Soulbound

by Archer Kay Leah

  "Where in the blessed Four do you get off on using a mouth like that?" Mayr roared, slamming his hands to the desk. "And you're lecturing me on using Arieve? You, who's broken her heart more times than I've broken my face?" He thrust one hand towards the door. "Her. Whole. Life. That's how long I've been here for her. I even stood over her cradle calling her the prettiest damn baby! Yeah, I know why she works hard. I helped her get the job here because I knew how much she needed it. I know a realm's worth about her—except how she can waste time on your sorry ass."

  There they were: all the words he had waited to shout in Coye's face, an onslaught he had struggled to control for far too long. After every breakup, he had focused on soothing Arieve's pain instead of avenging her. On Arieve's behalf, he had practiced a gentler fight, standing at her side while she battled her emotions. He had expected Arieve to find better than Coye—someone who would protect her in love.

  Now that someone's us. I'm sorry, Arieve, but I can't keep my mouth shut anymore. I'll say everything you won't. Everything you can't.

  Mayr jabbed his finger at Coye. "Don't you ever talk about Arieve or Tash like that again, and don't ever question my loyalty to her. You're the problem. I didn't take my selfish ass into the woods and hide. I'm not the one who threw her away with half-assed excuses. I don't play that game."

  Coye huffed. "Fine, I ran away. I couldn't take the pressure. Go ahead, call me stupid, worthless. I'm messed up, all right?" she shouted, throwing open her arms. "I don't get all that 'my stuff is your stuff is our stuff' rubbish. I have commitment issues, I know that. I don't know how to be part of two when it's difficult enough being one."

  "So why are you back? What's different this time?"

  "I'm sick of being a loser." Coye raked back her hair. "No one's even half as good for me as Arieve. No one's like her at all, and being without her is killing me. I get one more chance. It has to be the one I don't mess up."

  Sarcasm forced its way from Mayr in a rumbling laugh. "I love how it's now, when she's moving on." Mayr snorted. "That's it, isn't it? She's moving on without you and you can't take it."

  "Maybe, or maybe it's because I finally need to settle down with someone I can't live without. Maybe it's the punch I can't keep ducking."

  "Yeah? Great, you finally clued in."

  "Piss off. You're only special because the Tract Steward thinks you are." Coye glowered at him. "Look, I didn't run because I don't love Arieve; I ran because I do. I just haven't loved myself any. I'd hoped she'd wait for me, that she'd be here once I figured myself out." She folded her arms and dug her boot heel into the floor. "I was wrong, unfair. I should've risen up to her level, not dragged her down to mine. She knows who she is and what she wants. I should've trusted her to help me. It's not like she hasn't offered—I've just been too cowardly to accept. So yeah, Arieve moving on scares me," she said softly, "because I know who I could be with her."

  A dozen mangled curses exploded across Mayr's thoughts. If Arieve were there, she would beg him to listen. Ask him to be kind.

  As if I could deny her.

  "If she's not leaving us, we're not leaving her." Mayr ground his teeth and sucked in a breath. "But we don't control her. That's not what we're about, her and us. If you want her, you're free to court her." The words left a bitter taste as he continued. "Just remember that you, her—this whole running away thing—it's our business now, especially if she gets pregnant. Or did she leave that part out?"

  Coye shook her head. "She said. I just don't like hearing it."

  "Yeah, well, that's your problem. I'm more concerned with making sure she's happy. Making sure my husband's happy." Mayr tucked his fists into the crooks of his arms, his voice leveled. "Arieve's ready for a family, with or without you, and we'll be there every step, every smile, every scraped knee. If you want in, you'd better be sure you're sticking around."

  "I get it."

  "Really? You don't seem to care about that part. You're talking competition and having for yourself instead of what Arieve's after." Mayr leaned over the desk. "Hint: kids won't make that better. If you can't take it, leave now. We'll be focused on our family, not playing your 'do I, don't I' bit."

  "Stop patronizing me," Coye hissed. "I'm not that much of an idiot."

  "Hard to tell where the line ends." Mayr splayed his hands over the parchment on his desk. "I'm not the one hurting her. That's all you, so get it together." His finger was steady as he jabbed it at her. "Don't keep breaking Arieve. She's family. You can be part of our family, but you'll have to be part. Be present. We'll be open with you, and honest, but if you mess around with any of us, I'll step in and fix it. I'll legally keep you from Arieve." A smirk tugged his lips. "I know all the right people."

  "You're a complete ass," Coye snapped. "How does she even put up with you?"

  "Go ask her. She's the one with all the power in this. If you've got a problem with that, maybe you shouldn't be in a relationship."

  "By the Four, you defend her like a husband!"

  "Yeah, well, I've always been the marrying kind."

  Unspoken expletives hung in the air, sinking through the silence.

  "Forget this." Coye stormed out of the office and slammed the door closed.

  "You're welcome!" Mayr yelled. He clutched his head and clamped his jaws against the sharp pains stabbing holes in his thoughts. What aches Arieve had eased returned three-fold. He needed rest, solid and deep.

  What I need is to get these papers done and pass out until morning. Then Aeley can haul me to Council by my feet. With a sigh, he sank into his chair, his forehead cradled in one palm. It was his responsibility to present new intelligence on the Shar-denn factions to Severn and the rest of High Council—Aeley and Lira were too busy to compile it. Their presence at the meeting was the most they could spare.

  "Running themselves ragged," he muttered, settling with his quill and parchments. To succeed as Tract Steward, Aeley had to fight for every step she took. If politics was not the problem at hand, the games of society were. Keeping Gailarin in order was no easy feat. The best he could do was be where she needed him, however she needed him, and keep their guards in line.

  Guards that were pounding the floor above him, stomping like giants.

  "Really?" Mayr seethed and scribbled, desperate to concentrate. He was going to kill someone before the day was out, he was sure of it.

  The first three shouts he took with the grinding of his teeth.

  The angry cries to be let go were another matter.

  He fled from the office for the staircase to his right. To the deafening ruckus of yells and whistles, Mayr climbed the stairs two steps at a time. The wooden floorboards vibrated with the commotion of more than a dozen guards. Gathered halfway up the hall, the guards hollered and jeered in a blur of bodies in various states of dress. More guards rounded the corner at the other end of the corridor to join the crowd, their faces flushed with excitement. Others remained in the doorways of the rooms, appearing to debate if they should get involved.

  At the centre of the fray, two bodies rolled and wrestled on the floor, fists pounding whatever they could.

  "I told you to back off!" one man shouted, followed by a slap.

  "And I told you to stop going around with my girl!" his opponent roared. A body slammed the ground, shaking the floor. "You should've kept your vile ass cock in your damn ugly pants, boy. I'll rip it off and make you eat it!"

  "I didn't do anything!" the first voice countered, pitched higher. "I don't even like women that way."

  Another hit, a harder slam. Grunts and groans. Three guards rushed to pry the fighters apart.

  Mayr gritted his teeth. How many times had he instructed the guards to settle their differences without their fists unless they were in the training ring? How many times had he told them he would kick them out of the Guard House if they insisted on using it for brawls? The onlookers were no better. They all needed a refresher in rules and camaraderie.

  "Would you quit it?" Ma
yr bellowed before he elbowed and shoved his way through the crowd.

  The fighters continued, even in the clutches of the guards that attempted to stop them. Fists cut through the air, cracking where they landed. Only the onlookers backed away, blushing as they avoided Mayr's glance.

  In the centre of the widening circle were Gorgan and Lisreft, kicking and growling.

  Mayr snorted. Normally he would have bet Lisreft would kill Gorgan, given Lisreft's size and experience. His fists were brutal like hammers to the balls. For Gorgan to hold his own in the fight was impressive.

  Yeah, except forget impressed. Let's go for stupid. Fingers to his lips, Mayr whistled shrill and loud.

  Bodies stopped. Shouts silenced. The crowd shuffled back.

  Lisreft stopped mid-strike, the collar of Gorgan's dark green shirt in one fist, his other fist aimed for Gorgan's bloody face. Beneath Lisreft's twisted, kneeling body, Gorgan stiffened and stared at Mayr, one eye swollen and his bottom lip split.

  "What is going on?" Mayr yelled. "You—" he jabbed his finger at Lisreft "—here. Gorgan, stay put."

  Hunching, Lisreft obeyed. Taller than Mayr by a foot and larger in stature, Lisreft was Gorgan's senior by five years, one of the first guards Mayr had trained after becoming Head of the Guard. Lisreft's brown hair fell to his shoulders in the back, while the sides of his head were completely shaved. Dressed in a loose grey shirt and pants now mussed and bloodstained, Lisreft should have been asleep in preparation for his night shift, not fighting. His brown eyes focused on Mayr, a hint of apology at their edges.

  "Little brat was running his hands up my Revie's skirt," Lisreft snarled, wiping his swollen mouth and ruddy cheek. "They were in his room, door closed, murmuring and giggling like dirty little lovers. All the guards saw her leave. She was all pleased and glowing and all that filthy rubbish!"

  "So you figured punching his eyeballs into his skull was the way to go?" A rumbling growl slipped from Mayr. He sucked it back with cold air between his teeth.

  Lisreft flinched. "I wanted to make it clear. If he doesn't keep his hands off, I'll hack him to pieces."

  Gorgan snorted and choked, launching into a fit of coughs. With a groan, he pushed up from the floor. The curls of his blond hair were unkempt, his pants and shirt disheveled. "Yeah, Revie was in my room." He glared at Lisreft and wiped the blood trickling from his broken nose. "We were talking. She knows my mother's experienced in midwifery. She had questions."

  "Questions?" Lisreft's fists tightened. "What questions?"

  "You should ask her." Gorgan bit down hard, one arm wrapped around his ribs. "You'll need the answers in seven months anyway. A whinier little you to contend with, Goddesses save us."

  Confusion swept across Lisreft's face with a scowl.

  The moment he understood, emotions ripped across his face. Lisreft paled, his eyes widening. "Oh, by the blessed… We've been trying, but I didn't think she was…"

  "Happy now?" Mayr shoved Lisreft towards the stairs. "Go and see if she's all right. Start acting like a father before you become a complete disgrace. Next time, keep your fists to yourself or you're on lock-down."

  Still dazed, Lisreft nodded. "Sorry, Gorgan," Lisreft mumbled before he stumbled down the hall, raking one hand over his shaved head.

  Mayr snapped his fingers and thrust out his arm. "The rest of you, clear off!"

  The guards faltered.

  "Now," Mayr barked, "or I'm handing out punishments you won't be thanking me for."

  Murmurs filtered through the hall as the group disbanded. One of the guards accompanied Lisreft down the stairs, her hand on his arm to steady him.

  "Overgrown scrappy mutt," Mayr grumbled, turning to Gorgan. "You all right?"

  "I'm upright." Gorgan licked his lips and winced. "Nothing some horrible poultice and a face full of snow can't cure."

  "Sure. I've been there a few times."

  "Suppose so. Can't be Head Guard if all you do is knit pillows and hide in the stuffing." Gorgan limped up the hallway. "Thanks for intervening. I'll just go and die now." He threw a lopsided smile over his shoulder. "After I get Stuck to bandage me. She's the best of the bunch. Rarely ever bites."

  No, but she kicks like there's no tomorrow. "You need anything, I'm downstairs," Mayr said, holding back a snort. "And I'm scolding Lisreft about this later, so don't run off or you'll miss it."

  One hand up in acknowledgment, Gorgan rounded the corner and disappeared into the back corridor.

  Alone in the hallway, Mayr stared after him. In less than two years, Gorgan had changed from the quiet, uncertain youth he used to be. The training with his fellow guards and extra lessons with Mayr and Pellon were paying off in confidence. In his first weeks, Gorgan had uttered few words and gaped at his comrades rather than risk punching them. He had been new to the village at the time, still finding his place. Since then, he had learned to relax, joke, and strike back.

  Hello, adolescent me. So nice to see you again. Mayr snickered and started for the stairs. Only Pellon knew that Mayr saw parts of himself in Gorgan. Then again, Pell was there to torture me into comfort. Aeley to my right, Pell to my left—it's a wonder I survived. Still trying to figure out how Allon dragged through life without getting pummeled to death. Korre, Korre, Korre. You probably would've loved to have me and Pell as sons instead of fathering that coward.

  Partway down the stairs, Mayr leaned against the railing and bit his cheek. His memories raged, gnawing on his fiery aches and tearing open old wounds that would never fully heal. How did filth like Allon remain alive while good people like Korre were snatched away? How could the monsters of the Shar-denn still exist when kinder souls were torn from life itself? How could all that death balance any scale in any world? They had more funeral pyres burning every year for innocent people than there were criminals in the prisons.

  The world was cracked in all the wrong places and goodness was oozing into the voids.

  His bad mood slid from worse to the rancid, scorching need to sharpen his favourite weapons on the bones of his least favourite people. He was tired of playing games. Was it too much to ask to be happy without anything tripping him up?

  Releasing his frustration in a dull roar, Mayr slipped into his office and kicked the door shut.

  The instant he sat in his chair, the door rattled. More knocks.

  Mayr slammed his head onto his folded arms. "Go away! I hate everybody equally today. No. Special. Favours!" He bashed his forehead against his leather bracers. "Next knock, I'm ripping all your hands off."

  The door opened and closed. Quiet footfalls approached the desk before a cool hand caressed the back of his head. Fingers glided through the loose tail of his hair and settled on his nape, kneading with familiar weight.

  Mayr lifted into the touch with a sigh. "Except you," he said, closing his eyes. "I love your hands."

  "I should be so lucky," Tash whispered. His fingers trailed down Mayr's jaw to his throat, tender as they lifted Mayr's chin. "And may my lips be as adored. Goddesses know I cherish yours."

  His soft kiss brushed across Mayr's lips, asking for affirmation.

  Mayr's strangled whimper answered, drawing forth more than Tash's mouth: the vibrations of Tash's throaty laugh played through their lips, urging their kiss to bypass chaste and settle for deep and longing. Stealing Tash's breath rooted Mayr in comfort, but sharing the same breath filled him with all the reasons why he needed to keep working.

  "What can I do for you?" Mayr sat up straight. Tempted as he was, he would not make love to Tash on the desk, even if the High Council annoyed him enough to offer them parchment stained in sweat and come.

  Bundled up in his red long coat and cloak, Tash's nose and cheeks were just as red from the cold weather. His eyes held all the warmth winter was missing. "I heard from Keeper Felensa. He's requested I bring Adren to the Sanctum. He was quite insistent, in fact." The easiness of his laugh rolled through Mayr's headache like a cooling wave. "I should forewarn Adren that ce has a new,
rather excitable, friend."

  Mayr leaned back and scowled. The Sanctum of the Mortal Divine was a full day's carriage ride from Dahena, too far for his liking. The trip required at least two night's stay in the Sanctum with its secrets and sacred library, secluded from the nearest town, Eleonne. In all, the journey required at least three days, though more were often required. The priests of the Sanctum frequently entreated Tash to stay longer.

  The excursion was too long for Mayr to support given his nightmares. Images of corpses lingered in the back of his mind: bodies littering the road, limbs smashed, faces broken beyond repair. He could almost taste the ambush to come, every strike itching beneath his skin, pricking his intuition like a bed of needles.

  Yet he hated to deny Tash his chance to learn the truth about Adren and cir Goddess-touched lineage. The Sanctum held all of the knowledge Tash craved. By the oaths of a priest, Tash was sworn to serve Adren to the fullest of his capability. His duty was no less worthy than Mayr's, particularly since Adren was considered an ally and priceless informant.

  An informant Mayr was not sure he trusted, not like Tash did. Not like the priests chose to. If Adren ever cheats us—if ce ever puts you in danger—I'll rip cir head off so fast, I don't care which Goddess rages on my hide.

  Mayr ground his teeth. If Tash wanted to go, Mayr would accompany him as he always did. He refused to sit at home and wonder if Tash would return unscathed. Especially with Adren there, and where Adren goes, Ress goes. All three of them out in the open for days at a time, available for the taking… No doubt it's what the Shar's waiting for.

  "We can leave in three days." Mayr forced his gentlest tone and a weak smile. "Let me wrap things up with Council and we'll—"

  Tash shook his head. "Sweet love, we're leaving tomorrow."

  Mayr blinked. The words crashed in his thoughts, toppling more than his patience. "Tomorrow?"

  "Keeper Felensa requested we come for the day after tomorrow, yes."

  "To-mor-row."

  "Yes."