“Going for a picnic. Want to join?”
Matheo’s expression softened, lightening with a pinch of humor. “A picnic…at dawn?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Before it's too hot.”
He took the basket from her. “I’ll join, because it’s my job. But only if you tell me where you’reactuallygoing.”
“Nice to know you only want to spend time with me because it’s your job.”
“Mariah.”
She glanced away at his gentle scolding, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I want to see them.”
Matheo watched her for a long moment before nodding. “Lead the way, Queenie.”
The simple doorwas more daunting than any she'd ever faced. Even the throne room doors in Verith couldn’t compare.
She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, stealing a quick glance at Matheo. She wasn’t surprised to find him watching her, concern etched across his handsome brow, messy dark hair falling into his face.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Mariah nodded. “I need to do this.” She paused. “I needthis. To see them.” Her fingers wrung themselves around the woven basket handle. “I’m not the only one who lost someone that day.”
“You needed time. They understand that.”
Mariah fell quiet as she stared at the door, her thoughts winding a single, painful stream through her mind.
“Everything is so empty now,” she whispered. “I’ve choked and smothered it so well, just to get out of bed every day, that I no longer even feel the things I want to.” She released a hand from the basket, raising it in front of her.
“Maybe that’s why my magic is gone. It needs more than an empty vessel to thrive.”
Before Matheo could respond, she was rapping lightly on the simple door.
They waited there in silence for a few moments, quiet shuffles from the other side of the door telling them they’d been heard. The door swung open, revealing an uncharacteristically haggard Wex, his gold-gray hair in disarray and deep, dark circles beneath his eyes.
The moment those eyes locked on Mariah, everything about him softened. Crumpled. Wex Salis, the fierce and decorated retired soldier of Onita’s Royal Infantry, surged toward his daughter with tears falling down his cheeks, wrapping her in his thick arms and hugging her tight to his barreled chest.
Mariah’s battered heart cracked at the contact. Some of that sweet, blessed numbness faded away, a surge of joyfulheartbreak seeping into the hollow crevices of her soul. Both her arms wrapped around her father—the basket she’d been carrying smartly snatched away by Matheo—and she buried her face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, father and eldest daughter, trying to ground each other in their shared love and joy and devastated sadness. They could have stood for days, and it wouldn’t have been long enough to heal what was broken inside her.
“Hi, Dad,” Mariah finally murmured into his cotton shirt. His arms tightened around her.
“Hi, M,” he said, slowly releasing her. She tipped her head up to meet his gaze, finding him smiling down at her, sad but warm. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” The apology poked at her skin.
She was sorry for so much more than just that.
Wex placed a large hand on the back of her head, softly kissing her crown. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We knew you would find us when you were ready.” He released her, and she immediately felt the loss of his warmth. Wex glanced over her shoulder. His brows pinched, as if trying to recall something.
“Sebastian, is it?”
Matheo stepped forward, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Close. I’m his younger and better-looking brother, Matheo.”
Wex winced. “Yes, I knew that. I’m sorry; it’s hard for this old mind to keep track.” He extended a hand to Matheo, who took it eagerly. “It’s nice to meet you again, and under better circumstances this time.”
Warmth bloomed in Mariah’s chest. “Don’t feel so bad, Dad.” She nudged Matheo with her shoulder. “I have a hard time keeping them all straight myself. Especially when they’re annoying and won’t let me visit my family on my own.”
