Fractured Souls (Soul of a Dragon Book 3)

by Clara Hartley

  Catrina was harvesting her patients.

  Rayse’s mind couldn’t process that. He didn’t want to believe it. Catrina was so… charming. He was undeserving of her. Why was he so drawn to something Constance had always stood against?

  Constance… every time he looked at Catrina, he felt like he was betraying her. He tried to push the leery thoughts of Catrina from him, but they came back, each time pounding more loudly than before.

  “Are you unharmed?” Kien sauntered toward Catrina and wrapped his arms around her shoulders in an overtly protective gesture. The strong-jawed man wore a hunched pose, reminding Rayse of an animal on guard.

  Catrina might have seen Kien as a brother, but Rayse was certain Kien didn’t share those same feelings.

  “I am,” she replied, sliding out of Kien’s grip. She had her eyes to the ground, completely oblivious to the staring match Kien was currently having with Rayse. He puffed out his chest and stood straighter, aware that he was acting a little foolishly, like a peacock in heat. “How many did we leave behind?” she asked.

  “Too many.” Kien sighed. “I haven’t made the count yet.”

  “Please do.” Her gaze darted to his shoulder. “You’re injured, Alric.”

  “Small scratch,” Rayse said. His arm was actually dislocated, bleeding, and throbbing pain was traveling from it to the top of his skull. Nothing uncommon for a dragon, however.

  “Let me tend to that.”

  “I can,” Kien cut in. “And even if I don’t, he’s dragon enough to heal by himself.”

  Rayse withheld a grimace. He was pretty sure Kien would rather shove a dagger in his wound than wrap it up.

  “You can help the other patients,” Catrina said. “I’ll take a look at it, to make sure it doesn’t heal the wrong way. Looks like the joints might be in the wrong position.”

  A smug grin graced Rayse’s lips, and a scowl appeared on Kien.

  He placed his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “Are you sure? I don’t trust this stranger with you.”

  “He won’t hurt me. And if he does try to, do you honestly think he can?”

  Kien’s scowl deepened. “No.” He leered at Rayse and growled, in a pitch so low that Catrina wouldn’t be able to hear it with her human ears.

  “Then be off,” Catrina said. “Oh, don’t be so grouchy.” She tapped the side of Kien’s face in an all-too-familiar gesture that sent jealousy spiking through Rayse’s chest. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Kien glowered at Rayse. “Don’t let him do anything to you.”

  She rolled his eyes and pushed Kien away, but not without a teasing smile on her lips. “Now, let’s take a look at that shoulder.” Rayse wanted to slam Kien’s nose against a brick wall for being this close to Catrina.

  He watched Kien as he stalked away. When Catrina wasn’t looking, Kien spun around and flipped Rayse the finger.

  Rayse bit his teeth together to stop himself from lunging at the asshole.

  She raised her slender fingers to Rayse’s shoulder. “This might sting a bit, but I doubt you dragon men care anyway.”

  “Probably not.” He shrugged.

  She muttered a soft spell. The sting did come. It started from his wound and crawled its way up his neck. It didn’t faze him. It was little more than an ant bite to him. It was the sickening sensation he got after that jarred him. “Black magic,” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied, in barely a whisper. She was looking down, and Rayse couldn’t help but notice how full her lashes were. He thought some of Constance, too. Catrina continued, “At least a tiny bit of it. I mixed it in with some normal souls to make the spell more potent.”

  “Why? Black magic should be forbidden, or at least that’s what the water witches often say.”

  She sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides. “It’s for a greater purpose, or at least that’s what I always tell myself.” Her discomfort over what she had to do was clear. The magic was evil, but Catrina wasn’t. She pursed her plump lips. So pretty… She was almost like a dream—transient, and faraway from his grasp. Something he could never have.

  He grabbed his shoulder with his opposite hand, then tested it with a few swings. “Good as new. Fastest I’ve ever healed a wound like that. Don’t you have to use herbs and the like?” Constance used to need them all the time.”

  “Not with this power. It’s strong enough to do most things. But it comes at a heavy price.”

  “Lives.”

  “I don’t like to think about it.”

  He tried not to press further. The weariness tainting her felt like a crease he wanted to smooth over.

  Still, he needed to know. “The patients… do you bring them here to use them as—”

  “No! Please, never say that.”

  “I’m… I wasn’t assuming…”

  “You were.” Her jaw tensed. “I would never do something that devious. No, I only harvest those I deem beyond saving. This power isn’t right, but it’s all I have to keep those who need protection from the Mother.”

  Rayse saw a porcelain quality in Catrina. Perhaps it was her pale skin, but his instincts told her she was fragile. Having this responsibility likely made her feel like glass under pressure. She could crack at any time.

  He wanted to be able to stop that, but that burden was not his honor.

  He had someone to care for, once. He’d blown that opportunity.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s nothing to do with you.”

  “It must be hard. And I’ve heard the magic eats at you.”

  She bowed her head. “I’m used to it.”

  “Of course you are,” he said. “That’s what people often say when they’re forced into a position they don’t want to be in.”

  A hint of a smile curved her lips. “I’ll survive. But goodness knows how the Dragon Mother deals with a million years of dealing with the dark art. I’m certain she lost her mind somewhere down that road.”

  “Her mind?”

  Her expression was solemn again. “Sometimes I hear the voices. I’m not sure if that’s my conscience or the power.”

  He couldn’t relate. He’d been burdened by caring for a clan of people before, but not like she was. He had been almost considered all-powerful, with the muscle to do whatever he wanted. To hold Dragon Keep together, he mostly had to have a sound mind and give directions. Catrina had a god breathing down her throat, and a whole troop of injured souls to care for. The dark magic only served to complicate things.

  “I should stay,” he said. “To help.”

  Cynical laughter came from her. He took that as a no.

  A soothing silence swept across them. Being with Catrina warmed him. He didn’t mind just standing next to her, without a word uttered between them. She smelled like Constance once did—like home.

  He redirected his gaze to where she was looking, at the huddle of patients and nurses, people covered in soot and dust, picking up the scraps of the disaster. Her company was calming despite the chaos.

  “This place seems rather empty,” Rayse said, referring to the field of barren land. “Couldn’t you… just… just conjure up a building or something?”

  This time her laughter sang not with cynicism, but pure amusement. It coaxed a smile out of him. If only he knew how to make her laugh like that when he pleased. “It doesn’t work that way,” she said. “Well, I suppose I could, but why would I waste the lives I gather for something as superficial as a building? It’ll take too many sentient souls to create something like that. We can set up tents with what we can find in the meanwhile, and then, with our warriors, we’ll have a settlement up in no time. We don’t need anything lavish. That’s something the Dragon Mother would do. Plus, after that portal, and what I used while getting out, I’m running shorter than usual on souls.”

  “You used some on me, though.”

  “An insignificant amount.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, thinking. “I can help you. I’ve had
a lot of experience building houses. We started the Ever—” He caught his tongue. He felt so comfortable with her that he’d almost given his identity away.

  “I don’t see why you shouldn’t, since you have the time.”

  “I’ll get started right on that, then.” If not, he would be lumbering about like dead weight. He had to make himself useful. He’d begun building the structures in Dragon Keep himself, and was no stranger to constructing homes.

  “Don’t you have a mate to find?” she asked.

  He didn’t realize he was grinning till then, and that comment wiped him clean of his brief happiness. “I… I do, but you’re going to send me back soon anyway, aren’t you?”

  “Not that soon. Not anymore. I might need an extra week, or more.” A frown creased her forehead. “At least, if I somehow manage to gather that much magic in the near future, that would mean many of these patients here aren’t going to make it, and I sincerely hope they do. It was mostly the healthy ones who made it out.” The invading drakin must have slaughtered at least of a third of the people in their last establishment. Those were people whom Catrina had saved, cared for, and formed a relationship with.

  He needed more strength… but how? He wasn’t like the old Rayse anymore, and now that he’d been awakened to the grander scheme of things, he’d realized just how weak his past self had been.

  “The last time someone patched me up like that was years ago,” he said. “You didn’t have to. Constance did it when I needed it. These days, the water witches just let me heal on my own.”

  She sniffed. “That girl had no idea what she was doing.”

  He might have been attracted to Catrina, but he didn’t like hearing people insulting Constance. Despite his feelings for this new woman, he loved her. He always would. “She was the best healer I’ve known.”

  “Not over here. I’d barely give her a passing grade. If she’d been better, she could have saved so many more.”

  What past did Catrina share with her? “She was diligent.”

  “Not enough, apparently. I’d say she was useless.”

  A sour taste filled his mouth. “I don’t think you have a right to talk about her that way.” Anger boiled in his chest. “Take back those words.”

  “I won’t,” Catrina said, straightening. “I’m sorry that you don’t like what you’re hearing, but I’m not one to lie.” She tucked a loose strand of her silky hair into her ear and strutted forward. “I need to keep busy; there are more who need me. Perhaps you can help with that building.”

  “Catrina, wait—”

  It happened so quickly that he barely had time to blink. One moment they were quarreling, and then she was pressed against him. She had the temperament of a lion, but so close to him, she felt soft and warm. If he held her too tight, he was afraid he would break her. He’d had this sensation before, years back—the time had dragged on and it seemed like an eternity had gone by since then. The familiarity was almost refreshing.

  And… she wasn’t pushing him away.

  She peered up at him, eyes so large they shone at him like the rarest of jewels. He inched down, until he felt her breath grazing the tip of his nose.

  He could kiss her.

  Just like that.

  Her lips were so close to his. Her mouth looked so full and red. He wondered how she’d look like when her cheeks became flushed after he kissed her, how she’d react when he pressed his mouth against hers and took what he desperately wanted.

  But Constance…

  He parted from her as the slimy feeling, the one someone got when doing something wrong, slicked past him. Cold air took her place.

  “I should go,” she said breathily.

  “Yes, maybe.”

  He plastered his gaze to the dead grass, before checking to see if she’d really left.

  He watched her as she lifted her dress and strolled away, noting the elegant way her hair blew in the arid wind.

  7

  Constance’s ears twitched at the sound of whining metal. She woke to the smell of feces and piss.

  A pair of mishram threw a new couple next to her cell. The bluish creatures were stronger than they appeared. They’d grabbed her a couple of times already, and their viselike grips matched even Rayse’s. Magic had to be involved somehow. Their muscles seemed barely enough for such strength.

  She hated the damned beings. The Dragon Mother had them next to her at all times. The goddess paraded them around almost like trophies.

  The creepy way they looked at her chilled her. Sometimes they reminded her of herself, but then again, that was a stretch. Perhaps it was how caged this place made her feel.

  “I don’t like this place, love,” the woman of the mate pair said.

  “We’ll be all right,” the male replied. “I’ll protect you.”

  Poor souls. Constance would help if she could, but she was as toothless as them.

  The wretched madwoman next to her hadn’t stopped muttering. Kill me, kill me, kill me. Constance was quite close to doing so. Maybe after a day or two, she’d rip the woman’s throat out for driving her mind wild with the constant repetition. Sometimes, after Constance finally managed to sleep, the woman would shriek, a loud, piercing sound, and wake her right back up. It forced Constance to face the horror of her current days.

  “Lady?” the new female prisoner asked her. Constance turned to her, despite not being able to see well in the darkness.

  Constance wondered if the Mother would take away her vision soon. The goddess had inflicted burns next to Constance’s eyes. She thought she had gone blind then, but the goddess had left her pupils unscathed. She might look like a hideous lizard. Luckily, she had no access to a mirror. She would likely weep if she had the opportunity to see herself.

  The female prisoner grasped the cell’s metal grate. “How long have you been here?”

  Constance exhaled. How long? She couldn’t give a proper answer, for she didn’t know. Long enough to know that couples here don’t usually make it past a week, she thought. She bit her tongue and kept that information to herself. “You’ll be fine,” she lied. She could make out a mousy frame, towered over by a protective dragon male. The pair reminded her of Fraser and Marzia. She wondered how the both of them were doing.

  How was Rayse doing?

  The mark had disappeared a while ago, which drove the Dragon Mother livid. Constance knew that if she left Rayse bond-less for too long, his dragon would drive him off the edge. Perhaps she’d die here, and Rayse would perish along with her.

  “Will we really?” the female said. “Really be fine? What is this place like?”

  Constance shrugged. “You won’t go starving.” The healer in her might have cared more, but she’d seen so many of these couples come and go that watching them die was starting to numb her.

  So what if they didn’t make it? It was simply another everyday occurrence. The coldness of that thought made her stomach churn.

  “And what if I need to… to relieve myself, or something like that?”

  What a pitiful creature. This woman seemed so gullible and innocent. A soul like her didn’t deserve to end up here. But life wasn’t fair. It never was, not with the Dragon Mother being their god.

  Constance scrunched up her nose. “They clean the cells every week or so.” She hated being reminded that she was bathing in her own filth. They were little more than livestock. She hadn’t been lying about the not-starving part, however—they were fed properly, even if the food tasted like paper and they had to eat amongst the stench of feces.

  Constance couldn’t see, but she heard sniffling coming from the woman. The prisoner’s mate started trying to comfort her with empty promises. Constance estimated they’d last three days, at most. At least their suffering would be short, unlike hers. The pain constantly gnawed at her. Sometimes, with one wrong move, she’d send agonizing tremors of pain shooting through her burns. She wondered if Rayse would recognize her if he saw her now.

  Exhaustion h
ummed through her. It sat by her like a close companion, one she couldn’t chase away.

  Kill me… Kill me…

  “Put her out of her misery,” Jaerhel said.

  He prompted Constance to kill the madwoman at least once a day, his tone increasingly pleading.

  The groan of a door sounded through the dungeon. She’d memorized that sound. Her heart lurched as her body tightened in anticipation of the trauma about to come. What was going to happen to her next? She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t help but do so. The torture came in waves. What would she lose next?

  “Open her cell,” the Dragon Mother told the mishram.

  Constance didn’t look up. If she did, the Mother would see the emotions flickering through her heart—fear, anticipation, anger. It’d only please the witch.

  The goddess’s feet stopped by her. The sparkles of her ruby heels seemed out of place in the musty atmosphere. “Still bratty, I see.”

  “What’s in store for today?” Constance asked, wondering where the courage had come from. Half of her mind fared little better than a whimpering kitten.

  “You’re almost ugly enough.” The blazing glow of flames lit up the Mother’s hand. “Just some refinements. Then I’m going to have to bring dear Edrienne here to see his reaction. We’ll see if he still loves you despite you being this hideous.” The deity chuckled. “I’m hoping not.”

  Singeing she’d felt countless times before penetrated Constance’s right temple. She could barely make out the scent of charring flesh, distracted by the piercing torment as the flames dug into her. Her cries rang through the damp corridor, drowning out the moans of the other damned prisoners.

  This session was brief, but just as painful as the last few.

  The Dragon Mother stepped back. “There, now we’re getting close.”

  “Rayse… don’t bring him here.”

  The goddess sneered. “You pretend you have a say in what happens.”

  “I’ll”—Constance coughed—“do anything. Please.” She’d rather suffer alone than let her mate go through this. He’d be just as helpless as she was in front of the Mother. Maybe even more so, since he didn’t have a good command of magic.