With her chin lifted, Mariah led them through the cavern to the array of food set in the center of the room. She ignored the continued stares. The soft mutterings.
She only held tight to Andrian and refused to let go.
“We’re seeing you a bit later than usual.” The man behind a table laden with fresh fruit and bread smiled kindly at them. It was the same volunteers every day, and Mariah was thankful there were a least a few friendly faces in that massive space.
Mariah returned his smile, though it was forced and tight-lipped. “Lost track of time up on the mountain.”
Matheo snorted.
The man gave a knowing smile, but she didn’t miss the quick glance he gave Andrian. “You can sit at the council’s table, if you’d like. It’s a little more private?—”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Her chin was still lifted. She didn’t say the rest of what she wanted to, though she thought it.
Their misplaced hate cannot drive us away.
The man hesitated but nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He gestured to the spread. “Enjoy your lunch.”
They filled their plates with sandwiches and fruit. Andrian was silent, sunken into himself, but he followed her like a shadow. Matheo was already halfway through his first sandwich when he pointed to an empty table near the right wall of the cavern.
Mariah’s bond with Andrian might’ve been silent and closed, but as they wound through the crowds, she could feel him slipping away.
She had resolve. She knew the truth about him and who he truly was.
She also knew he’d always struggled with seeing it.
Gods, she needed to know what Kol made him do in that castle.
They sat, backs to the wall, Matheo across from them. They ate in silence, the stares in the room still grating, still piercing, but survivable.
At least, so she thought.
They’d almost made it through their entire meal. Had almost cleared their plates, ready to get out of this stifling room, when he approached.
The young man was unassuming. Pale skin, a shock of blond hair, light purple eyes. Yet the scowl he wore, the look of pure, desperate, soul-deep loathing, was anything but.
Mariah would have sent her magic out in a flash, would have shoved him away from their table or pinned him to the floor. The second she saw that look on his face, she would have done whatever it took to keep him away.
But she didn’t have her magic. She only had a meaningless title and a dragon-winged dagger on her thigh.
“Is what the Oracle says true?” The Leuxrithian’s question was simple, but his tone was edged and jagged.
Mariah slowly rose from her seat, tension coiled in every inch of her body. “What does the Oracle say?”
The young man shifted his gaze to Andrian. His head was bowed, staring at his empty plate, even as his hands balled into fists.
“He’s one ofthem, isn’t he? One of the shadow touched.” The man’s voice pitched lower. “Areykr.”
The hall had fallen deathly still. A few rose from their seats, craning their necks. Most simply watched the exchange, all that hate and fear and distrust gleaming in their eyes.
Mariah was sick of it.
“Hey, asshole.” Matheo shot to his feet. His glare was hard and fierce, so very different from his usual lightness as he loomed over the man. “It costs nothing to leave people alone. I suggest you go away, before I make you?—”
“Matheo.” Mariah’s command cut him off, no more than a murmur but still firm. Her Armature glanced at her, protective anger swirling in his hazel eyes, but he listened.
Though he didn’t step away from the man.
“I will tell you all the same thing I told your Oracle.” Her voice was soft yet carrying, laced with all the violence bubbling just beneath her skin. “I’m grateful for your refuge and hospitality. I know how Kol has used your people. But?—”
