Blossom and the Beast (The Alder Tales Book 1)

by RS McCoy

  He had been such a fool.

  Norsa and Valenta waited on the steps. Behind them, Olin loomed with his hands behind his back. At seeing Blossom, the women rushed forward and began barking commands, and for once, Kaide let them. Only when Norsa told him to carry Blossom to her room did he object.

  “No, she stays with me.” Kaide listened to Norsa’s arguments but ignored them as he carried Blossom up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and then further on until they reached the third floor. The motion-detecting light flickered on as Kaide entered, casting the room in a pleasant glow as he crossed the space and lowered her to the bed. She looked so small surrounded by the mounds of white blankets and crimson sheets that adorned the bed.

  Only Norsa and Olin ventured into his private space.

  “She ran?” Norsa asked as she pulled scissors, gauze, and bandages from her apron pockets.

  Kaide only nodded. Of course she had. Granted, she’d lasted longer than he thought. He’d half-expected to find her missing from the inn, having slipped past his servicemen, but instead, she’d held out all the way to the manor and another day after. It only made him admire her more. It only made him hate himself for trying to make this work.

  “She saw you, didn’t she?” Norsa was too smart for her own good.

  Kaide’s heart plummeted at the memory. The way she looked at him with her knife held out to kill him, to defend herself against him. She was afraid of him. Why shouldn’t she be? He was a monster—an unnatural creature unfit for the affection of one such as her. It had only been a matter of time before she found out what he was.

  “By the Mother, she is filthy. Where do you think she got to?”

  Kaide blinked at the question before he saw it. Sure enough, Blossom left a halo of copper-colored dirt everywhere her clothes touched the white fabric.

  “A warehouse on the eastside.” Kaide knelt next to the bed and reached forward just enough to pull a stray curl from her face. Her skin had lost all its beautiful luster and was now a sickly, grey color that made his stomach churn.

  “A manufacturing facility?” Norsa asked as she placed a basin of warm water on the nearest table. Armed with a pile of fresh gauze and a half-dozen clean rags, Norsa began the delicate task of unwrapping Blossom’s soaked bandage and cleaning the gash in her hand. When she removed the gauze, dried blood clung to Blossom’s palm, dark and cracking except where a scarlet stream continued to ooze.

  Norsa was deft in her task, soaking up the blood and putting pressure on the wound until the bleeding slowed. She gently wiped at the periphery of Blossom’s hand, creating swirls of dark brown that gave way to deep red, then finally pink, exposing the sweet skin tone underneath. Her work took several minutes, but when she was done, nothing remained but the angry slice across the palm.

  “It’s deep. She’ll have full use of it, if she’s lucky.” Norsa stood and wiped her hands on her apron.

  “And if she’s not?” Kaide was almost too nervous to ask.

  “She’ll lose it. Maybe the arm if she gets an infection. I put thistleroot to keep the rot away. Nothing to do now but wait.”

  Kaide shot her a disapproving look but she only smiled in return. Norsa was well aware of his dislike of her use of the old practices—not when they had access to more modern means of treating wounds. Nonetheless, she’d never steered him wrong. Somehow, those tricky plants and mumblings under her breath had kept him in great health.

  He could only hope it would work for Blossom, too.

  Norsa’s hand landed on Kaide’s shoulder. “Let me have a look.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, waving her away.

  But Norsa only chuckled. “You two are more alike than you realize. Now, don’t argue. Sit down so I can have a look at this.”

  Kaide sank onto the foot of the bed without further protest and tilted his head so Norsa could see the scratch. “What did this?” Her brow crinkled and her lips tightened as she examined the wound.

  “A lizard. Maybe a monitor. I didn’t stop to look.” The night was all a blur, as events often were in his totem state. As a beast, Kaide had far less control over himself than he would have liked. Still, his totem form served him well today.

  Norsa pulled a stinky weed from her apron pocket and pressed it between her palms, softening the leaves until they were little more than a gooey pile. Then, without warning, she shoved them into the wound.

  Kaide’s neck inflamed with pain. He clenched his hands to fists but otherwise didn’t move. “To neutralize the toxins. Monitor saliva has—” Norsa knew to quit talking when she saw how little he cared. He simply wanted to be done with this so he could tend to Blossom.

  Norsa affixed a bandage across his neck before reminding him, “I’m just down stairs if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” he called after her as she left.

  On the bed, Blossom lay motionless, the only sign of life the small rise and fall of her chest.

  “Sir—” Olin began. Kaide had all but forgotten Olin stood along the wall, waiting for what, Kaide didn’t know.

  “You may go.” Kaide commanded, without turning away from Blossom. He was too angry at Olin to respond reasonably. Maybe in the morning…

  Olin’s boots crunched on the carpet as he headed for the stairs, but before he began to descend, Kaide yelled after him, “Send up Druma.”

  Kaide waited the few minutes it took for Druma to arrive. Then, when his serviceman stood before him, he reached out and clasped Druma’s shoulder. Five years his senior, Kaide knew Druma would rather have served any number of officials, but he didn’t let that affect his duties. “I wanted to say thank you. For your assistance tonight.”

  “There is no need, sir. It is my honor and duty to serve you in any way you need.” Druma nodded with respect.

  “I understand, but you still have my gratitude and appreciation.”

  Druma looked up with nervous eyes. “You’re welcome, sir.”

  “In the morning, schedule a meeting with the Commissioner. For now, get some rest.” Druma bowed in the usual way before heading for the stairs.

  Then, Kaide realized he was alone with Blossom. She lay across his bed as he hadn’t dared to hope for, though he hadn’t imagined quite these circumstances. In the morning, she would wake and ask to leave. And he would take her. He would take her back to the Alderwood.

  And he would spend the rest of his days wondering what he could have done to get her to stay.

  Blossom awoke in a dark, unfamiliar room. Her back ached from the soft bed. She’d been here a while.

  As she sat up, the pure-black wall faded into a transparent window. Afternoon light streamed in so bright she had to lift her hand to her face, covering her eyes until they adjusted. Once Blossom could see clearly, she recognized the view—a view she’d only seen from the alder tree. She was on the third floor.

  Where she wasn’t supposed to go.

  Blossom used her hand to prop herself up for only a half-second before a sharp pain shot up her arm. It was then she remembered the injury, the warehouse, the cat. All of it.

  Across the foot of the bed, she noticed a fresh change of clothes neatly folded into a stack. It took her longer than usual to remove her soiled clothes, and only when she was out of them did she remember the difficulty of Pyro garments. With one arm, she failed miserably as she tried to figure out the criss-crossed knots and folds of the shirt.

  Then, on the far side of the room, Blossom found a closet full of hanging clothes. The Vice Syndicate’s, of course. All pressed shirts and hanging slacks, and on the far right side, the floor-length cloaks he preferred.

  Blossom skimmed the items but saw nothing that would work. Next, she tried the dresser beside the washroom door. In the middle drawer, she found the long, loose shirts like the one she’d worn in the inn. For the second time, she pulled his shirt over her bare figure, grateful to be less naked.

  Not ideal, but it would be enough to get her back downstairs and into her own clothe
s and her own room.

  Blossom exited the strange room and ventured down the wood stairs as quietly as she could manage, but on the third step she heard voices. A few steps more, and she could tell one was the Vice Syndicate. The other she’d never heard before.

  “You assured me they were disbanded. I was to be notified of any further activity,” he said in that stern tone he used when he was being the Vice Syndicate.

  “I understand, sir. I had no information that would lead me to believe the Prentis were operational again.” Blossom descended just far enough to see a man in a pressed black suit, bowing his head low in respect as he addressed the Vice Syndicate. From behind, she could only see the stranger’s square shoulders and dark hair.

  “Well, now you have information. The Milton is still collecting favors, which means he has a buyer. You have one week to find out who it is.” The Vice Syndicate’s jaw clenched, barely withholding his anger, before his eyes darted up and caught Blossom only two steps from the bottom.

  The black-suited man turned to follow his gaze.

  “Commissioner Sangra, may I introduce Ms. Blossom Frane. Ms. Frane, this is the commissioner of the Pyro Criminal Investigative Unit.” His tone was formal, revealing nothing about their strange relationship, though Blossom was sure the shirt she wore told the man everything he needed to know.

  “A pleasure, Ms. Frane,” the commissioner said with a smile. To the Vice Syndicate, he added, “I didn’t think you a man of such interests.”

  “What does or does not interest me is none of your concern. Your focus is the Prentis and nothing else. I expect your report by week’s end.”

  “As you wish, sir.” The commissioner clapped his heels together and bowed low. When he turned, he offered Blossom a pinched smile and courteous nod before he lumbered to the stairs and descended out of sight.

  The Vice Syndicate relaxed when the commissioner was gone. His breaths came easier. His jaw unclenched. He pulled his clasped hands from behind his back and began to work at the buttons along the front of his cloak. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I was hoping to have this business finished before you woke.” He slipped the cloak off his arms and draped it over the back of his chair. “How are you feeling?”

  Blossom descended the last two steps and shrugged. “Tired, I guess.” Then, she added, “I’m sorry about taking your shirt again. I tried to change into the clothes you left but they’re—”

  He only smiled and walked over to her. “There is no need to apologize. Take what you wish.” He reached down for her hand. “How does this feel?”

  The way his fingertips skimmed the side of her hand made the words stick in her throat. She had to concentrate to force out an answer. “It hurts to move it, but otherwise fine.” Blossom pulled her hand away and curled it against her chest. “Where’s my bag?”

  “I had my servicemen place it in your room for safe-keeping.” Above her, the Vice Syndicate’s eyes dimmed to the dark blue of midnight. “Is it still your wish that I take you back to the Alderwood?”

  Blossom nodded. “If you’re willing to take me.”

  “I am more than willing. But please do not misunderstand me. I would like nothing more than to have you stay.”

  For several seconds, they stood—frozen, unspeaking, unmoving—caught in this strange situation in which they found themselves. Blossom was tempted to tell him she wanted to stay in Pyrona, to see the city and all its experiences, but even if she stayed with him, she’d never see it. She wouldn’t trade one prison for another.

  “I don’t want to be trapped here.” At least in the Alderwood, Hale had let her roam and made excuses for her afterward.

  “You won’t be. You can go wherever you want. I’ll assign an armed escort to take you anywhere you want to go. Just tell me where you’re going and when you’ll be back. As long as you’re safe, you’ll have your freedom.”

  Blossom took a step back. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. Give me a day to prove it to you. Tell me where you’d like to go and I’ll take you there personally. If you’ll have me, of course. Then, if you still want to leave, I’ll take you to the Alderwood.”

  She agreed instantly. It was the best of both worlds. She would see Pyrona and get to go home. There was no reason she shouldn’t accept. “I have a condition.”

  The Vice Syndicate’s eyebrows shot up, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And what would that be?”

  “That you lose the whole Vice Syndicate thing. No talking to me like I’m one of your servicemen.”

  The Vice Syndicate lowered his head and laughed so hard his shoulders shook. When his laughter finally subsided, he looked up at her, and he was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. Still, his tone was all business. “If that’s your wish.”

  “Try again.” Blossom crossed her arms and waited.

  He cleared his throat and concentrated. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Better,” she admitted. “Can we go to the top of the mountain?”

  The Vice Syndicate nodded. “Anywhere you want.”

  Blossom smiled and loped to her room. A half-hour later, she was dressed—courtesy of Valenta—and out in front of the manor. Her hair had been tamed from the mess it was earlier, but she’d refused Valenta’s offer to spend an hour pulling it back. Instead, she opted for the wild curls as always.

  In the loose pants and shirt of Pyro, the Vice Syndicate stood alongside two grey horses, their reins in his hand. His hair was combed back in the style he liked, but his stance was far less rigid than usual.

  “Do you think you can ride?” He motioned to her thick bandage.

  “I have two hands.” Blossom put her foot in the stirrup and pulled up onto the back of her horse.

  The Vice Syndicate shook his head and smiled as he handed her the reins to her horse. “We only have another hour or so before dusk. It’s a short ride, but we won’t be able to stay long.”

  “Better hurry then.” Blossom snapped the reins to spur her horse into action, and in seconds they were off. The cool air rushed past and filled her ears, yet she could still hear the Vice Syndicate shouting something behind her.

  But she didn’t stop. She could find her way well enough; all she had to do was follow the incline. As he promised, it was a short ride, no more than a few minutes. When she reached the rocky outcrop that marked the precipice of the mountain, she climbed off her horse and waited for him.

  Two minutes later, he emerged from the trees. When he was close enough, he jumped to the ground and threw the horse’s reins from his hands. A few long steps up the rocks brought him to her side. “You can’t—”

  “Shhh,” she said with a finger to her lips.

  When he finally decided to stop fussing about whatever it was she’d done wrong, the Vice Syndicate joined her in taking in the view. It was by far the highest point she’d ever seen, with trees and mountains and volcanoes spreading out in every direction. Below them, the city looked both vast and miniscule, too small to see individual buildings but large enough to cover the ground in a three-mountain radius. As the sun began to sink behind the mountain to the west, it cast an amber glow across the sky.

  Already she could feel her body ease in the wide open space. She could go in any direction. Every option was open to her. It was just the sort of place she loved.

  As the sun descended, the sky filled with pinks and violets. The wind whipping over the peak sent a chill up her arms, but Blossom refused to return to her horse just yet.

  “You know, this is why I traded for you.” His eyes remained on the horizon.

  Blossom’s eyes snapped up toward the Vice Syndicate where he towered beside her. “What?”

  At last, he looked down at her. “In the Alderwood that day. You got a running start into the tree and swung from branch to branch. Eventually, you’d climbed to the top and started plucking fruit. Then you jumped down with a peach in your mouth, juice dripping down your chin.”

  “So?” Blos
som blinked wildly as she tried to understand what he was saying.

  “So it was the most insane and wild thing I’ve ever seen. I knew right then that I wanted you. I should have known you wouldn’t come easily. I shouldn’t have tried to make you into something you’re not.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” It was the only answer she could come up with. She was floored at the newfound knowledge that the Vice Syndicate had seen her climb a tree in the Alderwood, that he saw her as she was, raw and rough, and still he wanted her. Had wanted her so badly he traded for her hand without knowing a single other thing about her.

  Blossom focused on her breathing. She let her eyes drift back to the sunset, but somehow she couldn’t see it anymore.

  “Would it do me any good to tell you that we should head back?”

  Blossom nodded and drank in the last of the view, the orange volcanic light shining against the darkening indigo sky. Then she turned, heading back for her horse, but she stopped short. With her head low, she said, “I am sorry that I’m so difficult. I know I make it hard on everyone, and I really try to stay put, but—”

  Before she could finish, the Vice Syndicate put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Blossom’s face landed against the chest of his shirt. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Blossom squeezed her eyes shut and tried to figure out how she’d gotten herself here. With her face buried in the ashy scent of his shirt and his arms held tight around her. With his promises to let her roam and the way he said he liked her wildness. And when she was more confused than ever, she felt the gentlest kiss land above her ear.

  She was supposed to hate him. She tried to hate him, and like everything else, she was failing in spectacular fashion. Blossom pulled away in hopes of getting her mind right. He made everything so confusing.

  The Vice Syndicate walked her back to her horse and held out his hand to help her up, though he must have known she would refuse it. “Can we walk?” she asked instead.

  His smile was answer enough.