They would reach Andburgh that day.
Andrian filled his water skin from the forest creek, the cold water bubbling around his fingers. His horse drank deeply beside him, tail swishing idly. The beasts were proving to be fine mounts—solid and steady and slow to tire as they trotted down the packed earth roads.
They still weren’t worth what he’d paid for them, though.
Andrian sighed and stood, his gaze finding Mariah’s over the back of their horses. She chewed on a piece of dried, salted meat, offering him some wordlessly.
Andrian couldn’t shake all the things Kol had said when he’d been in Khento. Mariah was who he wanted most, all because he thought she’d stolen something from him. And now, they were heading right for him.
Did Mariah feel the same dread that he did? The same looming feeling of foreboding, like they were walking into the biggest mistake they would ever make?
He felt nothing from their bond. Nothing, except all that rage and fear that always plagued her. Always consumed her.
Andrian’s chest ached. She carried so much darkness with her, despite the light coursing through her veins.
He took the offered food. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I need to take a piss.” Matheo stretched his arms above his head.
“Then go piss,” Andrian quipped. “I’m not going to hold it for you.”
Matheo shot him a sour look, muttered something under his breath, then stomped off into the woods. Mariah ran a hand down her horse's neck, eyes glazed over the way they always did when she was lost to her thoughts.
“Nio.”
She looked over her shoulder, green gaze piercing. Andrian took her hand, pulling her to face him fully.
“Are you still sure about this?”
“Of course, I am.” Mariah brows pulled together, her head tilting. “You’re not.”
It wasn’t a question. She already knew. He’d told her as much that morning, and she could likely feel every bit of his hesitation, every one of his worries leeching down that bond that never closed.
Andrian swallowed. “I’ll always believe in you,” he said quietly. “And I’ll follow you anywhere. But I love you enough to tell you when I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Amistake.” Mariah scoffed. “Mymistakewas not protecting my family from the moment I was Chosen. Mymistakewas letting fear keep me from acting.” Her shoulders straightened, that fierceness he adored so much igniting in her features. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“Mistakes in the past don’t forgive mistakes in the present, Mariah.”
Her jaw clenched.
An idea sprung into Andrian’s head. A terrible idea, and one that might earn him a dagger to his chest, but maybe it was the only thing she’d listen to.
He turned, stepping to his horse's side. He pulled a silver leatherbound book from his bag. The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees caught the embossed name on the cover.
Ginnelevé.
Mariah took a jilted step back, bumping into her horse. Sparks of light dropped from her fingertips, a growl that was a bit too animalistic rumbling from her throat.
“Why thefuckdid you bring that?” Her gaze darted between the book and Andrian. “It’s all I have left of my mother, Andrian. Of her entire bloodline. It needed to stay in Leuxrith where it’ssafe.”
Andrian took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry I brought it. I know it’s all you have left of her. I promise I’ll protect it with my life. But I think you need to read the most recent entries, Mariah. Not the ones written by your ancestors about thereykror the gods, but the ones written byher. By Lisabel Ginnelevé Salis.”
Mariah’s spine was rigid, body held so still he wasn’t even sure she was breathing.
“Stop,” she whispered, hardly louder than a breath. “Stop. Right now. Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”
Maybe he should. Maybe he should put the diary back into his bag, open his arms, and be the distraction she always wanted.
