“Not yet,” Callamus rumbled. “This matter concerns you, of course. But we’ve known Priam for many millennia. Let us speak with him first.”
Mariah hesitated. She wanted to come. She wanted to give this empty anger in her chest an outlet. Wanted to ask that meddling god why he’d felt the need to create further issues for an already displaced monarch who was holding onto her crown with nothing more than bravado and a broken heart.
“Okay,” she said. “Good luck.”
Callamus dipped his great head, indigo scales gleaming in the sunlight. The two dragons launched back into the air, dark shapes moving across the cloudless sky.
Would they be able to get through to Priam? Was there more to the god’s arrival that they weren’t telling her?
They had been honest with her so far. Mariah trusted them—at least, as much as she could trust anyone outside her court. That didn’t mean she didn’t harbor fears.
Not after everything. Fear was a companion now, as recognizable to her as the beat of her heart.
“Mariah.” A warm hand touched her shoulder. She blinked, gaze focusing on a boyish face with kind hazel eyes. Matheo’s head was cocked, brown hair tumbling across his forehead. “What now?”
Mariah drew in a deep breath, the arid desert air burning her lungs. She was thankful it was so warm here. It melted the ice that pitted in her stomach.
Right then, all she wanted was more of that warmth.
“I want to train.”
Matheo’s brow furrowed, like he was trying to interpret what she’d said. “Like…right now? Today? Here?”
“Yes.”
Matheo exhaled heavily, shielding his eyes. He glanced up at the scorching sun. “Really? It’s hotter than the goddess’s tits out here.” He froze, cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of ruby. He dropped his gaze back to Mariah, eyes comically wide, asif Rulene herself had heard him. “Was that…can I…am I still allowed to say that?”
Mariah shrugged, fighting back a spark of humor. “Probably not. I guess it depends on which goddess you’re talking about.” She dropped her voice. “Though I probably wouldn’t say it in front of one ofthem.”
Matheo nodded emphatically, suddenly very serious. “Right. Yeah. Good thinking.”
Mariah couldn’t help it. Despite the stress of the day, she laughed softly, mouth splitting into a light grin. She shoved her Armature’s shoulder playfully.
“C’mon,” she said, feet already carrying her toward the grove of acacias. “We’re wasting daylight.”
“You should eat something first, Mariah!” Delaynie called. Her arms were crossed over her chest, strands of auburn hair catching in the breeze.
Mariah was about to protest, but a familiar face poked out of theserekah’sdoorway. “She’s right, lass!” Mikael wore a stern expression, though light danced in his eyes. “I made sandwiches. No heading into that grove until you eat one.”
“Sandwiches aren’t waffles, Mikael,” Mariah said with a groan, but she turned back toward theserekahanyway. The moment her chef appeared, her hunger awoke. Her stomach panged angrily against her ribs, as if reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.
“I know, lass. You’ll get your waffles one day. For now, my fresh bread will have to do.”
Mariah supposed she could live with that.
Sweat plasteredMariah’s braid to her neck. She took a swig from the water skin, the cool liquid soothing a path down her throat.
It was fucking hot. Not the sort of humid warmth that swept over Onita in the summers, either. This heat was dry and baking, like they were loaves of bread in Mikael’s oven.
It felt good to move and sweat, though. Mariah’s savored the ache in her muscles—both from her run that morning and from the spar she’d just had with Quentin. Her red-haired Armature leaned the dulled training swords against the trunk of an acacia, their blades curved in the style preferred by the Kreah.
“Fucking gods.” Matheo flopped down onto the packed sands, throwing an arm over his face. Trefor was splayed out face-down beside him, sides heaving with exertion. The boys had shed their shirts in the first few minutes of training, their skin slightly flushed from the sun and gleaming with sweat.
“You are all so dramatic.” Rylla tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. She leaned casually against a tree, flipping her spear over in her hands. Kiira sat cross-legged beside her.
“I’m not kidding this time, Rylla,” Matheo grumbled. “Your desert is actually going to kill me. This is the end of Matheo Riqueti.”
Rylla only scoffed. “If you cannot even survive this, then you won’t last through the summer. This is still mild. The days haven’t even reached their peak yet.”
