2
The executioner’s axe plunged downward, biting into flesh like a ravenous wolf devouring its prey.
Maya Drygo closed her eyes and turned away from the horrid scene taking place in what was left of Shadowhold’s harbor. It was the fifth execution in as many days since the whole world turned upside down.
“I know it’s distasteful, my queen,” Khal, her uncle and newly appointed grand marshal, said, “But it’s for the good of the kingdom.”
“Is it?” she snapped, spinning on him. “Is it really? Shadowhold is in ruins, and if the reports are true, cities across the land are rioting. How is even more death and destruction for the good of the kingdom?”
“We’re living in dangerous times, and you’re holding your crown by a thin thread,” Khal explained. “You must seize control, and quickly.”
“Listen to yourself,” Maya said, waving her hand. “‘Hold the crown.’ ‘Seize control.’ That sounds an awful lot like what my father would have done. We set out to stop his tyrannical madness, not prolong it.”
“This is nothing like your father and you know it,” Khal said, pleading with her. “These people are traitors, loyal not to the crown but to the power provided them by your father.”
“And what of Callum?” Maya asked, raising her eyebrows. “Hmm? He’s my uncle, and as much your family as he is mine, or have you forgotten about him? His execution is slated for tomorrow.”
Maya spun and walked down the dock toward the Wave Wraith.
“Is that what this is about?” Khal asked.
Maya didn’t turn or slow her course, the dull thud of her heels on wood planks rising up above the din of the crowd behind her and the gentle crash of the waves below.
She couldn’t believe his insensitivity.
You shouldn’t be so hard on him, Merva, goddess of secrets, said in her head.
Sometimes she wished she hadn’t ever gotten her soul stone, the Soul Shade, and the goddess that came with it. What good had it brought her? The stone had destroyed every relationship she’d ever had.
That’s not true at all, Merva said.
Maya rolled her eyes and ascended the gangplank.
I’ll concede that many of your associations have…changed, Merva admitted, but only one has been destroyed, and it was not by me.
After a moment’s hesitation, Maya said, I’m sorry.
No apology needed, Merva replied. Khal is right. You’re a queen, and you need to start acting like one.
If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it, Maya said.
That’s more like it, Merva said.
Maya could hear the smile in Merva’s voice, even if she couldn’t see it. Maya smirked in return as she pushed open the door to her chambers aboard the Wave Wraith.
A mattress groaned inside.
Maya moved a hand to her sword as a boy in his late teens, about her age, came into view. Once she saw who it was, her hand fell back to her side.
“You’re here!” Will said with a smile.
Maya narrowed her eyes and said, “Of course I’m here. This is my room. What are you doing in it?”
“We need to talk,” he replied, the lines of his face smoothing out as he grew serious.
“I have no interest in talking to you,” she said, pushing past him as she headed for her wardrobe.
He gripped her arm. “It’s been a week—”
She pulled away and snapped, “Keep your hands off me!”
“Sorry,” he said, hanging his head.
“Sorry?” she asked incredulously. “Sorry? That’s all you have to say to me? Sorry?”
Maya, Merva said sternly.
Maya turned her head and said out loud, “Don’t you ‘Maya’ me.”
Will’s face scrunched up in confusion.
Maya let out a groan of exasperation and turned back to her wardrobe. She flung the door wide, and it swung all the way around and smacked the side panels with a loud crack.
“This was a bad idea,” Will said, his footsteps receding as he walked away.
You can’t keep avoiding this, Merva said.
“Fine,” Maya conceded. “Talk.”
Will turned, walked back to her, and opened his mouth to speak.
“Not that,” Maya said, raising her finger, glaring at him. “I don’t want to hear a word about what happened, only about how to fix it moving forward.”
Will raised both of his hands in submission, then said, “Lotess says the elves will strike. It’s not a matter of if but when.”
Maya raised her eyebrows in surprise before she remembered that she wasn’t the only one who had the ear of a goddess. Of course she knew he had a soul stone, the Soul Render, and the power that came with it—the ability to destroy a person’s soul—but she hadn’t put much thought into the idea that each stone bore the soul of one of the gods. That meant that her father had spoken with a god, too: Iket, god of death.
“Why now?” Maya asked. “It’s been a thousand years. Men stay in their land and the elves in theirs. Why would they attack now?”
May I? Merva asked.
Maya used her power to create an illusion, crafting the image of Merva as if she were standing in the room. Flowers adorned her hair and she wore a red dress that complemented her rich, brown skin.
“The lives of elves are long,” Merva said. “And their memories longer. They will rally against us behind Erintos and Ophi without a second thought.”
“But Lotess is an elf, is she not?” Maya asked. “Couldn’t she reason with them? Get them to stand down?”
There was a pause.
“She could try,” Will said for Lotess. His power didn’t allow the goddess to appear as Merva did. “But they know she sided with humans in the war and have long since forsaken her.”
“So what do you suggest we do, then?” Maya asked.
After another pause, Will said, “Lotess says—”
“I’m not asking Lotess, I’m asking you,” Maya said, crossing her arms.
“But—”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Merva speaks to me as Lotess does with you,” Maya said, indicating the goddess standing beside her. “She was there, too. I know all about how Iket killed Qirrut and Daldre, turning them into soulfiends, and about how his power alone kept Erintos and Ophi in their prison. When you killed—”
Maya closed her eyes and paused. She would not mention her father. She couldn’t. Not yet. She hadn’t even had time to properly grieve.
“When you destroyed the Soul Siphon,” she amended, “you set them free. So this is your problem and I want to know how you intend to fix it.”
“Well,” Will said, scratching his head. “I think we need to focus our efforts on finding more soul stones. Without—”
“No,” Maya said, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Have you got a better idea?” Will asked.
“No, but—”
“Then we—”
“I said no!” Maya shouted, stomping her foot.
“Then why’d you ask for my opinion?” Will asked.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Maya huffed. “You can take your opinion and stuff it.”
Will reeled back, eyes wide. Spinning on his heels, he stormed from the room.
Merva hung her head and rubbed her forehead. Then she looked up and asked, “Can I speak freely for a moment?”
“I guess,” Maya said, waving her hand in resignation.
“You aren’t the daughter of a wicked king anymore, nor are you a rebel,” Merva said. “You’re the queen, and you need to start treating your people with respect.”
“I know,” Maya said, plopping onto the bed and burying her head in her hands. “He just frustrates me. It’s his fault. This is all his fault.”
“No,” Merva said, shaking her head. “Your father started this before you were born. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame him. But don’t take it out on Will.”
“My father didn’t destroy that stone, Will did
and—”
“And he didn’t know what would happen. He thought he was saving the kingdom, the same as you.”
Maya sighed. “I’m just not ready to forgive him.”
3
Khate’s chest heaved as the steel of Tobin’s blade touched the hollow of her throat.
Tobin drew in close and whispered in her ear, “You know what I do with wenches like you?”
Khate ignored him, scanning all around for something she could use against him. She needed to catch him off guard, like he had her. She cursed herself for letting him do it. She never would have found herself in this situation twenty years ago.
“No? Well, I’ll tell you,” Tobin continued. “First, I’m going to take you back to my ship, then I’ll have my way with you. And when I’m done, I’ll toss you down to the crew. But you’re not getting off that easy, when the crew is done with you, I’ll—”
“Let her go, Tobin,” a raspy voice said.
Tobin and Khate turned toward the voice at the same time.
The old goat from the bar stood behind one of Tobin’s men, a dagger to the man’s throat.
“She’s not worth the trouble,” he continued.
“Stay out of this, old man,” Tobin said, his eyes still trained on his men.
Tobin’s grip around her throat slackened briefly and his sword retracted about an inch, but it was all Khate needed. She jammed the nail of her thumb into the man’s wrist and kneed him in the groin.
The sword clattered to the floor.
Khate slammed her elbow into his back as he doubled over, driving him to the ground. Then placing her knee into his back, she grabbed his arm and yanked.
Tobin howled in pain.
Khate only pulled harder.
A hand rested on her shoulder. “Easy now,” said the raspy voice.
She glanced back to see that Tobin’s two goons had fled and the old man alone stood calmly behind her.
Khate pressed in close to Tobin’s ear and said, “If I ever see you again, we’ll see who will have their way with whom.”
Wrenching his shoulder one final time, she stood and released him. Tobin crawled away, pulled himself up with a wooden crate, and ran off into the night.
Khate spun and pushed past the old man, bumping his shoulder as she did. She wanted to get away as quickly as possible. She had business to attend to, and the later it got the more rowdy the taverns became.
“You’re welcome,” the old man said, clearly exasperated.
“For what?” Khate snapped, spinning back.
“For saving your dignity, if not your life,” he replied.
Khate’s eyes flashed to the place where she pinned Tobin. “Didn’t look like I needed your help to me.”
“Suit yourself,” the man said with a sigh.
A pang of guilt stabbed through Khate. Tobin had embarrassed her when he’d caught her off guard. She didn’t want to admit that her age might have slowed her reflexes and made her sloppy. To admit that anyone had aided her only rubbed salt in the wound. But the old man spoke truth. He might not have dealt with Tobin, but he’d distracted him.
“Thanks,” she said through clenched teeth.
He smirked, crossing his arms.
Khate forced an awkward smile and turned to leave.
“I can help you,” the man said.
“I doubt that,” she said, continuing forward.
“I’ve got a ship,” he called out.
Khate’s step faltered. She turned her head back and asked, “What did you say?”
“Are you deaf?” he asked. “I’ve got a ship. Isn’t that what you need?”
“You’ve got business in Kent?” she asked.
“Well, no,” he said with a shrug.
Khate shook her head and snorted.
“But I can take you there anyway,” he grunted before she could walk away again.
Khate narrowed her eyes. “And why would you do that?” she asked.
“I’m an old man, so I don’t get out much these days. I know an adventure when I see one and I think that’s just what I need,” he said. “Besides, no one else in this city will take you.”
“What makes you say that?” Khate asked.
“Bad luck to take a woman on board. Superstitious lot, Berxlians,” he said.
“But not you?” she quipped.
“Not Berxlian,” he said flatly. “I’m from Celesti, same as you.”
Khate’s hand went for her dagger.
“Easy,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I saw your ring. Only Celestians wed with a silver ring.”
Khate’s hand pulled away from the dagger and went for the ring on her finger, giving it a nervous spin.
The old man’s right hand came down and extended toward her. “The name’s Bryn,” he said. “Bryn Sanders.”
Khate reluctantly took his hand and said, “Khate.”
He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to go on.
“Just Khate,” she said.
“Mysterious,” he said, squinting. Then a smile spread across his face from ear to ear. “I like it. Let’s go.”
Bryn released her hand and walked away, waving for her to follow. Khate stood still and watched him leave as she wondered whether to trust him.
“Are you coming?” he called back.
She knew he most likely hadn’t come to her rescue just so he could kill her. She nodded and lightly jogged to catch up to him.
“What do you need to go to Kent for, anyway?” he asked.
“Look,” she said. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me, and I’d like to keep it that way. The less you’re aware of the better.”
Bryn held his tongue for a moment, then said, “And I’m lending you my ship and my crew. I deserve to know if you’re sailing us into danger.”
Khate took a deep breath and sighed. “Danger? Probably,” she said.
“Wonderful!” he shouted with a laugh then clapped his hands.
Sowena Restarick wasn’t like other girls. She was going to be a princess.
“No Lutonian will ever be a princess,” they told her.
“Get a job,” they said.
“If you jump for the moon, you’ll only get a broken leg,” one man had chided.
Her mother insisted she become a teacher, a seamstress, or some other useful profession like all the other girls. But Sowena was not like them.
At sixteen years of age, she was practically an adult and old enough to make her own decisions about her future—but it was that same fact that pressed her to consider reality.
She was, for lack of a better term, a peasant. The daughter of a farmer, Sowena had little chance of ever becoming a princess.
That hadn’t stopped her from spending hours reading books about Shadowhold, the royal family, and—most importantly—her idol, Maya Drygo. Sowena knew how to set a proper table, when to curtsy, and all the best tips for walking in one of those gargantuan, poufy dresses.
In fact, she couldn’t keep her mind off of them. It had to have been half past midnight and she was still awake. Her mind refused to rest as it imagined her wearing a breathtaking blue gown that shimmered in the light, a diamond necklace equally as dazzling, and a tiara to top it all off. No princess could go without her tiara.
For a moment, she forgot all about the rickety wooden house she lived in, the window that hadn’t settled right leaving a two-inch gap on one side that allowed the cold fall air in, and her bed that was harder than the floor. That moment of bliss ended, though, when she heard a guttural growl followed by the whimpering cry of her dog, Jasper.
Sowena pushed off her thin blanket and sat up. Standing, she walked over to the window. It was dark outside—dreadfully dark. Despite it being a full moon that night, the clouds kept its light safely hidden away like coins in a miser’s purse.
When she couldn’t see what caused the disturbance, she shuffled back to bed and lay down with a big yawn. Jasper had probably picked a fight with t
he neighbor’s cat again. The cat always won. He’d lick his wounds tonight, and Sowena would patch him up in the morning.
At last, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
A loud shriek split the night air.
Sowena’s eyes snapped open, her heart quickening for a beat. When all remained silent, she rolled over and pillowed her head once more.
Another shriek pierced the silence and she jolted, sitting up. The pigs began to squeal—not their usual sound, but a high-pitched frightened noise as if they were trying to get away from a predator.
While she might have written off Jasper’s bark as unimportant, the cat wouldn’t bother the pigs, thus something must have truly been wrong. Plus, no cat sounded like that. No animal she’d ever heard made that kind of noise. Sowena needed to get to the bottom of the situation or she’d never sleep.
Slipping on her shoes, she crept from her room and down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky board on the third step from the bottom so as not to wake her parents. It wasn’t unusual for her to check on the animals in the middle of the night. She was awake half the time anyway; it was the least she could do to help out.
Sowena opened the front door, and moved to close it again behind her. It got stuck on the warped doorframe. Grabbing the doorknob, she lifted it an inch and pulled it until it clicked. She hated her house sometimes. One day she would live in a palace with marble floors, a grand staircase covered in velvet, and columns three stories tall.
At least that’s what she kept telling herself. It eased the pain of poverty and gave her hope. That’s what no one else seemed to understand. Everyone needed hope, but Luton had little to go around: it was the forgotten armpit of Aralith. If it weren’t for all the foot traffic headed to the jewel of the north—Celesti—Luton might not exist at all.
She was outside and a few paces away from the house when she realized she’d left the torch inside. Sowena could see well enough to make her way without it, but it would be harder to find that darn cat, or whatever it was that was bothering her dog.
“Jasper,” she whispered as loud as she dared. “Here, boy.”
She whistled playfully for him, but he didn’t bark or come running.
“Jasper.”
Sowena reached the front of the barn and turned right. Jasper’s doghouse was on the eastern end. She rounded the bend and crouched down in front of the small open door of Jasper’s home.
Soul Shade (Soul Stones Book 2) Page 2
