Asha's Power (Soul Merge Saga Book 4)

by M. P. A. Hanson

  “Once that is done, and Llewellyn is separated from the rest of his Ancient friends, he will likely either attack or retreat here,” Silver pointed to a spot on one of the extensive maps on the table, “his home world. If he retreats then Llewellyn’s temple will be difficult to get to without the help of the nycto-demons, who happen to specialise in infiltrating underground systems.”

  There were nods around the table and some apprehension among the Ancients at the mention of demons. Silver paid them no mind and proceeded to explain the various entrances each of them would take. To Asha’s surprise, she was on one of the strike teams, and even more surprising was that she wasn’t going to be anywhere near Silver or Masozi. Her aunt was forcing her into a battle alone, where she would worry about both Masozi and Silver and be unable to check if they were still alive until after the raid had been completed.

  Still, she sat compliantly at the table, offering insights where she was absolutely certain they would benefit the wytches, and to her surprise they were well received by the others. By the time Silver made her final announcement, a few of the coven wytches had looked at her with curiosity, rather than their usual distain. Though Silver made it clear that she fully expected Llewellyn to take the offensive rather than retreat to his own ground, she also made it clear that the backup plan was to be fool proof.

  “This plan will only work if Llewellyn believes I am dead.” Silver informed them all. “That is why we are inside this room; it is protected by the strongest and subtlest shields that our Ancient friends are able to produce. Before each of you leaves, you will learn to duplicate those shields around your minds. If he senses I am alive, the entire plan will fail, and he will never feel secure enough to display Katelyn’s body in the way we need him to in order to move ahead with the remaining Council excommunicating him.”

  The wytches each stopped moving instantly and Asha sensed their minds roaming above them, inspecting the magic of the shielding of this room. They were learning the patterns as quickly as possible, and she went to do the same, only to find her own mind encased in shields that had the same magical ‘taste’ as Kate’s magic. She looked across at her regal looking grandmother, dressed in flowing colourful robes, her skin ornamented with glistening jewels. Kate quickly placed a finger to her lips and then passed off the motion as being used to push a strand of hair away from her face. Asha nodded, and repeated the movement back at her. If Kate wanted Asha to have these shields and keep quiet about them, Asha would obey. Her grandmother would never do anything to hurt her and she sensed that the shields were more a precaution than anything else.

  Asha watched as one by one the wytches mastered the art of mimicking the Ancients’ shields and teleported away, following her aunts disregard for saying goodbye. Though Silver hadn’t disbanded the meeting in the formal sense, it was obvious to everyone there that nothing more needed to be said. The Ancients, too, began leaving, till only Kate, Gaillean, Silver and Asha remained in the shadowy room.

  “Asha are you sure you’re okay with this plan?” Kate asked, her brows furrowed with concern.

  “I like it.” She replied. “It’s good that my first kill will be a useful one.”

  Kate blanched and glared at Silver while Gaillean cast her with an assessing look.

  “Aunt Silver, may I return home now? I have study to catch up on.” Asha’s voice may have reflected some of the numbness she was still feeling over Katelyn’s death, and though silently she screamed at Silver to cross the room and enfold Asha in her embrace, she wasn’t surprised when it didn’t happen.

  A shimmering portal opened to her left, casting small beams of refracted light across the room. To her shame, Asha suspected that as she shuffled through it, she may have sent Silver a pleading look. Either it had not been received well, or her aunt hadn’t seen it, as the portal closed promptly behind her.

  She had arrived in the living room of Silver’s apartments in Dalmorin, Masozi was nowhere in sight, but Keenan had been sitting in an armchair. He rose at the sight of the portal, no doubt expecting Silver. But when he saw her, he crossed the room, concern in his eyes.

  “Asha what’s wrong?” He asked, “You look,” he paused as if trying to decide on a suitable adjective, “different.”

  Asha, no longer surrounded by the wytch queens, finally felt the walls beginning to crack. But what crossed her lips wasn’t a lament for the loss of Katelyn, but rather something that surprised her as much as Keenan.

  “So much for her being my mother!” She spat the words with a mixture of vehemence and anguish. “She knew! She knew I wouldn’t be able to sit there while she told me my sister in all but blood was going to die soon – if she hadn’t already been murdered – and told me that I would be the one to kill her murderer because heaven forbid she do something that upsets the precious balance!”

  Keenan looked incredulous. “When did you find out the truth?” He asked, enfolding her in a hug that was oddly warm for someone who was supposed to be part ice-fey.

  “Grandma Kate told me when she gave me my wings.” Asha informed him. “But she’s not my mother at all is she? My mother would have at least comforted me, or told me in private rather than forcing me to maintain my composure in front of all of her allies!”

  Keenan made a small hushing noise. “She won’t ever be your mother in that sense.” He informed her gently. “She will never let herself get that close to you,”

  “But she will get that close to you.” Asha objected.

  He looked at her, incredulity spread across his features. “Do you see me as an obstacle to getting the attention you want from Silver?”

  Asha’s face must have shown her alarm at him taking it that way because her blurted “No!” happened after his face morphed to one of relief.

  “Asha, my relationship with Silver is different.” He patiently explained. “And though I cannot profess to having a soul deep bond with her, I do have one that allows me to feel her emotions. I know how she feels about you, and you need never worry that you come second to anyone. I think Silver may even sacrifice Theria if it would save your life.”

  “But Theria’s her familiar.”

  “Yes, but you will probably learn this when you have your own children; no bond is stronger than that a mother should have for her child. No husband, familiar or sibling is more important to Silver than you.”

  Asha shook her head; not doubting Keenan, but she did question if he was reading too deeply into Silver’s emotions. Maybe their bond was faulty.

  “I can promise you it’s the truth.” Keenan rebuked her thoughts. “You know me, and I’d like to think that we’ve become friends while you’ve stayed with Silver, so I’m going to show you something.” His eyes hardened. “You absolutely have to keep it a secret, do you understand? Tell nobody.”

  Asha nodded, curious as can be about what it was he was going to show her as he led her through the tunnels and deep into the dwarven fortress. Keenan took her far into the tunnels, further than she had ever been before. She suspected so out of the way that Silver herself had never stepped foot in the short passageways which forced them both to duck so as not to hit their heads on the low ceilings.

  They happened across a few dwarves along the way, their faces flushed and sweaty, and their clothes covered in rock dust. Asha guessed they must be nearing the heart of the mountain where the mines were. Keenan led her down an obviously disused tunnel and towards a pile of rubble marking a dead end. He bent down and pulled a parcel from among the rocks. His movements were so sure that she was fairly certain he had been down here several times, and as he unwrapped the rough fabric to show her the contents she watched the nervousness of his motions.

  He careful revealed a tiny blue box, the craftsmanship exquisite yet obviously antiquated, and sat it in her palm. “I plan to give this to Silver soon.” He told her as she pulled back the lid.

  Most engagement rings Asha had seen were elaborate, with jewellers and men obviously assuming that the size of th
e rock on the ring was representative of the enormity of the feelings of a man for his lady. Keenan had done the unexpected, and instead of precious stones there was an iron grey band, shaped to look like three intertwining stems of thorns which stuck out delicately from the sides. Atop it was a single tiny yet intricate rose carved from what Asha could only assume was a black diamond.

  It was a ring for a woman with thorns; a warrior princess who would never wear something chunky designed to display wealth. But Silver would wear this, because the iron band would be effective against fey opponents. And Asha would bet that the delicate rose could be lifted up to reveal the smallest compartment, designed to hold a single drop of lethal poison. Despite the apparent delicacy of the design, this was a ring for the Silver Eyed Wytch. And it showed just how well Keenan knew and loved her that he had gotten the most perfect ring imaginable.

  “It is perfect.” Asha gushed in a hushed squeal and hugged him. “Oh my goodness, I never would have suspected you would actually try and actually marry her!” Her words tripped over each other in her excitement.

  “I am waiting for the right moment.” Keenan replied. “After the war with the Ancients perhaps, when it won’t distract her.”

  Asha nodded, seeing the sense in that decision. “You won’t tell anyone even if you do marry, will you?” The risk of him being targeted was too high.

  “I intend to stand by your aunt’s side proudly.” Keenan contradicted her thoughts. “I am not content to hide what we have. I have spent years building up a reputation in the thieves’ guild to ensure that I am not seen as a weakness. As if anyone who trains with your aunt could be considered weak.” He paused. “I want to make sure you’re okay with this first. She is your mother.”

  “My aunt.” Asha corrected. “I won’t ever think of her like that, because I am a weakness.” Keenan’s apologetic wince told her she was right before she continued. “And I cannot think of a better man for Silver, even if no man could really be worthy of her. I wish you the best of luck.” She smiled genuinely; glad Keenan had distracted her from her grief so well.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE NOONDAY SUN

  Silver had anticipated a short wait before Llewellyn revealed Katelyn’s death to the world. She was right.

  Barely two mornings after revealing her survival to her wytch queens, Cicero bounded into the kitchen, stopping precisely a foot before he would have bashed into the table and knocked breakfast flying.

  “They found her in the main square.” Cicero informed Silver as she tossed him a sausage from the plate in front of her. “The city folk have nicknamed the place ‘The Bloody Market’, after all the deaths you caused there.” Silver smirked at the memory.

  “So he went for a public scene after all.” She muttered.

  But while she conversed with Cicero, her eyes were fixed on Asha, who had gone white as a sheet at the news. Now her niece focused determinedly on the breakfast Lena had set before her.

  “He cut her into pieces and left them lined up like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.” The description reminded Silver of her own past methods and she knew that had been the point. In doing that Llewellyn had made it clear whose fault Katelyn’s death was. She added the information to the pile of things Romana would probably hold against her for the rest of her life.

  Lorcan and Bran stood slightly behind Cicero, panting from the speed at which they had run from Morendor. All of the hounds had been looking for signs of Katelyn. Theria, Loke and Willem were still posted at Elvardis, the Isle of the Gifted and Grenov and she called them back quickly, creating portals for them. With all six of them in the room, things got very cramped very quickly and Masozi started shaking as she peeled the fruits she and Keenan both ate for morning meals. Silver paid her no notice as she addressed her hounds.

  “Theria, alert the wytches to finish the preparations as quickly as possible. Loke, I need Grandmother Black here to escort Maria. Cicero and Willem, inform Lillian to notify the Light Coven of the upcoming execution – tell her it’s a curtesy only, she is not to engage them beyond delivering the message. Bran and Lorcan, you’re with me.”

  Asha shot her a curious look, but didn’t question her as Silver had thought she would. Silver hadn’t missed her niece’s look as she dismissed herself from the meeting two days ago. Asha had practically pleased for a kind word or even a brief embrace. Instead, Silver had denied her. She had frozen like a new soldier on the battlefield. But unlike in battle, where instinct told her what to do, Silver had been out of her depth, unsure about how to comfort someone.

  The closed, guarded look which graced Asha’s stubborn features every time she looked at Silver was the result of her failure. She had no idea how to fix her blunder, or even if she should acknowledge that she had made one.

  The child was confusing her, she admitted as she abandoned her breakfast and walked purposefully towards the dungeons. Each move she made caused her still healing wings to ache almost unbearably. The stumps had grown out further, and were beginning to cover themselves with downy baby feathers which looked ridiculous. Keenan had laughed when he had asked to see how she was healing, and joked about her downing more patho-demon blood just to make them heal quicker.

  But Silver had no desire to drink more blood than necessary. She was quickly finding that too much could cause adverse effects. Like a drug the blood would make her hungry and lethargic if she had too much, and on more than one occasion she had experienced cravings for more. All in all she had deduced that the substance was addictive. She had no desire to ever become dependent upon it, and as such was using her natural healing to regrow the wings.

  Maria was in the cell at the end of the dungeon corridor; a calculated measure designed so that when she first became a prisoner she would have to force her to walk past the current, whimpering inmates and begin the tiring process of breaking her down mentally.

  Of course, Silver could have achieved the same effect given an hour and a few good blades. Sometimes, she just enjoyed knowing that her prey felt an adequate amount of fear before she killed them.

  The once arrogant half-Ancient sat huddled in a corner, rocking backwards and forwards like she was mentally unstable. Even before Dukran and Silver had had their way with her, Maria had been far from sane.

  Silver spared no words as she dragged the broken woman from her cell and past the other prisoners. She wasn’t gentle, pulling Maria along using a hand fisted in her hair and at the sight of her the other prisoners went silent.

  Silver wouldn’t be visibly present for the execution, or Llewellyn would see her and they would lose the advantage presented by her apparent death. She would wait in the shadows instead – watching from a distance as Asha fulfilled her duty.

  It was obvious that making Asha’s first kill such a public one was likely a mistake, however it was unavoidable. Masozi would be there, and hopefully the fragile girl’s presence would force Asha to remember her priorities.

  She reached the top of the dungeon stairs and chucked Maria’s quivering form forwards onto the carpet. The frail creature failed to catch herself and sprawled on the floor, directly at Grandmother Black’s feet.

  “Pathetic,” The wytch queen spat on their prisoner. “Why do we have to waste an execution on such a snivelling pile of alien filth?”

  “Because we must send a message to Llewellyn.” Silver reminded her, “Is everything ready?”

  “We’ve set up the stage outside the palace gates.” Grandmother Black reported. “It’s shielded as you requested, we’ll reveal it when everything is ready.”

  “Good.” Silver replied. “Is everything Asha will need ready?”

  “Yes.” Grandmother Black replied. “Is she capable of this?”

  “She will do her duty with relish.” Silver promised, searching the caves mentally for Asha’s presence, she wasn’t surprised to find her niece spying from the fireplace passageways. “I shall follow with her shortly.”

  The other wytch recognised the dism
issal and disappeared, teleporting with Maria as Silver turned a steely gaze on the fireplace.

  Asha seemed to realise she’d been found and exited, facing her mistake. What surprised Silver was that Masozi followed.

  “I don’t want to do this.” Asha stated clearly, and Silver noticed Masozi’s slight squeeze of Asha’s hand. “Besides, you know I cannot take a life without giving it to someone else. I am clearly unsuitable.”

  Silver’s smile was grim. “Asha you know you have no choice, just as I have no choice. Someone will be made available for you to heal.”

  “I won’t do it.” Asha said.

  “Even when you need to use her life to save the life of someone you care for?” Silver demanded.

  Before Asha could react, a throwing star embedded itself in Masozi’s gut. The girl looked shocked for a moment before she tumbled backwards. Asha caught her friend with a startled scream. Silver looked on impassively, her hand lowering slowly from the throw she had made.

  “I will let her die.” Silver informed her niece who was looking at her with such hatred it almost impressed her. “She will take hours to die like this; and it will be a cruel, painful death. You can save her if you use Maria’s life force.”

  With no further words, Silver created a portal beneath Asha and watched as her niece fell through it and into Morendor. Masozi fell to the carpet without Asha’s support and Silver paced over, picking up the scared little girl.

  “This is nothing personal.” Silver informed the fey. “Asha has to do this, and one day the both of you will thank me for it.”

  The girl said nothing, mute with terror as Silver shuffled her tiny body in her arms and created a portal that would take them to the rooftops of Morendor, in the shadow of the great palace wall.

  Silver lay Masozi on the sun-warmed terracotta roof tiles and sat beside her, her legs hanging over the gutter as she examined the carved wooden stage hidden by glamour in front of the palace gates.