Soulbound (2 page)

I shot my mother a look. “Does he ever listen to anyone?”

“Not since I can remember.” My mother chuckled.

As she moved through the cabin’s back door, she threw a glance at me over her left shoulder. “Avery stopped by a while ago to let us know the festival grounds are all set up. She says it’s even bigger than last year, which is believable, considering how many funds the trade brought in over the summer. The farmer’s market is open now, so you girls could head over anytime.”

I waited for her to say what she always said to me on the day of the Harvest Festival—she and my father were so predictable. When she didn’t continue, I couldn’t help but be surprised. Maybe this year was different. Maybe this year, she’d finally learned to trust that I wouldn’t do something incredibly stupid and risk exposing Barrons and Healers everywhere to the Unskilled.

She threw me another glance before turning toward the stairs that led up to our sleeping quarters. “And Kaya…don’t say anything about you-know-what, okay? Even to Avery. All it takes is for one person to overhear a word they don’t understand to unravel everything we’ve worked for.”

I knew what she was talking about, of course. The fact that they were Barrons. The fact that a whole society of Barrons and Healers existed apart from what we called the Unskilled, or normal folks like the villagers of Kessler. We lived here, sure. But none of the villagers knew that my parents were Barrons, or that I was a Healer. And I knew that if I uttered the word
Barron
in public that I could undo eight centuries of keeping those worlds apart. I just didn’t like being reminded every time I stepped out our front door.

Plus, there was that other thing. The fact that my parents had coupled, and it was against the law for two Barrons to become romantically entangled. One Barron to one Healer—that was the law. And my parents had broken that law. I didn’t much see a problem with it, but apparently the Barron-run Zettai Council did. And they were in charge of just about everything.

“I’m not going to say anything. Do I ever say anything?” I could hear the distinct snap of sarcasm in my tone and immediately reeled my attitude back in. The last thing I wanted was to get grounded on the night of Harvest Festival.

My father was standing behind me at the sink, working the water pump. The metal squeaked as he pressed the handle down, and a moment later, fresh spring water splashed into the basin. I could hear him rinsing his canteen, and though I knew he wasn’t looking at me, I could also tell that he was very aware of my every move, like a hunter. Sometimes that aspect of both of my parents set my nerves on edge. They were fast, strong, and had heightened senses beyond anyone I knew. I’d gone hunting with him before, but only once.

I was just ten years old when my father had taken me deep into the woods to show me how to hunt. Nothing vicious, he’d sworn. Just a Raik or two, or maybe a Khaw. Raiks were easy to track, after all. Their furry bodies kept so low to the ground that a trail was simple to spot. And Khaws hardly ever flew away when people approached. Both were delicious, and besides, he wanted me to learn.

And learn I had. Just as we’d crested a hill, my father spotted a Khaw on a nearby branch. He unsheathed his katana and whipped the blade forward, beheading the creature with skill and precision. Its blood flew through the air, speckling my cheeks.

I’d cried the entire walk home, and my father had never taken me hunting again.

After that, we stuck to fishing.

His tone was far warmer than I’d expected it to be,
considering how snotty I’d just been to my mother. “We just want to make sure you don’t forget, Kaya. You’re seventeen now, and a Healer, which means the Zettai Council’s likely been searching for you for five years. They don’t take Soulbound announcements lightly, even if your parents are fugitives. If they find you, you know what that means for our family.”

Of course I knew what it would mean. How could I ever forget something so horrible? “It means I’ll be shuffled off to some life I never wanted, and you and Mom will be punished for your crime.”

“
Killed
, Kaya.” His eyes snapped to me then, and mine to his, his dark eyes burning with a sincerity that he needed to drive home. “Not just punished. We’ll be
killed
for falling in love. So you see how important it is that you never slip up and say anything to anyone about Barrons and Healers, yes?”

“Of course I do.” The word
killed
rang through my mind over and over again. I dropped my attention to a knot in the wood floor, worried that my father might not understand why I hated the pressure they put on me to keep their—our—secret. “I just don’t understand why you don’t trust me not to say anything.”

“We do trust you. Your mother just worries. Plus, she’s feeling a little out of sorts lately. Her seventeenth year was the year her Soulbound Healer was killed. I think your birthday has reminded her of what it felt
like to experience that loss.” He’d dropped his tone to a near-whisper, perhaps not wanting my mother to overhear our conversation. I couldn’t blame him. My mother hardly spoke of her Soulbound Healer. I wasn’t even entirely sure if her Healer had been a man or a woman. “She was heartbroken. Soulbroken. Nothing can truly heal someone after a loss like that.”

Soulbroken—that sounded awful. I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to lose a part of yourself in that way. My parents had explained to me years before that I had a Soulbound Barron, but I couldn’t imagine it hurting to lose someone I’d never met before, and likely never would. “What about you? You lost your Healer in the Battle at Wood’s Cross, right? Don’t you miss her?”

Something in his eyes shifted then, revealing a haunted, broken man behind the usual strong facade. Seeing this weakness frightened me far more than the precision he’d used to kill during our hunting session when I was a child. My father never showed weakness. Largely because he didn’t contain any. I’d thought so, anyway, until now. “Deeply. I miss Sharyn deeply. But I know she’d be happy that your mother and I fell in love. She’d want this life for me. Minus the threat of the Zettai Council, that is.”

My heart welled up so big that it felt like it was choking me. This was a side of my father that I had not seen. He’d mentioned his Healer before, but only in
passing, and only in the lightest of tones. Stepping closer, I hugged him, and whispered the only words that came to mind. “I’m so sorry you lost her. It must have been awful.”

He squeezed me, just a little too tightly, and then held me at arm’s length and forced a smile. “It was. It still is, and always will be. But today isn’t a day for sadness and regret. It’s a day of gratitude for all that we have.”

A hard knock on the front door stole the moment away, and I was strangely grateful for it. It was unsettling to view my father as a person with real feelings, real weaknesses. He was the glue that held my universe together. The last thing I needed was for that glue to come…well…unglued.

Her impatience getting the best of her, Avery opened the door and poked her head inside. “Kaya? Come on! We’re missing everything.”

By
everything
, I could only assume, based on past experience, that she was referring to the freshly baked waffle bowls filled with mounds of fresh berries and dusted with powdered sugar, and the promise of harmless flirtation with one of the Bowery boys, who happened to belong to the most gorgeous gene pool imaginable in all of Tril. As much as I was dreading witnessing yet another failed harvest romance on Avery’s part, I was certainly looking forward to a berry bowl or two, and the celebratory atmosphere that the Harvest Festival brought with
it every year. I hurried out the door, a grin on my face, and echoing after me was my father’s stern reminder, “No boys, Kaya!”

Avery and I raced all the way to the crossroads, where traffic—both on foot and in wagons of various sizes and styles—had picked up considerably. My lungs burning, I steadied myself with my hand on Avery’s shoulder and slowed my breathing, watching the people as they poured into Kessler’s main street, which wasn’t a street so much as it was a wide, dirt road down the center of the village. I’d never thought much about how ill constructed our village was until my father had taken me to Howe, where the streets, while dirt, were smooth and even, the structures solid, the roofs freshly thatched. I was still proud to call Kessler my home after that, but traveling definitely helped to point out its flaws. Still, I loved it here.

Once we crested the small hill, to a full view of the Harvest Festival, I heard Avery suck in her breath. The dirt street was lined with tall, lit torches, which were wrapped in elaborate corn-husk bows. Lining the crowded street were carts filled with all manner of food and drink, and at the far end of the street, in what we referred to as the town center, were the various games of chance that had attracted people from three villages over. Avery’s favorite was always the axe-throwing booth.
But not because she was particularly gifted at throwing axes.

Grinning and squinting into the setting sun, she tugged my sleeve, pulling me forward down the street. “He’s here.”

I rolled my eyes, but let myself be pulled toward the town center. Standing at the axe-throwing booth was a tall boy, lean and very tan. His disheveled blond hair stuck up this way and that, and when he saw us coming—or rather, when he saw Avery—his lips split into the happiest of grins. He waved, and Avery waved back with an enthusiasm that I envied. So far, no boy had ever made me that excited to see him. And every year since we were seven, Micah had come to work the Harvest Festival from the other side of the continent of Kokoro, and every time, he’d made Avery smile as if she were looking at the stars.

As we passed the food carts, my stomach rumbled, but it practically screamed when we were next to the cart with sugar-coated fried breadcake. I tried to tell Avery that I was going to stop and grab a bite, but she was so focused on Micah that she hurried ahead, leaving me to my own devices. Camra, who’d taught my mother how to sew when I was a baby and had since been a regular visitor to our cabin, was working the breadcake cart. I flashed her a smile and dug in my pocket for three trinks—my father had given me plenty of coins
the night before—but Camra shook her head. “Your money’s no good here, Kaya girl.”

Louis Bowery whined from behind me, “What about my money, Camra?”

Camra handed me a large breadcake and shook her head at Louis. “Your money’s just fine. That’ll be three trinks, if you’re hungry.”

Camra didn’t much care for Louis—not many of the townsfolk did. He and his brothers were known to be troublemakers of the worst kind, the kind that wouldn’t confess to anything that they’d done, no matter how small. I didn’t much enjoy his or his brothers’ company either, but Avery had a mild crush on both Decker and Vadin Bowery, so I went along with her just to keep her from getting in too much trouble. With a nod of thanks and a polite shrug at Louis, I turned away from the corner and bit into the soft, warm breadcake and relished the sweetness as the sugar melted on my tongue. After my second bite, I sensed something in the revelry around me change. Then I heard it, high-pitched and in the distance. Someone was screaming.

T
here is a stark difference between a scream of joy and a scream of terror. Something in its pitch shakes you to the core when you hear a terrified scream, and my core was trembling. Who was screaming? What was happening? I turned around, trying to locate the source of panic, but was nearly knocked over by Louis. His face was white and drawn, and just as I opened my mouth to ask him what had frightened him, he mumbled something unintelligible through trembling lips and took off toward the north woods.

Someone screamed again, this time so loud that it hurt my ears. The crowd pushed toward me as people rushed to flee whatever it was that was causing such fear, but I fought against the tide of running feet, pressing my way against them, toward whatever had instilled such terror in my neighbors. Bodies slammed up against me. I was surrounded by wide, frightened eyes. It was as
if no one could see anyone else, just different routes of escape from whatever was behind them. Friends climbed over friends. Fathers ran ahead, leaving their children behind. And through it all, my heart slammed against my ribs in a terrified rhythm. But I pushed forward anyway, determined to see the source of all this fear with my own eyes, and help stop it if I could.

The crowd’s movement was dizzying, and after a moment, I lost my direction. People were running everywhere, and I was spinning around, uncertain where to turn. My foot slipped on something slick, and I steadied myself, regaining my balance. Then I looked down.

The toe of my shoe was tipped in burgundy. The ground beneath it held a puddle of something wet and dark. I inhaled slowly, forcing air into my reluctant lungs. Blood. There was blood on my shoe, on the ground. Which meant that someone or something was hurt.

The puddle at my feet branched out and I followed the bloody trail through the crowd, my heart racing, my nerves so ramped up that I was shaking. I pushed past a woman dressed all in blue, who was sobbing uncontrollably, and stopped dead in my tracks.

Avery was lying on the ground, covered in blood. The moment I saw her, my heart stopped completely.

It took me a second to notice Micah lying over her, bloody and limp, his eyes staring lifelessly into the crowd. Avery cradled his head against her chest, tears
drawing lines down her dirty cheeks. A large, mouth-shaped wound had left Micah’s neck mutilated. Something had attacked and killed him. But it hadn’t been able to take more than a bite. On the ground beside Avery lay a large, bloodied rock. Avery had apparently bashed the thing over the head a few times to stop it from eating Micah completely.

I ran over to her, shoving my way past the thinning crowd, and dropped to my knees beside her in shock. “Oh, Avery, I’m so sorry. What happened? What…what did this?”

Avery’s sobs grew louder, but they were drowned out by a terrible screeching noise. I stared up into the treetops, where the noise was coming from, but couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. The torches that lined the street cast a warm glow over the village, but outside of the flames’ range, the darkness was intensified. It was as if the darkness itself was crying out and hungry for nothing but the villagers of Kessler.