by Eva Brandt
Questions burned on the tip of my tongue, fiercer than the pain I felt at the contact the silver made with my chaffed wrists. Could I request an audience with the cardinal? Would I be given the opportunity to at least try to help the people I loved?
Cyrus left before I could make myself speak again. I slumped in my chains, wondering if this was my punishment for having left my pack.
Kai had told me once that turning to the Pures was a bad idea. “You can’t rely on people who don’t feel, Declan. They will never understand the true reason we act, the reason we fight.”
I had agreed with the latter statement, but not with the former, because at the same time, Kai had believed we needed to try to break the curse. It was just as impossible now as it had been then, but maybe, if I had had a pack to turn to, my soulmate wouldn’t have ended up in such a mess, to begin with. Maybe Lucienne would have had shelter, someone to keep her safe, to help her without dangling my life over her head.
It was Malachai who snapped me out of my self-pitying thoughts. “Declan? Are you okay in there?”
“That depends on your definition of the word, Mal,” I replied. A lump gathered in my throat, and I choked back angry helpless tears. Apparently, he didn’t blame me for his predicament after all, but that didn’t mean I didn’t blame myself. “I’m sorry about this. It’s all my fault.”
“Don’t be stupid, Declan. This was my choice. Besides, there are worse ways to go. At least, this way, we’ll die for something we believe in.”
I stared at the ceiling of my cell, grateful for the fact that my friend couldn’t see my expression. Did he think he was going to die too? Gods, I hoped he was wrong. His crime was nowhere near as serious as mine. Surely, our superiors wouldn’t execute him for it.
I wanted to point that out, to tell him that he was going to survive this and go on to be the best guardian the Alarians could hope to have. The reassuring words refused to come to my lips.
“I admit I don’t look forward to dying,” I said instead. “There’s still so much I would’ve liked to do. But I made a promise and I will keep it. I just... I don’t know what will happen, later.” What was the point of me following the rules if Lucienne and Malachai still had to suffer?
“Have some faith, Declan. Yes, things might suck now, and not in a good way, but your soulmate will be all right. The Pures will take care of her and of everything we’ll leave behind. That’s what they’ve always done, remember?”
I admired Malachai for his confidence. It was also the biggest difference between us. Never mind the fact that we fed and breathed differently. At heart, I was a werewolf, and that would never change. I didn’t mind humiliating myself and selling my soul and my dignity as long as I could trust the Pures to care for my soulmate. But that was precisely it. I didn’t trust them, not anymore.
Fortunately, my superiors didn’t leave me stewing in my own anguish and anger for too long. Within less than an hour, a stony-faced inquisitor came to pick me up. It was Bjorn Lindberg, the sole incubus who had ever joined the Inquisitor Corps, through the direct intervention of Prince Darius. Perhaps this meant that Darius intended to intervene in the outcome of my trial. The thought did not reassure me in the slightest.
“Guardian Whelan,” Bjorn said, “I am here to take you to your trial.”
I bowed politely, insofar as my chains allowed me to, at least. “Thank you. I appreciate the honor of the provided escort.”
It was a lie, and Bjorn probably knew it. Even so, he undid the clasp that bound my chains to the wall in silence. He did not remove any of my bindings, but I had not expected him to. I’d probably never have my hands free again, for what little time I had left to live. Flanked by a group of paladins, we made our way out of the cell block, up two sets of stairs and into one of the massive courtrooms.
I had never participated in an actual trial. Since I was just a guardian, my word didn’t hold much weight in legal proceedings. Exceptions could be made, on occasion, for guardians with experience, but only when no other source of information was available.
I would’ve preferred to continue limiting my interactions with the Pure legal system to what they had been before, but it was not meant to be. When I entered the courtroom, I found myself facing the entire assembly of the Pure Council of Nobles, together with King Sterling, his wife, and his heir.
Fuck.
Judging by the looks that were being thrown my way, I would have quite a fight on my hands if I wanted to convince them to go along with my idea. The Pure Council acknowledged the necessity and efficiency of the Guardians Corps, but most of its members were also very conservative and would push for the harshest possible punishment in a crime against the Soulmate Protection Dictate. Malachai might not have interacted with his soulmate like I had, but he’d covered for me, and that was almost as bad.
In a peculiar development, it was the king himself who initiated the trial. Usually, it was either an inquisitor or the cardinal, depending on the severity of the crime and the status of the person accused. I wondered what Prince Darius had told his father that had made the king decide on this approach.
For the moment, nothing in Sterling’s demeanor provided any information on my new dilemma. His words were identical to what anyone else would’ve said in his position. “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?”
I took a deep breath and braced myself for the unavoidable confession I had known I would have to make. I never got the chance to speak the words.
“Not guilty, Your Majesty,” a different voice said in my stead.
I turned on my heel and watched in shock as my soulmate emerged from the shadows. When had Lucienne even gotten there? How had she sneaked inside without anyone sensing her? I was losing my touch if I had missed both the approach of the group of scavengers at the club and this even more worrying development.
But my diminishing skill at my job was the least of my problems right now. My beautiful angel stepped up to me, her back straight and her jaw clenched in determination. “He isn’t guilty,” she repeated. “And I can prove it.”
Nine
Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures
Lucienne
Earlier
Silence fell over the car as Prince Darius delivered the dramatic introduction of his species. The Accursed. That sounded ominous. But then again, most things that had been happening to me as of late were of that nature, so it wasn’t that surprising that this would be no different.
Also, this whole Accursed business explained a lot about why I found Darius so cold and unnerving.
As that realization dawned, my breath caught and I stared at the prince in shock. “Wait. Does that mean you, everyone else out there...? You can’t feel?”
“Most of the people you’ve met today are in that situation, yes. I am included. Not Guardian Whelan.”
That was a relief because honestly, my green-eyed protector hadn’t looked emotionless to me. In fact, he had been anything but that. “Why not him?”
“As I explained earlier, souls instinctively seek out feeling. Dahud’s heirs were no exception. Each heir used a different method to reach their goal, mimicking different individual parts of the ritual that originally killed her soulmate. To this end, many of them began to prey on humans. Blood, flesh, and spirit were the easiest accessible food sources, and this is what they used so that they could exist, so that they could feel, so that they would not be empty. To fill the void they sensed within them.
“It worked, but it also warped their nature. Guardian Whelan stems from a long line of shape-shifters. His ancestors originally fed on human flesh.”
I would have had trouble believing that, but I remembered the comment that man had made in the car, about wanting to “devour” me. God, he really had meant it literally.
>
“Originally?” I repeated, clinging to the one word that gave me some hope. “Not anymore?”
“A lot of shape-shifters abandoned those brutal ways a long time ago. They are still carnivorous, but they no longer hunt humans or anything like that. But obviously, you have seen enough so far to realize that plenty of them still follow the same methods that were used before. In fact, there are those who actively hunt their soulmates, as they believe killing them will reinforce the curse and give them a boost in power. We call these particular Accursed scavengers. They see humans as a food source, to the point that, depending on their species, some will even cannibalize the unfortunate humans they catch.”
I covered my mouth, trying very hard to suppress my nausea.“That’s monstrous.”
“Yes, it is,” Prince Darius said with a nod, “and it is my job, and that of people like me to stop it. You see, Ms. Hastings, my ancestor is the Great King Alaric, Dahud’s one heir who felt that it was a mistake to attempt to feel. In fact, it was a mistake to seek out our soulmates, to begin with. The first thing he did was to look deeper into the curse, at which point he learned that the effects of the dark magic are so horrible that a human will end up dying even if an Accursed doesn’t actively try to hurt him or her.”
“How is that even possible?” I asked, increasingly horrified by what I was hearing.
“It just is, and usually, all it takes is a simple, physical touch for the process to be triggered.” He lifted his hands, pointing out the gloves he was wearing. “This is why we never touch humans if we can help it, and it is also why you shouldn’t have come so close to me or approached me like that earlier.”
I remembered the outfits of all the people who had been working to secure the scene of the accident. Most of them, except for Guardian Whelan, had been wearing gloves. I hadn’t really paid attention to it at the time, but the detail had suddenly become very important.
Shit. I’d realized that I’d been rude to the prince, but this went beyond rudeness and into lèse-majesté territory.
“I-I apologize,” I stammered. “I didn’t know.”
Prince Darius waved a hand, dismissing my words. “It’s fine. You are not my soulmate, and you did not touch my skin. However, we are not here to talk about that insignificant incident. The problem at hand is not me, but Guardian Whelan. You are, in fact, his soulmate, which is what leads us to our complicated situation.
“During the incident at the club, which you might not remember clearly, he connected with you. While the circumstances were somewhat extreme and he meant well, the fact remains that he broke one of our most sacred laws, the Soulmate Protection Dictate. Accursed are supposed to avoid touching humans at all costs. No Accursed should ever touch his or her soulmate. No Accursed should ever attempt a bonding union of any kind. A regular touch, with a random human, incurs less serious penalties, as we understand that such things may occur by accident while we are performing our duties in human settlements. However, the crime Guardian Declan Whelan committed is punishable by death.”
My mind just about broke at the latter statement. “Wait... You’re going to kill him for touching me? That’s... That’s insane! You can’t be serious!”
“I assure you I’m very serious. The Soulmate Protection Dictate exists to keep humans like you safe. Declan Whelan agreed to follow it when he left his former pack and joined the Guardian Corps of The Pure Kingdom of Alaria so that he could enforce our creed and our will. I assure you he understands and accepts his fate.”
I assumed The Pure Kingdom of Alaria was the name of his nation, but I had no idea what this whole business about the Guardian Corps was about. There were obviously still details I was missing, and I couldn’t be bothered to care about it, because I could hardly expect Prince Darius to give me a full lesson on his whole political system now of all times. In any case, it did not matter, because apparently, for some reason, these people, these well-meaning psychopathic elves—or whatever the hell they were—had decided to murder one of their own because of something that should have been beautiful and precious. A touch that provided comfort. A warm embrace. A bond that pulsed with so many feelings I half-thought I’d been the one to absorb every emotion the Alarians couldn’t experience. Surely, those things could not be bad.
“But there has to be another way,” I choked out. “I’m alive. I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me or anything. Don’t I get a say in this?”
“No, you don’t get a say,” Prince Darius replied. “As for the rest of it... We’ll just have to see.
“For the moment, a trial will be held for your soulmate. It’s more or less a formality, and everyone knows it. In fact, I assume that at this point, your soulmate must believe that the real problem is your fate, not his. Werewolves are actually not very trusting beings and not prone to have faith in anyone who poses a threat of any kind to their mates.”
“So... You don’t actually intend to hurt me. But he thinks that you will.” God, this was complicated. “Is there anything I can do to help? I mean... To earn him some kind of pardon?”
“Pardons for breaches of the Soulmate Protection Dictate are technically not possible, but exceptions can be made in anything.” Darius leaned in closer to me, scanning me from head to toe with those silver eyes that seem to see too much. “You are a puzzle, Ms. Hastings. I’m the one who wiped your original memories of Guardian Whelan, and yet, here you are. You remember him, even if you’ve forgotten everything else. In fact, I believe that you even remember me, considering the level of anger you exhibited earlier.”
My mouth opened and closed as I futilely tried to come up with an answer to that. So Darius was the reason for my headaches, my confusion, my inability to figure out if this was real or a dream. Fucking psychopathic elf. If he hadn’t been dangling the life of a man who was apparently my soulmate over my head, I would’ve punched him in his smug, stupid, perfect face.
“Just so you know, whatever you’re thinking of doing now is probably unwise,” he told me. “Not that I would mind it, but you’d break your fist, and I might not be able to gloss over it as easily as I did with that brief touch, earlier. Additionally, do remember that this is standard practice for a human who makes contact with the Accursed. That is precisely what makes you an anomaly. You shouldn’t have remembered. You should have gone on to happily live your life with no knowledge that anything unpleasant had happened to you or that you’d had a run in with supernatural beings who wanted to eat you. But it did not happen, and right now, that is your soulmate’s only chance for survival.”
All right, that was not what I had expected Darius to say. “I don’t understand. I thought you said that me remembering is a bad thing, that we weren’t supposed to have contact at all.”
“Yes, but the fact remains that the two of you have somehow managed to circumvent the effects of the curse, not only once, but on two separate occasions that should’ve killed you. That is very strange and it is something we need to investigate.”
Hope bubbled in my chest at the prince’s words. “Does that mean that he and I... That maybe we’ve broken—”
Darius shook his head, cutting me off before I could finish the sentence. “Impossible. The idea that curses can be broken through true love or anything like that is just nonsense. Fairytales. Nothing you and Guardian Whelan have done should’ve made a difference. That is the whole point of our creed. We do not believe that the curse can be broken at all.
“In truth, it is possible that this may be an irrelevant episode. The curse doesn’t manifest immediately, so you might have survived your two encounters with scavengers despite it being a latent influence on your life. Even so, magic changes. It mutates all the time.
“If that is the case, if something has happened that has altered the situation we were previously in, we need to know about it. We cannot work to keep soulmates safe if the curse we are keeping them safe from is different from what we think it is.”
So, in other words, my soulmate and I were guine
a pigs. That was fair enough. I could understand Darius’s cold logic and even appreciate it, as long as it meant Declan got out of this one alive. In fact, to a certain extent, it sort of reassured me, since it finally explained why Darius was bothering to explain all this to me, to begin with.
“So what exactly does that mean for us?” I asked. “For Declan and me?”
“For the moment, it means you will stick with me and remain silent, no matter what you see or hear. You will probably not be allowed to witness your soulmate’s trial, but I will arrange for something after, once the more conservative elements have departed. It will still not be pleasant, so you must keep control of your temper.”
In other words, don’t go poking people and screaming at them even if you’re pissed off and they decide it’s a good idea to brainwash you and murder your rescuer/soulmate. Okay. I could do that. Probably. Hopefully.
After Darius delivered these instructions, he fell silent, apparently losing interest in providing any further explanations to me. I would have liked to ask more questions, but I refrained, and not just because I didn’t want to tempt fate. I was having trouble adjusting to the information I already had. It might have been cowardly to hide from the problems coming my way just due to a stupid inability to deal with the ones I was currently facing, but I needed a break if I was going to deal with a renewed bout of supernatural bullshit at some point in the near future.
As it turned out, I didn’t have much time at my disposal to acquire my mental state of Zen. Within only a couple of minutes, the car slowed down and came to a stop. It was in that moment that I realized I didn’t have a clue where I’d been brought, but before I could actually ask, the car door opened and Darius slid out of the vehicle. “Enforcer Ayers,” I heard him say, “accompany Ms. Hastings to a guest room. Once she’s in a more appropriate attire, bring her to me.”
