Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (48 page)

The memory vanished suddenly at Rose’s voice.

“I’m sorry.”

Natalia blinked. She had been staring into empty space, just over Rose’s shoulder. “For what, sweetheart?”

“I’m so terribly sorry.” Rose’s voice trembled, and a rush of warmth went straight to Natalia’s heart.

“There now,” Natalia said, clutching her sister to her. “I’m fine.”

“You’re – not fine.” Rose hiccupped between words. “I did this – to you. I saw – the – the blood on the hallway floor. I heard you – scr – screaming as they dragged me away.”

Natalia squeezed her eyes shut. Hearing those words broke her heart; she hated seeing Rose so downtrodden and scared all the time. Guilt overwhelmed her.

I should have clamped down on my tongue harder. Rose was already frightened enough without having to hear that.

Out of instinct, Natalia went to stroke Rose’s matted red curls and winced when her blackened fingers refused to move in the right manner. Tears gathered in her eyes from the bolt of pain that shot through her, but she blinked them away. “My body will heal, Rose,” Natalia said softly. “It always does.” She stepped away, cupped her sister’s soaked cheek, and smiled again, trying to put as much warmth and cheer into it as she could. Rose’s eyes lit up a little, and she seemed to calm down somewhat.

Natalia’s smile broadened. “Thank you for the gift, but you mustn’t stay. If anyone sees you here…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting her little sister.

Rose gasped. “Are you angry?”

“No, of course not. I love you too much to be angry with you. But you did put me through a frightful scare. Trying to take Mother’s necklace is too dangerous, no matter how admirable the intentions.” She smiled, stroking her sister’s cheek. When their mother died, the necklace had gone to Natalia – until the Queen repossessed everything the day the king died. “And even if we had it, we are Barrens. The blood crystal would no more work for us than that mouse in your room you insist on keeping as a pet.” Magic was the sacred life force of the land. Barrens were people born without the ability to use magic, while Charmed ones had magic in their blood. Blood crystals were minerals said to have the power to strengthen one’s magical abilities, assuming one had any.

“Turnip is harmless!” Rose said indignantly. “And Mother and Father were Charmed,” she said, pouting her lip.

Natalia sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Rose. Magic isn’t always inherited.”

“It’s not fair. Why did they get to be special, and we’re not?”

“Oh, darling.” Natalia placed a kiss on her sister’s forehead. “Just because you can’t use magic doesn’t mean you’re not special. You have your own kind of magic, here.” She laid her hand on her sister’s heart and looked her earnestly in the eyes. “You are a beautiful, wonderful girl, and I love you. You’re special to me.”

Rose’s lips pulled upward into a smile. “You’re special to me, too.” Her eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t take it, you know.”

It took Natalia a moment to realize what she was talking about. “You mean the necklace?”

Rose nodded. “I thought I’d give you your present before the morning bell. I was trying to be careful! I knew no one would be awake if I got up early enough, so I crept into the hall. That’s when I saw the necklace lying outside your door as if it had been dropped.”

Natalia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you didn’t hear anyone pass by before then?”

Rose shook her head. “No, I promise I was really careful! I listened against the door for at least a good five minutes or so before going out.”

“Who caught you?”

“No one ‘caught’ me, because I didn’t –”

“I’m sorry,” Natalia said gently, calming her. “Who saw you?”

“I don’t know. I picked up the necklace and just held it, not sure if I was actually seeing it. Then the guards showed up and took me to the throne room.”

“And you swear you saw no one before then?”

“No one.”

An uneasy feeling settled in Natalia’s stomach. Something didn’t feel right. The necklace simply could not have appeared out of thin air. There was more afoot here than either of them knew, she was sure of it. Natalia opened her mouth, fresh questions forming on her tongue, when an off-key
chime
broke the morning stillness.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. “Go!” she urged, pushing Rose toward the door. Natalia flung it open, shoving her sister into the hall. “Hurry to your room before the wing wakes!”

Rose didn’t look back. She scurried away, bunching her skirt in her hands as she darted back down the hall. Natalia waited for Rose to disappear inside her room before closing the door once more.

The
chimes
rang at even intervals. Tucking the rose under her pillow and hoping she hadn’t crushed it, she limped to the chest. She counted each
chime
in her head as she ripped the dress off, suppressing a wail when the sleeve passed over her broken hand. Opening the chest, she snatched the first dress she saw and stepped into it. Her movements were frantic, and she struggled to pull it straight while trying to move faster.

Eight
chimes
.

Only four
chimes
left before she was expected to be in front of her door.

Ten
chimes
.

The dress was on but loose. The laces in the back dangled against the dried blood crusted to her skin.

Eleven
chimes
.

She pulled on her tattered boots. The sole of her left shoe cracked open with each step as she grabbed the small knife from beneath the mattress, tucked it into her left boot, and scrambled to the door. The twelfth and final
chime
rang as she stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind her. Pasting a well-practiced look of indifference on her face, she bent her head and kept her eyes on the floor. She sucked in a tight breath as she unfurled her injured arm and lightly clasped her hands behind her back in the same manner as the other twenty-six girls now standing in the hall.

Heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs, preceding a loud, scratchy voice that reminded her of angry wasps.

“Same assignments as yesterday!” the woman barked. “You’re nothing but a bunch of scraggly, useless ninnies! Do you think this castle is clean? Luckily for all of you, Her Majesty is gracious.”

Natalia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

“Our beautiful, benevolent queen requests you pay particular attention to detail, since she is hosting a banquet two nights from now. Her special guest is not to set a foot on dirty rugs or see a hint of dust. Is that clear?”

Everyone nodded. Natalia managed a short twitch of her head.

The stench of rotting fish and sweat announced Maxime’s presence as she patrolled in front of Natalia. Maxime was a large woman, with a bulky frame and skin so calloused and scarred it looked like leather. What was left of her graying hair stuck out beneath her cap, and her jaw was locked in a sneer that never left her face.

Maxime paused before Natalia.

“And if you fail to complete the tasks assigned to you, you will go without meals for a week –
after
five days in the stocks.”

Natalia didn’t move; she didn’t even dare breathe for fear of choking on the stench. She held her breath until Maxime had passed before pursing her lips. Anger prickled in her fingers and toes. She waited for the sensation to ebb, caging the emotion deep inside her soul. Every day it grew harder to suppress the urge to pop Maxime’s jaw with a back-handed hit, like how the woman often liked to treat Natalia and a handful of other girls whose tongues ran away before their brains could catch up. Practiced numbness filled Natalia, and her anger subsided from raging fires to flickering embers.

For Rose.

Someone shoved a broom, a brush, and a bucketful of brackish water at her, and she scrambled to catch them before they fell. The water sloshed onto the floor, but she managed to right it before the entire bucket could spill. She eyed the bucket and the broom, wondering which would be the lesser of two evils for her bad arm. Deciding on the bucket, she hooked the handle across her right forearm where it wasn’t quite so tender and grabbed the broom and the brush with her other hand. Tiny shoots of pain prickled along her palm, and she examined the handle of the broom. It was in dire need of a sanding.

The other girls, all between the ages of eleven and twenty-six, were clearing the hall in a hurry. They might all have been attractive at one time, if starvation and malnourishment hadn’t eaten them alive from the inside out. Maxime oversaw her subjects with a look of distaste. Her meaty fingers tightened around the handle of the whip coiled at her hip.

“I have a headache, so don’t even think about talking,” Maxime bellowed. “It’s hard enough just looking at you without hearing your inane conversations.”

What little chatter there was quickly died away. Natalia looked but could not find the head of red hair she so adored. The feel of the dried rose scraping her palm lingered, bringing a ball of warmth to her chest and a soft smile to her face.

Without another word, Natalia marched out of the hall. Her back flared with pain at each step, and she put every ounce of concentration she had into not dropping her things and keeping her face composed. Showing discomfort might provoke Maxime to whip her.

Maxime chuckled as Natalia passed, but the girl didn’t let her blank expression falter. To her body’s ire, she straightened her spine so she stood a good head over Maxime, and she slipped through the door after the other girls.

No one spoke. To break Maxime’s rule of silence meant five lashes, and Natalia already had her fill of the whip for one day.

Eventually, the girls broke apart to go their separate ways, and Natalia found herself alone. Shadows flickered at her feet and along the black stone walls as she passed rows of tall black candelabras. Pools of hardened white wax were stuck to the floor at the candlestick holders’ clawed feet. Her entire body felt rigid; it required a lot of effort to ignore the persistent throbbing spreading along her back and arms.

Her destination was the greatest area of disrepair within the decaying fortress – the southwest wing. It housed the abandoned libraries, warden’s office, and the old dungeons deep below the castle. She paused to light a candle on the only lit torch that far down the hall before descending the barely discernible stairs into the darkness. A draft caught her hair, and she looked over her shoulder, seeing the glint of golden doors at the opposite end of the wing.

Her blood chilled at the memory of what lay beyond those doors: a landscape of gold and pearl-inlaid tombs resting beneath a ceiling painted like the heavens. The image shifted, and she saw a younger version of herself. She was barely eight-years-old, and she stood in front of a glass casket. Her face reflected over the dead woman inside – her mother. Queen Irynis looked like an older version of Natalia, with snow-white skin and lips red as blood. The queen’s black hair was dotted with rose petals.

Natalia blinked, shattering the memory. She shivered, and her throat felt tighter as she struggled to swallow. Feeling along the wall to steady her balance, she slowly walked into the dungeons.

The darkness was so complete
it was nearly a tangible force that threatened to suppress the light of the candle, which flickered erratically and nearly snuffed out with each cold draft. Rooms with walls of black bars stood on either side of her, stretching all the way down the hall. A fluttering of feathers made her jump, and she swung the candle around, searching the darkness.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Shivering, she dismissed it to her imagination and gingerly lowered herself to the ground. After setting down the candle and her equipment, she dipped in the brush and began scrubbing at a brown stain on the floor. This routine was familiar to her: The harder she worked, the easier it was to not focus on her pain.

Scrub, dip. Scrub, dip.

And yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the feeling that she was not alone. That something lurked within the shadows, waiting for her to slip up and not be there to protect the person who was closest to her heart.

Veiled Innocence
was my very first novel, and because of that, I have a lot of people to thank. Thank you to all the lovely writers at Inkpop,
Critique Circle, The Science Fiction & Fantasy Workshop, and countless other groups who gave me invaluable feedback and allowed me to grow. Thank you to Kane and Marysa, for sticking around since the very beginning. Thank you, Robin, for my beautiful new cover. A big “thank you” goes to Tami for catching even the tiniest of flaws. Last, but certainly not least, I’d like to say “thank you” to my fans. You’re my biggest inspiration.

Krystle Jones was born and raised in the small, southern town of Tullahoma, Tennessee. Reading and writing have been lifelong passions of hers. In addition to being a novelist, she is also an award-
winning flutist
and moonlights as a voice actress. Her voice can be heard in the popular online game,
Alice is Dead 3
.