A Soul For Chaos (The Soulbearer Trilogy) (18 page)

By Jussip, I’m going to need all the help I can get if I’ve going to survive her.

A sting of magic along his thigh reminded him of the charm the Mage Primus had given them. He pulled the bracelet out of his pocket. “Here, put this on.”

“What is it?”

“Something that will keep you safe.”

But she refused to offer her arm to him. “I’m not putting anything on until you tell me exactly what it will do to keep me safe. For all I know, it could be like those mitral handcuffs in there.”

“Are you going to be this difficult the entire time we’re here?” He let the annoyance consume him. It was better than the alternative.

The ring in her eyes flashed again, another message from Loku, and she squared her shoulders. “You claim to be protecting me from the danger you tell me nothing about, but who’s going to protect me from you?”

The shock of her accusation caught him off guard like a right hook to his jaw and instantly sobered him. Maybe she did need protection from him. If he hadn’t managed to take control of himself when he did, they’d probably be in her bed right now. He cursed under his breath. Damn that woman for affecting him like she did! If he wasn’t careful, she would be his undoing.

As it was, he already knew Loku was having a grand time enjoying the way his Soulbearer had him tied up and twisted in so many knots, he feared he’d never be the same again. It was like he’d purposely chosen Arden to drive the Protector insane instead of the Soulbearer.

His palm burned from holding the charm in his fist, so he relaxed his fingers around it and exhaled. “This is a charm that will hide you from whoever is trying to kill you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“Because…” He sought an answer, digging back in his past experiences before finding it. “Because I’ve never been able to trust a Soulbearer until you.”

Her expression softened along with her voice. “And what changed your mind about me?”

“So far, you haven’t abused your power. I’m trusting that you will continue to act that way.” He lifted her arm and tied the leather cord around her wrist.

“So this will keep me safe from any more spells?”

“This will keep whoever’s behind them from knowing where to send the spells. I can’t say if it will protect you if you come face to face with that person.”

“Because you don’t know, or because you don’t want me to know?”

“Because I don’t know. The Mage Primus just sent this tonight. I’m sure we’ll learn more once we have a chance to talk to him about it.”

She held her arm out, admiring the charm. “And when will that be?”

“That depends on the whims of the Empress. The Mage Primus prefers to stay behind the walls of the Conclave.”

Arden grinned. “Then perhaps we need to make sure the Empress sends us there as soon as possible.”

“Don’t listen to what Loku says. I’d like to leave here with our heads still on, if you don’t mind.”

“Who said Loku suggested anything?” She practically skipped past him, her initial self-consciousness about her outfit gone. “They didn’t call me Trouble for nothing.”

He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “I mean it, Arden. No funny business. Be respectful to the Empress and hopefully, we’ll be on our way in the morning.”

Her eyes narrowed, and a brash display of confidence he’d never seen in her before took over. “I’ll be respectful to her as long as she is to me. But don’t expect me to stand quietly if she tries anything I don’t approve of.”

His stomach sunk. “What has he been telling you about her?”

“Only what you should have.” She raised her shields with a surge of magic so intense, his jaw clenched. “She may be the Empress, but I house a god, and she should respect that.”

Some days, he missed the scared little barmaid he once knew.

***

Arden dug her fingers into Dev’s arm as they ventured into the heart of the Imperial Palace. Despite her outlandish garb, there was something very familiar about all of this. She’d been ordered to appear before a monarch before, uncertain about her future. And like last time, she had Dev by her side.

“Do you have any more tricks up your sleeve?” she asked, remembering how he pulled out his seal giving him diplomatic immunity and presented it King Heodis.

“I don’t think I need any this time. This is all just a formality.” He tried to sound confident, but there was an edge to his voice that caught her attention.

“Something’s worrying you.” She dug her heels in, jerking him back. “Tell me now so I’ll know what to look for.”

His eyes fell on her chest. “I’d feel a bit better if you weren’t wearing your mother’s necklace.”

She closed her hand around it. Ever since her mother died, she’d never gone a day without it. “Why?”

“Because there are some people here in the court that might cause you grief for wearing it.”

She waited for a further explanation, first from him and then from Loku, but nothing came. “Who?”

Dev closed his eyes, and she imagined him counting to ten before he answered. “The less you know about Gravarian politics, the better. But if I say take it off, please listen to me for once.”

“I’ll never take it off, Dev, so you’ll have to come up with a better plan than that.” But to help soothe him, she flipped the necklace around so the pendant hung down her back, safely concealed within the bodice of what they dared to call a dress here.

“Thank you.” He held his arm out to her, and they continued toward the throne room.

“Of course, you owe me an explanation of your paranoia.”

“I’ll tell you more when I think you are ready to handle the information.”

A groan rose in her throat. As usual, more secrets. “Do you have any idea what he’s hiding?” she asked Loku.

“Not the faintest idea. But we have more important things to worry about.”

She looked ahead and knew exactly what he was talking about. A pair of golden doors loomed in front of them, flanked by four guards on each side. An intimidating aura of magic surrounded them and rippled her skin with gooseflesh, a warning to any who dared to threaten the woman on the other side.

But Arden had heard enough about her to raise her own shields high. It was bad enough Loku already had access to her thoughts. She didn’t need anyone else in her mind.

Dev turned to her and raised a brow. “Worried about something?”

“You would know more than me.”

The doors opened, and the crowds parted to reveal a long white carpet leading to the golden throne where the Empress sat. And with each passing step, a new stone lodged in her gut. It wasn’t until they got closer that she understood why.

The woman sitting on the throne could pass as her sister. The same blue eyes, same color hair, same pointed chin. The only differences she noticed were the way the Empress’s ears rose to delicate points and the decidedly smaller mouth.

The Empress sat higher when she saw Arden, her hands gripping the arms of her throne with enough force to blanche her knuckles. Obviously, she noticed the similarities, too, even though her face remained an emotionless mask. “Sir Devarius Tel’Brien, is this the new Soulbearer?”

Dev knelt before her and bowed his head. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Empress stood, the golden scales of her sheath gown clinking as she moved. Everyone else in the room fell to one knee.

Everyone, that is, except Arden. She remained standing, her chin held high.

“That’s right, my little Soulbearer. You don’t need to kneel before anyone. You are practically a goddess.”

Loku’s words steeled her confidence in the face of the approaching Empress. Six months ago, she would have cowered behind Dev. But now she knew the power she possessed. She’d faced down kings and necromancers and come out on top. She didn’t need to be afraid of the slight woman in front of her.

“Arden Soulbearer,” Empress Marist drawled, her voice delicate despite her icy appearance, “we have heard much about you.”

Arden acknowledged her with a slight nod of her head. “As I have you, Your Imperial Majesty.”

A brief flick of Marist’s brow preceded the wall of magic that slammed into Arden. She stumbled back from the force of it, the air whooshing out of her lungs as if the Empress had punched her in the gut rather than standing still. A pair of invisible hands tugged at her arms and shoulders, pulling her toward the floor. Her knees wobbled.

“Reinforce your shields.”

Arden gathered her concentration and followed Loku’s command. She poured her magic into her shield, and the invisible hands released her. Then she followed it up with her own punch of a spell that mimicked the one Marist had greeted her with.

The Empress’s mouth fell open as it hit her and she rocked back on her heels. The room fell silent while the two women stared each other down. Marist regained her composure. “It seems the reports were accurate. We haven’t had a Soulbearer of your caliber in centuries.”

“Then I’m glad Loku chose me.” Despite the pleasantries they exchanged, the hidden battle continued to rage between them. Arden struggled to keep her shields in place as the Empress continued to assault them. “Hopefully, I will be able to complete my training and return home before the winter storms set in.”

“Why are you so eager to leave when you just arrived?” Gone was the delicate, high pitched voice Marist greeted them with. Now, it was lower, louder, full of authority. “I’m rather insulted.”

The timid torches lining the throne roared to life, their flames doubling in size.

Loku chuckled. “She’s given up attacking you and is now trying to intimidate you and everyone else here.”

“Then perhaps I should show her what I’m capable of doing.”

Arden grinned as a gust of wind blew through the throne room, extinguishing all but the two torches behind the throne. The other occupants ducked for cover from the debris, but Arden and the Empress continued to stand, each waiting for the other to back down. Something about the rising chaos called to Arden. Her blood sang through her veins, and she held her arms out to her side, basking in the glory of it all. This was power. This was control. And this was a moment she’d remember for the rest of her life.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dev growled. He clamped his hand on her shoulder, spinning her back.

The act broke her concentration, and the winds died down. Dev glared at her with such censure that her cheeks burned. Loku had fed her magic that was like potent wine, and she’d become drunk on it. Now, the power she’d harnessed dwindled and left her feeling hung over and wondering exactly how much trouble she’d just gotten herself into.

One by one, the torches flickered back to life, filling the room with light once again. Most of the people inside the room rose with dazed expressions on their faces.

The Empress, however, was livid. Her cheeks burned red, and her nostrils flared. “Take her back to her quarters immediately, Sir Devarius. I want her on the road to the Conclave by dawn. Are we clear?”

He bowed his head, his fingers digging even deeper into her shoulder. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Then she turned to Arden. “If you dare disrespect me or my court like that again, I’ll have your head, Soulbearer or not.” Her metal dress whirled around her as she returned to her throne.

His hand maintaining its death grip on her, Dev dragged her out of the throne room and didn’t let up until they were alone in the garden. “I ask you again, what the hell did you think you were doing?”

She’d seen him angry at her plenty of times before, but he’d never raised his voice like this. The effect left her speechless. She wrestled away from him. “She started it.”

“I can’t believe you were so reckless,” he continued, still shouting at her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

The pitch of his voice rose, and she noticed that his eyes were wide with fear rather than narrow with anger. Sweet Lady Moon, she’d actually scared him. “I was trying to let her know I won’t be bullied.”

“She’s the Empress, Trouble. If she ordered your execution, guess who would be forced to carry it out?”

“The tradition is for the Protector to become the next Soulbearer,” Loku answered in the back of her mind, and her body went cold.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” The chill deepened until her fingers trembled.

He walked away, his back to her, and pressed his hand against his temple. “I pray it never comes to that.”

Arden wrapped her arms across her chest. He didn’t tell her he would rather die than execute her like she’d hoped. His continued silence left her feeling more alone than ever. “I thought you would protect me, not play the Empress’s Fool.”

“How can I protect you when you keep doing stupid things like that?” He came back to her, a sheen of sweat along his forehead. “Yes, you are powerful, perhaps even as powerful as the Empress herself, but that was not the time to show off your abilities.”

“So I should have let her invade my mind while I groveled in front of her?”

“She doesn’t trust you, and you’ve given her an even bigger reason to have you locked in those mithral chains. I’m surprised she didn’t order me to put you in them as soon as we get to your quarters.”

He reached for her again, but she evaded him by rolling her torso to the side and adding a few more feet between them. “What is it about this place where everyone feels like they have the right to enter other people’s minds without permission? First Fane tried it, then the Empress.”

“It’s the way things are done here.” He took another swipe at her and missed again.

“So I’ve gone from a place where they want to burn me at the stake to a place where they think it’s perfectly fine to rape people’s minds.” She danced out his reach. “Is there any place that’s safe for me?”

He managed to snag her wrist and pulled her up against his chest. “Yes.”

Somehow, this didn’t feel very safe. On the contrary, being this close to Dev bordered on dangerous, especially with the way his eyes sparkled in the moonlight. A stream of soothing warmth bathed over her. “You’re using magic on me.”

“So?” He drew his arm around her waist, holding her prisoner.

“It won’t work.” But it was working far better than she cared to admit. Her body molded to his, her pulse slowing and her muscles growing more and more lax as he cast a spell over her. Soon, she’d be like clay on a potter’s wheel, waiting for his hands to mold and shape her as they ran up and down her body.