to know anymore.”

“I agree with Drystan, I’ll stay here. And … and I’ll stay out of the way. I promise to leave her be until she’s ready to decide what to do with me.” Andrian’s voice was filled with the same quiet defeat and desperation he felt.

She might not feel the same about him anymore, but he still meant every word he’d said to her that night before the Solstice.

He still loved her. She was still the reason his heart beat, the reason he felt alive. She was the answer to every one of his questions.

And if she wanted him gone, he would leave. Because he loved her far more than he would ever love himself.

Chapter 29

Mariah stumbled from her bath when the water grew cold and stagnant, toweling off before slipping into an oversized tunic. She shuffled to her bed, collapsing into the down.

She’d forgotten this bed. How comfortable it was. Her lingering worry and panic and fear simmered below the surface, but the familiar quiet wrapped around her. So much had changed, so quickly, but that silence was still her companion.

Sleep pulled her down quickly, and she let herself fall.

Mariah awoke early in the morning, faint sunlight streaming through her window, dark matted hair splayed across the silk pillows.

She sat up with a jolt, chest heaving and tight, panicked breaths laboring as she shoved back the comforter. Comfortable, at ease. Trapped. The way the heavy blankets wrapped around her like a vice, drowning her in greedy, foreign opulence.

She was safe, but her mind had yet to catch up.

Mariah closed her eyes, forced her breathing to slow, for her heart to stop racing. Shaking slightly, she swung her legs off the bed, touching the soles of her feet to the soft rug below. Her feet were still bruised and scabbed from her time in the dungeonsand had just started to heal after being swaddled in socks and proper shoes for the past few days. They ached dully, but Mariah didn’t mind.

She’d spent so much time barefoot in those cells, she’d forgotten what it was like to not have her toes cold and numb.

She stood fully from bed and padded across the rug until her feet found cool marble.

The cold was much more familiar. More welcome. She savored it, just for a moment.

Drawing a breath, she cracked open her bedroom door, peering into the living room of her suites.

They were just as she remembered, just as she’d seen them last night. Just as empty, just as familiar, just as strange. The spring sunrise lit the Attlehon Mountains in an ethereal glow, and as she walked to the balcony door and opened it on its silent hinges, she smelled the snowbell blossoms blooming, could hear the wingbeats of the eagles echoing off the mountains.

Another inhale. An exhale. A rumble of her stomach.

Mariah turned, leaving the door open, and strode with a sudden purpose toward a cabinet beside the stove. She wasn’t sure how good of an idea this was, but she wanted to make something. Create something that would bring her just a sliver of that past joy she once felt, a happiness she could remember but no longer felt.

Swinging open the cabinet, she spotted the familiar cast iron device, clean and seasoned. She squatted, rocking back on her heels, knees and ankles and the wasted muscles of her thighs screaming.

She wrapped her hands around the sides of the waffle iron. And lifted.

Or … tried to lift. But her arms gave out, and so did her balance, and she collapsed backward. She fell on her tailbone, back slamming into the island behind her.

Her scars itched and pulsed.

Mariah stared hard at that waffle iron. Looked down at her hands, at her arms. At how weak and thin they were, how unfamiliar they felt.

Tears pricked behind her eyes. Another unfamiliar feeling, but one she couldn’t suppress for much longer.

“Mariah? Are you … are you awake?”

Mariah sobbed at the familiar sing-song voice that called out, hesitant yet still filled with hope. She turned just as Ciana burst into the kitchen, appearing around the island, a wave of shock flashing over her bright golden features.

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