Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2) (11 page)

Twenty-One

The Future

Alexia had no idea how many miles passed below them, and she didn’t care. She had Kiren. Somehow they would get through this.

The sun neared the horizon as they pulled to a halt, a mocking orb that reminded her of the ring circling her finger, of the promise of eternity that neither of them had yet made.

So close. They had been so close!

A lighted inn waited before them, a splintering porch and square door with dual windows above it. Bays protruded from the upper floor and two large chimneys stood from a nearly domed roof.

Kiren slid from the horse and pulled a cloak from the saddlebag, tucking it about her. He took her hands and steadied her as she met the ground, legs shaky.

“Are you all right?”

She gazed into his startling eyes, lit by the warmth of an ending day—proof that even the worst days must eventually come to a close. “I am with you, am I not?”

He laughed. “Let us find you something to eat.”

She loved that he was practical, that he could laugh, even in the face of so great a loss.

A simple room greeted them, four crude tables lining the back wall near the hearth. A young woman knitted next to the fire as the dog at her feet panted. The animal looked up and gave a curious whine.

The woman turned.

“Oh, oh my! I did not hear you there.” She rose, setting her knitting aside. Brown strands of hair escaped her careful bun. Her round face might have been described as pretty, except for one drooping eyelid. “Come in then. What can we do you for?”

“Food please.” He urged Alexia forward—something about his voice bothering her. “And a bed.”

The woman’s lip quirked up, spreading in a brilliant smile, crystal-blue eyes fixed absently and distant. “Who have you brought me then?” 

Kiren cleared his throat. “Mae, allow me to introduce Dana’s child.”

A hand fluttered to the woman’s pleated frock. Mae’s head turned his direction, stare lost on his knees. She reached out, fingers panning the air. Kiren took her hand and guided it to Alexia’s arm.

“Welcome. I have waited a long time for you, Alexia.” The warmth of Mae’s fingers seeped through her skin. Alexia turned a questioning frown on Kiren. Had this woman known her mother? Worked with her? Been told about the future?

Mae’s nose flared. “But why do I smell blood?”

Kiren cupped Alexia’s shoulder. “She will need a change of clothes, a bath, and a washboard.”

The woman squeezed Alexia’s arm, pulling her face to face. “What has he put you through?”

Staring into her blank gaze, Alexia found it difficult to resurrect her voice. “I am well.”

Mae’s frown relaxed. “Come. Have a seat. Allow someone less foolhardy to take proper care of you.”

“Mae.” Kiren crossed his arms.

She lifted a finger. “You have a horse out front to stable.”

Alexia admired her hostess’s handling of Kiren, but did not feel he deserved so blatant a rebuke. The woman pushed her into a spindle-legged chair and swept through a doorway on the far side of the room.

Kiren chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You could not be in better hands.”

“Unless they were yours.”

He tipped her chin toward him. She squinted. The glow had leached from his skin. His scar stood out jaggedly down his cheek, a white zag against sun-kissed skin. He was abnormally insignificant—for him, almost...normal.

“Trust that I know what I am doing,” he whispered. Even his voice held less...what?

“Placing me in the care of the blind?” she challenged.

A smile quirked his none-too-brilliant cheek, and he exited.

Strange. Maybe exhaustion had finally gotten the best of him.

Something wet touched her hand. She glanced down. She’d been so absorbed in thought, she hadn’t noticed the dog pad over, or the way he sat panting.

“Hello, pup.”

He gave a short yelp.

She patted his head, and as she did, Alexia fixated on the ring stationed over her left finger. It refracted light across the ceiling and walls.

Married.

One day.

Even after she matured into a beauty, the secret belief remained in her heart that she would forever be alone. She was so far from anything and everything she had ever known. Her family. Her friends. Her home.

The animal growled. His hackles stood on end, nose pointed toward the exit.

The door creaked inward.

She turned.

Long dark locks spilled over a thin set of shoulders, face hidden in a black hood. Raven skirts swirled ghostly-quiet across the floor and pale skin caught the light against elegant long fingers, nails pearly white and curved.

She halted three paces in front of Alexia and the hood fell back. Olive eyes sparkled in the firelight, pupils a blazing red.

Sarah smiled.

Alexia screamed.

Twenty-Two

Recruits

Miles shivered and stiffened. The chill across his skin was one with which he’d grown all too familiar, one that meant he was being followed by a child of the mist. He hated it when they were in the mist. Impossible to get a solid read.

The brick alley shrank about him. If the Breeders had come for him, all they had to do was block off each outlet. He couldn’t be this careless again. He should be out in the country, leading the Breeders and Soulless away from humanity, not placing the innocent in imminent danger. Still, he liked the salt air of the seaport, and finding work (the kind that kept his belly full and where his disappearance would make little difference) proved much easier in this Boston populace.

He reached out mentally, scanning the emotions surrounding him.

Worry sank into his gut like curdled milk, the fear of being unable to feed seven hungry mouths. He pulled away and fury drilled through his chest—outrage at the monarch’s mandates on trade, his relegation of authority through hired bayonets, and the imbalance of justice afforded all citizens of the New World.

Miles shrank back into himself.

A shadow dropped across him, blocking the morning light at the end of the alley. He half turned, muscles taut and ready to run. He leapt forward mentally and hit a brick wall. Ricocheting back, he squared his shoulders for a fight.

“Bawdy langler! Put those punchers away. I ain’t come to brawl.”

Emotion squeezed its fist around his throat. “Lester?”

“Aye, laddy.”

Miles’s knees trembled. He wanted to run to the familiar face and cling like a needy child. Just hearing the man’s voice was like coming home. But... “You should not be here.”

The elderly man stepped into the alley, his familiar outline framed by sunshine. “The more apt response would be, why the shinny daylights are you here?”

Joy lifted Miles’s cheeks. Count on Lester to strike at the heart of the matter—but he was right. If he was here, something had gone terribly wrong—or Miles was in immediate danger. He’d spent all last night forcing himself to see through the eyes of a fox family and he didn’t think he’d let anything important escape through the link, but Lester’s presence suggested otherwise.

“Tell me,” Miles demanded.

Lester extended a hand. “We’ll chat on the way.”

Another shadow loomed in the alley opening. Miles shaded his eyes and gasped.

Ethel.

It was Christmas morning! His heart squeezed. He’d been able to survive this banishment by convincing himself he was on an extended observation assignment—albeit without the regular deliveries of meals or apple puffs—but the truth was far too devastating. He never thought he’d see his dear family again.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

Ethel’s head tilted. “We never lost you, Miles dear.”

He choked. “You were watching over me?”

Her smile answered.

How many times had he felt the brush of living wind? How many nights had he dismissed the awareness as his own wishful thinking, and how foolish he had been! If he’d just cried out, she might have appeared.

But she might not have. The Master had surely given orders not to make her presence known, but Miles knew how the man worked. He never left the safety of the Passionate to chance.

His lungs seized. The Master. Was he truly going to see his mentor and best friend once more?

Anxiously, he latched onto Ethel’s hand. He was going home.

Twenty-Three

Dreams

“Alexia!”

Her eyes flew open. The world leapt in an erratic blur of color and motion. Lips pressed at her ear, arms clutched tightly about her, crushing her to a solid torso as the horse bolted beneath them. The reigns cut into Kiren’s forearm where they looped, the beast slowing grudgingly to a canter, calming even less enthusiastically to a walk.

“Alexia, what is it?”

Kiren’s brilliance robbed her of voice, his wild eyes eclipsing the blue of the sky. She inhaled his oaky musk and relaxed into him, clutching his sleeve. The stink of blood cut into her nose, and she turned her head away, not wishing to remember how close she’d come to death but a short time ago.

The open road waited, barred only by forests on the far horizon behind and open rolling fields ahead. The sun hung at the apex of the sky.

He squeezed her. “You were dreaming.”

She met his stare, intense concern in his azure depths.

“Sarah...” She trembled, recalling the crimson in her aunt’s eyes.

He touched her cheek, his fingers a fire against her clammy skin.

She willed the terror to dissipate, wishing to forget as she leaned against his solid form. He stroked her hair, easing a sob out of her.

Sarah had been so real, so solid, alive—even trapped in the nightmare of her existence. Alexia’s heart twisted, her lungs too tight, her whole world shards of shattered glass. Her sister was alive! But the hunger in her stare...

She cried, soaking his handkerchief and jacket, unable to stop.

“Was this a prophetic dream?” Kiren’s chest rumbled with his words.

She smashed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to crush away the tears. “Is she truly dead? Entirely? She must remember me.”

He stroked her arm. “I have not been to the other side, but the most dangerous part of this situation is that she will retain her memories.” He turned her face up to his. “She may yearn to be reunited as deeply as you.”

“I do not...”

He sighed. “I have lost friends, Alexia. They look on me as though nothing has changed, and if I allowed myself to believe that, I would be one of them.”

Of course. He was right.

She exhaled.

But Sarah lived! Seeing her aunt had torn a gaping chasm in her soul, a hollowness not even Kiren could fill. She forced herself to breathe around it, kept it from entirely deflating her only by gripping the protective arm looped about her. 

“Tell me—” Anything—anything to keep her from thinking, from the pain. “—about your childhood?”

He straightened. She twisted and reached for his cheek. His brows pulled together, accompanied by a slight pucker and downward curve of his lips. She hated that the request troubled him.

He glanced away. “There is not much to tell.”

“Please?”

Kiren sighed, the lines smoothing from his forehead. “It ended sooner than most.” The weight in his voice pulled her down with him, like iron shackled both arms and they’d been plunged into the sea.

She squeezed his leg and he came back with a smile, quickly looking away.

“I recall the forest, trees not so aged and a little brook where we caught frogs.” He looped the tethers about her middle and tied them in a loose bow. She crossed her arms, and he tightened the knot beneath her elbows, with a quick peck on her forehead.

Her giggle escaped.

“Father taught me to use a sling. We practiced by targeting fruit we would take home for supper.” He huffed and leaned back, fingers curling around the back of the saddle. “I used the skill to terrify a herd of cattle into a wild stampede and nearly destroyed our neighboring village.”

Alexia twisted as far as the reins would allow and placed a hand on his thigh. “It could not have been so terrible.”

The corners of his eyes squeezed, lips drawn in a frown. “But it was.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It seems no matter what he taught me, I always used it to get into trouble—not terrible mischief, but enough to cause my parents discomfort or misfortune.” His brows lowered, gaze dropping to the ground. “You would expect he might stop teaching me so many dangerous truths. Not him. He wanted me to know everything, to experiment, to truly see the world in all its splendor.”

She touched his hand. “He sounds wonderful.”

With a nod, he closed his eyes. A sweet little smile pierced one cheek. “I remember the window above my bed bent triangles of light across the ceiling, and I imagined the shards a tangible defense against the night. If I could clasp one and tuck it under my pillow, monsters would run in fear.”

She laughed.

He grinned with her. “I recall the book Mother read every evening—at my request, the tale of two brothers, one good, one bad. One would live until the end of time, the other would walk the earth as a ghost, haunting him for his murder.”

“What a horrible tale!”

He cheeks dimpled with mischief. “But you must understand, she wished us to realize the importance of our decisions. She probably hoped it would persuade me to behave.”

“Us?”

He cleared his throat, eyes squeezing with pain.

She caught his hand and cradled it between both of hers. “You will show me the memory, one day?”

“Yes.” His brows lowered. He slipped from the horse’s back and took the steed’s bridle, walking alongside. “Occasionally, we took trips to the palace, a palace so magnificent I cannot find the words to describe it. You have never seen anything like it.”

“Like the one in your mind?”

He blinked back at her.

“The crystal walls and seven towers?” She nearly burst into laughter at his shock. “They were glorious!”

His face lit, but it faded. “Yes, they were.” His neck bowed. “While Father took care of his business, I explored the uppermost turrets, looking out over the entire island—”

“You were allowed inside?”

He shot her a smirk. “If you will recall what I said about mischief?”

Alexia reached out for his hand. He took hers, beaming back at her. Warmth flooded through the connection, the warmth of goodness inundating his soul.

“Let us just say, I saw more of that castle than the king himself.”

She giggled. “And who was this king?”

His smiled dropped, face turned to stone. The darkness startled her. “He is long dead. Why should it matter?”

“What happened?”

He pulled away. She reached for him and he stepped clear of the horse. She waited for him to resume, to lighten and come back, but the droop of his shoulders weighed far more than even she could lift.

How many loved ones had he lost? Friends? Family? She truly knew so little about him, and he understood everything about her. One day. One day he would let her in, allow her to love away the grief in his heart.

This was not that day.

And he was not the only one aching.

She glanced up at the sun hanging in the west. The botched wedding had taken place near noon, and the day had passed on the road, some of it sleeping, some of it galloping. Only an hour remained before sunset, one hour before her dream came to fruition. She would see Sarah.

Kiren stepped off the road, pulling the horse behind and caught hold of a tree branch. A half formed apple plumped into a ripe, bursting fruit. He plucked it and lifted it to her. “I am afraid I do not make a very considerate kidnapper. I ought to take better care of you.”

Wrapping her fingers over his, she pulled him closer. “You have not had much opportunity.”

His smile froze. She sensed the need in his quietude, his touch against hers, the way their pulses matched, the heat crawling through her soul...

He let go. “Eat, dearest.”

She lifted the fruit, and froze. “Would you like some? I can only imagine you are equally starved.”

His head shook.

She chewed, thinking back to this morning. She had seen him take no nourishment—not a drink, not a bite of food, but he could have eaten while Nelly and Ethel dressed her.

“Kiren, if you are fasting out of consideration for me—”

He laughed. “Dearest Alexia, this may be a foreign concept, but I do not eat anything I have aided to grow.”

“Why not?”

He gave her a squinty-eyed look. “The way I generate growth is by lending my own energy or life-force to a living thing. It is a gift, and I cannot reclaim the strength. I am not hungry.”

“Not even a little?”

He shook his head.

“What you are telling me, is that in effect, I am eating a piece of you?”

His face screwed up into a mixture of agitation and humor. “The cells were dormant in the fruit’s core—they all belong to the organism, but the energy I supplied enabled its quickening. I gave it the push.”

She sat back. “I do not understand how you cannot be hungry.”

He shrugged. “I suppose it is part of my...talent. I naturally regenerate, making my energy requirements a minimum. I do not take more than I need.”

“Which is?”

“One meal a day? I often go as long as three between dining.”

She stared, bewildered. “Three days?”

He shrugged. “Once as many as seven.”

“Without issue?”

Kiren scratched his head. “I was quite fatigued, but that is because I had not slept.”

“Tell me about this sleeping thing. You seem to do it so rarely.”

He laughed. “That scares you?”

“Tell me.”

He laughed harder. “I sleep when it is needed, a few hours here, a few hours there, but like food, I do not typically require much, unless I have employed my skills.”

She gulped. “And then you act normally?”

“What is normal but a perception?” He glanced at her quizzically. “What you are accustomed to by way of living is completely different than, say, Ethel’s way of life.”

Her fists balled and she tucked them into her lap. “That is because she is married.”

“Alexia—”

“Well it is.”

He gave her a frown. The silence between them widened. The sun dipped lower.

Kiren’s shoulders heaved. “Is that what you want of me? To find the next church and bribe the clergy to marry us like a couple of vagabonds?”

She blinked, slapped by the animosity in his tone. “Yes.”

His brow rose. “With no record of your marriage having taken place? No family, friends or loved ones to share in the occasion? You would have me treat you no better than a common barmaid?”

She bit her lip.

He crossed his arms. “These things only happen once, and I am determined
my
bride will have every privilege her heart desires. There will be no dread of being overtaken, no rush to make a hasty attachment.”

She backed down from the warning in his eyes.

Kiren exhaled loudly and slid a hand across hers. He met her gaze, his lighted by the late sun. “It is all I can do not to run away with you. Even now—now when they are expecting me to join them, to lead them—it is all I want.”

Had a more romantic suggestion ever escaped his tongue? She wanted it. She wanted that adventure, that excitement, that freedom.

He groaned. “And then I think of those who serve with the belief I would sacrifice everything for them.” Both hands combed through his hair. “Why can we not live in a world free of warfare? One where I could convince your father to surrender your hand by proper means of etiquette? One where you do not have to give up your home and dreams for me?”

“I have not given up my dreams for you.” She placed both hands on her hips. “You are my dream.”

He laughed. “More like a nightmare. Now are you ready to tell me about yours?”

Alexia glanced at the sun, nearly touching the horizon, at the building coming up on the skyline. “I...I saw Sarah.”

“I discerned as much.”

“It was just a dream.”