The Allseer Trilogy

by Kaitlyn Rouhier

  Her words brought thoughts of Ian rushing to her mind, his tousled brown hair and eyes the color of the forest, warm and welcoming, drawing her ever closer. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anything, to feel his lips against hers, to feel the warmth of his skin, to know the shape of his hands and how they fit with hers. Was that path lost to her forever? Was there really no choice?

  “I’m just supposed to pretend?” she whispered, vision blurring as tears filled her eyes.

  Trista looked down, her eyes closing briefly. She sighed deeply. “Yes. And it will not be easy. Our hearts and bodies and minds are fickle things. You will desire things you cannot have, and you must be prepared to fight those temptations. For better or worse, you are bonded to Garild, and even if you yearn for another, you must never break that bond. Ever. Do you understand?”

  Kirheen wiped away her tears and met her gaze. “I understand,” she said, and as she said the words, something inside of her broke. She’d have to lock away her feelings for Ian, lock them away or be drowned by them. It felt impossible, a battle she’d have to fight that she could never win, but she had to at least try.

  Trista nodded and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before pulling herself out of the water. She dressed while Kirheen wept, her tears lost in curls of steam. She set a length of fluffy cloth at the edge of the water and stepped away, giving Kirheen a chance to collect herself. With a mournful groan, Kirheen slipped out of the water, dried and dressed herself, and met Trista on the other side of the fence.

  She remained silent as she followed Trista back to her home, feeling each drop of melancholy that dripped into her soul, poisoning her happiness. Her silence continued, even when they’d stepped inside, but Trista didn’t seem perturbed by it. If anything, she seemed to willfully give Kirheen space so she could process her thoughts and did not ask questions as she set to work on her hair. Trista was gentle but firm, working through the tangles one by one until her ashen hair was smooth.

  Her hair was left to dry, and Trista took to applying strange things to her face. Kirheen was familiar with makeup but had never worn it herself. She stared cautiously at a jar Trista held, the contents dark red and creamy. Noticing her expression, Trista laughed. “It’s just for your lips. It’ll add a bit of color. Just trust me.” She ran her finger through the cream and tilted Kirheen’s chin up, then dragged her finger across her bottom lip until it was coated in the red substance. “Rub your lips together like this,” Trista demonstrated. Kirheen did as she was told, her lips feeling oddly stiff. Next came a dark, chalky substance that Trista ran along the line of her lashes. Trying to hold still while she applied it was nearly impossible, but she did her best, not wanting to ruin the fun.

  “Do I even get to see what I look like?” Kirheen asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  “Of course, but only after I do something with that hair of yours. You look beautiful!”

  Trista set to work, loosely braiding her hair on either side and pinning it in the back with a beautiful, bronze clip crafted to look like a butterfly. When she’d completed her masterpiece, she procured a small mirror from a nearby shelf and handed it to Kirheen. She grabbed the delicate mirror with care. It was rare to see your own reflection, rarer still to possess an object that allowed you to do so regularly. She raised it up, her jaw dropping at the changes she saw reflected back at her.

  It had been a while since she’d gotten a good look at herself. She looked older, different. She’d slimmed out, her high cheek bones more prominent than she remembered. Her lash line was skillfully painted with a dark substance that made her gray eyes look bigger and brighter, the bright red of her lips complimenting her pale skin and hair wonderfully. She looked clean and beautiful, but she could see her own sadness staring back at her, could feel the weight of it pressing through the gleaming surface. She wanted to shatter it and use the shards to carve a different path through her life, a better path, one where her choices mattered, where they made sense. She didn’t want to live a lie.

  What choice do I have?

  “Thank you, Trista,” she said softly, handing her back the mirror. “I look beautiful.”

  Trista took the mirror and safely tucked it away. “You always look beautiful, we just made it more obvious. Are you ready to be the center of attention tonight?”

  “I suppose so,” Kirheen replied, shrugging her shoulders. “If anything, it’ll be nice to celebrate instead of stressing about the battles. I’ll try to enjoy myself.”

  “You’ll have fun,” she smiled. “Be careful when you change into your robes later, and please don’t mess up your hair! Oh, and before I forget-” Trista grabbed another basket filled with small bottles and took to sniffing the contents of each. Settling on one, she handed it to Kirheen. The bottle was small and clear, the contents within a dark amber. Kirheen uncorked it carefully, the smell of warm vanilla drifting into the air. “Just put a little dab here and there before you go to the celebration. It’ll help you smell nice for the evening.”

  Kirheen rolled her eyes, but hugged Trista tightly. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “No need to thank me. Now get going. You can’t be late.”

  Kirheen rushed out the door and down the winding path to her home, clutching the bottle of perfume against her chest. When she stepped through the door, Tomias, Fenir, and Garild all stared at her, wide-eyed and fascinated.

  “Kir, you look… stunning,” Tomias exclaimed, breaking the awkward silence.

  Garild nodded in agreement, and Fenir gifted her with one of his rare smiles.

  Kirheen blushed, not used to such blatant attention. “Thank you. It’s nothing, really,” she stammered, and slipped away into the bedroom. She stripped out of her old robes, careful not to mess up her hair or makeup, and tugged on a fresh set of robes, dark gray with a vibrant white symbol of an eye on the back, the mark of the Allseer. She deftly tied a sash around her waist and stepped back into the sitting room.

  Garild had already changed, and his brown hair had been smoothed back away from his face. His dark eyes found hers and lingered, his lips splitting into a dumbfounded grin. She huffed. “I don’t look that different,” she protested, feeling annoyed by his interest.

  His grin faltered. “I’m sorry, you just look really beautiful,” he said, blushing as he glanced away.

  She gathered her emotions, realizing she was taking her frustrations out on him. It wasn’t his fault they’d been bonded together, and it wasn’t his fault she felt nothing when his eyes met hers. “Thank you,” she said gently. “You look good too.”

  Tomias and Fenir were both prepared for the festivities, dressed in black robes with the symbol of the Allseer in white across the back. Tomias had his hair pulled back in a half tail, and he’d even shaved his face. Kirheen was struck by how youthful and handsome he looked. Given their relationship, it was easy to forget he wasn’t much older than herself, that he’d been even younger when him and his brother had been given the responsibility of being on the Council.

  Fenir wore his hair straight as he always did, white locks falling past his chin. She suspected she wouldn’t be seeing much of him at the celebration, not when he had a particular lady friend awaiting his company.

  “Well, are we ready?” Tomias asked, rubbing his hands together. “I’m starving and I’ve been told there is food. And lots of it.”

  They left as a group, winding their way towards the Temple of Gathering. The sun had begun its slow descent, and the world came alive with color, shafts of sunlight cutting through glimmering leaves, and reflecting off the trunks of towering wraith wood trees. There was already a group gathered outside the temple, quietly chatting amongst themselves.

  When Burk caught sight of them, he waved and shouted, “Hey, if it isn’t the winners!”

  His greeting caught the attention of the others, and a wave of cheers rolled through the crowd. They parted to let them past so they could mingle at the front of the group. It felt strange to su
ddenly be noticed, to be accepted. As they reached the front of the crowd, Kirheen caught sight of Isa and Ian standing just to her right, and her heart plummeted. She glanced away quickly, but it wasn’t fast enough. Isa caught her eye and grinned, then dashed forward to give Kirheen a hug.

  “Kirheen, that was incredible what you did in that last battle! You’re both so talented,” Isa said cheerfully.

  She returned Isa’s smile, keeping her gaze locked on the raven haired girl and not on her bond mate standing in her peripheral. “Thank you, Isa, but we just got lucky. It was quite the fight. You two gave us a challenge.”

  Ian chuckled. “Don’t discredit your victory, Kir. You won because of your skills, and you deserve all the praise that comes with it.”

  Even if you yearn…

  Kirheen tried to ignore his comment, tried not to look his way, but the sound of his voice drew her gaze like a moth to a flame. His green eyes were focused on her, gaze wandering from her eyes down to her painted lips, soaking in every detail. She returned his attention, looking at his full lips, the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his shoulders. She realized then that she was staring, her gaze locked with his, and she broke eye contact quickly, hoping no one else had noticed the way they’d been staring at each other. She glanced over to where Garild stood, her heart pounding, and found him chatting with Isa, both blissfully unaware of what had occurred.

  In the brief moment she’d looked away, Ian had stepped closer, hovering close enough that she feared he might hear the frantic beating of her heart. “You really were amazing in that final battle. In the face of the unknown and the unexpected, you kept your calm and got yourself out of a very difficult situation. I was very impressed.”

  Her lips parted, but no words came out, lost in that space between them. There was a deafening noise in her head, a ceaseless pounding in her ears, a heat creeping across her skin that threatened to consume her. Stupid, stupid. Look away. Just look away. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper.

  She was saved by Nyson appearing at the top of the steps leading into the temple. He looked exhausted, worn thin. The battles had taken their toll on him as well. He’d watched every fight, soaking in the details, evaluating their every strength and weakness. His tired eyes scanned the crowd and, satisfied that they were all in attendance, he spoke.

  “Welcome everyone,” he called, and all eyes turned to the Union Master. “Tonight, we celebrate our savior, the Allseer, the woman that granted us the power to stand firm against the Darkness raging outside the borders of our land. It is because of her, and the sacrifices of those that have come before you, that we remain safe.”

  Silence settled over the crowd, heavy as they took in his words.

  “You’ve all shown great talent, the battles a testament to the strength and courage that you all possess. I’m so proud of you all, and I feel safe knowing that someday soon, it will be this group protecting us. Tonight, I want you to celebrate these powers. I want you to celebrate the Allseer. I want you to celebrate the winners of the battle, for they fought and trained for that victory. They have shown you the level of skill that I want all of you to aspire to so we can drive back the Darkness once and for all. You all deserve this night of celebration. Now go. Eat, drink, and celebrate with your fellow Bonded!”

  Nyson swept his arms towards the doors of the temple in a grand gesture. Two servants pulled them open, revealing the interior, painstakingly decorated for their night of celebration. The left side of the hall was lined with tables, piled high with various food and drinks. The center of the room had been kept bare, leaving a place for them to mingle. To the right, several seating areas had been arranged. Stone tables sat at the center of each arrangement, the table dipping down in the center to house a crackling fire. The flames glowed brightly, blue sparks shooting high into the air with each snap and pop of the wraith wood logs. The large fireplace at the end of the hall was roaring, filling the room with warmth and light.

  Having won the battles, Kirheen and Garild were given the honor of entering first. As they climbed the steps, cheers followed, and Garild gave a quick wave over his shoulder and grinned like a fool. The temple was bursting with a variety of smells, many of which set her mouth to watering. She’d never seen so much food in one place, and she eyed a nearby dessert table with pointed interest.

  Kirheen loaded a small wooden plate with food and took up a seat in the far corner. Garild joined her, and they ate happily, only stopping to discuss unfamiliar dishes, and argue over which of the various offerings were the best.

  The room filled with people and, after stopping by the food tables, Ian and Isa joined them in the corner. Kirheen kept her eyes on her plate, pretending to be enthralled by what little remained.

  “This is incredible,” Ian declared. “We really need to have celebrations like this more often.”

  Kirheen nodded in agreement but did not dare look his way. She excused herself from the table and meandered to the dessert table, piling her plate with an assortment of cakes and pastries, and wandered through the room. Laughter echoed through the hall, tidbits of conversation drifting to her ears as she strolled the length of the hall. Even the instructors seemed to be enjoying the festivities, chatting amongst themselves in a far corner.

  Trista took to playing a lute, her pleasant voice filling the room. When she shifted to playing something livelier, Burk and Abby took to the center of the room and began to dance, and it wasn’t long before others joined them. Kirheen steered clear of that particular activity, keeping to the shadows so no one would come sweep her to the center of the room.

  Her shoulder was jostled as someone stepped up next to her and she turned, an annoyed look prepared for whoever had bumped into her. Her annoyance melted in an instant as she looked into dark green eyes, Ian’s intense gaze sending a tingle up her spine.

  “Why aren’t you out there dancing?” he asked.

  She sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, hoping to calm her nerves. “I’m afraid it doesn’t quite agree with me.”

  “Ah, that’s good. Had you asked me to dance I would have had to turn you down.” He gave her a playful wink, then sipped his drink, the smell of apples and spices drifting towards her.

  “I’m glad we can agree on that,” she replied, stumbling as she spoke. It felt hard to formulate words, buried as they were beneath her secrets. The weight of them was crushing her chest, leaving her breathless.

  Ian seemed unfazed by her nervousness, and he stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. “It’s nice to have some time to ourselves finally. With all the training, and the excitement of the battles, I thought it might never end, but here we are. I’m glad we get this moment together. They are too few and far between,” he said softly, his eyes focused on her, watching her reaction closely.

  Kirheen looked towards him sidelong, unable to stop the widening of her eyes, the parting of her lips at the shock of what he’d just said. Maybe he didn’t mean it that way, she scolded herself, but with the way he was staring, it was hard to imagine he’d meant it any other way. Words were lost to her, drowning in silence.

  Ian turned his gaze to the crowd, to Isa dancing at the center of the room, locked arm in arm with Burk as they twirled in circles, their laughter echoing through the hall. Her curly raven hair bounced with each twist and twirl, bobbing with the rhythm of her movements. She looked beautiful in the fire light, wild and untamed, unburdened by secrets, by hidden desires.

  His eyes never left Isa, even as he asked, “Do you think they ever get the bonding ritual wrong?” Sadness flickered across his features.

  Kirheen hesitated. Part of her wanted so desperately to be wrong, for him to say that he loved Isa, that he was happy with his bond mate. Make this easier for me. Make these feelings stop. “It’s possible,” she said, trying to sound casual.

  “The intention of the ritual is that you fall in love with your bond mate, right? Our personalities and traits should match so that any other outcome shou
ldn’t exist.” He turned towards her, took a step closer, close enough that she could smell the spices from his drink, wisps of steam tickling her nose. “But what if they get it wrong? What if you are bonded to someone that you…don’t love?”

  She glanced about nervously, certain someone was listening, ready to haul them to the Union Master for even daring to utter the thought. But they were alone. Blissfully and terribly alone. She looked up at Ian, thoughts whirling through her mind too fast to catch. “Did they?” She swallowed hard. “Did they get it wrong?”

  He raised a warmed hand and brushed it across her cheek, the briefest of contact. She wanted to lean into his touch, to soak up the warmth of his skin. His eyes were locked with hers, digging into the depths of her soul. “Kirheen… they did. They absolutely did.”

  There were no words, nothing to be said. She knew what it meant, knew exactly what he was telling her without him needing to verbalize it. They were trapped, doomed to fail the very purpose given to the Bonded, because the Council had been wrong. Somewhere along the way, they’d missed something, that vital thread weaving Kirheen and Ian together. How could they have missed this?

  “Will you walk with me? I think I could use some fresh air,” he said, glancing towards the temple doors. Kirheen followed his gaze, then looked across the room, searching for Garild. He was in the far corner, chatting with Carter and Tegan, his attention fully wrapped up in the conversation. She nodded, and then she was trailing Ian out the doors of the temple and into the chilled air outside.

  The clearing outside was empty, and only the moon witnessed them wandering the road in the dark. It was unusually bright, competing with the glow of the surrounding trees. They wandered the path in silence, the only sound the scraping of their boots over stones, and the distant chirping of crickets. When they were almost to the Temple of Trials, Ian slowed to a stop.