“We can go with you, but…” She drew in a ragged inhale. “But I can’t fly.”
Concern flashed through Rulene’s golden eyes. “Is something wrong? Are you injured?”
“Not…physically,” Mariah stammered. Cool sweat pooled at the back of her neck as the concern faded from Rulene’s expression, replaced with curiosity.
“Then what is it, Mariah?” Callamus wore that same curious look.
Mariah swallowed. “I—” Her words caught in her throat. She cleared it and tried again.
“I can’t use my magic. I can’t feel it. Ever since we arrived in Kreah, it’s just…gone.”
Rulene and Callamus fell still. Supernaturally still. Only the breeze rustling their hair revealed they were more than hyper-realist statues, molded in a perfect image.
Rulene drew a breath. “Well,” she said, sharing a furtive glance with her Consort. “That is certainly…something.” She looked back at Mariah, real kindness in her expression, albeit masked by that same strange curiosity. “Thank you for telling us.”
“Indeed. It is better we know than you keep it from us. And we know how difficult it can be to reveal a weakness to those you have only just met.” Callamus nodded with his words. “But we really must go. Rulene and I can carry you all to the border.”
Mariah nodded absently, still a bit dazed, before Callamus’s words struck her.
“Wait, did you say the border?”
The God of the Night Sky dipped his head in confirmation. “Yes. There is something there you need to see.”
Chapter 4
“Lord Gabriel Laurent has arrived from Antoris, as commanded. He awaits an audience with Your Holiness.”
Andrian’s ears rang with the herald’s announcement. Dread pooled through his veins.
“Ah, right on schedule then. It’s good to see the young heir values punctuality.” Kol smiled smoothly and turned to the other lords, who watched on with thinly masked nervousness. “You all may go. My son will stay.”
The way Kol saidsonmade Andrian’s stomach twist, icy disgust freezing his veins.
The lords turned to leave like obedient dogs. But one of them—the youngest, Lord Campion—paused for a moment, glancing briefly at Andrian. He’d only been a lord for a few months. Elevated to his seat after Mariah lost her temper at her first formal meeting with the Royals, stopping his elderly father’s heart with a blast of her magic.
There was something about that memory and the way Campion watched him. Andrian couldn’t help himself. He ignored the faint pounding in his skull, and a slow, feralgrin spread across his face. Campion paled, eyes flashing with something akin to panic.
The Campion’s had never been a magically gifted family. So, when Andrian forced a few of his shredded, cowering shadows free—a silent, subtle taunt at the lord who’d already seen what his queen was capable of—he did so with a soft chuckle, one that chased the young lord from the hall, nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed to catch up with the others.
Andrian’s amusement died, though, when someone stepped into his field of vision. Kol drowned his chuckle, swallowing that moment of reprieve. This time, all the god’s manic rage was gone, replaced almost by gleeful pride.
Andrian’s stomach turned again, his shadows retreating beneath his skin. He slowly stood from his chair, flexing his wrists and rolling his shoulders. Ksee still stood on the raised platform, lip lifted in a sneer.
“You may go as well, High Priestess,” Kol commanded softly, not bothering to turn to address her. She stiffened, then lifted her chin with a sniff before gathering her robes in her hands and gliding from the great hall.
Kol’s gaze drifted to Andrian’s chest. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone—he’d never bothered with them, anyway—and the god’s lip curled back with a sneer. Shadows peeled from his arms, twisting through the air like snakes.
Andrian tried and failed to mask his flinch when they met his skin.
“How shameful that she brands you like cattle,” he said. His shadows tugged the collar of Andrian’s shirt, revealing more of the scarred dragon-shaped Mark inked on his chest. “Though I suppose it is all Priam. What a meddlesome, pathetic excuse for a god.” Kol flicked his wrist, and the shadows vanished.
“Seems fitting, though. Maybe you are nothing more than the moon bitch’s property.”
A growl, low and menacing, slipped past Andrian’s throat. His body tightened, the edges of his restraint fraying as he almost launched himself at the dark god.
But what good would that do? He’d chosen this fate. Hedeservedthis fate.
Besides, Kol was right. Andrian belonged to Mariah, marked for life. Even though he could never see her again, it was still something he would never change.
