In the passage of stone, Mason was already leading the men in the direction Seb pointed. Noise frightened them into moving, but the tunnel was wide and long. If anyone opened the door and shone light within, they would be easily spotted. There weren't any hiding places. Booted feet echoed hollowly on the stones above them, bits of mortar and dust sprinkling into their hair. Ian's fists clenched. No one but a member of the Information Exchange House would know this entrance existed.
Ian hissed at Mason, and the group stopped, standing as still as possible. Kiarra molded her body to Ian's side, her eyes glowing in the dim luminescence of the lantern. "Reed, dowse the light," she whispered. The Scholar complied without hesitation. Kiarra pressed a hand against Ian's chest. "Cloak us, Shadow Spy."
Ian stared at her, his night vision slowly kicking in. Her eyes shone with faith, faith in him and his abilities. The cord connecting them filled him with power and vibrated with strength where her palm joined them. Ian drew the group together as silently as possible, imagining them all wrapped in thick shadows. He focused on the energy within him which merged with Kiarra's. His glow was pale and sparse in comparison to hers. When he reached into the well of her soul's radiance, power overwhelmed his senses.
A loud clunk sounded overhead, and the scrape of the trapdoor echoed through the tunnel. Ian's body shivered with fear. A lantern glowed above them. Ian retained his image of darkness, infusing it with the need to protect his match and her mates.
No one breathed as a shaft of light fell through the now open portal. A gruff face, a soldier Ian didn't recognize, peeked into the tunnel and shone the lantern directly at their motionless group. Ian froze, afraid to twitch. He worried any minute the guard would send up a cry, and his fingers itched motionlessly to reach for a weapon. The others struggled with similar compulsions.
The guard's eyes slid over them as if they were nothing but darkness before he swung his ugly mug the other way down the tunnel. With a grunt, he rose again and kicked the trapdoor shut. The bang resounded through the stone hall, making Ian's ears ring. He slunk against the wall behind him, the adrenaline leaving him in a rush as Kiarra pulled her hand away. She grasped his face and kissed him, her brilliant eyes fastened on his in the darkness. Ian shook with disbelief. If he hadn't experienced such a thing himself, he wouldn't have believed it possible.
The sounds faded above them before morphing into the chaos of growling and kicked furniture as the guards trashed their quarters. Mason nudged Reed to relight the lamp and clapped Ian on the shoulder. "Excellent job, brother," Mason praised.
They began walking again, and Ian turned to Kiarra. "Thank you."
She furrowed her brow. "For what?"
"For lending me power."
She grasped his hand, her own flesh warm and comforting. Her tone was deadly serious when she spoke. "It was not me. I am nothing without you, without any of you."
Her words echoed in his ears as they navigated the tunnels. They moved as fast as Clay's legs would allow. He was amazingly fleet, but he had to take care not to catch his sticks on the chinks in the aging mortar that connected the flagstones beneath their feet. One person walked beside him and righted him if he started to fall. The tunnel was chilly, the air dank. A slight breeze flicked the flame in the lantern.
Seb led them unerringly down paths, slightly sloping tunnels, and short flights of stairs. Mason, without a word, picked up Clay and carried him down each staircase. The need for help irritated Clay, but he wouldn't let his own pride endanger them.
Ian admired all the men. Reed moved silently and remained attentive to Kiarra's and Clay's needs. Seb navigated a path through the labyrinthine maze that led them downhill into the city swiftly and efficiently. Mason was hypervigilant, stalking forward as quietly as a mouse despite his hulking form. Ian followed like a shadow, all his senses aware and alert for danger.
Finally, they came to an ancient gate which was rusted shut from years of disuse. Mason, his muscles flexing impressively, effortlessly created a hole by bending the metal bars. The exit would be obvious if someone stumbled upon it, but there were miles of the underground to search through. Ian wondered if the passages had existed prior to the city being built because their construction seemed to predate the buildings in some areas.
They had been traveling downhill, but Ian hadn't realized how far the tunnels extended. The alleyway they emerged into was bracketed by the crumbling walls of the four-story tenements of the Commoners. Ian congratulated Seb noiselessly on his exemplary navigation. If Ian had led them, they might have been bumbling around in the dark for hours.
"Now what?" Seb hissed. The night was thick but sounds still filtered into their protected area. Dogs barked, far more common among the Commoners than the upper tiers. The palace towered many streets away, but they heard shouting and bells ringing as the news spread of the Royal couple’s murders. Lights shone around the city as everyone who should be asleep realized something was horribly wrong.
Ian studied their surroundings, determining their course of action. He thought Jeff would meet them, but the spy couldn't guess where they would emerge. Someone else did. A shadow separated from an overhang and the ancient Mishokian wise woman approached them, her back hunched. She didn't say a word, the whites of her eyes shining in the dim lantern light. Instead, she waved a hand and led them towards a door in one of the tenements. Kiarra glanced to Ian for direction, and he nodded. As one, they followed the wise woman.
The door opened, and the cry of a baby filled the air. Slipping into the room, Ian felt Kiarra's surprised dismay hit him like a blow to his chest. She studied the room, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Several people, most of them darker skinned, huddled on the floor under threadbare blankets. They possessed no mattresses beneath them, and their eyes followed them with varying degrees of suspicion and surprise. Kids slept between them, sandwiched together on the floor.
The wise woman led them into another room, this one mostly empty except for a dark bear of a man seated at a scarred table. "This is her?" The gruff voice held the strong northern accent Ian recognized from his childhood. The giant had an ax strapped to his back, and a colossal broadsword hung on his belt. Mason and Ian reflexively formed a barrier in front of Kiarra, their shoulders stiff.
The older woman cackled. "Aye, this is she. You see how her boys protect her."
The man's dark eyes regarded them thoughtfully. He matched Mason in size and possibly strength; Ian was slightly worried they had been tricked. Who was this man? Where was Jeff? What did they want with Kiarra?
The door opened behind them. Ian half twirled, not knowing whether he should guard Kiarra's front or her back. Thankfully, he wasn't alone. Reed stood behind her, his hand on the hilt of his sword and Clay's broad shoulders also blocked her in between them, forming a protective circle. Seb positioned himself next to Ian, his hand on his dagger as well.
Jeff waltzed in, a man in a cloak following him. Blood glistened darkly on the spy’s cheek. He noticed Ian's defensive stance and flashed his white grin, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the room. "Easy, friend. We are all allies here."
"Rowan!" Kiarra muscled past them with surprising strength, launching herself at the cloaked figure. She hugged the man tight, and his hood fell back, revealing milky white irises and a quiet smile despite the gravity of the situation. Ian's stance relaxed a little. He was ashamed to admit he hadn't spared a thought for the Soul Tender.
"Mother? Delia?" Kiarra asked in rapid-fire succession.
"Your mother fled with the Scholar Advisor. They had plenty of time to escape and will travel towards Bleshing where the Scholar's family lives. The location of his childhood home isn't common knowledge, so she should be safe. As for your sister," Jeff hung his head. "We couldn't find her. The Prince might have contacted her before his arrival; he might have convinced her to hide rather than leave." He shrugged trim shoulders. "We don't know why or how, only that she is not here."
Kiarra nodded although sadn
ess tinted her eyes. She relaxed her arms around Rowan but extended a hand toward Jeff. "Thank you for helping my brother."
When her hand touched the Mishokian's, something broke inside Ian. A growl erupted from his throat, echoed closely by Mason. Seb and Reed grunted in tandem and Clay swore in irritation. Ian stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Suddenly, the years he had fought and spied next to Jeff meant nothing.
Jeff's lips curved upwards, but he released Kiarra's hand quickly. He retreated hastily while the man at the table tipped his head back and roared with laughter. Kiarra placed a hand on her cocked hip, eyes blazing. She narrowed her gaze at her five matches.
"Really? You can't do this every time I attempt to touch another man."
Rowan's chuckle was barely audible over the bear man's deep guffaws. "It isn't every male, sister; it's this one in particular."
Kiarra cocked her head at her brother, and Jeff regarded him in equal surprise. Ian's hand clenched. He would also like to understand why Kiarra might be more interested in his fellow spy. "Why?" Kiarra asked.
"Because he's a bondmate, a Soul Match - not to Kiarra," he added hastily when Mason and Ian stepped forward threateningly. "His match hasn't found him yet, but males who are fated to be bondmates of other females in your line will invoke more possessiveness. He has the potential to be a match to your bloodline."
Kiarra's brow furrowed. "That makes no sense," she argued with a shake of her dark head. "Just because he might be a bondmate to - whom? My cousin?" Rowan shrugged. "I'm not interested in him in the least."
Jeff was apparently shocked by Rowan's words; his usually cocky attitude ignored Kiarra's slight. He gaped at the Soul Tender, the whites of his eyes huge in his dark skin. Ian would have laughed at his friend's discomfort if the situation weren't so charged.
Rowan shrugged again. "The magic within you recognizes the potential for the same in him. The intensity is practically nonexistent compared to what you feel towards your matches or what he and his match will share, but it exists." Ian forced himself to relax. Rowan's explanation helped clarify why he wanted to rip his friend's head off.
"I can't be one of your culture's Soul Matches," Jeff sputtered. "I'm Mishokian."
The old woman cackled. She had seated herself and crunched the betel nut. "Fate doesn't choose a man based on the color of his skin. We possess magic within us, grandson. Our country and our people will be gifted with more when this woman comes into her own and restores the balance of power in Megreria."
Pieces clicked into the puzzle in Ian's mind. Jeff was the wise woman’s grandson, and the Mishokians stood to gain from Kiarra's position on the throne. He had wondered why they were so keen to help. The Mishokians didn't explain the other man's presence though. The bear's face was covered with a black, bushy beard. He wasn't as dark as the Mishokians, but he wasn't white like a full-blooded Megrerian, or a Baldonian, Ian amended.
"And you are?" Ian asked him.
The man stood. He towered a couple inches taller than Mason. He thrust a meaty paw towards Ian. "Chancellor Drummond of Acclesh at your service. Carson contacted me and informed me I should be ready in case your woman needed to flee."
Chapter 26
Kiarra
I evaluated the huge man. His sheer size inspired fear, but his energy didn't. Though he held the potential for violence within him, just as my Soldier and Shadow did, the man wasn't cruel. "You will help us escape the city?" I asked.
Mindful of the men around me, I stood between Ian and Mason. They both automatically extended a hand to me, Ian's arm around my waist and Mason gripping my hand. The others crowded behind me. I reached my free hand backward and felt it held, Reed's energy filling me. Seb's palm landed on my shoulder, and Clay's form exuded strength against my back. We probably appeared odd, clumped together like a bizarre five-petaled flower, but no one commented on our arrangement.
"Out of the city and towards the border while we evaluate what is happening in Treleaven," The man confirmed. His eyes flickered to my Merchant. "Your men can ride?"
"Yes," I answered firmly, and he nodded in satisfaction. "Is the Prince in the city now, he and his ally?"
The wise woman cackled. She found everything funny and it irritated me. People had died, more lives were threatened, and she remained amused. "Search within yourself, Indra. Do you feel blackness creeping toward your soul?" her tone shifted to solemnity, serious for once, and a shiver tripped down my spine.
I pictured my soul light, the one I shared with my matches. We were still bright and calm, but I encountered the darkness she mentioned. The malevolent energy appeared streets away, but it was inside the city walls. It did not move toward us, thank the Fates, but toward the palace. The entity yawned like a black abyss, a cavern of inky blackness threatening to suck me into its maw. I took a deep, ragged breath, my vision returning slowly.
"Yes," I murmured, "so much evil." My voice wavered in fear. For the first time, I understood why the Advisor ordered us to run. I wouldn't stand a chance. "Can he locate me like I can him?"
The wise woman shared an unfathomable glance with the Accleshian. The big man nodded. "Yes, but not as well as you can him. It is harder to search for light when all you know is darkness. He isn't concerned with you at the moment, however. He seeks to put the Prince on the throne first."
My brows furrowed. "But surely this sorcerer realizes that will give me time to build the bond."
"He is prideful. He doesn't want to fight you now. He believes that no matter how strong you become, he will still be able to defeat you."
The woman cackled again, but it held no mirth. "There is another reason. He wants your energy. If you are not at full strength, he harvests less power. At the moment, you are still weak. He will wait until you grow stronger."
My lips firmed. "No one will steal my energy."
"Aye, Indra," the woman soothed. "These are the reasons he waits, though."
I nodded. Distracted by the other matter which had captured my attention the moment we entered the hovel called Commoner Housing, I faced the old woman. "Is this how all Commoners live? Are there not enough rooms, not enough bedding?"
The Mishokian's dark eyes met mine seriously. "Have you ever noticed how many manual laborers are required to upkeep the shops, the orchards, clean the buildings, and till the farms?" My jaw tightened. I hadn't. "We outnumber the population of the first three tiers by three to one and are given access to less than half the housing. We have no choice but to live this way. We have no money to buy the herbs which prevent conception and no time to harvest our own. Therefore, our women bear more babies but have no way to feed them. What funds might be used for bedding goes to food and clothes for the little ones. Additionally, someone needs to stay home and care for the babes, losing their wages."
Tears gathered in my eyes. The desolation, despair, and hunger seeped through the walls of the building and into my awareness. "The King knew all this?"
Guilt gnawed at me. How many times had I complained we only ate meat twice a week? We had a separate bed in our house, a place for Mum to sleep when Father drank too much. These people slept on dirty floors wrapped in thin blankets. How did I never know the Commoners lived this way? As higher tier patrons, we were forbidden to enter Commoner Housing, and so I never had. Clay's gentle hand stroked my back. We had worried this was the case. A city as mighty as Treleaven could not feed all its citizens. We had no right to treat those who did the lesser jobs so harshly.
"Aye, Indra, the King knew. He did pity our plight. He was softer than his father before him, but he didn't know how to make sweeping changes without disrupting the structure of the city. He liked things the way they were and feared change, even at a low level, would disrupt everything."
"That isn't an acceptable reason," I protested.
The woman shook her head, the silver bells threaded through the ropes of her hair tinkling softly. "Nay, there is never a reason to let people starve." She didn't add more and resolve s
ettled within me. Everett would only make things worse. I would complete the bonding and return before that happened. Our kingdom and our people deserved better. How many citizens struggled to make it into a House because they couldn't decide which occupation they liked more? How many Merchants or Scholars wanted to paint or sing during their free time without being branded a Performer? How many women lacked the missing reflections of their souls? Why did we insist on placing every person into such tiny boxes?
My head whirled as plans were discussed. The men handled our flight from Treleaven, and I allowed them, focused on the changes I would make when we returned to the city. I didn't want to leave, but the dripping blackness at the edges of my soul warned me away. I wouldn't survive and neither would my matches. If I died, Megreria's people would endure harsher circumstances or perish.
Talk continued well into the night. At some point, I said a tearful goodbye to Rowan. He left to find Mum and protect her. One of Jeff's friends would help him travel in secrecy. The men decided we would depart in the morning. Everett and the Baldonian were focused on taking the throne and weeding out those who wouldn't pledge fealty to their positions. They needed to put their House in order before attending to the others.
Drooping from exhaustion, it was nearly morning when I fell asleep among my men. The Accleshian and Mishokians stood on surveillance, allowing each of them to sleep around me; some part of their body touching mine. Their heat surrounded me as their gentle breaths eased them into sleep.
Our souls connected and strengthened in the darkness of the deep night, further binding us together. We would bring peace and hope again, but it would take time. The night must be faced before the sunrise could be enjoyed.
About the Author
Serena has been writing stories since she was in second grade. She wrote her first novel when she was twelve and has been writing nonstop since then. This is her first reverse harem series, but she is not a stranger to the concept of multiple partners. She describes herself as polyamorous and has more than one partner herself. Sadly, none of them have magical powers.
Echoes of Her Soul Page 22
