by Brandt, Eva
It was getting worse. I was getting worse, and I had no idea how to stop it.
The sound of a familiar voice snapped me out of my haze of pain. “Your Highness? Is everything all right?”
I blinked and rubbed my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision. It worked, and when I looked up, I managed to identify the source of the question as Bjorn Lindberg. “Bjorn? What are you doing here?”
“I’m an incubus,” he said as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. Out of every person present at the Palasion, he was the one best equipped to sense my erratic emotions. I must’ve been standing out like a beacon among the other Pures.
“Should I get a healer?” he asked, his voice tinged with an emotion that might have been concern.
Something inside me shriveled and withered away. Hope? The lingering remnants of my control? I didn’t have a clue. All I knew was that Bjorn’s position in the Inquisitor Corps meant that he needed to report this. My selfish attempts to hide my condition had utterly failed. “I am beyond the aid of any healer,” I said. “It’s the Alarian Vow. It’s... killing me.”
Despite the fact that Bjorn had noticed my emotions, he still stared at me as if I’d sprouted a second head. “I thought the Alarian Vow killed instantaneously.”
“So did I, but apparently, we were both wrong. I am trying to fight it, but it seems to be doing more and more damage as my feelings intensify.”
I expected him to be disgusted or disappointed, to reprimand me for what I had done and let my parents or the cardinal know of my actions. He didn’t. Instead, he knelt by my side and gently reached for my hand, allowing his fingers to hover over mine without actually touching me. “Your Highness, will you allow me to try something? It might help you control the side-effects of the vow.”
Help me control the side-effects of the vow? How in the world was he going to do that?
“Sure,” I croaked out. “Go ahead.” I trusted Bjorn and I had nothing to lose.
He shot me a small crooked smirk and took my hand. The next thing I knew, he was pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that was fiercer and more intense than the Alarian Vow itself. I had expected anything but that, and I ended up automatically parting my lips out of sheer surprise. He took advantage of the opening I had granted him to thrust his tongue into my mouth and delve in even deeper, practically consuming me with his kiss.
I recovered quickly after those first moments of shock, the surge of desire that coursed through me familiar even if everything else was so very strange. I might not have experienced emotion, but sexual pleasure was different, and I’d had my fair share of bed partners, both male and female.
Bjorn had never been among them since his incubus nature made approaching him for intercourse very questionable. At that moment, I found that I didn’t really care. I wanted to touch him, and I did exactly that.
As I stabbed my hands through his hair, he let out a low, muffled groan, his free hand traveling over my shoulders and clutching my coat in a tight grip. Heat rose between us, bright and powerful as the sun, and I brought our bodies closer together, desperate to exorcize my almost overwhelming need.
That was when it happened. A thread of magic drifted inside me, insidious, familiar, and yet, so very unusual. It tugged against my core, and all of a sudden, a veil seemed to fall over my heart and my mind. My emotions dulled as if the blindingly bright colors of the world had faded into washed-out shadows.
With a gasp, I tore my mouth away from Bjorn’s. “What did you do, Bjorn?” I snarled at him, pushing him away and shooting to my feet. For the first time since the incident at the club, I felt clear-headed and pain-free, but that didn’t give me much comfort.
Bjorn got up as well and arched a dark brow. “I think you already know what I did, Your Highness. Are you actually going to make me say it?”
I pressed my lips together, knowing that allowing my frustration to get the better of me would nullify Bjorn’s sacrifice. “Never again, do you hear me?” I whispered. “I won’t have you risking your life because of my stupidity and my inability to control my emotions.”
Having him feed on my feelings to keep me from getting killed was a good solution, but it had also turned him into a scavenger. It did not matter that his goals to support the Alarian creed hadn’t change. If anyone found out about this, he would be executed.
“If that is your decision, Your Highness, I will respect it,” Bjorn replied, “but believe me when I say I got plenty out of it. I’ve wanted to do that for years.”
Fuck. The last thing I needed right now was to have one of my closest subordinates mourn me like a lover when I was gone. “Bjorn...”
“It is all right, Your Highness.” He smiled at me, and the sad curve of his lips made my heart clench. “I understand. Believe me, I do. Whoever your soulmate might be, he or she must be very special. Don’t get me wrong, I hate that this happened, but in the end, we are all Accursed. We must always be prepared to lose the people we love. I did not think it was possible in your case, but I will accept it and continue to serve the kingdom faithfully. You have my word.”
“Very well, Bjorn,” I answered softly. “I won’t doubt you. Now, come with me. It’s much too dangerous to discuss this out in the open, where anyone can overhear. I might as well tell you about her... About my soulmate.”
Ten
Not Guilty
Lucienne
When I had agreed to follow the instructions of the mysterious voice, I had expected to be given some actual information on how to leave this place and how to find the soulmate I was supposed to rescue. I had expected to embark on a daring mission of exploring this strange castle I was in, dodging the blank-faced psychopathic elves as I navigated the labyrinthine corridors of my prison.
Apparently, that would have been a little too straightforward, and the first thing the voice did after taking in my thoughts was to laugh at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t a movie or a video game and the Palasion isn’t a prison. Well, not exactly. In any case, not everything is about glorious quests. Sometimes, all you really need to do is provide proof that you’re right.”
“What does that even mean?” I asked, abandoning all hope that anything in my life would make sense. “How am I supposed to provide proof I’m right when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be right about?”
Sure, I realized that the approach of the Accursed was wrong, but I didn’t have an actual argument to question it beyond “hey, it’s not okay to kill this guy just because we happened to meet and touch.” I doubted I could prove something that was, in essence, a moral and ethical argument to a nation of people who didn’t have feelings and only cared about their rules.
In that respect, at least, I was right, and the voice proceeded to elaborate on my train of thought. “Indeed. The Alarians follow the rules their first king put into place to the letter. Anything different is severely punished, and exceptions are made very rarely. But that is precisely why it is easy to circumvent the law if you know what to do.”
Well, that told me absolutely nothing. “I still don’t follow any of this. Small words, for the stupid human, please.”
“It’s quite simple. The Soulmate Protection Dictate does indeed exist to keep Accursed from touching and bonding with their soulmates. However, the dictate applies only to humans, not to other paranormals.”
My mouth fell open as I took that in. “But... That’s hardly fair. Why do other paranormals get to keep their soulmates while those of humans are killed?”
“Politics, mostly. If you ask an Alarian about it, they’ll probably tell you that it’s because other species have some kind of defense against the curse. But the truth is the rest of the paranormal races weren’t that happy with the idea of the Pures taking over soulmate law enforcement, so they refused to allow High King Alaric to include them in the dictate.”
And there it was, the double standard and the evidence of what I had been thinking about before. I clenched my fists in frustration.
“In other words, they got a choice and we didn’t, because they were powerful, while we were not.”
“Pretty much. Don’t misunderstand. Alaric was in the right. The curse actually does affect everyone. It’s just that a non-human will be less prone to die a horrible death shortly after meeting his or her mate. In the end, though, the curse always wins, and it is unbreakable. Willful blindness and pride don’t change any of that.”
If the voice was right, I could see the logic behind the approach the Alarians used. Since there was no cure for the disease the curse represented, they were trying to prevent it from ever taking hold, and the only way they could do that was through an extremely harsh quarantine. If I thought about it like that, they were the ones in the right, not me. Why couldn’t I just disagree with these people and be done with it?
“Because things don’t work that way in the real world. Seeing the Accursed in shades of black and white will not help you. In fact, you don’t need to worry about the shades at all right now. Leave your morals aside, and prioritize survival.”
Right. My own indignation on behalf of my species was all well and good, but Declan’s life took priority over that. Leaving aside the big picture, I refused to let him die. “Survival sounds great, but you still haven’t told me how I’m supposed to use this to help Declan. In case you’ve somehow missed the memo, I’m human.”
“That’s just it. You’re not.”
Um. What?
All right. I could deal with randomly sleepwalking into a neighborhood that looked like something out of a zombie apocalypse set and running into a group of cannibalistic kidnappers. I could deal with being blackmailed into following a creepy, if incredibly handsome, psychopath into his home to avoid having an innocent man die for my sake. I could deal with the knowledge that the paranormal world existed, and it was fucked up in the extreme.
But this? This was stretching it and testing my ability to suspend disbelief.
“You don’t have to believe me,” the voice offered. “If you just do as I say, the Pures will make everything clear.”
“You know what, I’d prefer it if you at least gave me some sort of clue on what you mean. No offense, but you’re a fucking voice in my head. For all I know, you could be leading me astray, into another trap, to be eaten by one of those freaky vorarephiles. In fact, I kind of think that my original idea of exploring this place like a video game heroine might’ve been more plausible than what you’re currently talking about.”
Not human? Yeah, right.
The voice sighed, and a pulse of exasperation that was not my own rushed over me. I shivered at the eerie sensation. “Would you stop that?”
“It’s not something I can stop. Now listen. You can keep being stubborn about this, or you can save your soulmate. Which is it going to be?”
God, I hated this so much. Couldn’t anyone just answer a fucking question for once without blackmailing me with Declan?
“Fine,” I said between gritted teeth. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to do. What is this great plan of yours that will help me save him?”
“That’s the spirit. I need you to go sit back down on the bed and relax.”
“Relax,” I repeated. The voice wanted me to... relax. Under these circumstances. When I was supposed to be saving my soulmate from the tragic fate our meeting had brought upon him. When the voice itself had told me that I was supposedly not human. “You want me to relax?”
“Yep. Just calm down. Clear your head. Go on.”
The voice might have intended to provide me with some kind of comfort and encouragement through the mellow words, but its endeavor had the opposite effect. It pissed me off even further, to the point that if the owner of the voice—or anyone else for that matter—had been present, I’d have probably done a pretty good impersonation of the cannibal who had tried to turn me into a snack.
Okay. Stay calm, Lucienne. I could do this. Darius had told me I needed to control my temper as well, and it was true that losing it in front of the prince hadn’t helped me the first time. I would make the attempt, for Declan’s sake. I owed it to my soulmate to at least try.
Focusing on that thought, I returned to the bed like I had been told to. I crossed my legs, mimicking the meditation position I’d seen people use in yoga videos, then feeling a little ridiculous because it didn’t help me at all.
Relax. Well, everybody had their own ways of relaxing, right? I sat back on the pillows, covered myself with the blanket and curled into a ball. This had always been my preferred position when I went to bed. I especially liked to wrap myself around a pillow and fall asleep that way. I did the same now, hugging one of the massive cushions and imagining that I was anywhere but here.
My apartment? Yes, that was a good option, although perhaps another location would be better. Somewhere nice. A little house, with a yard. Spacious. Maybe located near a forest or a beach? Declan would like that, and not just because he was a werewolf. We could be together, and we could be free. I could envision it now, the moonlight filtering through the leaves, dancing over Declan’s fur. I could see myself swimming in the ocean, and Declan joining me, smiling at me as another pair of hands...
A massive shadow suddenly fell over me and I felt myself being pulled away from my relaxing vision. I would’ve tried to protest, but Declan’s image, the image I had created was gone. A fragmented memory of Declan’s voice flashed through my consciousness. “Angel...”
It was a simple word, but it had held so much emotion when he’d said it. I might have denied it. I might have pretended that what Declan felt for me wasn’t real. But I could not deny that something did exist between us, something powerful that transcended the possibility of human understanding.
“Angel, please...”
“Declan...”
I opened my eyes, only to find myself in a room that looked like a cross between a gladiatorial arena and a courtroom. Its round shape and structure were reminiscent of an amphitheater, but it was a closed location, and the podiums in its center were very similar to the benches, tables and stands usually present in human tribunals. Every single seat was already occupied, but I only recognized one person in the room, Darius. He was seated at the largest, central table—which had the form of a crescent—next to a man who I suspected might be his father.
The weirdest thing about the situation was not the alien place I had landed in, the strange people who now surrounded me, or the eerie blend between the things that were familiar and those that weren’t. No, what shocked me the most was the fact that, even if I was pretty much standing right in front of them, no one appeared to be able to see me.
“That is because you aren’t actually here,” the voice guiding me said. “This is merely a mental projection. Give it a moment, and things will change.”
I complied. I was too distracted by what was going on in the courtroom/amphitheater to ask the voice any further questions anyway. “Bring the accused in,” one of the people seated at the crescent-shaped table said. “It is time to end this.”
Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all. It really did appear that Declan’s sentence had been decided beforehand. Darius had warned me that things were going to be this way and that he might still be able to intervene after. Looking at every single person here, all the hostile Accursed who undoubtedly wanted Declan dead, I believed his promises for aid even less than I had when I’d been alone in the guest room.
Maybe he meant well in his own way, but he was only one man, and he was an Alarian. He might have agreed to assist us due to the anomaly that had kept me alive, but at the end of the day, he most likely believed that Declan needed to follow the rules and die for his crime. I could not allow that.
Just as I thought this, the courtroom doors opened, and Declan walked in. For the most part, he seemed fine, with one clear and nauseating exception. He was now chained, and the shackles he still wore around his wrists had already left painful-looking marks on his skin. “Allergic reaction to the silver bindings. Sta
ndard practice, for all Accursed prisoners. Don’t freak out. It’s only a minor injury.”
That was easy for the voice to say. It—he? she?—didn’t have to stand here and watch this outrageous process, helpless to do anything about it. To make matters worse, I knew that it was my fault, and I still understood, on some level, the reasons why the Alarians were acting this way.
This was horrible.
Considering the general attitude of the people in the room, it was not entirely unexpected that the king initiated the trial mere seconds after Declan stepped into the chamber. “Guardian Declan Whelan, you are here to stand trial for breaking the most sacred law of The Pure Kingdom of Alaria. You have been accused of not only physically touching your soulmate but also attempting to establish a soulmate bond with her. How do you plead?”
Declan opened his mouth to speak. I didn’t need any kind of magic abilities to know what he intended to say, and that I had to intervene before he incriminated himself further.
I was in no way prepared to face all these people. I had no idea how I was even doing this, how I had managed to project my mind into the courtroom. I still stepped forward and said, “Not guilty.”
I half-expected to be ignored, just like I had been until that moment. The exact opposite happened. Every single person inside the chamber seemed to freeze. All eyes turned to me, and the weight of the numerous gazes threatened to crush me in its intensity.
I did not let it show. Fuck all of them anyway. Fuck everything and everyone. I had never been particularly inclined to bend my knee in front of abusive assholes, and that hadn’t changed just because I had been thrust into a world not my own. These people might have good intentions, but that didn’t give them the right to treat Declan like he was a criminal. My soulmate needed my help, and I would fix this, no matter what.
He didn’t look all that pleased to see me. All color drained out of his face when I made my dramatic entrance, and his hands twitched, as if he wanted to reach out to me, but couldn’t make himself do so.
