Echoes of Her Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Soul Tenders Book 2)

by Serena Lindahl

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Echoes of Her Soul

  Soul Tenders Series

  Book Two

  By Serena Lindahl

  ©2017 Serena Lindahl

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying or recording without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Kiarra

  When I awoke in the morning, I wasn't sure at first where I was. Delia wasn't snoring next to me and the wan light wasn't filtering through our muslin curtains. Instead, the room was dark and chilly, colder than our housing unit had ever been.

  I snuggled deeper into sheets much softer than I'd ever encountered as memories from the night before filtered into my consciousness. The recollection drew a deep sigh from within me. Saints alive, what a week! My brother had been imprisoned in the tower for having a vision, I'd learned I have five Soul Matches, and I was informed by the King of Megreria that I was to be the next Queen. I shook my head in disbelief. Had it all been a dream?

  I peeked from the covers, brushing loose strands of hair from my face. Not a dream. The room around me was more real than any nightmare. My matches were nearby. I could sense their closeness, but not their emotions or whether they were even awake. I cherished being surrounded by their presences, though. My mind wandered into what had become new, but familiar, territory over the past week. I had five handsome, sweet men and they all wanted me. My core heated at the thought. Reed's kiss, Ian's kiss, and the touches of my other men pushed themselves to the forefront of my awareness. I rubbed myself against the soft sheets, suddenly much warmer.

  Groaning aloud, I tugged at the pillows in frustration. I knew the men needed time to adjust to sharing me, but my soul insisted on growing the bonds. My body already strained with the effort of holding the tension and need at bay. Over the past week, my libido had shifted from hibernation to ravenous hunger. If I didn't feed my desires soon, I might do something very embarrassing. I giggled as I imagined myself jumping on one of my men. Their reactions would be interesting.

  With another deep breath, I pushed the thoughts away resolutely. As much as I wanted to focus only on my new buffet of manliness, I had other concerns. I was going to be Queen if I didn't die first. I was a nobody from an average family. A week ago, I thought I would have to sing on a street corner or muck out stables to earn my housing and rations. The situation was not only strange, it was downright unbelievable. Ruling a kingdom was unfamiliar territory; it wasn’t the type of lesson usually taught in secondary. Not only was I utterly oblivious to all governmental affairs, but the neighboring nation of Acclesh supposedly wanted a war. Additionally, there was a certain sadistic Prince who would be beyond furious when he learned I was being prepared to take his throne.

  I groaned again with a different type of frustration. Throwing the blankets aside, I shivered in the chill of the room. The palace was built entirely of stone, and the cold bricks didn't exude any warmth. The tapestries on the walls and the rug on the floor did little to hold in the heat. The massive fireplace I hadn’t noticed the night before might need to be lit sooner rather than later.

  A rap on the door elicited a surprised squeak from my lips. The whole place made me jumpy. I didn't belong; I felt like the usurper I was. A quick glance reminded me I wore nothing but my panties. I hadn't wanted to clothe myself in the garments placed in my wardrobe for me. I wanted the clothes from my unit, in all their thread-bare glory and familiar comfort.

  A shiny dressing gown hung over the back of the wardrobe door. It was a beautiful shade of lavender, not unlike the dress I had worn the night before. I slipped it on, breathing a sigh of pleasure as the cloth settled over me like liquid. Maybe wearing the clothes provided for me wouldn’t be so bad after all. The multiple doors in my room made it difficult to guess which one the knock originated from, but the sitting room seemed the most obvious. I cracked it open.

  A short woman waited, no older than me. Her hands twisted in her servant's drab uniform. The royal purple crest was pinned upon her shoulder.

  "Yes?" I asked.

  "My Lady." She bobbed a curtsy. "I'm to attend you."

  My brows drew together in confusion and surprise. "Attend me with what?"

  She swallowed nervously as I opened the door wider. She appeared to be alone. "With your bath and clothing, and I've brought breakfast." The giant table in my sitting room nearly bowed under the weight of an impressive selection of food, more than enough for one person. The smell wafted towards me, making my mouth water. The meal last night with the King seemed like so long ago. I hadn't tasted a thing; my mind had been so focused on my father’s behavior. The remembrance thrilled me. He was my father no longer. The King had sent him to Bashir and ordered a divorce. For all my reservations regarding the monarch, I was grateful for that particular boon.

  "All that food is for me?" Slipping past her, I approached the table. I popped a grape into my mouth, sighing in pleasure. There was meat as well, thin slices of ham. Would we be able to eat meat every day? I could accustom myself to the unexpected luxury.

  "Yes, Miss, it is all for you if none of your companions are joining you."

  I eyed her warily, my memory of the King's warnings looming in my mind. No one was to learn I was next in line for the throne. I wasn't sure if the edict extended to my personal attendants, but I wasn't going to test the King's threats. "What have you been told about my presence here?"

  Her eyes darted to the floor, her anxious hands twisting further. Poor girl. I'd never met a shier person in my life. Maybe she had been chosen for that reason. If she was very introverted, she might not engage in the usual servant gossip.

  "Not much, My Lady," she replied in a quiet
voice. "I have been told the men in the surrounding rooms are being trained as Advisors and you're their Soul Match." Awe filled her words.

  I hid my expression behind my teacup. The King was clever. Such a ruse could easily be maintained with no one the wiser as to my supposed future position. I took a seat at the table. "Please, call me Kiarra. Also, what's your name?"

  She stood frozen, her hands trembling. "Bridget, My Lady Kiarra."

  "Just Kiarra, please." I pinned her with my gaze. "I am thankful for the meal, Bridget, but mostly because I have no idea where I would find food if I went looking for it. As for other matters, I don't need help dressing or bathing. I have been taking care of myself for almost nineteen years; I imagine I can continue to do so."

  Her eyes widened. Instead of looking relieved, however, she appeared more nervous. "Yes, My Lady, Kiarra," she stammered. "But I was hired specifically for this assignment."

  I considered her words. "How old are you, Bridget?"

  "Seventeen."

  "And have you taken your placement tests?"

  For a moment I feared the skirt of her plain brown dress might rip in two from the onslaught of her nerves. I wanted to help her relax, but I was failing miserably. I was usually the uncomfortable one.

  "Yes, My - Miss Kiarra, but I couldn't finish. I was too nervous, you see. My mum was one of the Queen's attendants, so they placed me in this position because I am familiar with the palace and the duties of being a lady's maid."

  "And what would you do if I didn't need you?" For a moment I thought she might cry and my heart went out to her. I was uncertain about my place in the world, but this poor girl didn't have my confidence or the many years of preparing myself to handle the worst situation. I also didn't care as much as she did. My attitude made agreeing to whatever plans the Fates had for me a little more straightforward, although this recent turn of events challenged my carefree nature.

  "I don't know, Miss. My mum would be terribly upset, and I can’t retake the exams. The tests are so difficult with everyone staring at me." Her lip trembled. I wiped my greasy fingers on a cloth napkin, crossing the room to stand before her.

  "Bridget, please don't worry. I won't tell you to leave. I'm certain there are things I can find for you to do. I hate doing laundry, for example. Maybe you can assist with that?"

  I lowered my head a little to look into her face. She wasn't shorter than me, but her posture made her appear so. Her face was round and sprinkled with freckles, her eyes green. She wasn't homely, but she wasn't beautiful either. "The palace employs laundresses for laundry, Miss."

  "Of course it does," I said to myself more than her. I wracked my brain. "Have you eaten yet, Bridget?"

  She looked confused. "Yes, Miss."

  Evidently, I was to be Miss now. Miss was better than My Lady. I liked the words when Mason spoke them to me, but the title sounded different from a servant's mouth. "Are you aware if my - um - companions are supposed to eat with me? Or will they be delivered their own meals?"

  She crinkled her nose as she considered the question. "I believe they will receive their own trays, Miss, unless they want to join you."

  I wanted to see them and gauge how they were feeling after the night of shocking revelations, but I wasn't sure when they had retired. I didn't want to wake them if they were still sleeping.

  "Well, I have far too much food," I mumbled around another apple tart. Far too much food, but it was oh so tasty. I hoped the men enjoyed my curves because they weren't shrinking with this rich fare available at all times. "I'm not exactly aware of what is expected of me today, so I'm uncertain how to dress."

  "Oh." For the first time since she'd entered my quarters, Bridget appeared more confident. "The steward, Master Blakesly, informed me that you shall be trained in Military affairs this morning and Merchant skills this afternoon."

  Mason and Clay. I grinned. What a lovely day. "Well, I'll need pants, then."

  "Pants, Miss?"

  "Of course. I can't possibly fight in a dress." Her eyes widened, causing me to wonder what else she thought Military training would entail. Regardless of my planned activities, I was far more comfortable in breeches. Most women above second tier didn't wear pants, but I'd be damned if I surrendered my comfort for fashion, Queen or not. "Do I have any breeches?"

  She ducked her head. "I don't know, Miss, but I can look in your wardrobe."

  I hesitated. I didn't want anyone else doing such basic tasks for me, but I couldn’t deny her eager expression. I nodded. "Yes, please, Bridget." She curtsied again, her dark curls bouncing.

  "Yes, Miss."

  Another knock sounded on the door which opened to the rest of the palace, saving me from deciding what to do next. I glanced at Bridget. "Do you know who that might be?"

  She shook her head. "No, Miss, but I believe the only persons permitted in this wing are myself, your companions and their servants, and your guards."

  I nodded in reply and surveyed my body. Everything important was covered. Whoever arrived at this hour shouldn't expect me to be fully prepared for the day. In actuality, I had no idea what time it was. The windows in the chamber were set high in the stone walls. The sun was shining outside, but I couldn't determine its position as we were positioned on a hill and several floors up in the palace. The walls wouldn't shroud the day's light as they did in Scholar Housing.

  I tightened the belt of the dressing gown around my waist and swung open the door. Mason and Clay stood in the hall, their eyes flickering in surprise. I smiled. Their emotions didn't overwhelm me when I only faced one or two of them. My inner lusty woman preened as their eyes followed similar treks up and down my body.

  "Good morning, gentlemen."

  Mason cleared his throat, the first to recover. This wasn't the first time he'd seen me minutes after arising from my bed. "Would you prefer we come back later?"

  I shook my head and opened the door wider. "No, please come in. I have far too much food here for just myself. I also have no idea what's happening today. Bridget says you are both on the schedule to tutor me." My voice lowered involuntarily as I appreciated the broad shoulders displayed by their fitted tunics. I loved that the men mostly eschewed the unflattering robes. The sight or hint of their muscles raised my heart rate.

  "Bridget?" Clay queried as he regained his voice.

  Mason stepped aside to let him in first. The poor girl in question stood in the door to my bedchamber, her eyes huge as the handsome men entered. I understood her shock. Mason, dressed in his full Military regalia, with his impressive form and dimpling cheeks, caused many women to swoon. Clay was similarly attractive, his wheat-colored hair fastened into a braid down his back. His bearded face presented a rugged masculinity. The crutches he used to walk in no way detracted from his appeal, and I despised every woman who had ever insinuated such lies to him.

  "Yes, this is Bridget. Apparently, she is here to help me dress and do other things." I shrugged. Bridget blushed so brightly, her freckles vanished beneath the color. "Bridget, this is Clay and Mason. Mason will be the new Military Advisor and Clay the Merchant Advisor." Bridget executed a fumbling curtsy and disappeared into my chamber. "She's kind of shy," I whispered.

  Mason strolled in, his spine rigid as his eyes roamed the room. My body itched with the need to touch him. I also wanted him to relax, so I slid into his arms for a hug. He stiffened further in shock before he relaxed around me; the hard planes of his muscles pressing against my soft body caused a reaction I couldn't hide in the revealing dressing gown.

  "Good morning," I murmured.

  "Good morning." His chest rumbled against mine when he spoke. He leaned over to kiss the top of my head, his lips lingering on my hair. When the tension seeped from his body, I released him to embrace Clay. I made certain he was stable on his crutches, not wanting to knock him over. He squeezed me back, his hand confident as it caressed the hair tumbling down my back. I hadn't braided my long locks before bed and they were a wild mess. I sensed his desire, h
is happiness, and his hesitation.

  Mason sat at the table, selecting a tart. The pastry appeared so dainty in his large hands, I almost giggled. With my own stomach full, I perched on one of the settees close to the table. I arranged the dressing gown over my legs, but the fabric still split to reveal one pale calf. Mason's eyes traveled across the revealed skin before they slipped away.

  "The others will be in shortly. We decided a few matters last night and we want to discuss them with you." He announced. "How are you settling in?" His voice dripped with concern. Clay sat as well, but he had taken the seat closest to me at the table. He turned towards me as we spoke.

  "I miss my home, I miss my clothes, I have no idea what's going on, and I'm worried about assassins hiding in the dark." I sighed. "Other than that, I'm great." I offered a weak smile. Clay reached for my hand. His callus roughened fingers grazed over my knuckles and wrist; his touch sparked fiery tendrils up my arm.

  "You're safe here," Mason said firmly. "Ian and I checked and approved of the wing's security last night."

  I breathed a sigh of relief. The nearness of my matches helped reassure me, but I appreciated hearing the affirmation from Mason. His words allayed my fears more than anything else. Another knock prevented me from responding. Mason opened the door before I could stand. Seb and Reed poured in, followed by a cheekily grinning Ian.

  Their emotions slammed into the center of my chest, and I forced myself to take deep breaths. They eased faster than the evening before. Matches could share feelings as well as boost each other's abilities, but typically, a person only possessed one Soul Match. The sensations hurtling towards me were multiplied by five.

  Standing slowly, ensuring my legs would hold my weight, I neared each one in turn. Physically touching them assisted with grounding their emotions so they didn't flood through me heedlessly. I embraced them all, relishing their different scents and the breadth of their forms. Their arms lingered, their lips found my hair, and each regretted letting me go. I understood entirely. If I could wrap myself up in all of them, I would. As it was, I wasn't sure there was enough of me to go around.