So instead, Andrian only offered her a silent nod, hoping she felt how deeply he understood, and pressed his lips to hers.
He could get lost in this soft, quiet moment. This pause in the intake of breaths, this moment of stillness before the breaking of a dam.
Of course, that was not how such things worked.
A piercing cry rang out over the trees. A dark shape shot down from the sky. Mariah immediately whirled, blade drawn. Matheo nocked an arrow, and Andrian pulled a long-bladed dagger from his belt.
The newest arrival flapped its wings, crying out again. It was a bird, long pointed wings flapping furiously as it circled the clearing.
“It’s a falcon,” Mariah whispered into his mind. Recognition shot down their bond. “Wait—is it?—?”
Blue light flashed through the clearing.
The falcon was gone. Instead knelt a dark-skinned figure, smooth head bowed, panting softly. Their clothes—once fine—were ragged and torn, and gold jewelry bangled on their wrists and around their neck.
Mariah lowered her sword, slipping it back into its scabbard. Matheo similarly lowered his bow, eyes wide. Callamus stood, concern etching across his ageless brow.
“Amasis?” Mariah took a step forward. The figure glanced up, brilliant blue eyes landing on Mariah. “What’s happened? What are you doing here? How did you find us?”
The tall and lean figure—Amasis—took a final, shaky breath and stood. They carefully wiped their hands down the front of their ruined clothes.
“I’m so sorry, Mariah,” Amasis said. “I tried to hold the peace as long as I could. I swear that I did.”
Cool dread slid through Andrian. He felt the same feeling reflected in Mariah.
He didn’t know this person, but he wasn’t an idiot. Dark skin, shifter, the accent. They were Kreah, and something had happened.
Something bad.
Amasis pointed at a tree above them. Cielle was perched on a branch, ruffling her feathers, but more reserved than usual.
“Your eagle found me when I entered Onitan territory. She led me to you.”
“Amasis,” Mariah repeated. “What happened?”
Amasis swallowed. “The Kreah rebels have taken over. Natia staged her coup. I’ve been ousted as High Counsellor.”
Oh.
Fuck.
This was the High Counsellor of Kreah. Or, former High Counsellor. Mariah had said they’d been one of her closest allies in the aftermath of Khento. They’d promised to keep her court and the Onitan refugee’s safe.
But with them here, that meant?—
“What about my court?” Mariah said, voice breathless. “What about myfamily?”
Amasis clenched their hands. “They have not been harmed. Of that, I am sure. But your court—” Amasis’s voice caught on the words. “Your court—including your father and brother, all those you left behind—were captured. They’ve been sent to the Onitan camp and told they have three days to leave Kreah.”
Andrian stepped out from behind Mariah, brushing his shoulder to hers. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, the Marks on her hands pulsing wildly, magic lashing in the green of her eyes. Fury slid down their bond, hot and seething and glowing with dragonfire.
“And Rulene? What happened to your goddess?”
Callamus stepped forward, expression a careful mask, though his head tilted with interest.
Amasis wavered. “Priam was…upset at the chaos. Specifically at Rulene for not doing more to stop it.” They turned to Callamus, bowing their elegant head. “I’m so sorry.”
“What did Priam do?” Callamus asked, voice as icy and cool as the dead of night.
