Andrian pulled in a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “I don’t doubt you,nio,” he murmured. “But is it even possible?”
“Of course, it is. I’m the queen.” She shrugged. “And besides. Why would the ancient Onitans have a word for king if they never meant to use it?”
She had a point.
Andrian’s hand slid up her body, along the soft skin of her neck, fingers winding into the thick roots of her hair. Mariah’s eyes fluttered closed, sweet breath ghosting over his cheek.
“Once this is all over,” she whispered, “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t standing by my side. Not as my Consort or my Armature, but as my equal.”
Andrian’s breathing was shaky, his heart thumping heavily in his throat. “I will never be your equal, Mariah.” He swallowed. “But I’m willing to spend every day of my life trying to be.”
Their kiss was soft and melting and uncharacteristically gentle. Mariah sighed into his mouth, arms wrapping around him. Her tears finally slipped free and he tasted their salt, tinged with bits of her moonlight-coated light.
What was this magic? It was not born from gods or celestial beings or anything lurking behind the hidden folds of their world. It was more ancient, more pure, more potent than any of that. Andrian felt like he could reach up, peel back the sky, and grip the stars if she asked him to.
There was something so incredibly damning about love. He could understand then why so many feared it, why so many tried to squash it away.
His grip around her shoulders tightened. They were alone on this path. It would take no effort at all to pull her away from the cliff and closer to the trees, to drop to his knees and worship her in every way he’d shown her he could?—
A shrill cry pierced the night, followed by the unmistakable brush of feathers through the wind.
Andrian knew that cry. Knew the flight pattern that was reserved only for when she wanted to be heard.
Mariah knew it, too. They broke apart, panting softly, and turned to the trees behind them.
Where Cielle was perched, a rolled-up scroll clutched in her talon.
Chapter 72
Cielle trilled furiously on the branch. She shook her leg, offering the scroll clutched in her talons. Mariah lurched from Andrian’s arms.
There was only one reason Cielle would come bearing a scroll and acting with such urgency.
Someone had found something.
Mariah’s heart pounded in her chest. She had her magic back, and now she had another answer. Or at least, a place to start.
Vengeful rage swelled under her ribs.Thiswas what she craved. Not peace; not rest; not safety.
Revenge. Cold, brutal revenge.
Even as that thirst for vengeance swept through her, guilt prickled with it. Her bonds were back. Her Armature knew that. And yet, someone had to use Cielle to get Mariah’s attention just to share vitally important information.
If she were stronger—if she were braver—she could’ve had this information well before tonight.
She wasn’t ready, though. Maybe it made her weak and selfish and a coward. She was still processing all that had happened in thestaor—and all that had happened before, whenKhento had gone so terribly wrong. She missed her Armature, missed the way they filled in all her broken cracks in their unique, special ways, but she wasn’t ready to open herself.
She had the one she couldn’t shut out, and for now, that was all she could manage.
Cielle cried again, this time more urgently.
“Calm your feathers.” Mariah reached the tree. Cielle hopped down from her perch, landing on a lower branch at Mariah’s eye level. The bird rustled her feathers, blinking slowly and pushing her head into Mariah’s offered palm.
Thestaorhad offered no explanation as to Mariah’s connection to the eagle. It all remained a mystery. But some things, Mariah figured, were better off not being understood.
“What do you have for me, Cielle?”
The eagle lifted her leg, picking at the leather tie around the soft feathers of her leg. Mariah quickly pulled the knot, freeing it and Cielle’s cargo. The eagle settled back on the branch, preening and cleaning her feathers, one eye watching Mariah.
