"You will not be eighteen for long, and a husband might make your life easier, especially if he is your fated Soul Match. You could assimilate into your partner's House and the pressure on you would lessen if he made a strong contribution to his House. Yours is a unique situation, Kee. When Soul Matches bond, their skills complement their partner’s abilities. Whichever strength your pair has would boost your own aptitude above the others."
"And then I would likely have first tier skill in that House, leading my husband and I to fight over who contributes more. I don't want to end up like you and Father. Soul Matches are not always happy."
Sorrow shadowed Mum's dark blue gaze and I wanted to retract my words. "Your father and I are not the same skill level. It is unknown whether his Merchant skills might have complemented my ability to perform sums when in the thick of my research. My Merchant skills were never poor to begin with, so it’s difficult to verify. Most importantly, my Scholar ability did not raise his scores enough for us to be accepted into Merchant House instead of Scholar House. You know all this, love. A true pair for you would complement the same skill and you'd both be in the same House at least."
"The Soul Tenders are not going to bother with my pairing, Mum. I am the least of their worries among the thousands of citizens in the kingdom."
Mum dropped my braid and clasped a hand over mine. Her skin was cold despite her wool Scholar robes. I captured her hands in both of mine, rubbing warmth into them. "I thought the same, Kee. My parents were fourth tier Planning and Development Stewards. When the summons came via courier, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The Soul Tenders are not always so visible in their dealings. They often wait for the pairs to find each other. For some reason, they thought it necessary that your father and I marry, not leaving anything up to chance."
I gritted my teeth against the words threatening to escape. My parent's relationship was horrendous, true pair or not. Either the Soul Tenders had received a poor vision, or they were secretly laughing as they presided over the city, matching people who were never meant to meet, much less marry. I didn't believe my parents ever loved one another. Any affection which might have existed initially devolved into chaos throughout my childhood. Mum told me repeatedly that all relationships require work; being sanctioned by the Fates did not mean a pair could sit back and expect things to work out. But other pairs I had met were happier than Mum and Father, even those not sanctioned as Soul Matches.
It was anyone's guess why the Soul Tenders interfered in some cases and not in others. Sometimes, a citizen fell in love and married someone and then met their Soul Match ten years later. Our kingdom was not huge. If the other half of my soul existed, I might find it eventually. I liked to think my soul was whole all on its own though. I didn't need anyone to complete me and I'd be damned if I entered into a marriage like my parents because some pompous asses locked away in a tower had a vision. I had witnessed firsthand the havoc their orders could cause.
"Is Rowan coming home for dinner?" I attempted to divert attention from my shaky future.
Mum smiled. "Yes. He should be here soon with Delia. Come help with dinner." She rose to her feet, dragging me with her. Delia was my younger sister; she sometimes stayed at school later than I to increase her aptitude lessons. There was no uncertainty over which House my prissy sister was entering. Since I had never clearly favored one House over another, I had chosen not to endure the extra lessons. I became a pariah as the other teens my age started branching off into their Houses. The friends I'd had since primary snubbed me in favor of hanging out with others of their House. I would be lying if I said it didn't hurt. Rowan was my rock. He and Mum were the only people in the world who loved the erratic disaster I was.
Partway into our preparations, the door opened. I pounced on my older brother, flying at him and wrapping my arms around his neck though I had to stand on my tiptoes. "Rowan!" I squealed happily. My sister, detesting what she deemed as childish displays, rolled her eyes and squeezed past us to enter our home. Only two years separated my brother and me while Delia was a little over a year younger than me. Rowan and I had always been the closest. Our close connection might have contributed to Delia's sourpuss nature.
"Kee-Kee," Rowan tugged my braid, a habit he began in childhood. It seemed every time we met, he was taller and broader than the last time. His apprenticeship was in the practical House of Planning and Development. He had moved to the dorms where the trainees lived and often spent his days walking the city examining the farms, orchards, or aqueducts. His placement tests had positioned him at the pinnacle of third tier, meaning he had inherited our mother's brilliance.
He released me and I sat back on my heels, punching him in the bicep. "It's been too long, Rowan. You haven't visited in a fortnight!" He had the grace to look chagrined. His dark brown hair, without all the unusual highlights of mine, was getting too long. He had gathered the ends into a leather thong at the nape of his neck. The look suited him, I decided. Not every man wore long hair well but Rowan did. He also hadn't shaved in a while, the light scruff on his face growing in thicker than it ever had under our roof.
"I'm sorry, Kee, it's been a while since I could get away. I am in training from dusk ‘til dawn most days and studying every other day."
I sympathized with him. Our teachers made it very clear what to expect when we received our assignments. Almost all of the Houses required additional education after testing into their tier, but both the Military and Planning Houses had more hands-on training than the other three Houses. Certain occupations within the Information Exchange House also required physical conditioning, but not much was known of that particular training. Adept at keeping and spreading knowledge, or secrets, the Information Exchange House was also rumored to perform other dubious jobs which required stealth and a fit form.
"How is the training going?" I asked eagerly.
He grinned. "Very well, but sometimes tedious. How about you, Kee?" He drew off his light jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door alongside the others.
All the tiers had tight living spaces, except for the palace itself where there were probably enough rooms for every third tier citizen in the city. As second tier, we had our own washroom and kitchen instead of sharing with the entire floor. However, there was no wasted space and we didn't have more room than necessary. Mum impressed upon us from a young age the importance of keeping tidy living quarters. She said cleanliness made any home feel larger and more welcoming.
I made a face. "Master Blevins visited today." I glanced down the hall to ensure Delia was either in our room or in the kitchen with Mum. I didn’t need to give her one more reason to be smug or condescending.
Rowan echoed my grimace. "That old coot is still teaching?"
"Yes, and he labeled me both erratic and a disaster." My voice lowered. Rowan's eyes sparked with understanding. My brother never pitied me. He accepted me as I was, but I cherished his empathy. "Mum put him in his place," I whispered with a smug smile. Rowan's lips turned up, his blue eyes sparkling.
"Of course she did." He reached out and squeezed my upper arm. "You're still keeping up on your conditioning, I hope? If you test into Military House, I'd hate for you to collapse beneath the crowd on your first day."
I expressed mock outrage. "Not a chance, brother. I may not outdistance the best but I'll be in the pack."
He nodded. "I guess you're still testing neither here nor there on your practice exams?"
"Yes," I said with a sigh.
He clasped me against his side and led me into the kitchen. "Chin up, Kee-Kee, everything will work out." He sounded so confident. He hadn't received even a hint of my flighty nature. I wished I could emulate his assuredness. He greeted Mum and then moved out of the way so we could prepare the table. There was only room for two people to work in our tiny kitchen.
Delia emerged from our room, looking as fresh and awake as she had before leaving for school that morning. She was still dressed in the proper skirted uniform of our school
. We were a colorful bunch - Mum in her blue Scholar robes, Rowan in his green Planning tunic, Delia in the simple blue and white striped uniform, and me in my brown everyday clothes.
"I assume Father won't be joining us again?" Frost coated Delia's words. Mum didn't acknowledge her tone, merely shook her head. He would return after dark and pass out on whichever surface he stumbled onto, either the bed he shared with Mum or the couch. A couple times I'd woken to find him on the floor. He was too large to move so he'd learned his body would remain where it landed.
"How was your day, Dee?" Mum questioned my younger sister after we'd filled our plates. My sister's eyes shone. She and Rowan had mother's stable blue eyes. Her hair was a lustrous dark brown, and her bone structure made her quite beautiful even though she was not quite a grown woman. Her mind worked with the calculated precision of a person twice her age, however. She loved to tell me she was much better than I at everything and prettier as well, but I had more heart than she. Sometimes the distinction offered me solace.
"Quite well, Mother. I am all set to take the tests in a couple weeks." Her eyes narrowed on mine as I gnawed on a chicken leg. We ate meat twice a week and I was pleased Mum saved our ration for the nights when Rowan visited. Delia loved bragging that she was taking the tests two years earlier than I and was expected to do well. She knew by now that her ribbing didn't bother me, but she never stopped.
"Are you already shopping for your yellow tunics, Dee?" Rowan asked. His eyes danced as he caught my gaze.
"Golden robes, brother."
Rowan's brows lifted. Of course, my sister believed she would test directly into second tier. It was a practically unheard of occurrence. In the Merchant House, the lower tiers wore yellow. Second and first tiers wore gold. "That's quite ambitious, sister," Rowan replied. Though he managed to keep a straight face, I sensed the laughter beneath his words.
"Ambition is a critical aspect of Merchant House," Delia countered smugly.
Mum cleared her throat, likely to change the subject before the conversation devolved into an argument. Before she had a chance to speak, however, Rowan groaned. I dropped my fork at the unfamiliar noise, instinctively reached out. My fingers were greasy with chicken fat but I didn't care as I gripped his tunic. He fell sideways into my lap, his body rigid as all his muscles clamped together. His eyes had gone wide and unseeing, staring at the ceiling of our unit.
"Rowan?" Mum gasped. She sprang from her chair, upending her glass in the process. Water gurgled from the vessel, dripping unnoticed to the floor. I ignored it all, focused on Rowan's head in my lap. Mum helped to position him more comfortably so he wouldn't slide to the floor. She tested his pulse but I had no need of her assurance. The force of his heart beat through his back onto my thigh.
"Mum, what's wrong?" My voice shook with fear. I'd never been so scared in my life, not even when Father arrived home drunk and swinging. My brother looked dead, ghosts chasing across his vivid blue eyes as his eyelids fluttered and his muscles clenched.
"I don't know. He seems unhurt. Delia, I may need you to fetch a physician."
Delia simply gaped, unmoving.
Rowan inhaled a monstrous gust of air, his lungs ballooning. His eyes closed, shuttering the frightening look in their depths. Mum pressed her fingers against his pulse once more. "Rowan, are you all right?" Mum's voice quivered but it was nothing compared to how my whole body trembled.
Rowan groaned again but this was more the sound of someone recovering from a headache, not one dipped into the fires of the forge. His eyelids fluttered open and the breath stilled in my lungs. His eyes were milky white. The irises had lost all trace of their once vibrant color.
"No," I breathed. I almost dropped him, so great was my shock and anger. Mum sat back on her heels, her face appearing ten years older with the sadness writ upon it.
"He's had a vision, hasn't he?" Delia asked. She no longer looked concerned, merely interested. I wanted to throttle her. This was no mere interruption of our dinner. This was our brother and his life would never be the same.
Mum helped steer Rowan out of the kitchen and onto the couch, stilling any words in his mouth before he spoke them. He couldn't share his visions. "Kiarra, run down to the street and send a courier to the palace. The King will need to know about Rowan's transformation into Soul Tender. Then, head to the pub and bring your father home. I'll try to sober him up before the King's messengers arrive." Mum was all business now. I clenched my fists.
“No, Mum, I don't want him to go," I forced through a tight throat. My words were futile but I had to say them anyway. I had to release them before there were other ears to hear. Secondary school taught every child in Treleaven the signs and the rules regarding the birth of a Soul Tender. To willfully disobey the protocol could mean imprisonment or demotion in the tiers for Mum.
"I know, dear, but it's out of our hands now. We can't do a thing to change it. The Fates have spoken."
I growled, a sound so animalistic and filled with pain, I was surprised my throat was capable of producing it. I kicked the wall but only hurt my toes on the wooden barrier. "Saints be damned.” I muttered. For once, Mum didn’t scold me for cursing. “Send Delia, I want to stay with him," I tried again.
"No, Kiarra, you are faster. Hurry. If we are caught stalling, we could face serious consequences. You are doing your brother no favors by dallying."
My fingernails cut into my palms, anger still igniting my flesh, but Mum was right. If Rowan was accused of sharing his visions, he could be sentenced to death. Betraying the secrets of the Soul Tenders was not something the King forgave. We would all be punished for keeping him here longer, my brother included. With one last look at my brother and his sightless white eyes, I threw open the door of our unit and flew down the hall. At times, I could tap into the speed of a courier. I would do so now. The sooner I got back to my brother, the more time I could spend with him before I lost him forever. I blinked away tears, clearing my vision. There would be plenty of time to cry later; I had the rest of my life spent without my best friend before me.
Chapter Two
Ian
The city eased into night, the time of day Ian loved best. The shadows aided him as he slunk through the streets. He had no motivation at the moment, no urgent mission requiring stealth and secrecy, but Ian preferred to remain unseen. It had been a game of his since he was a child. At a young age, he'd used the shadows to hide from his angry father and demanding uncle. But his ability had garnered him second tier status upon assignment. Satisfaction filled him when eyes slid over him as if he were an extension of the shadows, not a breathing human form.
The night clung to the chill of winter, reluctantly giving way to the time when the trees budded and grass grew green and full. Ian pressed his back against the brick wall of the Scholar family housing. The nook was one of his favorite places in the city. The tall building overlooked the banks, counting houses, and shops of the Merchant Quarter on its right flank.
The city was arranged like a wheel, the wide inverted triangles of its spokes the housing for each of the main Houses. In between each spoke was a Quarter devoted to the needs of its House. The Merchants had shops on the other side of the city as well, between the Planning and Military Houses. Besides a few necessities, most of that particular retail sector was devoted to forges and carpentry, items and services which catered to each of the Houses surrounding it. The real action of the city happened here, though. Clothing shops, food markets, herbal outlets, and pubs lined the streets of the Merchant Quarter. They were overshadowed by the looming banks and treasury buildings nestled next to the High Road which surrounded the elevated palace in the center of the city.
When Ian first saw a map of Treleaven City, his young eyes had nearly popped from his head. The design was a work of incredible foresight and order. The Planning and Development House had anticipated the needs of the city and the setup worked wonderfully well. Everything was in reach, including green spaces for the citizens to relax in w
ithout leaving the city. The internal plumbing and waste systems of the city were also impressive designs, saving the city from the stench and dirt that overlaid smaller settlements in Megreria. Planners lived in those smaller villages but the manpower was sparse, the need less for developing the perfect city to work and live in. As such, the majority of Megrerian citizens lived within the walls of Treleaven.
As a member of the Information Exchange House, Ian appreciated the citizens of the grand city. They provided him with endless streams of information, gossip, and entertainment to sift through. He enjoyed watching the drama play out in other people's lives but didn't prefer it in his own life. Since cutting ties to his birth family in Abilon, he had fully embraced the life of a Treleaven citizen. He progressed his way up the tiers, not because he had any great ambition, but because he loved his work. His young age was no detriment to him because he had not been schooled in Treleaven's primary and secondary education. His training had come in the tiny village near the Acclesh border. Though he hated his father and uncle, his upbringing had given him an advantage over his peers.
Ian was considering finding food, his stomach reminding him he hadn't eaten since before midday, when muffled footsteps roused him from his rambling thoughts. The footsteps were fleet - and bare? Ian cocked his head. He had been trained to be observant. When the small figure burst from the stairwell of the Scholar House, he catalogued everything about her in a second. The young woman wore simple breeches and a tunic, her feet indeed bare and fast as she exploded from the doorway toward the nearest courier station. A braid of thick, dark hair flew behind her like a banner.
The courier stations, manned by the lowest tiers of his House, were always open. Ian considered it the least desirable job in his House. The messengers and couriers were required to wait for hours at their small stations. Nothing more than a chair and a post depicting the black flag and the crest of their House accompanied them. The banners flew high above them so they were visible from long distances. The posts were also equipped with a bell, but those were to be rung only in the direst of circumstances. It was a dare every reckless child in the city had attempted at one point. Most likely, they'd received punishment from their elders if they succeeded, but they also had bragging rights with their friends.
Pieces of Her Soul Page 2
