A Soul for Vengeance (11 page)

“Glad to know he’s had somewhat of a good influence on you.” He relaxed, the sternness in his voice softening to seriousness. “You are aware that the Empress is your cousin and a member of our family, too, correct?”

“Kind of hard to miss since we look so much alike.” Arden buttered a piece of toast and tossed another strip of bacon to Cinder, making a note to take the fire wolf down to the kitchen later for a more substantial meal. “So Callix hates me because my cousin is the Empress? Or is it because my existence is soiling the pristine Milorian reputation?”

“Hardly.” He leaned forward. “They have rival families in Ranello, do they not?”

“Of course. Every town has a blood clan in power and another trying to peck away at it. The nobles are no exception. Kell’s father is only the third king from the House of Sanguazur. Before that, the House of Fermo ruled Ranello. But what does that have to do with me?”

“Gravaria is not that different from Ranello. The Jaquoix family has been and still is the Imperial family.”

“But I thought Marist was a Milorian.”

“She is half-Milorian. My sister married the former Emperor, a member of the Jaquoix family, thus uniting our two families. However, some members of the Jaquoix family,” he said as his head jerked to the closed door, “saw this as attempt by our family to seize control of the Empire.”

“But wasn’t it?” Caz lived and breathed power based on her limited interaction with the Lord Chamberlain.

“Depends on whom you ask. Reena offered to sacrifice her happiness and marry the former Emperor in order to align our two families peacefully. My brother saw it as an opportunity to tilt the scales of power in his favor. As soon as Marist was born, he began whispering his schemes in her ear.”

“So she’s his puppet?”

A subtle grin appeared on Varrik’s lips. “You’ve dealt with Marist. Does she seem like a puppet to you?”

“Hardly,” she replied in the same dry tone he’d used earlier in the conversation. “So Callix hates me because I’m a member of the Milorian family that took power away from his?”

“He doesn’t hate you, Arden, but he’s extremely wary of you because you—not Marist—could be the ultimate factor in tipping the scales of power toward the Milorian family, all because you’re the Soulbearer.”

“Is he scared I’m going to bring ruin to the Empire?”

Varrik paused, a flicker of indecision flashing across his face because he said in a slow and cautious manner, “Perhaps.”

Arden inwardly groaned. “If you keep secrets from me, how will I ever learn to trust you?”

“It’s not you I’m keeping secrets from.” He nodded, sending a wave of magic toward her.

And for the first time in days, a familiar presence roared to life within her.

Or to be more precise, exploded with a flurry of curses and swearing that made her ears sting.
“That arrogant, small-pricked, son of a whore! How dare he toy with me?”

“Loku?”
Her heart fluttered, both from fear and excitement. She closed her eyes and quickly erected a series of mental barriers in place as Varrik had taught her to do to keep the chaos god from taking control of her body.

“Who else would be talking in your head? Dev?”

Bitter laughter died in her throat. She’d only heard Dev’s voice in her mind once—the night she’d battled Nelos. Since then, he hadn’t bothered to contact her that way.
“Do you have any idea what he’s hiding from us?”

“Ask him about what he’s guarding here in this palace.”

She opened her eyes, only to find Varrik missing from his chair. A finger pressed against her left temple, and Loku’s voice died within her. When she turned in that direction, she found her father standing next to her, his face grim. “You let him distract you too much, Arden. One of the many ways he’s a danger to you.”

“And you’re not?” She knocked his hand away and jumped to her feet, adding some much needed distance between them. “Funny how you decided to silence him when he was about to tell me the truth about what you’re guarding here.”

An expressionless mask settled over his face, revealing nothing. “Ah, so he managed to convince you I’m hiding something here? Very well, I’ll tell you the truth.”

He beckoned her to follow him out of the drawing room. Cinder clung to her skirts as she went into the hallway after him, his amber eyes never leaving her father until they came to the library. He opened the doors and gestured to the rows of bookshelves. “This is what I’m guarding here.”

“Books?”

“Not just books, Arden. Knowledge.” He ran his fingers along the spine of a book like he would a lover’s cheek. “Lothmore Palace is the home for all Gravarian lore, and I’m its keeper.”

“And let me guess—you got this position because of family connections?”

“Yes, and no.” He tucked his hands behind his back and continued down one of the aisles. “What has Dev told you about the history of the Soulbearers?”

“That they all go mad.”
Like I’m about to become if you don’t stop dodging my questions
. “I don’t see what that has to do with you, me, or the grouch out there.”

“Patience.” He led her to a tapestry along the far wall and stood beside it. “Tell me what you see here.”

The silk threads depicted a war-torn landscape with shattered castles and charred homes. People ran toward the edges of the fabric, their screams echoing through the embroidery. In the center, a group of humans and elves wearing the crests of the three kingdoms circled a man consumed by flames, their solemn faces and pointed fingers so out of place among the chaos surrounding them. The tips of the man’s black hair burned, and his yellow-green eyes flashed with anger. But even though the tapestry had to be hundreds of years old, she recognized his face immediately. “Loku?”

Varrik nodded. “This tells the story of how his body was destroyed and his soul was trapped within the first Soulbearer, Piramus.” He pointed to the green mist that rose from Loku’s body and the brown-haired elf standing beside it.

An elf that looked a great deal like Callix.

“Let me guess—Piramus was a member of the Jaquoix family?”

“Yes, as were the next four Soulbearers, ending with the Soulbearer Dev was first charged with protecting, Quertus.”

She traced Loku’s face on the tapestry, marveling at how accurate it was to the face that haunted her dreams some nights. A shock raced up her arm, stealing her breath away and making her teeth ache. She jerked her hand away and rubbed her arm. “But Dev said it was tradition for the Protector to become the next Soulbearer.”

“It was, but the Jaquoix family was beginning to feel the heavy toll it was placing upon its members. As fate would have it, Dev’s request to become the next Protector came at a time where they were looking to move the burden of containing Loku to another family.” He backed away from the tapestry, put his hands behind his back, and appraised it once again. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

“Or just Gravarion lore.” She continued to rub her shoulder, the ache still throbbing all the way to the bones. “So, does it make the Jaquoix family nervous to know a member of their arch-rival family has taken over their traditional role as the Soulbearer?”

“Very nervous.” He turned to her, his bright blue eyes piercing her mind like a blade. “Especially since the current Soulbearer is the daughter of the current Lore Keeper.”

A sharp chill replaced the dull ache, this time shooting straight for her heart. “And why would that make them nervous?”

He gave her a smug smile in reply and turned around. “Come along, Arden, you still have much to learn about controlling Loku.”

It wasn’t until they passed Callix at the end of one of the rows that she realized the elf had probably overheard their entire conversation. This time, she saw a glint of revenge glowing from his narrowed eyes.

“Loku, what kind of trouble have you gotten me into now?”

Chapter 10

Zara was unusually relaxed today.

What made it even odder to Kell was that this stretch of the forest gave him the creeps. The birds’ songs seemed too loud among the otherwise hushed trees, and he couldn’t shake the sensation he was being watching from every angle. He nudged his horse forward to ride beside her. “Are you certain it’s safe to be here?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have let you ride if it wasn’t.”

It was only his second time in the saddle since he’d been rescued, and his thighs burned from the exertion required to ride the horse for a few hours. Before he’d left Gravaria, he’d been able to spend all day on horseback and not feel a single twinge from it. Last night, he’d needed an extra drink from Parros’s wineskin to dull the pain from his weary muscles so he could sleep. Today would probably be no different, if the tightening across his lower back was any indication.

The sound of a whippoorwill set every nerve on his body on edge and made him forget his aching joints. He reached for his sword and leaned closer to Zara. “There aren’t any whippoorwills in this part of the kingdom.”

Instead of being alarmed, she simply smiled. “I know,” she replied and flicked her finger from her forehead to one of the trees.

He stared at the tree, past the layers of dense evergreen needles to the shadow that moved along the branches. He started to draw his sword, but Zara halted him before he’d slid the blade halfway out of the scabbard.

“Don’t.” Her gray eyes grew as hard as stone with the one-word warning.

“Why?” he asked, nodding toward the shadow in the tree.

“Because we are among friends.” She turned her direction back to the narrow path winding through the trees. “Pay attention so you’ll know what to do if you’re ever here alone.”

Another whippoorwill call came from down the road, this time from the opposite side of the tree line. Zara lifted her other hand and offered the same salute as before, her fingers always going in the direction of the sound.

Kell turned around in his saddle to see if the other men were as on edge as he was, but they all bore the same at ease demeanor that Zara had. He even glimpsed a hint of a grin on Parros’s face as he guided the cart deeper into the forest. He went back to watching Zara, who repeated the salute at the next whippoorwill call. “If we’re among friends, then why the signals?”

“So they know I’m willingly bringing a stranger with me.”

“They don’t recognize me?” For as long as he could remember, everyone in Ranello knew who he was. They all bowed as he passed, remained at a respectful distance, and kept their eyes downcast unless they were a peer.

Zara’s laughter only rattled him further. “If it hadn’t been for the scar on your temple, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

He ran his hand along his jaw, noting the thick stubble that itched his skin, and continued up to the scar she mentioned. “Has there been an instance where you unwillingly brought someone this way?”

“Not me, but Ortono’s camp near Montosanul was ambushed a few months ago by Thallian spies. They kidnapped a member of the rebellion and forced him to lead them there after invading his mind for the location of the camp.” Her voice cracked as she added, “We lost twenty-three brave Ranellians that day.”

“Was Ortono one of them?” he asked, offering a quick prayer to the Lady Moon hoping that the member of the Royal Guard had survived. The young soldier had proven his worth more than once when Sulaino was terrorizing the kingdom.

She shook her head. “He’s been able to gather the survivors up and combine with another, more secure camp.”

Another whippoorwill call, followed by another salute. “How many people do you have up in those trees?”

“Enough to guard our location carefully.” She pulled on the reins, turning her horse toward the rock wall on the left. An owl’s hoot came from the tree next to him. “Watch your head.”

If Kell hadn’t been so cold, tired and hungry, he would’ve convinced himself that he’d imagined the boulder moving to the side. But it did, rolling slowly to reveal a gap along the cliff. He had to lean forward, his cheek against his horse’s neck, to pass through the tunnel’s low ceiling, but when he came out on the other side, his jaw dropped.

An entire city seemed to be crowded into the circular crater. The steady pounding of hammers mingled with the low drone of voices, punctuated by the squawks of chickens and the clang of steel. The resulting cacophony had him longing for the relative silence he’d enjoyed on the other side of the tunnel. “How come I didn’t hear this in the forest?”

“The crater walls buffer any noise as well as adding protection.” Her chest swelled with pride. “We couldn’t ask for a cleverer hiding spot.”

As they passed through the crowd, he took in what they’d managed to build in less than a year. Tents lined the grid of streets that bisected the cove while workers built more sturdy homes up in the massive trees that choked his view of the sky. Swinging bridges ran from home to home while rope ladders connected them to the ground below. People gathered around campfires as they would tavern dining rooms, sharing the news of the day over a hot meal. Their faces were hardened and weary, but they seemed to carry an unspoken but infectious vibe of hope.

“Did you build this?” he asked.

“No, Bynn did.” She stopped her horse and handed the reins to an older boy.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, a crowd of children swarmed around her. She grinned, ruffling their hair and playing pinching their noses as they asked for candy and sweets. “I don’t have any,” she teased, waiting for the chorus of “aws” before reaching into her saddlebag and pulling out a pouch slightly larger than her fist. The whining changed into cheers, and over a dozen hands reached out for a piece of the ruby-colored candy.

“You spoil them too much,” Parros grumbled after prying his way through the children and taking the pouch from her. “You take care of him, and I’ll tend to these rotten little devils.”

Although the old knight tried to sound gruff, the twinkle in his eye revealed how much he looked forward to bringing some joy into these rag-covered children’s lives. He led them away so Kell had enough room to dismount without tripping over one of them.