Echoes of Her Soul

by Serena Lindahl

  Ian exited, and Mason stood, offering me his arm. The night before, the halls had been dimly lit if at all. Today, sunshine streamed through the high windows and shone dully upon the stone floor. Mason exchanged a few quiet words with the guards, and neither moved from their posts.

  "They don't have to follow us?"

  Mason shook his head. "Not when one of us is with you. I trust the men who are assigned to you. However, if Ian, I, or Reed accompanies you, you'll be safer without an escort. The guards might overhear information which could be bought for the right price. I haven't assessed Reed's skill yet, but I will do so before you have alone time with him out of your chambers."

  "Clay and Seb?"

  "Seb has admitted he's weak, and both men would prefer they have someone else around when they are with you in the castle proper. In your rooms, it's fine if they are alone with you. In most cases, one of us or a guard will be waiting outside whichever room you're in so you can still have privacy without someone else always interfering."

  I wrung my hands, broaching the tricky subject. "Are all of you okay with sharing me then?"

  His broad shoulders shrugged. "We haven't talked about it much yet. We didn't address the subject last night. I believe the soul bond is working its magic, though, because I haven't felt any jealousy, and I'm not usually someone who likes to share."

  I stopped in the middle of the hall and met his silvery blue eyes. They were warm this morning, not ferociously hot, but not glacial either. "Are you okay, really?" I needed to hear him say it while I looked into his eyes. I would question every one of them, just to be satisfied.

  The chiseled planes of his face softened. He possessed a hard beauty, a sculpted masterpiece, whereas Reed was beautiful, Ian and Clay were rugged, and Seb was cute. I enjoyed their differences. His hands clasped mine, his flesh hot. "I am, Kiarra. I promise I would tell you if I wasn't. I never would have imagined this scenario, but every moment I am within your presence feels right, whether we are alone or not."

  I nodded, pleased with his honesty. As we continued to walk, he pointed out parts of the palace to me. One sprawling wing was devoted entirely to random museum pieces, artifacts from centuries and rulers past, or from overseas. It also held the vast library Reed and his Advisor used. Mum would live down the same corridor when she married the Scholar Advisor.

  A solarium and garden were situated near the rooms of the Planning Advisor. The sheer number of plants in the conservatory awed me, and I made a goal to explore it thoroughly when I met with Seb. The Spymaster's quarters existed in a darkened area of the palace we didn't enter.

  The Royal wing remained wholly cordoned off by guards, and the Merchant Advisor possessed rooms in the front of the palace. There, he spoke with the Head of his House and met with citizens who disputed financial matters amongst themselves. The Merchant Advisor also managed the servants. There were many of those running about, not one of them looking as if they lacked for something to do. They studied us curiously, but Mason's full Military uniform and the broadsword at his side dissuaded them from staring long.

  "And this is the Military wing." Mason led me onto a balcony which offered a view over several training grounds, dirt arenas, an archery range, and the stables nestled up against the outer palace wall. Several men performed drills at the instruction of a massive man with a scarred face. I'd never seen anyone so enormous before. He could be a giant from an old fairytale.

  Mason followed my astonished gaze. "The hulking brute is Rufus. He's a mean sonofabitch, but he's fair. You won't have much interaction with him until you reach your - uh - designated appointment. He's been training the palace guard for over thirty years and is extremely competent. I would trust him to have my back no matter what."

  I nodded at the message Mason didn't say aloud. The giant could be trusted. I wondered if Rufus and Mason's father were friends. My head whirled with the implications of navigating politics and affiliations.

  Mason escorted me away from the viewing window to a side room. Several mats blanketed the floor. Weapons of every imaginable function were displayed on the walls or in towering racks.

  "This is the sparring room. We'll be here most of the time. It gives us a private area to train."

  I gulped. The amount of shiny, sharp things in the room made my head reel. I never knew there were so many ways to die. Mason shut the door behind him, enclosing us in the chamber. Windows high in the walls shafted rays of light onto the reed mats. They didn't look soft, and I wondered if I would end the day with bruises. Although Mason was supposed to draw out my Military abilities, he was much larger and stronger than me.

  Mason unstrapped his belt, hanging his sword over a nearby rack. Then, he took off his uniform coat. I stared, my mouth drying. He wasn't wearing a shirt. I had noticed the men in the yard practicing bare-chested, but I had barely given them a second glance. Mason, however, was amazing. Every muscle was delineated and sculpted. He had a smattering of hair across the front of his chest, but the rest of the skin was smooth. Several rigid bulges of muscle lined his abdomen, and an intriguing V of muscles led into his breeches. I couldn’t move as I gaped, probably resembling a hooked fish.

  "I am more comfortable this way," he said by way of excuse. I could only nod, my throat incapable of producing words. There was so much skin on display, I couldn't think coherently. If he expected me to learn this way, we would encounter serious issues.

  I shook my head in an attempt to clear the fog of lust clouding my senses. "It's going to be difficult for me to concentrate," I admitted. "You're beautiful."

  I knew I wasn't the first woman to call him beautiful. The thought nearly made me sick with jealousy, but I shoved the unproductive feeling away. What they did before me was none of my business. Almost every teenager experimented, understanding the introduction to their Soul Match would likely render them monogamous for the rest of their lives. I was a strange exception in our reasonably open culture; I couldn't expect my matches to be virgins. In fact, I was confident none of them were. They were all too handsome and secure in their personalities and abilities.

  "It's very hard for me to concentrate as well." His purr shivered across my flesh. "Your beauty takes my breath away every time I look at you." He prowled towards me and my pulse hammered inside my chest, threatening to leap from my body. I couldn't remove my eyes from the ripple of muscle as he approached. "But, we do need to gauge your abilities." I barely heard his words. He stepped closer, each inch breached making my skin tingle further. When he kicked swiftly and swept my legs out from under me, I fell. He caught me before I hit the floor, his arms easily bearing my weight.

  "You're going to be distracted," he murmured, holding me as if he were dipping me at the end of a dance. His face was inches away from mine, his chest heaving with breath against my own. His eyes darkened as he met my startled gaze. "The key is to remain aware even amidst distraction."

  "Right." I released a shaky exhalation, my pulse hammering with lust and adrenaline. He tilted me upright; my body burned everywhere his skin connected with mine.

  After his impromptu lesson, I forced my attention on the exercises. I doubted he would catch me again if I let my mind stray too far. He was a compassionate and skillful teacher, pushing me just far enough to test my limits. We studied basic defensive poses and blocking techniques, and I found it easier to focus and meet his strikes as the morning wore on. If this were my Military test for my House assignment, I would have been granted second tier. I felt strong, powerful, and fast.

  When he called a halt, we both dripped sweat. I removed my vest to air out my skin and watched as he rubbed a towel over his gleaming torso. Since I wasn't in imminent danger of having my face slammed into the floor, my mind refocused with single-minded determination on his body. He flashed a smile at me, complete with dimples, and my heart flopped over in my chest.

  "You did well," he praised.

  "It was one of my better days. Maybe the bond is beginning to settle."

&n
bsp; As we caught our breath, he quizzed me on weapons. When I told him I hadn't been trained on any, he frowned. Because I couldn't be definitively sorted into Military house, the teachers hadn't bothered teaching me advanced weapons skills. They'd tested me at archery, throwing knives, and dagger combat, but my skills hadn’t been proficient enough to merit additional training.

  "Maybe you'll pick up the weapons easily as the bond deepens." His eyes lowered, and I realized my sweat soaked skin made the white shirt nearly transparent. I crossed my arms over my breasts in an instinctively defensive gesture. He stalked forward, each movement reflected in the bunch and slide of muscle. His hands gently unfolded my arms, his gaze so intense I struggled to catch my breath.

  "Don’t hide from me, Kiarra." My arms now hanging at my sides, he traced a finger along the low neckline of my shirt. My skin burned, a trail of fire blazing down the center of my chest and between my breasts. "You realize you have all of us aching for your touch?" His deep voice rattled my bones. I shook my head, physically incapable of responding. I had hoped, but I wasn't sure. His eyes met mine again, his finger tilting my chin towards him. His hands were so large; one almost curled all the way around my neck.

  "I really don't know what I'm doing," I stuttered.

  He smiled, his dimples flashing again. "I think you do," he argued. "I think the bond is pushing you as hard as it is pushing us, begging for consummation." He stepped closer, eliminating the gap between our bodies. His hard chest brushed against the tight buds of my nipples, and I bit my lip to restrain a moan. "I would like to take my time, though. When we come together, it will not be because Fate has forced our hand. I need to know you want me, that it's not just the soul bond creating your desire."

  My breath caught in my chest. Did he not think I wanted him? Could he be right? What if everything I experienced was because of the bond? I hadn't considered the possibility. He answered the sad confusion in my eyes, lowering his head to mine.

  "Don't worry, Kiarra. I have no doubt that what we share is real and our union would happen regardless of Fate. I don't want to rush you, though. You deserve the best." His lips descended, and I released the breath I held. His kiss was gentle for such a large man, though I could sense him holding back. The power remained confined in his rigid muscles as his mouth flirted with mine like I was a gift he wanted to unwrap slowly. My heart ached with tenderness. Before I could deepen the kiss, he pulled away.

  He strolled away from me, revealing the taut planes of his back. They were as impressive as his front. Not to mention his butt, exquisitely presented in the tight uniform breeches. I sighed in frustration, pushing sweaty strands of hair off my neck as I slipped on my vest, restraining my aching breasts.

  "How long do you plan on making me wait?" Frustration leaked into my voice. Bond or not, I wanted him. I had wanted him since that moment in the street when he had considered stepping between his cruel father and me. The bond might be influencing how fast we consummated our relationships, but I knew it wasn't creating the desire or need for my matches. I wanted them all, Fates or not.

  He smiled at me over his shoulder, one dimple appearing. "You'll know when the time is right."

  I huffed with impatience. As far as I was concerned, the time was right now. He shrugged on his uniform coat, hiding his magnificence from my hungry eyes. Then, he belted his sword around his narrow hips and escorted me back to my apartments with hardly a word. At my door, he raised my hand to his lips. "Soon, Kiarra," he vowed, his eyes dark with promise.

  "I think you're intent on torturing me," I murmured.

  He laughed, but the sound held no humor. "I think I'm only torturing myself, Kiarra, but it will be worth the wait." He spun on his heel and retreated. I aimed straight for the modern bath off my room. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, especially if they all insisted on waiting. I would bathe, eat, and see if the Merchant planned on being similarly stingy.

  Chapter 4

  Clay

  Since Mason was meeting with his Advisor, Ian was chasing secrets in the city, and Reed was entrenched in mysterious research, Clay was informed he would attend Kiarra in her rooms. He had spent his morning poring over the palace accounts with the Merchant Advisor, a man far superior to the Head of his House.

  When he was finally given leave to join Kiarra, he could barely restrain his excitement. After her innocent, but tempting, display at the table this morning, Clay wagered she was feeling more comfortable in their presence. He enjoyed seeing her evolve and knew she would be a formidable force once she realized how strongly she affected them. Her confidence would soon outstrip her worries.

  Kiarra stood in the doorway when he knocked, her maid waiting nervously behind her. The maid protested that Kiarra shouldn't be answering her own door. She was dressed this time, unfortunately, but looked just as beautiful in a gown which hugged her curves like a lover. The pale green of the dress was an unusual color on the streets of Treleaven. The shade suited her and brought out the green in her eyes. Even when she was Queen, Clay hoped she would continue to wear every color. Her personality was too vivid to limit herself to one shade of the rainbow. She beckoned him in, dragging a brush through her tangled hair.

  "Bridget is right, Kiarra, you should let others answer the door."

  Kiarra pouted but hugged him after the door closed behind him. He cherished her embraces and balanced himself carefully in preparation. She was always cognizant of his comfort and coordination. He sat on the small sofa next to the table, preferring its softness to the hard surfaces of the straight wooden chairs. The far end was again laden with food which Kiarra seemed to be ignoring. He gestured to the spread with a lifted brow.

  "I'm still full from breakfast," she explained with a shrug. "I can't fathom the King's reasoning. All the clothes he gave me are too small, and he keeps sending enough food to feed an army. I won't be able to fit into any of the dresses or pants within a month."

  Clay eyed the creamy expanse of skin spilling over the neckline of her bodice. "You won't hear me complaining about the size of your clothes, Indrasa."

  Kiarra chuckled, but her amusement turned into a grimace as she snagged a knot in her wet locks. Clay gently took her arm and pulled her onto the couch beside him, twisting to face her back. Extracting the brush from her grip, he pulled it through her thick, wet tresses with more gentleness than she had employed. She dismissed Bridget who had been standing nervously to the side.

  Kiarra sighed in pleasure. "Where did you learn to do this?"

  "My own hair is quite long if you hadn't noticed," he replied teasingly.

  Kiarra laughed. "Of course I noticed, but brushing someone else's hair is different than brushing your own."

  Clay shrugged. "I used to brush my mother's hair. She has hair much like mine, long, thick, and golden."

  Kiarra peeked back at him. "Do you have others in your family?"

  "No, just my mother and myself."

  "No father? No siblings?" Clay didn't answer immediately, and Kiarra backtracked. "Sorry if I'm prying."

  Clay pulled the brush through the last several inches of her hair and turned her to face him. "You're not prying, Indrasa. We are to be mates. You should know more about me." He took a deep breath. "To be rather blunt, my mother was a whore when she conceived me." Kiarra's eyes widened, but he continued before she could speak. "Her profession began out of necessity, as it does with many women in the same position. She was kicked out of her House because she got pregnant and could no longer perform the work of a sales Merchant. She might have continued in her assignment if she avoided heavy lifting, but her employer, a Merchant one tier above her, was old-fashioned. If a woman is married, their husband usually provides for them, but Mother had fallen in love with a Military man who used and discarded her. He already had a wife. Her employer fired her.

  “Unfortunately, the baby died shortly after she lost her occupation, but her House wouldn't take her back. She started laying with sailors and foreigners, traders, and bore
d husbands. She became pregnant with me shortly after. When I was born, she found a Performing Madam to take her on. The brothel the Madam managed supplied her with steady pay, and she had more say in the selection of her clients. She had a beautiful singing voice, so she sang in the brothel parlor. I grew up in that house, and I don't feel I had a bad childhood. I had several mothers and sisters. Everyone at the brothel considered me part of the family, and their concern and care grew more pronounced after my accident. Mother doesn't know who my father is, but I think he was a Merchant, possibly from Treleaven."

  "Clay," Kiarra stared at him, her beautiful seafoam eyes wide. "I don't know what to say."

  Clay brought her hand to his lips. "There's nothing to say, my jewel. I had a favorable upbringing. I have experienced a different side of life than most people, and now I am an Advisor and Soul Match to the next Queen. I don't regret a minute of my life, and I love my mother dearly."

  "Do you miss her?"

  Clay shrugged broad shoulders. "Yes and no. My mother has the tendency to be overbearing. I can only tolerate short amounts of time with her before she drives me insane with her coddling."

  Kiarra smiled sadly. "Does she still work in the brothel? I can't believe her House shoved her out. I didn't even know such a thing was possible."

  "It's how most whores find their occupation. They cannot perform their work in the fourth tier, or their Houses find a reason to denounce them. Some are Commoners and believe life as a whore is simpler than manual labor. Those with performing skills can make a satisfactory life. They don't go hungry. Brothels are necessary to the smooth running of the kingdom, but they are secretly supported so that they don't appear to be funded or endorsed by those in power." Clay kissed her hand again. Her sensitivity, lack of judgment, and understanding for the plight of those beneath her warmed his heart.

  "I find it amazing that a woman would choose to work in a brothel. I don't judge them, though. I have always been curious. I had friends in primary tell me my sexual interests and fantasies were unladylike. Their ridicule made me feel as if there was something wrong with me."