The Ranger: Apollo's Story (Tales of Welkinia Book 2)

by J. M. Ivie

  “No, ma’am…”

  “Ah, I see.” She walked toward me, brushing away the curls of dark hair from her forehead. “Do you plan on staying long?”

  I shrugged, “As long as it takes for me to do my job.”

  “You do not sound pleased at the prospects of working under a residential contract,” she said, pointing to the bronze eagle pin on my lapel.

  “If I were to speak honestly, ma’am, you would know how I feel.”

  “Then speak honestly, sir. I cast no judgments here.” A spark danced in her emerald eyes, shining like a glittering gemstone amidst a thousand lights as she relaxed on the bench.

  I scratched my jaw, barring my teeth as I tried to think of the best way to phrase the harsh words that simmered in my mind. “I don’t wish to be working for a… spoiled heiress.”

  The woman tilted her head, “Spoiled?”

  “Sorry, I should say that I have no interest in serving a woman who has little to do with others about her. Here—” I held out my hand. She looked at me, her curiosity getting the best of her as she placed her hand in mine. There was something like a small shock of electricity when our hands touched. I breathed in, recovering from the slight jolt.

  “How curious,” she muttered under her breath as I knelt in front of her.

  “That?” I looked into her eyes. They were almost glowing. I steeled my nerves, trying to make sense of it myself. I grappled with the only explanation possible, “It happens. Static, I believe.”

  “Yes. Now, what were you trying to do other than touch my hand?”

  I laughed. “Perhaps that is all I was trying to do.”

  “I’d be careful then.” She leaned forward, “You don’t know where I’ve been.”

  “You were guarding the manor grounds from what I gathered.”

  She cracked a smile. Rolling her lips she asked, “So, what was it you were trying to say?”

  I nodded, showing her the dirt wedged in her nails and the cracks of her palm. “You’re a woman who works with the hands on your body. Your hands tell a story. The Countess? I bet my salary she would rather be caught dead than soil her hands.”

  “How is it you’ve formed such opinions without meeting her?”

  “I know the Hierarchy, ma’am. They are all the same…”

  She frowned slightly, then turned her hand over in mine. “What do my hands tell you?”

  I traced the delicate lines that formed in her palm, “You’re a hard worker,” I began. “You do a great deal with your hands. You’re kind—”

  “How would you know I am kind from my hands?” A small giggle spilled from her smiling lips.

  “I can just… tell.”

  She raised her brow and angled her head, “You know little.”

  “There’s always a possibility I am wrong, but I don’t think I am with this one.” I looked into her eyes. They danced with so much life…

  Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she rose from her seat, “I suppose I should go before I am found missing.”

  “Wait—” I stood, grabbing her hand to keep her from disappearing. “Might I know your name?”

  “Didn’t my hands tell you, oh wise reader of the palms?” She gave me an ambiguous smile, one that told me she wouldn’t tell me her name. My punishment for being too cocky, I supposed. “I will see you later, sir.” She pulled her hand from mine, grasped her bucket once again, and walked away.

  I laughed. She reminded me of a kinder—far more attractive—version of Barak. I wondered how often that quick tongue of hers got her into mischief.

  ___

  I entered the hall with little anticipation to my first formal meeting with the Countess of Winsdale. The smell of fresh baked breads and delicacies wafted through the kitchen into the dining area, making the meeting slightly more palatable.

  Azu had taken a seat at the end of the table reading the paper, whilst madame Beth took a seat at the other end. I supposed we were in the intimate dining hall since the table only seated eight.

  “Ah, Archivist!” Azu stood and gestured to a seat beside him, “Come and sit. My daughter should be here shortly. How do you like Winsdale?”

  “It is vast, Mr. Rowe. I didn’t expect it to be so immense. I have yet to even explore most of the mansion, let alone the grounds.”

  Beth took a sip of her wine, but not before a scoffing huff escaped her lips.

  “I’m not sure what else you were expecting. The Countess reviews and accepts—or rejects—the fictional books written on Luxterra and Bouldarcaven. That amasses a fortune. A fortune requires an estate. She also owns the twelve-hundred acres that surround the manor. The village east of here, where the Eastern Luxterrians live, primarily belongs to Zahra.”

  “So she gets a share of the profit they make from the land?” I raised my brow. I assumed her to be catty… I should have been harsher in my judgement.

  Azu peered over his paper, “Yes. It seems fair, does it not? They use her land to make a profit.”

  “It depends on what you deem fair. The farmers cultivate the earth, maintain the property, and so on. Their measly pay is barely enough as it is. Why should she drain them of any more of their profits?” Someone poked my shoulder, and I turned. A servant stood, holding out a platter of wine. Begrudgingly, I accepted the drink.

  “You think too much for an Archivist. You should keep your mouth shut more… your opinions are foolish—”

  “He is entitled to his opinions, Beth. Just because his differs from ours doesn’t mean it isn’t a belief.”

  “Beliefs can be potentially dangerous, Azu. If we allowed all men to believe whatever they want, we would have chaos.” Beth huffed, taking another sip of her drink. “That’s why we have our Priest. He makes the rules that keep the absurdity like this one stated in check.” She pinched her fingers together and drew them from her collarbone to her abdomen in the shape of an S. The sign of the Serpent. A silent and ritual reverence to the Priest.

  “He tells us how to think. I like thinking for myself—” the doors flew open, cutting me short. I caught a glimpse of a black silk evening gown as she walked behind me.

  “Sorry I am late.” The woman kissed Azu on the cheek, then took a seat beside him.

  “Ah, it is all right, my dear. Beth and I were just conversing with your new Archivist. He has some interesting opinions, this one.”

  “Yes, I dare say he does.” She turned and faced me. That glittering smile of hers made my entire body go numb. The Countess is the maiden from the garden.

  “Well, now we are all here, let the servants bring out the food so we may dine!” Azu laughed and looked at the man in the corner.

  I didn’t know if I could eat, not with what just happened.

  F I V E

  “I’M SORRY, DINNER TOOK longer than expected.” Zahra’s elegant figure floated into the hall as I opened the door for her. Something in the way she moved made my fingers tingle. Two slits, calf-high, let her dark legs peek through the fabric. I had to force myself to look at her face.

  “It’s fine, Countess Rowe—”

  “That’s not my name,” she snapped, her posture tightening. It only lasted a second; she relaxed. “I mean, I’m not Azu’s daughter. Because of the law, he is now my father-by-law—depending on what region you’re from. He took charge once my mother died… I am Countess Winsdale’s only daughter,” she muttered as she fiddled with her dove-pin that adorned the collar of her neck.

  “I apologize, I didn’t mean to assume.” I bowed slightly.

  “No, no. It’s all right.”

  I pulled at my cravat in hopes to ease how tight it felt. She slipped her arm around mine, sending shivers up my spine. My heart quickened and twisted as she nodded to the door. “Come, there’s something very important that we must go over.”

  ___

  She tugged me through the halls, and into the large foyer. We slipped down through passages and a pair of glass doors, till we stopped. Our feet brushed again
st the stone pathway in the east garden.

  “Come.” She tugged on my coat sleeve, beckoning me to follow. We slipped into an area, one that looked just recently trimmed, and ducked under a few hedges. Finally, we arrived at where she wanted us to be.

  I smiled, looking around the well-loved place. I examined every branch, every flower, then gravitated to the Countess’ beaming face. Her eyes stared straight into mine. I marveled at how green they were. They danced with so much life that they made the leaves look almost gray. “Did you plant all this?” I asked, not daring to break from her gaze.

  She nodded, flicking her wrist upward as she walked. “I expect to see you out here a lot…” she peered at me, “you need sunshine.”

  I grinned, knowing full well how pale I must have looked. “I spent too much time indoors.”

  “By force… or choice?”

  I halted, as if I had to think of the answer. “A bit of both.”

  “Well,” she scanned my face once again as if assessing how much sun I would need. “I think your previous employer cared little for you if they kept you locked up indoors.”

  I bent my head, biting my tongue. I realized if I added anything more, I would give up more than I should. We strolled peacefully down the pathway, taking it all in. “You must learn the path, just in case you get lost.” Zahra looked at me. “We can go through the garden as many times as you need to get familiar with it.”

  “I’m a quick learner.” I looked around at the maze-like hedges that surrounded us. “I will only need to walk through once.”

  Her head tilted as she stared into my eyes, “You think you have a good memory?”

  I smiled. “I know I do, Countess. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  She took this as a challenge. “What color were Beth’s shoes?”

  “Silver.”

  “Azu’s pen?”

  “Black. With a gold ring.”

  “The waiter’s bowtie?”

  “Blue.”

  She paused. “Describe my bucket.”

  “White. Bleached birch. And the twig you put in it was—” I pointed to a similar tree, “one of those.”

  She smiled, as if pleased. “I’m going to keep testing that brain of yours.” With a tilt of her head to the side, she made the gesture to continue.

  I never had seen a garden so full of beauty, though, it paled compared to the Countess. I felt a little guilty staring at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She busied herself telling me of each flower, each tree, and each statue. I couldn’t pull myself from her. Everything about her enraptured my attention, demanding I soak every feature in. Her black dress hung loose about her willowy body till her waist where it tapered in. A far cry from what she wore when we first met. Sullied cotton replaced with silk. I wondered which suited her better…

  I hung onto her every word. I should have known who she was when we met. She spoke like a true Countess, with a cut-glass accent only the royals in Luxterra possessed.

  “And this is the prize of my garden,” she stopped at a blossoming bush where deep blue roses budded. “My mother planted this when I was born.”

  I raised my brow, “So this is as old as you are?”

  She nodded.

  “And how old would that be?”

  “Twenty.”

  “I’m surprised. I thought you younger.”

  She smirked. I saw a dimple form on her chin, like a small drop of sunshine. “And how many years are you, Mr. Faithe?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Hmmm,” she hummed, “I thought you older.” With that same devilish twinkle in her eye she turned toward an archway that led into a purple-drenched garden. “I should apologize for not properly introducing myself earlier. It was rather silly of me.”

  I laughed, scratching my neck as the heat of embarrassment resurfaced on my face. “I apologize for speaking so about you, assuming you to be one way when you’re quite the opposite.”

  “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”

  “Do,” I muttered. “It is a compliment.”

  She grinned. “It was nice. Few people talk so plainly… I enjoyed it, actually. It is refreshing to know you have no issue in speaking what is on your mind.”

  Again, I felt the heat of embarrassment puncture my emotions and turn my face red. “I won’t be making the mistake of misjudging again, I assure you.”

  Her nose crinkled as she smiled at me. “Well, that is reassuring.” Sarcasm. Pure, uninhibited sarcasm. She tugged at my hand, drawing me further through the winding pathway and out into what looked like a field. My heart leapt into my throat, strangling my breath.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Her words seemed fogged. “Are you all right, Mr. Faithe?”

  My eyes never wavered. The glittering pond of water reflected the night, though, instead of holding the beauty which the Countess had so said, it only held horror. Blue swirled into black at the bottom of the lake. It reminded me of the memories I had tried so hard to forget. “Y-yes, I’m fine.”

  “You are… afraid of water?” The Countess touched my elbow, pulling us away from the shoreline where which we stood.

  My heart beat hard and slow, my every nerve suffocated below the glittering pool’s reflection. “We… don’t get along…” I turned my eyes away from the pond, looking at the Countess. “I try to avoid large bodies of it.”

  The Countess nodded thoughtfully, “All right then. I’ll remember that.”

  ___

  I blinked hard, trying to shake the visions. How long had it been since that day? Water engulfed my sight, making me jerk my body up. Through the glass doors in front of my bed I saw another section of the garden. I watched as fog settled on the ground, bringing with its vapory body a heavy weight against my chest. A painful hour passed, and still I found no rest. I wished to be back in the barracks with Barak just above me, listening to him ranting away the hours… to quell the knot which festered in my gut. The need for relief pounded in my body, ripping at my emotions and tearing away at my mind.

  The clock ticked, and I was restless.

  I stood from my bed, pulled on my red greatcoat, and walked across the room. Flinging open the double doors, I inched into the moons-soaked garden. My every step caused the fog to swirl and move away from me. I wanted to run and escape the peace. I sighed, settling down on a bench to clear my head. My thoughts swirled like the surrounding fog. Quickly… unclear… yet, distinct. I tried to get my mind off the tortures of the past, focusing on the moment at hand. How am I to even know if the Countess is a Peculiar? Perhaps she was and had already begun working her powers on me... slowly sinking invisible talons into my heart. Not that I would mind too much, she seemed decent. I couldn’t help but take notice of her pillowy lips… her delicate smile… or how her petite nose crinkled as she reproved me. Something in her eyes taunted me—haunted me.

  I shook my head, walking in a circle, letting the fog swirl around my feet. The cool mist avoided my step the best it could as I shook away the thoughts I had. I laughed at myself. Perhaps I can entertain her. With a resigned sigh I turned back to my door. She could offer relief from the memories that haunted me.

  S I X

  MORNING GREETED ME WITH unpleasant brightness. I had only gotten a few hours sleep, and my head pounded. Ripping my eyes out of their sockets seemed a pleasant option. I pulled myself up from my bed and shuffled out of my clothes. After fumbling around the room, I finally found the bag and fetched a razor.

  Despite staring at myself in the mirror while I cautiously took away the stubble, it was as if a stranger watched me in the reflection. Light brown eyes and dark brown hair that wouldn’t be tamed. A Noble. My father was a Noble, yet I look far from that. My fingers trembled, and I had to put down the razor. It was my father’s fault I ended up in the hands of the Talismen those years ago. Hate. Hate. Hate. It coursed through me… boiling in my stomach and squeezing my chest.

  As soon as I finished my agonizing shave, I did my best to
soothe the tension in my mind. After a brisk workout, I inspected what was in my bag. I hadn’t the least idea of what I was to do, though, the black shirt and red vest looked far better than the get up I wore previously. I dressed and tied my uncomfortable spats, looking down at my feet. Barak’s jeering words echoed in my mind, and I bit back my laughter.

  Upon inspecting my still somewhat disheveled appearance in the mirror, I made a few adjustments. Thinking I looked fairly presentable—for a killer—I opened the door. A wight stood there, enough to make me nearly jump out of my skin.

  “You’re finally awake.” Madame Beth blocked my escape. Her sour face puckered tighter as she stared even harder. “Long night? Were you prowling?”

  “Madame, how long have you been standing there?” A legitimate question. I wasn’t sure how much she had found out from her time outside my chamber.

  “You’re a heartless mongrel. I don’t want to give you the opportunity to hurt anyone.” She ignored my question. Unless that was her version of an answer. “And, since you’re to be around my sweet Zahra, I want you to know your place.”

  I found it funny she had so much gall. “I’m glad to hear you think so highly of me.”

  “Remember your rules, Ranger!” Beth hissed. “I saw you with Zahra yesterday. Keep away from her, you will only endanger yourself.”

  “I know the rules, Madame,” I snapped. “I do not believe you need to remind me. I am here for one reason, and one reason alone.” I adjusted my collar, looking over her. “You know what I am and what I do. I have confidence it won’t be hard for you to believe I have no feelings toward the Countess. As for me keeping away? I need to spend as much time around her as I can… remember?”

  Beth huffed, “I don’t understand the point, anyway. You’re only here to gather if she is a Peculiar or not. And, seeing Jensen doesn't trust my judgement, I have to put up with you.”

  “I’m fairly sure I’m the one who needs to put up with you.” I pushed passed her, possibly angering her more… not that I cared. She had picked at something I wasn’t sure myself how to handle.