Mariah’s spine stiffened under the God of the Stars’s gaze. His smile carried a hint of an edge. It was clear he hadn’t forgotten how they’d first met.
Her dagger to his throat. The way she’d threatened him.
She swallowed.
“The young queen,” Priam said smoothly. “It’s good to see you again. Though I hope we can have a more civilized conversation this time.”
Mariah ground her teeth. “I make no promises, Priam. I’m still dealing with the mess you made but refuse to help with.”
“What mess? Saving your people?” Priam waved a hand, as if shooing away a pest. “I still think you should be thanking me.”
Anger seethed in Mariah, hot and pressing. She opened her mouth, not giving a fuck who this god was, when she caught Rulene’s stare.
The goddess gave her a subtle shake of her head. As if knowing the fury and frustration Mariah felt and telling her that dealing with it the way she wanted would not end well for any of them.
Fine. One day, Priam would understand the strain he caused. One day, she wouldmakehim understand.
There was another, more pressing matter to deal with today.
“And one of my Marked!” Priam’s attention shifted to Matheo. His expression noticeably lightened, the starlight in his hair glinting brighter. “I recognize you. The younger merchant boy from Sacale. Though I never felt my Consort’s magic claim you; only your older brother?—”
“Qhohena didn’t claim him. Her sister did.”
Priam froze, slowly turning back to Mariah. She tasted the crackling energy of his power, goosebumps pebbling her flesh as his magic brushed her skin.
“I suppose I failed to consider that.” His eyes glowed brighter. “How many of your Armature did the Goddess of Death claim?”
“Four.” Mariah held his stare, even as his grace filled the room.
Matheo looked like he was going to be sick.
“She never could resist inserting herself, could she?” Priam scoffed. As quickly as his magic had spread, it retreated. A weight lifted from Mariah’s chest, and she cursed the silent hollow beneath her ribs.
Priam had made her feel weak. She hated feeling weak.
“Where is Zadione, anyway?” Mariah turned to Rulene and Callamus. “And Qhohena. They’ve both appeared to me before. And since you’re all back, I figured there would be a way for them to be, too–”
“If you ever see them again, it will not be on this plane.” Rulene’s voice was tight and tinged with sadness. “You carry their grace, Mariah. Silent though it may be, that was their connection to this world. They could appear to you while that grace still slumbered. But since you awakened it, and awakened us, their gateway to this plane is all but sealed.”
Oh.
“I didn’t know.”
Rulene softened. “How could you?” She took a step forward, pale hair flowing. “None of this is your fault, Mariah. We do not blame you. And we are here to help you.”
“Speak for yourself,” Priam mumbled.
Callamus rounded on the God of the Stars. “If you cannot be civil,” he growled, “then you can leave.”
Priam’s lip lifted in a sneer, but he turned toward the winter wing. “Fine,” he said. “Help the young queen. Champion her to the Crieré for all I care. But she is the reason my Golden cannot walk beside me, and I will have no part in it.”
The room fell into silence as he left, vanishing into the shadows of blue and gray.
“You will have to ignore him,” Rulene said. “He’s always been the most difficult of us.”
“To put it mildly,” Callamus muttered, running a hand through his shoulder-length indigo hair.
But Mariah was no longer dwelling on the God of the Stars. Instead, her mind had sharpened, Rulene’s offer to help refocusing her on why she’d come.
