Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle)

by Jones, Krystle

  Rowan gritted his teeth. I am not weak. I am the Black Knight of Accalia.

  He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and willed himself forward. After a few minutes, his legs didn’t feel so heavy anymore as they adjusted to the ludicrous pace Vishka was setting. And yet for all his effort, he could not catch her at a dead sprint.

  The sun was starting to arch toward the horizon when they finally came to the base of the mountain, taking only a few short breaks in the meantime. Vishka stared up at it, without so much as a sweat to show for their run. He bit his tongue, his fatigue fueling his irritation. “What now?”

  He tilted his head back. The mountain’s peak was shrouded in clouds; Rowan had never been that close before. As a child, he had dreamed of climbing this very mountain, but it was one in a long series of dreams that never came to fruition. Not with life in the military. Not on Orris’ schedule.

  Rowan narrowed his eyes and scowled at the ground. Gods, please don’t let it be him.

  “Did you hear me?”

  He turned as Vishka placed her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

  “I – I’m sorry. I did not,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow with his tunic.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I said, are you fit to climb, or shall I go alone? The last thing I need is for you to fall off the mountain.” She grinned. “Then again, perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. One less thing to worry about.”

  Rowan ignored the barb and turned away from her. He couldn’t hide the grimace on his face. She needed to know. If they were truly going to be prepared for what they were about to face, she had to know.

  He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and started to turn around. “There’s something I need to tell… you…”

  Vishka was gone.

  A stray pebble clattered down the mountainside and rolled past his foot.

  “What are you waiting for?” Vishka cried from above him. “An invitation from the Dracor?”

  He looked up. She was already a good hundred feet ahead of him, steadily edging her way up.

  Rowan gritted his teeth and stalked toward the mountain. He felt along the rock, trying to use the same placements she had.

  Not having the slightest idea what he was doing, he took a deep breath, hoisted himself onto the rocks, and began to climb.

  ***

  WHEN HER EYES FIRST opened, Lian spooked at the tall shadow standing next to her.

  She had been covered in a blanket made from some animal’s hide, but her skin felt cold and wet beneath its warmth. Though the sun shone brightly outside, it did nothing to chase away the inner chill of the cave. The air was damp and smelled of roasting meat and moss.

  “Where am I?” she mumbled, blinking swollen eyes. Her head was pounding so hard that her mere voice sounded much too loud, and every second she was awake she noticed more and more just how much the rest of her body hurt. Images poured through her mind, of being pinned to the bottom of the river by long, black claws; of diving in and out of foamy white water; the freedom of falling over the edge of the waterfall into the open sky; of flying and feeling like the world didn’t matter anymore. She vaguely remembered sweeping in and out of the clouds and sailing over the vast forest before at last blacking out.

  Maybe she had only dreamed of flying. Maybe she really was dead, and this was Purgatory.

  The shadow grunted, and she startled. She had forgotten about it. It placed a chipped brown bowl beside her head. It was filled with slivers of flaky flesh and larger bits of a thicker meat. She squinted, not quite sure what to think of it. It smelled fresh enough, and smoke still lingered from it having recently cooked over a fire. A tankard soon followed the bowl.

  “Eat.” The shadow’s voice was low, grating, and very much menacing.

  She shivered. “Am I dead?” She watched as the shadow stepped away from her and back into the darkness. “Are you Death come to take my soul to the other side?”

  “If I was, I wouldn’t be bothering to feed you, now would I?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. She hurt too badly to care very much one way or the other. On the other hand, she was surprised she was even conscious. The weight of the crystal pressed against her bosom. She recalled how her bruises had disappeared and her near-fatal illness had magically vanished after only a day. It’s healing me, I’m sure of it.

  Bracing herself, she gritted her teeth and carefully slid her elbows closer to her head. She took a deep breath and pushed her weight onto her elbows. Pain exploded along her back, and she cried out, falling limply to the slab and nearly knocking the bowl and tankard onto the floor. A large, calloused hand flew out of the darkness to steady her.

  “Watch it,” the shadow snapped.

  It was a man; that much she could be certain. But who would be up here, in the middle of the wilderness?

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. She wanted to ask who he was and how he had come to be there, but the sharp edge in his voice made her reconsider.

  “Here.” The hand reached into the bowl and handed her a bit of meat. “Open your mouth.”

  She eyed the meat and did as he said, lowering her jaw as far as the pain would allow. He dropped the meat into her mouth, recoiling immediately as if repulsed when his fingertips touched her lips, and she caught a flash of raised flesh. She chewed and swallowed the meat, which to her surprise tasted quite good. The hand kept feeding her this way in silence. Each time the arm came into the light, she noticed more and more scars, some larger and more gnarled than others.

  “You have a lot of scars,” she said.

  The hand paused midair. “I’ve seen many battles.” His voice was guarded. He deposited more food in her mouth, this time flaky, like fish. It was the best thing she had tasted in days.

  She didn’t know what to say, and neither of them said more.

  When she was done with the food, he removed the bowl and put the tankard to her lips. Fresh water rained out over her tongue, and she greedily drank until it was empty. When he removed the tankard, she said, “Thank you.”

  He retreated into the shadows and grunted in reply.

  “I’ve seen many battles.” She wondered what sort of battles this man had seen and how he had found himself in the forest. The wild pattern of scars on his arms and hand raced through her mind.

  It hit her without warning, a memory she had buried so deep she had forgotten it had ever happened. “But you’re not actually a real lady, are you? You’re just the Arch Duke’s bastard child.”

  That voice… She knew it from somewhere. It seemed like such a long time ago.

  Cold recognition washed over her. “No,” she whispered. “It can’t be.”

  In the darkness, two orange eyes burned.

  ***

  ROWAN DIDN’T THINK HE was going to make it.

  Every muscle in his back felt like it had been pulled and twisted beyond all human capacity, and still he lugged himself up the mountain. He couldn’t even see Vishka anymore. She had pulled ahead of him and disappeared once again. Insufferable woman. He gritted his teeth as he stretched for another placing.

  “Hurry up, weakling,” Vishka said. “You move at the pace of a turtle. I thought you were not yet twenty? I’m over a thousand years old, and I move faster than you.”

  He growled. “That’s… because… you… don’t… age… wench.”

  He was so caught up in his rising anger that when his foot slipped, he nearly lost his bearing completely. He swung from one arm, his feet dangling in the air. He glanced down. It had to be at least two or three hundred feet. If the fall didn’t kill him, he would be far too broken to be of much use. Panic set in, and he grappled with the mountain, struggling to regain his footing. His fingers were slipping one by one. He frantically tried to find something to grip with his free hand, but each time there was nothing large enough to grab on to.

  I’m going to die up here on this mountain. I�
�m never going to get the chance to really live. Lianora. Gabriel. I’ve failed them. I’ve failed as a knight. He felt his fingertips slip, and there was a moment where he hung in the air, as if weightless, before he started to fall.

  He closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.

  Maybe it will be quick.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t falling anymore. When he opened his eyes, a delicate hand was fastened around his wrist. “I decided it’s better I keep you around,” Vishka said, hauling him over the ledge and onto a narrow path. “That way I can poke fun at you.”

  He didn’t even hear what she said. He lay on his back and breathed deeply, staring into the too blue sky and not caring that the sunlight was blinding.

  He was alive.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Vishka stared at him with a distant look in her eyes before giving him a quick nod.

  “Why did you save me?” He eyed her suspiciously. “Lianora, I can understand. There’s something special about her. But I’m nothing to you. I dare say you even hate me.”

  Something flickered across Vishka’s face as she stared at him. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

  Before he could ask who, she looked away and gestured to his right. “It looks like this path is well-traveled.”

  He turned his head and sat up.

  She was right. The dirt was smudged into large, thin straight lines, as if scraped by claws. The claw-scrapes gradually morphed into human footprints.

  He blanched. She’ll figure it out, if she hasn’t already. Will she kill me when she finds out?

  His eyes darted to Vishka, who was staring up and down the path as it curved around the bend in the mountain.

  “There is a cave ahead,” she said, closing her eyes. Her face was drawn in concentration. “There is… a man, I think, with her.”

  He gulped. “A man, you say?”

  She listened in silence a few more seconds before opening her eyes. “The girl is alive and well, for the most part.” She turned to face him. “Have you ever fought a Dracor? You’re going to need some sort of weapon.”

  He rolled his eyes and rubbed the sore muscles of his arms. “Oh? I thought I would stroll in there and beat it up with my bare hands.”

  Her face darkened. “Humans don’t know how to take anything seriously.”

  “No, my Lady, I think perhaps you don’t know how to lighten your mood.”

  She glared at him, a look that most likely would have terrified someone who had spent less time in her company. He had come to expect it.

  Her head snapped forward. “Something’s happening,” she said, taking off down the path.

  Rising to his feet, he stumbled after her.

  He already knew who they would see once they rounded the corner and the Dracor stepped out of the shadows. All the same, he had to brace himself for the inevitable shock wave that would hit once Vishka and Lianora realized who the Dracor was.

  Or more importantly, that he had known all along.

  CHAPTER 23Secret

  LIAN SHUDDERED. SHE CLUMSILY tried to put as much distance between herself and the shadow as she could, ignoring the pain when the cold, rough stone cut into her palms. “I don’t understand. Why you?”

  The shadow stirred, and she caught a glimmer of a crimson cape. “Because if it were anyone else, then you would surely be dead,” replied the grating voice. “And I need you alive. It took me a while to figure that out, but once I saw how your aura changed in the presence of the crystal, I knew I couldn’t dispose of you.”

  It occurred to her, like an afterthought, that she should be crying or at least be afraid for her life. Strangely, she felt numb, like she had shed all her tears by the river earlier, like every ounce of emotion she had left was soaking in the sand of the embankment. Her face was devoid of any emotion; she stared into the darkness with blank eyes. “All those times I was afraid of you…” Her voice was monotone, as hollow as she now felt. My fear, my worries; it all seems so trivial in light of what’s happened. He’s the reason Gabriel is dead.

  She should have felt angry, but she couldn’t. It was impossible for her to feel anything at all. She was simply empty.

  The shadow stepped into the light, revealing a scarred face with hard-set eyes partially concealed by shadows. Darkness suited the face now that she knew of the darkness hidden in his soul. “Why, Orris? Why did you make me fear you so?”

  His eyes burned bright as fire. “You were right to fear me. Perhaps there was some sense in that head of yours after all.”

  She tilted her head to the side, her gaze never wavering from his face. “I look at you now, when I am more vulnerable than ever, and suddenly I am no longer afraid.

  “I pity you,” she continued. “You who hold nothing dear to you, who would burn your own home, betray your people and your crown, for the satisfaction of your own whims. Whether by the gods will or not, mark my words, you will answer for this one day.”

  His mouth curved into a jeer. “You’re still a naïve little girl. I answer to no one.”

  She narrowed her eyes and straightened her spine as best she could. The wall of the cave pressed hard against her back, reminding her of how trapped she was. “That’s rather hard to believe. The black feathers on the floor speak otherwise, Captain. Something made you this way, and it holds dominance over you now.”

  Orris snarled, and she flinched. “Hold your tongue, girl. You don’t know what it’s like to be hanging on the brink of the abyss, to only learn to live after you’ve tasted death and looked it in the eyes.”

  She gave him a dark smile. “Death and I have become rather good acquaintances these past few days. You’ve made sure of that, you son of a –”

  He snarled and lunged toward her, raising his hand as if to strike her. She steeled her gaze, preparing for the red hot fire across her cheek, but it did not come. His voice was inches from her ear. “Perhaps I should have let you hit the rocks. Even now, I can barely stand the sight of you!” He stomped off, his footsteps echoing around the cave.

  She didn’t say anything. With a heavy sigh, she slumped a bit, though her back was still twisted into knots. Her mind was spinning. Black feathers. Exactly like in my visions and at the palace the night of the fire. Like from Vishka’s demons.

  What had Orris done? Who – or what – was he really?

  When Orris returned, he stank of vern. In one hand, he clutched a bottle.

  She tensed. If he was this strung out sober, what was she to expect with him drugged? Vern’s side effects were volatile at best.

  He leaned against the wall opposite her and took another swig from his broken bottle, sloshing the drink onto the floor. It ran down his chin, and he reached up to wipe it away with the back of his glove.

  “Does the drug make it any better?” she asked. “Is that how you deal with your choices?”

  He studied her, his eyes still sharp and focused despite the vern. “It would take a lot more than this to take away the pain of what I did.”

  She blinked, surprised.

  “My mind, my body, no longer functions like that of a normal man.” The last words were strained, and he took another drink.

  “What happened then?” How did a man become a monster?

  His eyes shifted away from her. “I will never forget that day for the rest of my long, miserable life.

  “I married the love of my life, and we were so happy together. I had just been promoted to Captain of the Royal Guard, and it wasn’t long after our marriage we were expecting a child. But shortly after he was born, I was sent far away by your father to investigate a series of strange killings that had occurred near the Stradvärian border.” His expression hardened. “None of us knew what we were about to face. We were so unprepared.” He shook his head and stared at his reflection in the vern-laced ale.

  “It was dusk when we arrived. After three hard days of riding, we came to a small river town called Water’s Edge. Even before we drew near, we could sm
ell the stench of decaying bodies on the wind. There’d been a blood bath; all of the townsfolk were dead, either lying in the streets, in their homes, or floating down the river. Everything was bathed red.

  “My men and I were combing the buildings for clues and survivors when we were ambushed by a pack of savage black-winged beasts. Our armor did little to protect us from their razor sharp claws, and our weapons could not penetrate their hides. We fought a hopeless battle, and it wasn’t long before my men joined the townspeople in death. All but myself.”

  He shuddered then, and something about that motion on Orris made her arms break out into goose bumps. She rubbed them furiously, suddenly very cold.

  “I managed to get away,” he said, “but they cut me off and cornered me on one of the deserted streets. That’s when the most bizarre thing happened. Slowly, the beasts shifted into men, men who looked not so unlike myself but who wore black armor adorned with feathery capes. They were Dracor.”

  She held her breath, not daring to disturb him.

  He smirked. “So you see, I didn’t really have a choice but to join them.”

  “No.”

  His eyes locked onto her. “No? What was I to do? I had a wife and a newborn son at home. I couldn’t abandon them! They gave me no choice.”

  His voice matched the bitter look on his face, and for a moment she almost felt sorry for him. She remembered the men who had fought Gabriel, how the man she loved would have made it out of the palace alive had it not been for them. He was dead because of them, because of Orris. Ana-Elise, Alastor, Gabriel, her father. They were all dead because of him. It was enough to make her sick.

  “There is always a choice,” she said firmly. “You chose the path of darkness, and look where it has led you. You burned Accalia to the ground.”

  He barely nodded. “Yes.” He said this simply, as if he might have been commenting on the weather.

  How dare he act so calm and callous about this.

  She could almost see the shadows weaving in and out of existence around him, some tangling with her own shadows before disappearing into her skin altogether. The darkness sleeping within her stirred, and the first prickling of anger’s hot flames licked her insides.