by P. Jameson
“Just be careful, soldier. And report anything of import immediately. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
Commander nodded. “Dismissed, Sir Breckken.”
Breckken turned and marched away. He didn’t pause for anything as he left the outpost. Didn’t nod or greet the gatekeeper of the city. Didn’t stop at the carving bench to see if Canna had carved anything new. He went straight to her castle and hid in the lush evergreens that surrounded her property.
From his vantage point, he could see into the kitchen where Rowene and several attendants prepared supper.
No sign of Cannalise.
He didn’t waste any time. He moved farther around the property, searching for his female. From there he could see into the living area where Canna sometimes lounged, reading.
She wasn’t there.
He passed into the back of the estate where the garden was kept. This vantage point afforded him a view straight into her private quarters. Not that he spied on her often. Just enough to make sure she was saf—
He swallowed loudly as the cold, sharp tip of an ice arrow pressed into the side of his throat.
“You have three seconds to give me a good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
The cold, dead, killer-like voice registered all wrong in his ears. To him it was sweet and smooth and deep. To him it was home and rushing water and the warmth of the peach-colored sun.
Cannalise.
His heart sped.
“Time’s running out,” she said through clenched teeth.
Think, think.
He couldn’t think. He had to say something.
Then it hit him.
“Look at the back of my neck,” he told her, his voice trembling because of her nearness and not because he was afraid of her.
She said nothing. Made no move to do as he asked. The arrow pinched the skin of his throat.
“My neck,” he said. “Look at it.”
She hesitated. Without letting up on the arrow, she swept his hair off his nape, her fingers like ice against his warm skin. He shivered involuntarily and the point of the arrow drew blood.
He expected a surprised gasp or a sharp intake of breath… a dropped jaw… wide eyes.
But there was nothing. No reaction to her name on his neck. Well, unless you counted her not killing him as a reaction.
“That is not a good enough reason. In fact, it’s only another reason for me to do the deed.”
“It is… the only reason I have.”
“A stranger is trespassing on my land, with my name on his neck. That means you know me but I don’t know you.” She stepped closer and adjusted the angle of the arrow so that it would pierce his jugular. “Now, tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Breckken swallowed hard. “I mean you no harm, maiden.”
Now she laughed. He ignored that it sounded cruel and calculating. Instead, he focused on the fact that he’d caused her to do it. That alone made it a delightful sound to his ears.
Suddenly the laughter cut off and her voice was hard and angry. “You could not harm me if you tried. If you really knew me, you’d know I speak true. No one hurts me. Ever.”
Breckken took several labored breaths before he answered.
“Not true. You hurt every day. And I can say that because I do know you.” He paused. “But you’re right. You don’t know me. I want to change that.”
***
The wren said the one thing that would keep him alive. For now.
Canna did hurt every day. But that was her secret to bear. No one knew her feelings. She didn’t share that part of herself with anyone. She knew better. So how could he know the battles that raged within her?
Perhaps he guessed.
“What is your name, wren?” she demanded, not giving anything away with her voice—same flat, emotionless tone.
“I am Breckken. And you?”
“You already know my name.”
His emerald eyes swept over her face, contemplating his next words. Good wren. Smart wren.
“Please, say it, so I’m sure.”
Canna shook her head slowly. The face underneath her cold, blank mask was pinched with confusion. This man was odd.
“I am Cannalise.”
He exhaled as if he was… relieved? Then he smiled. And Canna’s stomach flipped in a curious way. He had a very nice smile. Full lips and a strong jaw.
THUG!
She gasped so hard she almost choked.
KA-THUG! THUG!
Thunder came from everywhere. It was like nothing she’d ever heard. So loud she could actually feel it.
THUG! THUG! THUG!
She glanced to the sky. There was no electric sparks. No storm. But the pounding continued.
“What is that?” she demanded.
Furtively she looked around, scanning the trees and the border of her property. Her neck tingled. There must be some danger…
“It’s… you,” the wren said, his voice filled with wonder.
Her mask broke, eyebrows coming together over her freckled nose. She dropped the arrow from his neck.
“Me? It is not me,” she objected. “How could I possibly make such a sound?”
He straightened, turning slowly to face her straight on. He was huge. Muscled, and tall, wearing the robes of a Nova Guardsman. His darker toned skin and choice of clothing told her he was a Land Dweller.
THUG! THUG! KA-THUG!
The booming got faster, faster. She felt lit up from the inside. Like there were bubbles under her skin.
The wren slowly lifted one hand, reaching for her wrist. But before he made contact she yanked her arm back.
“Don’t touch me.” Nobody touched her. Nobody even tried.
Some emotion flitted across his face and disappeared into his eyes. Hurt? For some reason she didn’t want his feelings hurt.
Canna frowned. How strange… for her to care.
Oh. OH! Oh, no. No, no, no.
The thunder was her. Her heart. Beating in her chest.
Her eyes grew wide of their own accord, and she went limp with shock, as she stood before him… her Heartbeat. Her wren. The one made for her to love. The one meant to love her back. Her mate.
She had a mate.
Someone to share her hopes and dreams with. Someone to share life with. She’d never be alone again.
Canna forgot to breathe, her air stalling in her chest, before racing to catch up. All the while, the wren stared at her with a careful expression.
She should say something. At least to hide the astonishment that she couldn’t deny. Hiding her feelings was second nature to Canna and just because her heart was beating didn’t change that. Not yet anyway.
“I… can’t… I…”
Her words failed her. Try again.
“You… your… heart beats?”
He nodded, his face so intent on hers that she had the most compelling urge to run away. And that was crazy because Canna never ran away. It was her rule number one.
He took one step closer; she took one step back. They moved in harmony.
“I am… yours,” he said.
His tone made her think he knew just how utterly shocked she was. Maybe he could see it in her eyes.
“It was you, Cannalise, who made my heart beat.”
She shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. “When? Did we meet? I don’t know you.”
He looked at the ground. At his hands.
“I first saw you…” His voice went thin and he cleared his throat gruffly. “It was when you were eight lightyears-old. You were at Ula’s kafé. We didn’t meet but… but my heart started beating for you that day.”
Eight … years… old…
She was one thousand and twelve years old this day.
Canna went dizzy. The kind of dizzy where you get confused about which is the sky or the ground, the floor or the ceiling.
“One thousand years?”
“One thousand and four,” he corrected.
For a thousand years her Heartbeat had known who she was. Known where to find her. Known that she was his. A thousand years had passed. A thousand years they could’ve been together. And yet…
He’d… avoided her. Stayed away. Didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t. No one else wanted her either. She was hard and cold and mean. What did she expect?
She’d expected to never find her mate, that’s what. She’d never cared what people thought because she’d expected to remain alone until her dying day.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the anguish from leeching onto her face. She ached so bad inside it felt like carving blades imbedded in her chest.
The Fates had it wrong. All wrong.
Breckken reached for her, looking worried. “Canna?”
She lurched backward and tripped over an ice sculpture, tumbling to the frozen ground and dropping the arrow.
“Canna!” he cried and bent to help her up, but she threw both hands out to fend him off.
“No!” she said, shaking her head viciously. “Stay away from me. Stay back!”
By the time she hauled herself off the ground she was horrified to feel the liquid seeping from her eyes. She was crying. Just perfect. She swiped at the wetness with quick, angry movements.
“My Canna,” he breathed. “My maiden. What is it? Why do you cry?”
“I’m not… not crying. And I’m not your maiden. I am nobody’s but my own.”
His eyes were strangely pleading and concerned. But it didn’t matter to her. It was clear he was only there now because he had to be. He’d put it off a thousand years and now he was likely heartsick. That would explain his sudden appearance.
Whatever. He would get over it. Without her.
“Please, talk to me. Let me make it better. I want to make it better for you.”
She dug deep and found the shattered pieces of her mask, connected them like a jigsaw puzzle, and then put it back in place. The tears dried up. The anguish disappeared. What remained was chilly and brittle.
“You can’t make it better,” she spat.
He put his hand to his heart and rubbed in a tight circle.
“I would do anything, anything to ease you now. Just tell me what you need and you shall have it.”
“Now. Yes, now. I don’t need anyone to ease me. I can do that myself—been doing it for a thousand years.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I believe I should have killed you without asking questions.”
The wren’s mouth hung open and somehow she knew she’d cut him deeply. And maybe she was evil inside, but it made her happy to know she’d hurt him as he’d hurt her.
“You… you can’t mean that.”
“I never say things I don’t mean. It’s a waste of time.”
Just like hope.
She was what she was. Her life was her life. There was no changing it. No Heartbeat, no friend, no enemy would alter Canna’s circumstances.
But she’d survive this heartache. Exhale it like a poison gas, and be thankful she’d only felt fond feelings for a moment, on the inhale.
***
Something was wrong. So very wrong. Breckken knew his maiden was rough around the edges, a thorny rose. He knew their first meeting would be a bit unorthodox. But he’d hoped she would at least feel something for him. Even if it was just curiosity.
I love you. Breckken ached with the need to tell her. Their situation wasn’t normal. He wasn’t coming to her with a newly beating heart. It wasn’t mere attraction for him. As she’d grown over the years, so had his feelings for her. The years of separation had taken their toll on him, but they’d also given him love so strong, he could hardly bear to keep it in.
But he couldn’t say it. She didn’t know him. Didn’t feel for him. She couldn’t understand.
I love you so much, my Canna. I want to hold you so fucking badly. His limbs shook from the effort of restraining himself. He wanted to shelter her in his embrace. Growl at whatever made her weep. Fight it back until she was herself again.
Was she scared of this union? Could that be it? She was the bravest maiden he knew, so he’d never considered it.
“Perhaps…” He cleared his throat to rid it of the sound of devastation. “Perhaps you need time to think—”
“You are to leave my property immediately. If I ever see you again, I will kill you without thought.”
He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to want him back. She’d been his whole life for a thousand years.
But he couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.
Her face was so cold. Hard. She was so much like the ice. But he knew it wasn’t real. Only seconds ago she’d cried tears. She’d looked confused and pained. She’d looked… small, for the first time ever. Even as a childmaiden she’d appeared larger than life. But moments ago she’d seemed fragile. Spun glass needing to be handled with the utmost care.
“Canna…”
She calmly bent and retrieved the ice arrow from the cold ground, twirling it like a baton through her slender fingers while she eyed him.
“You would murder your own Heartbeat?” he whispered.
She raised one blond eyebrow. “You think I won’t? Guess you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
He was a man ripped apart in that moment. She cared nothing for him. Not even enough to spare herself the physical pain she would endure with the death of her mate. Maybe she wasn’t capable of love. He’d always thought once they met and he could show her what it felt like to be cherished and never alone… He’d thought it would be enough.
But maybe he was wrong. Perhaps she couldn’t be fixed. Maybe a thousand years of being hated had done too much damage.
Breckken saw all the things he should’ve done different. He’d waited too long. He should’ve ignored fate and came to her sooner.
He fisted his desperate hands. His maiden, within reach, but he couldn’t have her. Couldn’t help her. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Couldn’t let her see.
My Cannalise.
He needed to make her understand.
“But you are… everything to me,” he said on a shaky exhale. “How can you not even give us a chance?”
She shrugged casually. “Easy. Don’t need you. You should have tried a few years ago. Maybe then… but no, probably not even then.”
Cold. Frigid. Distant. She held no kernel of feeling for him.
How unfair destiny was to them. How unjust their fortune.
“Now, are you leaving or are you dying?”
Dying, he thought.
But he couldn’t do that. Who would keep her safe from the Helix? Whether she let him love her or not, didn’t matter. He needed to protect her. If not her heart, then her body, her life.
Somehow he managed to turn and walk away. As he left Canna behind, he realized it was still a death, if not a physical one. Because another thousand years without her wouldn’t really be living anyway.
Chapter Five
Canna watched with an odd detachment as Breckken walked away. Disconnected, as if she were watching the scene from above.
When he was gone, she finally let out a shuddering breath. Trying to stem the shivers that overtook her body, she wrapped her arms around her middle.
Yes, this was how it always was for her. She comforted herself. Defended herself. Cared for herself under Rowene’s watchful eye. Kept herself from falling apart when things got too hard. Thus it was and thus it had been for all her existence.
What she’d told him was true. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anybody and she’d long ago proven that fact.
Her hand went to her chest. The pumping underneath the skin was foreign to her… but not unpleasant.
Her heart was beating. Unbelievable.
She wasn’t worried about people noticing. They would notice, of course. But they wouldn’t dare say a word to her about it. Row would ask. But when Canna made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion, Row would drop it
like the burning ember it was. There would be talk around town, people speculating about who the unlucky wren was. But that didn’t bother her either.
Wait. That did bother her.
When a Star Dweller met their Heartbeat, it was practically a done deal. The Fates were not very often wrong about such matches. So to know that her mating was one of those very rare failed matings was just another kick in the gut. Another thing to alienate her from the crowd. And for them to know that her Heartbeat didn’t want her… well, that did bother her.
He was the single person designed to want her. And even he didn’t.
Canna tucked the ice arrow into her robe and started walking. She never went out without her bow and quiver, but it was in the castle and she wanted to avoid seeing Row.
The streets of the city were mostly empty since it was nearing dark, but not completely. So she assumed her normal authoritative gait. She must appear strong for they would all soon know of her new unfortunate circumstances.
As she walked, she tried not to berate herself for who she was. She’d made it a rule long ago, to never apologize for the things that made her different. But right now she was finding it hard not to blame herself.
She relaxed as she neared the fountain. Time for some therapy.
At the bench, she retrieved her file from the pocket of her robe, but before she could begin, something caught her eye.
Bending low, Canna squinted. There, frozen to the slick stone ground, were three purple-red drops. Blood?
Her gaze snapped up, scanning the shadows. No one was around.
Why was there spilled blood near this bench? Perhaps someone had been hurt. Most people she didn’t care about but… what if it was an innocent? A child?
She turned in a full circle, scanning, letting all her senses go to work. She felt nothing out of the ordinary. Saw nothing but ice and the river. The bridge and the fountain. Buildings in the distance. Shadows that were still as her heart had been that morning.
Sure that there was no danger, she lowered herself to the bench, gathered her thoughts, and began carving.
The hush came quickly, rushing over her in warm waves. It was strange, but sometimes when she was carving she could imagine she was someone else, somewhere else, far away from everything she knew and everyone who knew her.
