Page 33 of When the Wicked Sing
“I was taken,” she said quickly, averting her gaze to notice they were alone. The familiar surroundings of the council chamber, with its walls lined with ancient carvings and artifacts, brought a small measure of comfort.
“Who would dare?” the witch questioned in a tone so deadly that Mariana had to remind herself that it wasn’t her the witch was angry with.
“A fae that works for King Stavros.”
“What? What did he want?” the witch asked, her tone turned calm and measured, her eyes dark and piercing as they bore into Mariana’s, demanding answers.
“I don’t know what he wants, but this was the first moment I had alone to send a message for help.” Mariana’s voice trembled slightly, the weight of her ordeal pressing down on her.
The Siren Witch drew near, scanning her for wounds. “I’m glad you did.”
“Are you alright?” her mother asked. The concern in her expression unsettled Mariana. It wasn’t something she had ever been familiar with. Queen Cybele was known for her stoicism, a trait that had earned her the respect and fear of her people.
“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. Listen,” Mariana said, shaking off her mother’s hands. “The fae said that Astra is alive but that she didn’t send for me. He wouldn’t tell me any more, but the way he was behaving—”
“Astra is in Aurelia? You’re certain?” her mother interrupted, eyes narrowing.
“I can only assume so, but—”
“If she’s there, she needs help,” the witch said.
Mariana let out an irritated breath. “Something is wrong,” she stated firmly. “I think it’s a trap.”
Cybele’s expression darkened. “What do you mean?”
“The way he evaded my questions, the look in his eyes, I don’t know … I just have a hunch.” She hated the doubt she felt as her mother continued to scrutinize her. The queen’s gaze was like a blade, cutting through her defenses.
“A hunch?” The witch’s face remained composed, but her voice carried a note of skepticism. “Mariana, the fae could’ve led you right to Astra. They could’ve gotten you where you needed to go in order to stop the king from getting ahold of Seraphina’s amulet. Have you forgotten what’s at stake here?” she scolded, and Mariana’s mind began to spin.
“I haven’t forgotten—” she started, but the witch held up a hand to stop her, then turned toward Queen Cybele.
“Your Majesty, she must go back. The fate of our people rests in her hands. She must find the amulet.” The witch’s face was stern, unable to accept any other answer.
Cybele paused, glancing between the two of them. Mariana could practically see her mother weighing her options. “If it is a trap, you must be prepared. Malea!”
The queen’s lady-in-waiting popped inside, keeping her hands locked in front of her and her eyes cast down. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Fetch Mariana’s armor.”
“What?” Mariana breathed with wide eyes.
“Right away.” Malea exited the chamber, returning only a moment later with the armor. The sight of it glinting in the dim light made Mariana’s heart skip.
She couldn’t believe what was happening as Malea strapped the custom armor Aurora had made for her onto her chest and back. The armor was a masterpiece, crafted from basilisk bones and imbued with protective enchantments.
“You want me to go back?” she asked her mother softly. The way Cybele’s eyes narrowed made Mariana regret asking.
“You don’t want to find Astra? Rescue your people? I thought this was what you wanted all along?”
“No, I know, of course it is, I just—ah!” Agony pierced her skull, her eyes shutting out the sudden tears as her skin began to vibrate. She gripped her head tightly. Voices screeched between her ears like nails, scraping against her brain, ripping it apart.
It was like her whole body was begging,Go back! GO BACK!
“Mariana? What’s wrong?”
Cybele’s words sounded far away, as if she were falling into a black hole of nothing. Hands gripped her arms and pushed her hair from her face. She couldn’t see anything. All she could do was scream.
The arguing voices of the witch and the queen were like pounding drums, breaking her apart. Their words blurred together, an unintelligible cacophony that made her head throb.
