The Chosen Soul (10 page)

young woman with flaming red hair appeared beside them, her crisp white apron pulled

tautly over an overtly voluptuous frame. She smiled warmly at them and introduced

herself.

“Good afternoon! Summer, it sure is nice to see you out and about.” She turned to

Raven and Loki. “I’m Marrianne. What can I get for you three today?”

Raven instantly liked the woman. For one thing, she was outwardly friendly. But

more importantly, she did not stare at Raven the way the rest of Trimontium seemed

determined to do.

“Marrianne, we would like three of your mid-day dishes. I would have one for every

meal, if I could afford it.”

Marrianne laughed, and Raven was reminded of a bottle of champagne.

“Sweetheart, you just come and help me with my dishes sometime, and I’ll make you

as much food as you can eat.”

“Deal!” Summer said, immediately.

Marrianne’s smile beamed. “It’s settled then. Three mid-day’s, coming up.”

Raven raised her hand hurriedly. “Wait, please. Marrianne, I would like mine

without any meat in it, if it’s all the same.”

The red-headed woman blinked. “No meat?”

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Raven blushed and shook her head. She’d forgotten what it was like to request such a

thing. In her village, the people were used to her curious habits. They considered her

eccentric, but her charisma had won them over long ago, and they’d simply come to

accept her differences.

“I would ask the same of you, Marrianne. My sister and I have never consumed

animal flesh. I’m not sure it would sit well in our stomachs.” Loki grinned at the plump

woman, who blinked yet again.

And then, as if realizing that her manners had momentarily slipped, Marrianne

returned the smile and nodded. “Not a problem, honey. It will be out shortly.” She spun

on her heal, her long curly red locks bouncing merrily behind her as she flounced her way

to the back of the tavern and disappeared through a swinging door.

Summer turned a baffled expression upon her two companions. “You have never

eaten meat?”

Raven shrugged. “Perhaps when we were too young to request otherwise. But for as

long as I can remember, no. For some reason, I have never felt it… appropriate. And

Loki, being the brother that he is,” she smiled at Loki, who quickly looked away, his

cheeks reddening, “has always backed my decision. He didn’t want me to be alone in my

choice, so he joined me. Our parents were very understanding.” At this, Raven’s

expression changed, and she looked away from Summer to stare into the distance, her

gaze far away.

She was thinking of her parents, wondering whether she would ever see them again,

when she gradually noticed that no one in the tavern was talking any longer.

She glanced up. Everyone was looking at her.

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And then her brother nudged her gently. She glanced over at him. His expression was

a complex mixture of wariness and trepidation. He locked eyes with her and then

gestured, with a very subtle nod of his head, toward the tavern doors.

She turned around to look.

There in the entryway stood five tall men. Four were dressed in decorated leather

armor, brilliantly embroidered insignias on their chests, swords at their hips, and bows

strung across their backs. The fifth man stood slightly apart and ahead of the others. His

strong physique was clothed in rich, royal garb, a midnight-blue cape draped from his

broad shoulders. Long, shiny, silvery-blonde hair cascaded down his back, and he had the

bluest eyes Raven had ever seen.

Those same eyes met and held Raven’s gaze, and she was instantly overwhelmed by

the sensation of falling, topsy-turvy, into an endless sky, a bottomless ocean, drowning in the charm of the most handsome man she had ever beheld. He watched her for a few

moments more, the entire tavern echoing the silent tension between them. His face was a

gorgeous but unreadable mask, his expression inscrutable, save for some hint of an alien

emotion in the quiet depth of his impossibly blue eyes.

And then the man slowly smiled, his perfect lips curving upwards in cruel invitation.

Some kind of warning intuition began to resound deep within Raven. But she ignored

it. She was too lost in that crystal blue gaze.

He came forward, his strides long and purposeful. Raven’s heart leapt up into her

throat and then proceeded to beat a thousand times per second. She stopped breathing.

The tall man reached the table and stood before her, peering down at her with abject

admiration.

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“I was convinced that the thief had been exaggerating,” he began, and his voice was

mesmerizing, deep and perfect. “Clearly, I was wrong. If anything, his acclamation of

your great beauty was an understatement.”

Raven simply stared up at him. He spoke to her as if she were the only one in the

room. His words, his tone, his eyes were for her alone. Her mouth opened, as she

struggled to say something, but when she could think of nothing to say, she closed it

again and blinked. Then, with great effort, she pulled her gaze away from his and glanced

over at her brother.

When she did so, the room broke into very soft chatter. Loki’s worried expression

did not help to ease Raven’s nerves. She looked over at Summer, who was staring at her

in wide-eyed astonishment. Raven’s brow furrowed. What had she done? What was

going on?

She turned her attention back to the man beside her. The man’s confident and cruel

smile had disappeared, to be replaced by a look of genuine wonder. He quickly

recovered, however, and once again, she was captured in that azure gaze. This time, she

felt that she could not have looked away, if she had wanted to, and she was glad to be

sitting down, her legs having gone numb.

“I… I apologize. I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

More soft chatter filled the corners of the room.

His smile was back, and made Raven’s insides melt. “I am Prince Astriel, of the

Lords and Ladies. Might I ask for your name, my lady?”

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The Chosen Soul

Raven’s eyes widened. It was the
Prince,
the one Summer had cautioned them about.

She would look at his ears, just to see whether or not they were pointed, as Summer said

they would be, if she could find the strength to once again break eye contact with him.

That warning intuition inside of her returned full-force, and her body tensed in her

chair. Something told her not to answer him, but the irresistible pull of his powerful gaze insisted otherwise.

She cleared her throat. “My name is Raven. This is my brother, Loki. We are new to

Trimontium, otherwise we would have…” She suddenly couldn't remember what she had

wanted to say.

The man chuckled low in his throat and goose-bumps raised across the flesh of

Raven’s exposed arms.

“It is indeed a pleasure, Raven. If you are new to our city, then you must need a

guide. Perhaps you would allow me to escort you on a tour?”

That prickle of danger that had been steadily growing in Raven’s gut suddenly came

thrumming to the forefront, pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat. Somehow, she

simply knew that going anywhere for any reason with the Prince of the Elves was a very

bad idea. But the full weight of his penetrating gaze was beginning to make her dizzy.

She could also sense the guard’s eyes upon her, along with every patron in the tavern.

She tried to blink and found that she couldn’t. The Prince’s presence was

intoxicating, mesmerizing. She felt heavy, somewhat weak.

She wanted to say ‘no’.

And then, she realized that in fact she wanted to say ‘yes’. What had she been

thinking? How could she possibly be afraid of such a man? He would not harm her.

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She smiled, and Astriel’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

“Of course. I would be honored if you would show me your city.”

He offered her his gloved hand, and she took it without hesitation. She stood, and

beneath the weight of her brother’s mortified gape, she moved with the Prince toward his

guards, who had been waiting, silently, just inside the doorway.

“No!”

Raven stopped in her tracks, momentarily disoriented. Who was that? Who was

yelling? He sounded familiar.

“Raven, he’s bewitched you! Let her go!”

The Prince’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. She blinked, her brow furrowed.

She turned around and the prince stepped before her, blocking her view. He then, himself,

turned to face whoever it was that had called out to her.

“She has made her decision. Her well-being no longer concerns you.” Astriel’s tone

was cool and calm, his inflection careful and precise. Something in the sound of his voice

gave Raven a chill, and it raced up her spine, clearing her vision.

“Get away from her. I know you enchanted her. Raven would never do something so

stupid unless under a spell.”

She could almost remember now – it danced on the edges of her recollection. A kind,

gentle man, with strawberry blonde hair, someone she loved dearly…

“Loki, please
sit
. Just let her go!”

Another voice, vaguely familiar, whispering to Loki, begging him not to interfere.

“Listen to her, Loki. She is much wiser than her father gives her credit for.”

There was silence then, and a thick tension filled the air.

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Several seconds later, someone roared with rage, and suddenly, everyone was

moving around her. She was being pulled back, surrounded by the guards who had been

behind her. Astriel was moving, speaking in quick low tones, a language she could not

comprehend, and waving his hands in some sort of complex apocryphal movement.

In front of him, Loki had grabbed a chair and was lunging at the elf, holding it high

over his head, obviously intent on slamming it into the Prince’s tall form.

Light exploded outward from Astriel’s open palms and slammed into Loki’s chest,

knocking him back several feet, where he landed, unmoving, in a heap on the floor.

And then Raven remembered. Everything.

She screamed in fury, fear for her brother driving unnatural strength through her

body. With a great surge of power, she pulled from the soldiers’ grasps, rushed forward,

and raced to her brother’s side. The Prince did not attempt to stop her as she stormed past him, her attention focused on the young fallen man.

“What did you do to him?” She rolled her brother’s body over so that he was lying

on his back. There were no visible signs of damage anywhere on him, but his eyelids did

not flutter, his chest did not rise or fall. Terror raced through Raven’s body like a giant wave of red water.

She slowly looked up at the prince, who was watching her very carefully, displeasure

and frustration palpable on his coldly handsome face. Raven surrendered to the wrath

building inside of her. She allowed its storm to surge through her limbs, into her

fingertips and toes. She rose to her feet and her hands balled into fists at her sides. Her breath began to frost. The floor beneath her began to rime over, the ice crackling and

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popping as it traveled outward from under her boots. Her vision darkened and she could

hear her blood pumping in her ears.

She leveled her gaze upon the elf prince and gritted her teeth. “Fix him. Do it now.

Whatever you did, undo it.”

Astriel cocked his head to one side and appraised her from head to toe. His gaze

lingered on the ice coating the wooden planks of the tavern, and then he looked into her

eyes once more.

“Come with me, Raven. Do not force my hand again.”

“Fix him!” her voice had become deeper, crisper, menacing. Its edges were laced

with a grating growl, like ice scraping ice, like giant glaciers moving ever so slowly in

distant lands.

Astriel’s gaze narrowed. He took a step forward.

“He is not dead, Raven, he sleeps deeply. Now come with me. I’ll not tell you

again.”

Raven’s fury refused to die. Her vision went from dark to dark red, and she felt a

sharp pain in her fingertips. The sudden sensation drew her attention away and she

glanced down. Her nails were lengthening, their tips turning gray and shiny, like cold

polished iron, horribly sharp and deadly.

They stretched and elongated until they had become six-inch blades, extending from

each finger. Her eyes widened, surprise momentarily taking her off-guard.

The Prince chose that moment to strike. He moved forward, fast as lightning, and

wrapped his fingers around her wrists. She jerked with the sudden contact, her body

bucking as his Fey power poured over her in an attempt to force her compliance.

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However, his overt attack had the opposite effect on her. Instead of succumbing

obediently to the magic rushing over and through her form, her will beat against the

onslaught, her vehemence rising to the challenge, more unnatural strength flooding her

lithe frame until she was shaking with it.

In one swift, fluid movement, she wrenched free of his grasp, pulled her right hand

back, and swiped it across his chest, drawing deep furrows into his shirt and chest. He