To now find herself trapped here with them? No god could ever be so cruel.
“I don’t think we need to disturb them.” Ciana forced the words past her lips, but they were too weak, too soft.
Isa was carried away by her excitement. “Nonsense, my dear! They must be so proud and eager to see you. Their girl, a Lady of the Queen’s Court.” She waved at another woman, one who’d helped her prepare dinner. “Estelle! This is Marion’s girl—can you believe it? Get her attention, would you?”
Estelle’s eyes widened, lips parting with excitement. She turned and shouted across the crowd.
Ciana’s heart pounded in her ears, her hands beginning to shake, as the assembled people parted.
And there they were.
Her weak, vain mother, honey hair twisted atop her head. Her rich and portly husband, a possessive gleam in his muddy eyes.
But Ciana’s attention had locked on the third. A young man of medium height and build, his dark hair with a prematurely receding hairline, and a mouth that slowly twisted into a wicked, blood-curdling grin.
All the time she’d spent the past months erasing that smile from her memories was gone in a quick beat of her heart. She’d fought so hard to forget the stench of his breath or the sticky feel of his sweat. To dispel from her mind the many nights of clenching her eyes shut, only to be slapped and told to open them or else things would get so much worse.
How that would’ve been possible, she didn’t know. She’d never cared to find out.
“Ciana?” She couldn’t hear her mother, not over the distance or the ringing in her ears, but she saw her lips move. Saw Marion gather her skirts in her hands and stride quickly across the open space.
Saw that while her stepfather remained behind, his son did not.
“Ciana!” Marion was close enough that Ciana couldn’t ignore her voice anymore. “Ciana, is that really you?”
Ciana didn’t answer. She was frozen, a doe caught in a hunter’s snare.
“You didn’t tell me your daughter was a member of the Queen’s Court, Marion!” Isa thankfully stepped in, nodding to Ciana’s mother as she approached.
Marion halted, her stepson a few paces behind her. Surprise lit her pretty features, a face that always seemed untouched by the passage of time. “I didn’t—she’swhat?”
Isa smiled, though a flash of uncertainty crossed her face. “Ciana here is one of Queen Mariah’s Ladies. Did you…did you not know?”
Ire flashed in Marion’s amber eyes—the same eyes she’d given Ciana. “I haven’t heard from my daughter in months; notsince the Choosing.” She pinned those eyes on Ciana. “Imagine my surprise at seeing you here now, after ignoring all my letters. I knew we never should’ve allowed you to go to that silly little ceremony.”
Ciana clenched her spoon, trying to hide her shaking hands. She knew her legs trembled, and the scorching touch of the gaze looming over her mother’s shoulder told her he noticed.
He always saw her fear. He thrived on it; he’d told her as much.
Isa shifted uncomfortably. “Oh—I am sorry. I did not realize?—”
“It’s fine.” Marion tipped her chin higher with a sniff of superiority. “I will bring this to the queen when we arrive at our destination. This silly little girl does not belong on her court or any other. You will come home, where you belong, Ciana.” Marion turned on her heel, striding back to their caravan.
But he still lingered, watching Ciana with those soulless eyes.
“What a treat it is to see you so unexpectedly, sister,” he murmured, so quiet and dark it was clear the words were just for her. “I wasn’t sure when you’d come back to us, but I always knew you would. I can’t wait to getreacquainted.”
A clamor answered his whispered promise. Ciana was trembling so bad she’d dropped her bowl, the last few drops of its contents splattering her boots. Her stepbrother smiled wider as he inched closer, drinking in her pain and fear.
A figure melted out of the shadows behind Ciana. Her stepbrother froze. His hungry expression faded as he lifted his gaze, eyes widening with a hint of something Ciana didn’t recognize.
Nervousness? Apprehension?Fear?
The clearing fell silent as Sebastian planted himself in front of Ciana, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His hair wasdamp, as if he’d just stepped from the baths, his shirt only buttoned halfway up his chest, like he’d thrown it on in a rush.
Even without Mariah’s scarred Mark gleaming proudly on his chest in the firelight, his broad warrior frame and confident presence alone would set him apart as one of her Armature.
“Return to your family, boy,” Sebastian growled in a tone far darker than Ciana had ever heard from him. “She’s not yours to torment. Not anymore.”
