Pieces of Her Soul

by Serena Lindahl

  "My Lady," he murmured softly. The endearment was fit for a noble woman. He wasn't sure what compelled him to utter the title, but it felt natural. She flushed a delicate shade that traveled down her neck onto the enticing swell of her breasts exposed above the black lace edging the bodice. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. He automatically removed the fine black coat of his uniform, draping the wool over her shoulders. As he did so, he inhaled the scent of lavender and rain that clung to her skin.

  "Are you going to let us in the carriage or just stand there all night staring at my sister?"

  Mason straightened. The younger sister's voice was thick with anger and envy. He schooled his face to its proper indifference and opened the door of the carriage. He handed Kiarra in first, followed by her mother, whom he bowed low to as well. She gifted him with a smile and Mason was reminded of where Kiarra had received her beauty. Delia possessed the same features. In form, she was almost more like her mother, but every inch of her was ice. The bitter cold pooled within her chest and broke across her face. Mason did not envy the man fated to be saddled with her temperament. The father glared at him, and Mason returned his look without emotion. William Walton's face bore the cruelty of his own father with none of the power. Mason wondered if that made the man more, or less, dangerous.

  The covered carriage, now full of occupants, closed and Mason remounted his steed. He looked over to see Ian, cloaked in shadows. The spy had likely occupied that space since he returned from telling Mason the story of Kiarra's dress. Ian raised a hand in salute and sank into the darkness like he belonged to it. Nothing could have prevented Ian from seeing Kiarra in the dress.

  Considering his meeting at the palace after he escorted Kiarra, Mason wasn't certain when he would see his friend again. If he had any say in the matter, he would recommend Ian for the Information Advisory position. The entire situation was cloaked in secrecy, though. Mason supposed each position had been filled. Even Mason's father hadn't been apprised of the changes in the palace. Mason wouldn't be the one to tell him, though the High Commander would be angry when he learned the news from someone other than his own son.

  The rain had paused briefly but would likely start again, judging by the angry clouds above. The streets were muddy and wet. Citizens on foot, of which there were only a few, remained far away from the wheels of the carriage and the horses' hooves to avoid getting splattered with dark rainwater. They still craned their necks curiously. Carriages weren't often seen below the High Road and first tier.

  Mason led the procession. He wished Kiarra's other admirers could see her tonight. The stray thought surprised him. He'd never shared a woman before, but he didn't hold any ill will towards the men he had met that dogged Kiarra's footsteps as eagerly as he and Ian. Her other followers seemed to have her interests at heart, and that was all he cared about. More men as protection would mean she was safer. The notion might be outdated, and one Kiarra likely wouldn't appreciate, but he couldn't shake his concern. It was the foundation of who he was. He had joined Military House to protect, not to destroy. In his father's eyes, he was the ultimate disgrace.

  The dinner he led the Waltons to was supposed to be in thanks for Rowan's service, but he found his own summons an unlikely coincidence. He intuitively guessed the two meetings were related, he just couldn't comprehend how. He would have asked Ian his opinion, but the message had sworn him to secrecy. His friend would understand. Secrets were his livelihood. Mason wouldn't be at all surprised if the spy already knew.

  The palace guards saluted Mason as the carriage passed through the gates and around the circular drive before the towering palace. The horses came to a halt at the base of the broad stone steps. Mason dismounted to open the door. Kiarra disembarked last. Her eyes were wide as she took in her surroundings. This was her first time within the inner walls. He found the area to be nothing special, but this space was now as familiar to him as the city.

  The palace itself was an ominous stone building. The courtyard boasted gardens, trees, and green space off to the side. Part of the green space was set aside for a private garden managed by the very efficient Head Cook. The guard's barracks and stables were positioned behind the palace, hidden from their current vantage point. The building itself hummed with activity at all times of the day, however, and now was no exception. Stable boys, couriers, cooks, and every occupation represented in the city bustled about in royal purple livery. Mason scanned for threats even inside the palace walls.

  The frantic movement stopped momentarily when Kiarra stepped from the carriage, resplendent in her lavender dress. The color was both close enough and removed enough from the royal colors to cause shock. Mason noted the amazed stares, the dropped jaws, and the gasps of surprise. The reactions of the palace servants didn't surprise him. Kiarra shone like a jewel buried in the bottom of a coal bucket. Her beauty dazzled even in the wan light of evening, the dusk muted by the low hanging clouds.

  "It's huge," Kiarra breathed with wonder as she craned her neck to look up at the palace. Mason smiled. As a wide eyed boy, seeing the palace for the first time, his reaction had been similar. Compared to the buildings outside the inner walls, the palace was a city unto itself. For a family of three, the amount of space seemed excessive. However, Advisors, traveling dignitaries, and sometimes Heads of Houses from other cities in Megreria made a temporary home within the stone walls as well as the Soul Tenders. The gray stone matched that of the city walls but also contained veins of marble, quartz, shale, and mica. The colorful ores glittered in the gaslight and lingering daylight.

  Kiarra and her mother both looked towards the North Tower. The peak was obscured by low hanging clouds, but obvious as the highest windowless point of the building. Mason's heart wrenched at the momentary sadness on their faces.

  The front doors opened, forcing Mason to usher them forward. A butler in resplendent purple livery met them with a bow. He eyed them all. If his eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch when he saw Kiarra, it would be the most emotion Mason had ever seen him express. Old Barnaby had been around for as long as he could remember, managing to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. He remembered trying to spook the old man when he was a child, sneaking up behind him and even placing a frog in his waistcoat at one point. Nothing ruffled his feathers, and he'd never so much as sniffed in Mason's direction.

  Mason slid the coat from Kiarra's creamy shoulders, his fingers grazing her skin surreptitiously. He took pleasure in the slight shiver that shook her spine, rejoicing that she affected him as much as she did him.

  Barnaby led them down stone corridors draped in tapestries toward the dining chamber and Mason followed. He noted Kiarra trying to track her path, but it would take days to map every corridor in the palace. A lot of the space was unused, making the task easier. Not everyone was aware of that, however.

  When they reached the doors of the private dining suite, much more intimate than the huge dining hall set up for hundreds of people, Mason squared his shoulders. The King had personally asked him to be among the guards in the dining chamber. Mason had accepted. He wasn't certain why the King had asked, but perhaps the request involved the meeting after the dinner. Mason was pleased to be included. He anticipated the dinner would be more entertaining than a simple state meal. He hoped the King wouldn't punish Kiarra for the lovely dress she wore, or her family's behavior. Already the sister and father looked thick as thieves, like they might have plots concealed in their shirtsleeves. Mason made a mental note to watch them instead of staring dumbly at Kiarra throughout the evening.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kiarra

  My body pulled tight with nerves. I had to stop myself several times before I started wringing my hands in the beautiful fabric of my dress. Now that we were standing before the doors which separated us from the royal family, I second guessed my decision to wear the gift. The color was just a shade lighter than that of the palace livery. What if the King thought I was precocious, or worse, disrespectful? The look on Mason's
face had been worth the effort, but now I wanted to run home and change before I passed through the doors.

  The stoic butler announced us as the Walton family after the doors opened soundlessly. The steady presences of both my Mum and Mason prevented me from bolting. Mason's form close behind me and his simple touch had grounded me. I still smelled the musky scent of his cloak clinging to my hair. I recognized his pride in me and his appreciation, his resolve, and his strength. Mum acted like she attended a dinner of her peers and not the rulers of the realm. I wished I could channel her calm.

  My mother entered the room first as the highest ranked House patron in our family. I followed close behind her. My father hung back with Delia as if he questioned whether or not he was actually invited, or perhaps his location was another statement of resentment against her position. If anyone had asked my opinion, he wouldn't have represented Rowan at all.

  My first sight of the King and Queen left me with one impression - power. The King wasn't a tall man but his trim form gobbled up a disproportionate amount of space. A full head of salt and pepper hair complemented a pure white beard which trailed impressively to his chest. His wife was a curvy woman with kind blue eyes and blonde hair starting to silver.

  Surprisingly, their eyes lingered on me longer than was necessary as I copied Mum's curtsey, albeit more clumsily. I hadn't been certain whether the Crown Prince would be in attendance or not. Considering the disturbing things I had heard about him, I was pleased to see he was not present. I hoped he wouldn't make a late entrance.

  The King stood before me after he'd greeted my mother. "Miss Walton." His voice was precise and secure. I wonder if he ever doubted a syllable that left his mouth. I froze, my brain scrambling as his eyes traveled up and down my form. "I have to admit that I wasn't quite sure what to expect of you. You exceed my expectations."

  The King moved on to my father before I formed a response. My mind processed his words slowly. I wasn't certain whether to be more scared or worried that he possessed expectations of me. I did note the displeasure in his voice as he greeted my father and a spark of vindication tilted my lips. I wondered if the King had the power to know all his subjects or if he had researched our family in preparation for this meeting. Maybe he had questioned Rowan when my brother joined the other prisoners in the North Tower.

  The Queen stepped towards me, her face bearing a sweet smile. I glimpsed no artifice in her assessment. Feeling an immediate kinship, I returned her smile with ease. "My dear Kiarra, it's so wonderful to meet you." She clasped my hand in her own warm palms. She leaned in close to me, her words sandwiched between my mother and I. "We have great plans for you, my dear." As my eyes darted towards my Mum with sudden fear, she spoke in a louder voice. "What a lovely dress. The colors suit you." She winked as she moved away to greet the rest of my family. I was utterly confused.

  Mum squeezed my hand. "Breathe, daughter," she whispered. I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath until her words punctuated the haze drifting across my vision. I exhaled as quietly as possible and straightened my posture. My spine and shoulders were starting to itch with the tension coiled in my muscles.

  The greetings complete, we sat at the table. The room itself wasn't too daunting. Tapestries depicting forest scenes or ocean landscapes draped the stone walls. Lights made the space bright and cheery without being blinding. Candelabra and lantern holders were edged in gilt but nowhere did I see lavish displays of excessive wealth. The King wore a simple tunic of purple edged in silver with black breeches, a thick cloak of purple wool over his shoulders even though it wasn't cold. His wife was dressed in an elegant but understated purple gown.

  The palace and their appearance wasn't what I had expected, or maybe their wealth was all hidden away in other rooms. They might have dressed down for us lower tier patrons. The massive space and the solidity of the furniture spoke of more riches than a second tier could ever obtain.

  The servants immediately rushed forward, filling glasses with wine and serving a bowl of soup as the first course. I was happy to see there wasn't a confusing array of silverware. I still feared for my manners. Etiquette wasn't my best trait.

  Mason had taken up residence with several other guards, posted in pairs by the exits and entrances to the room. He appeared impassive, but occasionally his eyes drifted to me and a smile would touch the icy shade of his gaze. I swore I could feel Ian as well, but he wasn’t within sight.

  The King occupied the head of the table, next to the Queen. To my surprise, I was seated next to the King, Delia on my other side. Mum sat across from me and Father sat stiffly beside her. I noted he'd already drained his wine glass twice and the servant kept refilling it, albeit somewhat nervously.

  "First of all, it is a pleasure to meet you all," the King said. I believe his name was Demetrius but in my mind, he would remain the King. I couldn't possibly think of him by his given name. "Your son, Rowan, has been chosen for the ultimate honor, but I understand his new position is also a sacrifice." I froze with the water glass halfway to my lips. That the King acknowledged my brother's calling as a sacrifice surprised me. "I thank you for his service and for that sacrifice. I expect he was dear to you all."

  My father snorted. Everyone politely ignored him, but I noted the King's tapered fingers tighten on his goblet. My father had never acted like a parent to any of us but Delia. Even that had been sporadic. I wasn't surprised he insulted Rowan's memory, but it still angered me.

  The King proceeded to ask my mother about her research. To his credit, he appeared to be genuinely interested in her words. Delia ate stiffly beside me and we all listened with half an ear.

  The meal passed in relative politeness until the dessert course. At that point, the obvious evidence of my father's drunkenness could no longer be ignored. He fumbled his silverware and twice dropped them beneath the table. It amused him when a servant darted forward to replace them. The King was outlining planned changes to the housing units, filling the silence with polite conversation, when Father rudely interrupted him.

  "Your Majesty," Father drawled, "any changes you make to the housing won't be appreciated if you don't address the changes within your people."

  Mum looked down at her plate, her mouth tightening. My own lips pressed together. As attuned as I was to Mason, I also felt, more than saw, his shoulders stiffen.

  "What do you mean, Master Walton?" the King sipped delicately from his water goblet. He had barely drunk of his wine all evening and neither had I. I was certain the beverage was the best alcohol in the kingdom but this wasn't the proper company to lose my wits within. Evidently, my father didn't share my reservations.

  "The system has failed both me and my daughter," my father continued, managing to sound surprisingly coherent. "I was destined for a high position within Merchant House. Because of your Soul Tenders, I was matched with Matilda. Her scores happened to be slightly better than mine, and we were assigned to Scholar House. I never had the chance to progress in the House I was destined for." Dissatisfaction and irritation dripped from his words.

  My mother would never point out that her scores were far better than my father's, but I utilized all my restraint to not reveal the obvious lie. The King sat back in his chair, appearing bored, but I recognized a coiled snake when I saw one. If Father weren't careful, he would bring the King's wrath down on the entire family and destroy all our lives.

  "You are in second tier housing, Master Walton. Many citizens never progress to that level. And why would you say that the system has failed your daughter?" The King's eyes darted to me. I wondered how he guessed I was the daughter my father spoke of. Perhaps the dress gave it away.

  "Look at her!" My father gestured at me with his knife. The guards ringing the room tensed. The movement was so subtle, I doubted anyone else noticed. I sensed Mason's wariness and righteous anger on my behalf. "She wears that Performer's dress because she isn't smart enough to test into any of the Houses. She'll end up on the streets!" Spittle flew from hi
s mouth.

  Tense silence filled the air as everyone processed his words. I refused to be cowed, my restraint snapping like a bow. "Would you care, Father?" I demanded. I didn't particularly want to air my dirty laundry in front of royalty, but he wouldn't use me as an excuse for his displeasure when he didn't care about me one bit. The vitriol in father's watery green eyes was evident when he looked my way. I had inherited the green in my eyes from him. Thankfully, they weren't always green. I couldn't have borne having eyes exactly like his.

  "No, actually," Father admitted, surprising me only minutely, "I don't care. You belong there if you can't test into a House."

  The King stiffened again. I interjected quickly to avoid an argument although it was likely too late. "Then it doesn't appear that the kingdom's process is to blame at all."

  "I believe nothing is to blame, my dear," the King said. He looked directly at my father. "Some apples fall very far from the trees which bear them." I wondered if he also thought of his own son. From what I saw and what I'd heard, they were two very different people. "In this case, your daughter appears to not have taken after you, but rather after her mother. If I remember correctly, her mother tested highly in nearly every House skill. She could have picked any House, but she chose to be a Scholar. My understanding is that Kiarra is not unintelligent but rather too intelligent, like her mother. I believe you will be quite surprised to see where she ends up."

  I had no answer for that. I glanced at Mum. She hadn't told me she had high scores in every House. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, but she didn't interrupt the King. The Queen surveyed the interaction with a keen eye. I imagined she didn't miss much.