Seb's eyes caught on the loaded satchel at his feet. "I've brought Rowan's things," he crowed triumphantly, finding words at last. "The pack is his as well so you may keep everything."
"Thank you," Mum said sincerely. Her amusement turned to sadness. She regarded the pack morosely. We didn't have much left of Rowan. "You were close to him?"
Seb nodded, his eyes sad as well. I guessed Seb was typically a happy and playful soul. Losing Rowan had affected him almost as much as it had us. "He was a great roommate, a great friend, and a great colleague. We were hoping to be promoted together."
Mum smiled but there was a morose tilt to her lips. "What were you working on? He didn't like to talk shop when he visited, but I was always curious."
"Apple hybrids," Seb offered. He motioned to Reed who was looking decidedly more uncomfortable as the moments went by. "Reed was doing the office work. He researched and analyzed soil samples while Rowan and I performed the field work. Our Master didn't think much of our efforts, but he couldn't prevent us from experimenting in our free time."
"Oh?" Mum's sadness had turned to interest, and I was grateful to them. "You've read my treatise on the PH balance as it relates to humans, I'm certain? I imagine the same methods could be applied to apples and plants."
Reed pushed a hand through his hair, causing more strands to stand upright. The urge to smooth down his hair was so strong; I slid my hands beneath my thighs. The way my body had reacted all day, I couldn't count on it to not betray my better interests.
The Scholar’s face animated, transforming him from cute into decidedly handsome. Both Seb and Reed were boyishly handsome, different from Clay, Mason and Ian. I thought they might also be a couple years younger than the other three.
"Oh yes, I've read almost all of your publications. The areas you've designated as sample sites have been pivotal in our research. We hope to travel further past the walls at some point to continue our studies." He went on for a moment about soil samples and apples. While the explanations were interesting, I had a difficult time focusing on his words and not the velvet tenor of his voice. Seb flashed me a grin and Reed blushed for the first time.
"I'm sorry, Miss Walton, we're probably boring you."
"Not at all," I said. "I love apples." I winced after the words escaped my mouth, realizing how very inane and unintelligent that statement sounded after Reed's and Mum's scientific jargon. I backtracked quickly, attempting to save myself from permanent embarrassment. "Could you graft and grow the plants here and take them to Abilon when they've become hearty enough for transplanting?"
Even Mum looked at me in surprise. Reed's smile brightened his eyes as his gaze reassessed me. His expression stoked the fire within me and I added a Scholar to my list of hopeless crushes. Seb grinned at me as well. Their twin regards nearly melted me into a pool on the wooden chair. I imagined them both closer, smiling at me, both their hands upon me. I’d never considered being with more than one man at a time, but the reactions of my body suggested I would like it very much.
A sound I dreaded roused me from a haze of desire, as efficiently as a cold bucket of water. A key scratched against the doorknob outside, followed immediately by a loud pounding. "Matilda, open the door," my father bellowed hoarsely.
I recoiled. Mum set her lips, her usually unflappable composure angry and embarrassed. Of all the times my father chose to come home during daylight hours, he had to arrive when we had visitors. Reed and Seb looked at each other, matching expressions of alarm on their faces.
"Is there some trouble?" Seb asked. He straightened like he might stand up and defend our home himself.
"No, it's just Father." I couldn't mask the disgust in my voice.
Mum, forced to stand and open the door before our neighbors called the city watch, let my father in. He looked even worse than usual. He stumbled inside, nearly knocking over the stand of shoes by the door. I stood up and shoved him the other way, towards the wall, and not gently either.
Unidentifiable liquid stained his shirt, the Merchant crest displayed proudly on his shoulder. The sour stench of cheap ale and the scent of cigars wafted off him, making me gag. Our small living space soon reeked like a pub. I was afraid to look at Seb and Reed. Would they be pitying or disgusted? Neither were emotions I wanted to see on their faces.
"Oh, we have visitors? Are there two of them or am I seeing double? Have they come to court our useless daughter or the pretty one?" My father's words slurred but were easily comprehended, especially with the sneer he directed my way. Seb and Reed rose to their feet, twin expressions of anger on their faces. I sighed.
"Maybe it's best..." I prompted. Mum stood to the side, her shoulders stooped and an air of defeat upon her beautiful face. Reed glanced at me and nodded, but Seb still appeared tempted to fisticuffs. He was half the size of my burly father. Reed nudged his brother towards the door. Mum garbled the usual pleasantries while father jeered at them through a mass of dirty, bushy facial hair.
I ushered the boys into the hall and followed them, needing a moment of silence. Leaning against the door to my unit, my hand still clenched the doorknob behind me. I didn't fear my father would wrest it from me and join me in the hall, but my grip implied otherwise.
Old Mistress Hawly peeked into the corridor from down the hall. Her kids were grown but still lived with her, them both being of a lower tier, so she could retain her housing unit and not get demoted to living with a roommate. Her husband had died years ago. When she lost the ability to maintain her standing in second tier, they would assign her to one of her children's units.
"Everything ok?" She glared at the men in front of me like they were the perpetrators.
"Everything is fine, Mistress Hawly," I yelled, knowing she had trouble hearing. "My father just decided to come home early." She nodded but hesitated a moment, afraid to leave me alone with my company. In her time, men and women were more separated. They even attended different schools. She never missed a moment to tell me how much better that was. Her door closed behind her after a lengthy pause.
"I'm sorry that happened while you were here," I sighed. I kept my gaze on the knotted pine floor, smoothed by grit and years of footsteps. I couldn't face the matching expressions of disgust I was certain showed on their faces.
First one hand, then another, set upon each of my bare forearms. The touches were chaste, but each sent electrifying bursts of energy through me as if they were a circuit and I the conduit. I identified them without lifting my head. On my left arm, Reed had darker fingers, long and tapered at the ends. Ink stained his skin. On my right arm, Seb's hand was paler and covered in fine red hair, his fingers shorter and thicker.
"You shouldn't have to apologize for his behavior." I had expected Seb to comfort me, but the voice belonged to Reed. I looked up through a fall of hair, slightly loosened from its braid. I didn't note any pity or disgust, just a tinge of anger and concern. The tenderness in his eyes nearly undid me and the depth of his compassion made my heart flutter hopelessly. Seb nodded, echoing the feelings of his brother. Then their gazes met, traveled to their hands on my arms, and they both stepped away at the same time. My body shivered with a chill after their retreat.
"Thanks for dropping Rowan's stuff off," I murmured as the silence stretched to discomfort.
"Of course," Seb replied. He flashed a cheeky smile. "Perhaps we can see each other again?"
I hesitated. My body and mind wanted to scream yes, but I was so confused at the moment I thought I might devolve into a useless puddle on the floor if I opened my mouth.
Seb started to turn away, his face resembling a kicked puppy, so I spoke up before he turned away fully. "Yes," I stuttered. "Yes, I'd like to see - you - again." I couldn't prevent my traitorous eyes from flicking back and forth between the two men as I said the words. Their mutual confusion made it clear they didn't know which one of them I meant. Fumbling an excuse, I slipped away from them and back inside before I embarrassed myself further, or worse, started a fight be
tween two brothers. Master Blevins hadn't exaggerated. I was a disaster.
Chapter Thirteen
Mason
When Mason was told to deliver a message to the woman who had not vacated his mind for the last several days, he felt equal parts excited and curious. Any courier, palace guard, or city watchman could have delivered the message. In fact, a courier from the Exchange House would have been the expected option. Instead, the King expressly requested he deliver the message himself.
The High Commander clapped him on the shoulder when he relayed the information to his son. "This is good, son," the big man boomed. "The King is taking notice of you. He might be considering you for Advisor."
Mason studied his father without replying. He wasn't certain if his father was congratulating or baiting him. His father's motives were never clear to him. When he thought he knew what the man was thinking, he swore Master Brantley changed his mind just to thwart him. The High Commander always rambled that Military House was the only House where the Head, which happened to be him, possessed more clout with the King than the Advisor. He didn't mention that the Advisor still ranked above him and lived in the palace.
Mason couldn't imagine his father being pleased that he might be Advisor instead of High Commander. Considering his own desires, which he didn't often have time to do with his father's constant pressure and expectations, Mason admitted he'd prefer being Advisor. The High Commander led his men into battle and performed the rare execution of prisoners. He didn’t have any desire to participate in actual battle. He had no bloodlust in his veins. His father had retained more than his share instead of passing it down to his progeny. His sisters were even gentler and kinder hearted than he.
Mason read the message since the missive wasn't sealed. It seemed simple, a request for the family to present themselves to the King and Queen for a private dinner in gratitude for Rowan Walton serving as a Soul Tender. He had been a child when the last Soul Tender ascended; he wasn't certain if a family dinner was tradition or not.
"Would you like me to attend you?" his friend Gillian asked.
"To deliver a message? No, I think I can handle this." In truth, he didn't want the man to be present when he spoke with Kiarra again. His friend was too perceptive and would pick up on his interest instantly.
Two days had passed since he'd seen the girl climb the apple tree and boost herself onto the wall. She had struggled on the way up but had descended like she was born to the treetops. He thought her changing ability might mean she was Soul Matched with a stealthy spy, probably his friend Ian, since he had been present when her skill appeared to increase within moments. He’d heard tales of a Soul Match's abilities, skills, or intelligence improving with proximity to their match, even before bonding. He'd never seen a skill boost in action, though. If he were brutally honest with himself, he didn't want to believe she was Ian's true match. Something about the woman called to him. If she was meant to be Ian's, that part of him that responded to her call would break.
Mason wasn't surprised when Ian joined him outside the barracks. The Shadow had an uncanny sixth sense and his skills outshone other patrons of his House. Military Housing was arranged differently from the other Houses because statistically it accommodated more single men and women than families. Two-thirds of second and third tier were cohousing floors instead of family units. The other Houses only devoted a third of their tiers to dorm rooms.
"Delivering the King's message to our pretty friend, are you?" Ian dissolved from the shadows like a wraith. The crisp early morning air hinted at summer, the last wisps of winter fading away into the depths of the night.
Today was rest day, the one day of the week when school and work weren't in session. Rest day was meant to be a day of worship, but only a third of the city's entire population actually visited the small chapels dedicated to the Saints. Merchants who sold goods or manned shops still worked, sometimes acquiring their best business on these days. Others strolled about, taking advantage of the emptier streets. Mason was confident the Scholars in their blue robes were actually working on their research. They didn't permit religion or down-time to interrupt their genius.
Mason cocked a brow at Ian. The spy knew exactly where he was headed, either because he had a source somewhere close or because he was just that good. "What has our beautiful friend been up to?" Mason asked curiously. Ian wouldn't admit it outright, but Mason guessed the Shadow had been tailing Kiarra since he first met her.
"She hasn't picked up any new admirers in the last two days, which says something." Consternation laced Ian's voice. They had spoken a couple nights ago. Ian had informed him of the Merchant she'd accompanied to his House. He'd said she leaned into him as she walked beside him. Even with his deformity, he was damnably handsome, according to Ian anyway. Ian initially thought the Greenie she'd met up with had only been an errand related to her brother, but then he and a Scholar had entered her housing unit. Both had returned looking angry and uncomfortable about something.
"What about her original admirers?" Mason tried to sound casual, but Ian would pick up on the inflection of his voice. He wasn't given to jealousy, but he'd never been so drawn to a woman before.
"What? You mean you and me?"
"I know what I've been doing," Mason responded dryly. "What about the Planner and the Scholar? Any more visits?"
"Now, that's an interesting question. My answer would be they are not nearly as good at spying as I am."
"Out with it, man," Mason rejoined, rubbing a large hand over the dark fuzz on his head. Most military men kept their hair short. The helmets they occasionally wore were unbearably hot. He admitted he liked the sensation of his shorn head. His youngest sister did as well. She loved to run her hands over the spiky fuzz right after he'd visited the barber. His mother said the style complimented his strong jaw, but she was biased.
"Both have been lurking about her unit. The Scholar lives on the bottom floor of the building next to hers which means they might not ever have come into contact with each other. But, now he goes out of his way to trail along the side of her building on the way to his own. And he often looks up at her window, maybe without even knowing he's doing so. And the Planner, well his housing unit is on the opposite side of the palace. But he has been visiting his friend more often than usual, and his gaze strays upward as often as his friend's. They're foster brothers. I've listened in on them. The Greenie is infatuated with her. I believe his Scholar brother feels the same way but doesn't want to say anything for fear of breaking his friend's heart."
A long pause held enough weight that Mason shifted uncomfortably. Ian might have been discussing their predicament. They were both interested in the same woman. They might not be brothers but they were good friends, and she was one woman. "What about the Merchant?"
Ian scratched his scruffy chin. He hadn't shaved recently, but the whiskers looked good on him. They enhanced his mysterious nature. Ian wasn't handsome, not the type to turn heads, not like Gillian who his sisters fainted over every time he visited. He hadn't been blind to the way Kiarra had looked at him, though. She hadn't thought the spy was unattractive. He'd been around his sisters often enough to recognize the signs.
"I imagine it's more difficult for the Merchant to go out of his way just to stand outside a girl's window. I haven't seen him in this area and he hasn't returned to the school to tutor. From the information I've gathered, his brain works in numbers and code, he is kind hearted to all, and he's a thorn in Master Gregory's side."
Mason echoed Ian's smirk. No one liked the pompous Head of Merchant House. "He'd have to be a rather large thorn to prick Gregory through all those layers of fat."
"Aye. Master Gregory was none too pleased to accept a crippled boy from the docks. The King's Merchant Advisor had to get involved to admit Jackson into second tier because Gregory was his usual asshole self." Ian chuckled but turned serious. Mason faced him. They had taken the long way around but were approaching the Scholar Housing units now.
&
nbsp; Ian glanced around him. Mason echoed the movement even though Ian would catch what he didn't, despite his military training. When Ian was afraid of being overheard, he had valuable information to impart. He stepped closer to his friend.
"Something is happening at the palace. No one in my House can decipher the cause. The King is rearranging an unused portion of the west wing in preparation for something and has been in closed meetings with his Advisors."
Mason's eyes widened. He would know if it was a military move and he hadn't overheard any information. His father liked to brag about such things. "Perhaps a traveling dignitary?"
"There are rooms in the palace set aside for that already. This particular area has remained closed off since the Cadens took the throne. It is one of the oldest parts of the palace.”
"Perhaps the heir is preparing his Advisors?"
Ian's dark brown eyes met Mason's. "That would be my thought as well, but my sources say the heir is uninvolved with any of the preparations or meetings. In fact, the King is making plans for his son to go on some extended traveling, perhaps to Bashir. He often makes visits there, but the King is instigating this particular visit and pushing for its immediacy."
Mason considered all the information. He now understood why Ian was equally confused and interested. Bashir was a large city, not far from Treleaven, but there was nothing particularly special about the farming village. It was dominated by Planners and Merchants because of the fertile land. The only significance of the city was that it was the first on the trade route the Mishokian traders followed after they left the seaport, but the trade season wouldn't start for another month.
There was one option neither man would say aloud regardless of whether they considered themselves unwatched or unheard. Mason met Ian's gaze again. The spy had considered the same option; it was in Ian's nature to consider everything. The King might be questioning his choice of heir. His progeny wasn't suitable for the throne. He had a cruel streak, was an unrelenting drunkard, and abused his power. The city was holding its breath regarding the succession. Rumors had flown about for years but the people believed the King loved his son and the younger Caden would follow all his ancestors to the throne eventually.
Pieces of Her Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Soul Tenders Book 1) Page 11
