Harmony of Their Souls - A Reverse Harem Fantasy: Soul Tenders Book 3

by Serena Lindahl

  I nodded, thinking of how I had helped Ian cloak us in the tunnels. At the time, we hadn’t even been fully bonded. “Does it hurt them when I draw upon their energy?”

  She shook her head. “Not unless they are wounded; it might in that case. If the five of you are firmly linked, they should be able to draw on your other matches for extra energy. It’s a continuous loop that will eventually dwindle, but it should sustain you long enough for a fight. Magic is simply energy distribution with intention. You use the energy to accomplish your goals.”

  “What happens if the bond is not strong between my matches?” I asked, thinking of her aunt. Her face fell.

  “They cannot rely on each other in times of trouble, and it causes further energy drain. One bondmate could become so drained that it would affect his health. Everyone has to be cognizant of the whole. Their entire beings must be focused on protecting everyone, not just you and their individual selves.”

  I wanted to believe my matches were part of a whole. I felt their connection to me and their connection to each other. It seemed stable and whole, but I wouldn’t really know until we all started pulling energy. I told Ahnika of what I had done with the dark enchantment laid upon the Soldiers who had arrived at the farm.

  “You did that without being fully bonded to all of them?” she asked with raised brows.

  “Yes, but I also passed out afterward.”

  “Ah, that makes sense. You were drawing on energy but didn’t have enough to replenish. You could see this magic?”

  “With my eyes closed, I could see the dark energy.”

  “Next time you encounter a dark enchantment, try and view it with your eyes open. It was said that Mellisande could do such a thing. My aunt and the other queens before her have a difficult time seeing it at all. That you can do so suggests you are powerful and your bonds are strong. If you can see energy with your eyes open, it will be easier to manipulate and destroy it.”

  I fell quiet, my heart beating hard in my chest. I didn’t want to face the dark Sorcerer. He scared me. I didn’t want to risk my matches, and I didn’t imagine us coming away from such a desperate fight without casualties. Ahnika sensed my sudden fear. She reached across the bed and squeezed my foot under the blanket.

  “The most important thing you must remember is to keep your soul open. You can close yourself off in times of intense fear or worry without even knowing it. If you do, the power exchange cannot complete itself. You must avoid distractions and worries, too.”

  Such a thing seemed impossible. If my men were with me, I would be distracted. Ahnika quieted. The darkening sky painted shadows across her face, making her appear older than her eighteen years. She fidgeted, the first time I’d seen her do so since I met her. She wanted to say something else, but she wasn’t sure how I would take it. I decided to be as blunt with her as she had been with me.

  “Out with it, Cousin.”

  She sighed, her eyes flickering to mine and then back down again. “I don’t want to say this because I feel like it might have no bearing on you. I feel like you and your matches have already created a strong bond, but you are getting ready to face something that no new bondmates should. Every facet of your relationship should be strong.”

  My brows drew together as the fear rose within me. What could Ahnika say that might upset me?

  “My cousin tells me this all the time because she sees it in her own parents, and she would rather I did not sit the throne. She wants the power, you see, even though the Fates chose me.” Ahnika’s eyes met mine, a swirling vortex of bluish-green. I wondered if my eyes ever looked like that or if it was simply more dramatic in her cherubic face, with her silver hair and dark red lips. “Owning a soul is not the same as winning a heart.”

  Her words burrowed within that tiny place inside me that was still insecure and wondered if I deserved anything the Fates gifted me. The fear and uncertainty nestled within me for one long moment. It filled the small corner of my being that wasn’t brightened by one blazing soul light. Just two days ago, there had been six separate lights. After my moment, I exhaled long and loudly, releasing the fear with my breath. I met her gaze unflinchingly.

  “I can’t own or win souls or hearts because they are not possessions or prizes. Love is a choice. We have chosen each other, and we will continue to choose one another, every day, for the rest of our lives. There is nothing which chains us together that we do not place upon ourselves, regardless of the expectations Fate has for us. I don’t need to own or win them, any part of them. I choose them, and they choose me.”

  The words bubbled from somewhere deep within me; the truth echoed within my core, within my soul, within my heart, and within my mind. Ahnika grinned, her eyes flashing, and patted my leg.

  “That’s my girl,” she said. “It is only when you realize that everything must be fought for that you can decide to lose or win. And you will win. You are strong. Queen Mellisande would be so proud of you.” Sadness shadowed her features again. “I can only hope that my bonds will be as pure as yours.”

  Chapter 17

  Clay

  Now that the last bond had been completed, the men felt closer than ever. They were also in-tune with everyone’s emotions. Mason worried, for reasons unknown, about the conversation Kiarra was having with the Princess of Acclesh. His restlessness put them all on edge.

  Clay sighed, looking away from the book he’d borrowed from the Merchant Advisor at their last meeting. The Advisor hadn’t known he’d taken it, but he’d been very curious after Reed’s first revelations regarding Kiarra’s ancestry. When they’d encountered Alyson and her mates, he hadn’t been as surprised as the rest of them. Although the information was invisible to anyone who didn’t know what to look for, Clay had realized an important fact the morning before they’d left town. The country’s census mirrored that of their origin country, Baldony. While the genders might be balanced within Treleaven, the same was not true in the rural portions of Megreria. Far more males were born than females. If females weren’t permitted to bond with more than one male, many men wouldn’t find partners, and that could create a volatile populace. His Merchant mind noticed the skewed numbers subconsciously when he had resided in Sheldrake Port. The whores were in demand because there weren’t enough women to go around. If it continued unchecked, there would be horrible consequences, especially in a culture that valued monogamy.

  Clay had been distracted from his reading for a while. They occupied a small corner of the porch as the Accleshians wandered the property, watching and monitoring from afar as Drummond had requested. The clouds rolled in; a storm was on its way, and they could feel the static in the air as it built. Mason’s pacing unnerved the five of them. Ever since he had learned his father was targeting his men, he had been restless. The Princess’s arrival had added to his unease. The other distraction was the Accleshians themselves. They were different from Megrerians in almost every way.

  Drummond, in comparison to the rest of his countrymen, was tame. The men were loud, boisterous, opinionated, and crude in their mannerisms. It reminded Clay of being back on the docks in Port Town. He knew Megreria was considered uptight when compared to other cultures, but he preferred to believe it civilized.

  A few men crossed the yard, laughing together and drinking from a wineskin as they talked about the women back home. They didn’t have any discretion or respect. Clay wagered Mason was accustomed to the Soldiers in Treleaven speaking similarly, but most Megrerians wouldn’t talk as the Accleshians did. Clay didn’t know whether to be insulted by the Accleshians or ashamed of Megreria’s rather staid culture.

  The Accleshian Commander, the woman named Lyra, approached them slowly. If Clay were honest, she scared him. The rest of the men seemed similarly uncertain how to act around her, except Ian who treated her as he treated everyone else, with good-humored suspicion. She faced Mason.

  “The perimeter is secure. We have received two missives from your men. They have stopped two separate patrols
from bringing women to the capital, but they think there are four more patrols still under the dark Sorcerer’s influence.”

  Mason nodded, his broad shoulders straight. “Thank you, Commander Lyra.”

  The woman nodded and started to turn, but paused. “My Princess bothers you. What are you worried about?”

  Mason bristled, and Kiarra’s other matches listened unabashedly. They didn’t blame him. His suspicions were his own. They didn’t know these Accleshians, regardless of whether they believed them to be friend or foe.

  Lyra met Mason’s gaze unflinchingly, and the men watched on, mere feet away. “You fear she will put doubts in your mate’s mind about the bond?” the warrior woman asked in a low voice. Mason stiffened. The connection told Clay that the woman had guessed correctly. Lyra smiled, a slow tilt of her lips that made her look scarier with her gold piercings and her hair tightly braided away from her strong face. “Never fear, Soldier. If your bond is strong, nothing will make your Queen doubt. Ahnika will test it because that is what she does. She knows how to push everyone’s buttons, and she’s very good at it.”

  Mason growled and placed a broad hand on the hilt of his sword, but the woman merely laughed. “Have faith in your woman, Soldier. If your bond is true, she will come away from the conversation with my Princess even stronger than before.”

  The female warrior walked away without another word, and Mason swiped a hand across his head. Ian cocked an eyebrow. “Do you doubt, brother?” Mason approached them, leaning over the porch railing. His muscles bulged impressively. The Soldier cursed under his breath and looked at the ground.

  “No, not really. It’s just that, up until now, the bond was something we created from the words of her grandmother. What if it is not what we believe? What if these people know something we do not about the bond, something which will make us weaker instead of stronger? What if Kiarra’s cousin convinces her she must use the bond’s strength to fight the Sorcerer alone?”

  Clay relaxed into the rocking chair again. There was the crux of the matter. Mason wasn’t really concerned about the bond or Kiarra’s faith in their relationship; he was worried about the upcoming fight. They didn’t know how to fight dark magic. What if Ahnika’s knowledge placed Kiarra in more danger? It made sense that Mason would worry the most about that. He was always concerned for everyone’s safety before his own.

  “It doesn’t matter what the Princess says, she will not fight alone,” Reed’s conviction was so profound, it rang along their bond. The newly completed link made him stand taller, him and Seb both. The Planner had always been haunted by shadows, but he had found comfort in his role and his abilities. Clay recognized the same certainty inside himself. Kiarra’s faith boosted their self-confidence.

  At that second, something faltered along their bond. Until now, Kiarra had been calm and composed, but something shattered that tranquility. The men’s muscles tensed in preparation to run to her, but Clay held up his hand.

  “Hold, brothers. If you say you trust her and you trust this bond, prove that to her and yourselves by not running to her at the slightest disturbance.” The men stared at Clay, who was having difficulty restraining his instincts along with them. They had left Kiarra unguarded because they could sense her emotions and because the Princess was her cousin. The Accleshians had reassured them repeatedly they were allies.

  The bond only shivered for a second and then solidified to an even stronger level. It flared between them, so brightly Clay could see the golden tether. It was no longer a single chain from him to Kiarra, but a web that connected all of them, each to the other, with a hundred different combinations. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The golden threads flickered and flared before fading back to obscurity.

  Clay cleared his throat as their muscles relaxed. “Did any of you see that?” he pitched his voice low enough that the words didn’t spread beyond the five of them. Their different shades of eyes held varying tones of disbelief.

  “I thought I imagined it,” the Scholar whispered, swiping a hand through his unruly curls.

  Mason shook his head. He stood proudly again, his jaw set in determination. “No, I’ve felt and seen it from the beginning. It is not a metaphorical bond we share, but a real thing. The lights and chains which connect us are tangible.”

  Ian slammed his fist into his palm, surprising them all. “If it is tangible, it means it can be affected.”

  Mason shook his head and clapped the Spy on the shoulder. “It changes nothing. We protect Kiarra, we protect each other, and we protect our bond.” He shook his shoulders suddenly, rolling them. “There’s something else. I have been feeling restless and was attributing it to Kiarra, but there's more…”

  Ian studied him. “The last time you felt restless, two important people were murdered.”

  The men stared. A pattering started. The clouds had gathered closer while they were talking, and now the heavens opened. The rain plinked on the roof of the porch, progressing into a pounding that echoed in their ears. The Accleshians in the yard barely seemed to notice, but Clay shivered as the static of the storm echoed painfully in his bones. His feet usually hurt before the rain, but the ache had lessened since he’d bonded with Kiarra. This didn’t feel like a regular storm.

  Mason’s shoulders tightened as the men reached a mutual realization. “Everyone, get out of the rain!” Mason shouted. His loud voice boomed across the yard like thunder. The Accleshians just stared at him, baffled. Lyra took one look at his face, glanced up at the sky, and repeated his order. At her words, they scrambled. Most of them headed towards the barn or the tents they had set up at the edge of the sheep paddock. Lyra bounced onto the porch at the same time as Mason and Ian, the only of Kiarra’s men not already under cover.

  Clay stumbled to his feet. Reed helped him by clearing a path. Kiarra burst into the kitchen the same time as they did. Her eyes found him and Reed before searching for her other matches. Clay couldn’t grab for her as she ran to the door. She didn’t go outside, though.

  “Get inside, now!” she commanded. The men crowded in the kitchen. Drummond, his brothers, his mate, and Lyra soon followed. The Princess trailed behind Kiarra, but she didn’t look as interested or worried. Clay noticed her eyes sought Lyra immediately, though, and her shoulders eased almost imperceptibly.

  Thunder crashed. Kiarra ran to the window, her eyes wide and reflecting the lightning. Her matches crowded behind her, each of them touching her in some way. It didn’t matter that the bond was complete. The simple reinforcement and palpable evidence of her safety were essential to them. Clay watched over her head. The rain looked normal, and several Accleshians ignored the warnings of their commander and Mason.

  Kiarra grasped the windowsill, her fingers digging into the wood. Mason gently captured her fingers before she could hurt herself. He was too late, and blood dripped from her fingernails. Clay’s unease grew as his fingers tingled with phantom pain from Kiarra's wound. Foreign soldiers watched from the barn door, motioning their comrades inside. One heeded his friend’s advice, the other was too late.

  The rain didn’t change in color or intensity, but Clay sensed the shift in the air. His skin prickled, and the hair stood on end all over his body. Beside him, Seb shivered. The Accleshian still outside began screaming; steam rose from his skin and clothes. Agony contorted his features as the rain boiled him alive, the flesh melting grotesquely from his bones like wax dripping down a candle. His clothes sloughed from him, falling to the ground; and the rain ran red as his bones and weapons joined the pile of leather.

  The earth and wood of the house remained unchanged, a good thing or they would all be dead. Nowhere would be safe. Far off, they heard the bleating and shrieking of the sheep housed in the paddock. The horses had been corralled into the barn minutes earlier for their feed, thankfully.

  Kiarra gagged, unable to turn away from the gruesome sight. The bile rose in Clay’s throat as well. Her men stepped nearer, the sadness and helplessness in her aura dr
awing them. Their minds struggled to process the horror they had just witnessed. A flash of lightning forced them to blink. The rain abruptly stopped, as if a switch flipped. When Clay looked again, a figure stood in the middle of the yard. The malevolence surrounding the form caused Clay to shudder.

  Chapter 18

  Kiarra

  My fear stopped as suddenly as the rain. From that first drop, I had been terrified. Now, I was angry. He was younger than I had imagined, this dark Sorcerer named Synlair. There could be no question as to who he was. Nothing remained of the Accleshian soldier but a steaming mound of leather and bones. The blood had evaporated into a fine red mist that still rose from the pile.

  I stared at the creature in the form of a man, wondering if he had transported himself here or if it was some sort of mirage. He wasn’t tall or broad, no bigger than Seb. His dark hair was slicked back from his head and he had the usual number of limbs, but that was where his humanity ended. His face was all sharp angles, his skin paler than parchment. The veins beneath his flesh were rivers of black, lending him the appearance of a strange, unreadable map. His eyes were as black as the blood in his veins, but they also glowed red. They found me unerringly, despite the glass separating us.

  “Miss Walton.” His voice was nothing more than a rasp of dead leaves, but it seemed to reach every part of the property. We heard him easily, despite standing inside the house, behind the glass panes of the window. “The would-be Queen of Megreria.” He bowed, but it was a mocking bow; his eyes never dropped from my face. I felt as if nothing separated us and I was standing in the yard with him. Hands tightened around me, and I welcomed the small bite of pain where my men held me too tightly. It reminded me of reality.