Protector of the Flame

by Isis Rushdan

  Serenity’s hadn’t begun until she was nineteen. She’d considered herself odd yet lucky for the late start. Guess it was a natural thing amongst Kindred.

  “Besides, I’m not talking about going all the way, just first base,” Nakia added.

  “How do you know what first base is?”

  They stopped in front of one of the bath rooms. Nakia opened the door to reveal a steaming pool in the middle of the floor.

  “I read about it in a magazine Adriel gave me from the mainland.” Nakia smiled. “I liked our little talk. Would it be okay if we spoke again about private things?”

  Serenity cringed. “Sure.”

  “Everything you need should be in the room.” Nakia pulled her down and kissed her cheek. “I knew we would be great sisters.” She twirled and disappeared down the hall.

  Yellow candles blazed inside the room. The scent of honey mingled with spicy florals. On a bench were two sets of towels, fresh cream outfits and a gossamer gown she wasn’t sure what to do with.

  One shot to make a connection. One chance for answers about her restored memories.

  Sothis breezed into the room, hair pinned tight in a bun. “Why haven’t you gotten in?” She closed the door.

  “What I am supposed to do with this?” Serenity held up the sheer gown.

  “You wear it in the bath if you’re shy.” Her mother undressed as if in a hurry to finish their private time and walked down the steps into the water, completely at ease in her skin.

  Tossing the gown to the side, Serenity slipped off her sneakers and took off her clothes. “How did Neith convince you to agree to this?”

  “All that should concern you is that I’m here.”

  She entered the warm bath, straining not to think about her nudity.

  “The tattoo on your stomach,” Sothis said, a tumble of dark emotion in her narrowing eyes, “where have you seen it and why would you…mark yourself with it?”

  “I’ve always loved the symbol, the striking balance between beauty and lethality. It was a secret locked away in my memories until Adriel healed me. I saw it on Archimedes.”

  “You let him heal you, even after I warned you?”

  Of course. “I remember everything.”

  Sothis stroked the birthmark on her own chest. Two intersecting circles with a lightning bolt through it. The same as Lucien’s.

  “Now that I think about it, it’s kind of an odd tattoo for a male,” Serenity said.

  “Well the Sodalitas was started by a female.” Sothis lifted her tongue to reveal the same symbol tattooed on the underside. “It’s a mark of a Paladin.”

  A chill streaked through her veins so cold she shuddered. No amount of hot water could warm her now.

  Sothis handed her a sponge without breaking eye contact.

  “How can you serve the Paladins, Arcturus, with a heart full of love? They’re evil.”

  “You see the world through human eyes. Everything in terms of good and evil.”

  Anger tightened every muscle. “How do you see it?”

  “Kindred see things in terms of chaos and order. I serve Arcturus with love because he’s the best leader for the brotherhood, for now. But when he no longer rules, that love shall come to a bitter end.”

  “How can you stomach what he did to us?”

  “Arcturus took desperate measures for a dire time. Ricardus, our leader before him, was dragging the Sodalitas down a path to ruin. Arcturus needed me. The coup was necessary, as was my part to keep it bloodless. We lost your father, but many other lives were spared,” Sothis said in a detached tone.

  Although her mother was only inches away, the years of separation widened between them. She was no longer the loving mother she remembered. She was now Sothis, the brainwashed Paladin who served a brotherhood of killers without question.

  “Are you saying Daddy’s death was worth it?”

  “I’m saying he didn’t die in vain.”

  Serenity studied her mother’s perfect face, unmarred by time or the strain of loss. “Why didn’t you just go with them when Arcturus first asked?”

  Eyelids shuttered the familiar sparkle of violet. “I thought I could keep both of you.”

  “We could’ve found a way to see one another.”

  “You’re so naïve,” Sothis hissed. “The Sodalitas would’ve killed you as soon they realized you were Blessed and had a kabashem waiting for you to become of age. And Lucien—” her voice cracked as if fractured by unbearable sorrow, “—he would’ve cast me aside for sleeping with another.”

  “You slept with another man?” Disgust slipped from Serenity’s tongue.

  “Ricardus always had a perverted interest in me. Arcturus used that interest to lure him to his end.”

  The truth was ugly and dirty, but the happiness they’d shared could’ve survived anything. “Daddy loved you. He never would’ve left you.”

  “Service must come first. Lucien would’ve found the things I’ve done unsavory, unacceptable in the eyes of Herut. He never would’ve touched me again.”

  “He would’ve overlooked you sleeping with one man, if it was the only way we could’ve been together.”

  Sothis met her eyes. “Ricardus was one of many.”

  Repulsion corroded her stomach. “How many men have you slept with?”

  Her mother’s gaze didn’t waver, not even a flicker as she said, “Kindred or human?”

  “You’ve slept with humans?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, so have you.” Sothis began to wash, her equanimity unflappable. “Neith showed me your file.”

  “I’ve been with one man besides Cyrus.” Although her kabashem was the only man she’d ever truly desired. “A human I loved. But you’re nothing more than their whore.”

  “When the Fallen left Egypt with the immortals, their mating wasn’t limited to their soul mate who shared their mark.” Sothis continued to bathe as though the conversation was casual. “They indulged in one another freely. It’s our way. It has been from the beginning. You’ve bought into the Herutian nonsense of monogamy Cyrus spouts.”

  “You bought into Lucien’s nonsense once.”

  Her mother’s mouth warmed into a smile, but her eyes were cold. “Now I believe in the Paladin way of using every weapon at our disposal and exploiting any weakness to accomplish our goals.”

  “How can you do it with joy?”

  Head lowered, Sothis placed the sponge on the side of the bath. “I never said joy. Love doesn’t always make one happy. When I was thirteen, Aurora sent me to Arcturus. I vowed to accept their training and to choose later whether to serve them or Aten. From the first day, I knew my place was amongst them. I loved every second of training, the connection to my brothers and sisters. I wasn’t much older than you when I returned to Aten. I’d planned to tell my mother there was no need to teach me the ways of heka, but Lucien was there, waiting for me.”

  Her mother moved toward the steps.

  “The connection I felt to him rivaled any other. My heart opened in ways I couldn’t imagine. And so I left with him.” She walked out of the pool. “I knew I’d have to answer to Arcturus one day. That’s why we lived like vagabonds. I was afraid to stay in one place too long. But when I became pregnant with you, Lucien wanted to plant roots.”

  Serenity remained silent, not wanting her to stop talking, not wanting her to leave.

  “I was always meant to serve the Sodalitas. After you were born, I should’ve had the strength to give you both up. I was weak. When you love unconditionally, you know you’d die to save that person without hesitation.”

  Sothis wrapped her body in a towel. “Arcturus was right. When he took Lucien from me, it did change everything. I learned I was willing to live for you, that I had the strength to sacrifice every moment of watching you grow, all the hugs and kisses you deserved, teaching you your heritage, just to keep you safe and free.”

  Her mother gathered her things and faced her. “You think they’re evil, but it w
as the tenderness and love of the Sodalitas that eased my grief.” She walked to the door and grabbed the knob. “Arcturus let you live instead of Lucien because I wanted you more. It’s my fault your father is dead and you had to grow up alone. I’m sorry.”

  And then she was gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  None of the transcripts from Neith’s conversations with Sothis had been loaded into the archives. Although Serenity’s memories had been healed, she needed to know more about her mother and the life she led. Speaking to Neith was a waste of breath, always the same response, “When the time is right.”

  She couldn’t even get a straight answer about Cyrus, who probably thought her dead these past six weeks. Six long weeks!

  “Shutdown your workstation,” Adriel whispered.

  Serenity looked at the sky. “We still have two hours until sunset.” No matter how much she read about Sekhem and Aten, there was so much more to learn to understand the deadly intricacies of the Kindred world and how to maneuver to stay alive.

  “Do you want to know where I sneak off to every afternoon or not?”

  Without another word, she flipped the laptop off.

  A couple of historians shot them envious glances as they hurried out of the library. They jogged down the walkway and through an opening on the first level. He cut through bushes and ran through the jungle.

  It felt good to stretch her legs and do a little light running besides in the early morning.

  They cleared a meadow and entered a field of star-shaped flowers. The spicy, sweet scent stopped her. She’d smelled it in the air since her first day and had fallen in love with the fragrance. “What’s this flower?”

  “Plumeria.” A breeze caught his wild hair. Smiling like a devil hell bent on corruption, he winked and ran out of sight.

  She sprinted to catch up.

  Beyond the tree line, he waited in a patch of clovers that led to a small strip of beach. She hadn’t seen this part of the island. Adriel kicked off his sandals and yanked his top over his head.

  “Come on.” Reckless joy danced in his amber eyes. He pulled down his pants and ran for the water. He dove in, disappearing under a wave.

  A minute later, he popped up. He bobbed in the surf and motioned for her to join him, but she shook her head, opting to sit in the green patch of clovers. Adriel turned and swam out into the ocean headed for a smaller island.

  The hilly islet didn’t appear to be much more than a large, grassy mound of earth.

  He chopped through waves with strong strokes. How he escaped the library every afternoon to enjoy the beach without getting into trouble was a mystery. Everyone else worked from the morning meal to the evening meal or suffered the humiliation Mira had endured.

  Neith operated behind a closed door. If someone was reproached openly, it was to make an example. Order was essential, but the rules didn’t seem apply to Adriel. He even had a larger room usually reserved for couples.

  Leaning back to enjoy the sun, she pulled the elastic band from her hair and shook out her ponytail. She thought about sitting in her kabashem’s arms, watching the sun rise over the Merzouga dunes and yearned to feel his hand caressing her cheek, his lips on her mouth.

  After forty-five days, Neith still hadn’t sent for Cyrus. The story Spero probably described must’ve seized her husband’s heart with panic. It seemed cruel of Neith to make him suffer, not knowing if she were dead or alive, despite the convincing argument it was to keep them both safe.

  Could he still feel her? Was it possible, separated by thousands of miles, his heart would know she lived? She opened her eyes, and in the blur of sunlight, thought she saw his face.

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. She brushed them away, struggling against the tide of emptiness. If she gave in to it for longer than a moment, she’d surely drown.

  With a shuddering sigh, she extended her legs and looked at the ocean.

  Diamonds danced on the surface of blue, blue waves. Adriel cut through the rough water with smooth strokes. He had a steady rhythm that must’ve taken years of practice.

  He emerged from the water, flipping his hair back. His sinewy, sleek physique glistened in the sun. Her gaze trailed down his V-shaped torso, lingering on his ribbed stomach. She looked away, out at the beach.

  Brother or not, it was wrong to notice him as a man.

  He drifted down beside her, breathless, and crossed his legs at the ankles. She glimpsed his strong calves and lean, sculpted thighs. Tempted to look further, she stared up at the cloudless, azure sky.

  “This is my favorite spot. I swim for an hour every day,” he said with a familiar underlying accent that only came out in carefree moments away from others.

  “The mainland you go to for supplies, is it Australia?”

  “New Zealand. It takes two days to reach.” Adriel lay on the ground and plopped his head in her lap as though she were a pillow.

  The shock of his cool, wet head soaking her pants down to skin made her gasp.

  “Why didn’t you join me?” He shielded his eyes from the sun. “Still can’t swim? Or did your human sense of modesty keep you shackled to the beach?”

  “I’m afraid both.”

  “Pity.” He closed his eyes and put his hands on his chest. His fingers strummed his sternum to a beat in his head.

  She wondered what it was, if it would be something she’d enjoy. He had eclectic taste that deviated from the mainstream. Not only did it add to his charm, it appealed to her sense of adventure. Adriel could turn a simple morning meal or a jaunt down to the beach into an escapade.

  Words couldn’t explain or justify the depth of their friendship. As if each day in his company stitched a bond between them worthy of months in complexity and trust and affection.

  Adriel’s energy stream stroked hers, warm, gentle, enticing connection.

  “You said still a minute ago,” she said, choosing not to plug-in to him, despite growing temptation.

  “About your swimming? Yeah, I guess you never learned.”

  Serenity touched his cheek. Her curly brown hair cascaded into his face. She roped her hair back into a ponytail. “How did you know I couldn’t swim?”

  He opened his eyes, but squinted. His lips twitched in hesitation. “When I healed your mind, I experienced your memories as you relived them. Now it’s like they’re my memories too.”

  Part of her couldn’t put into words the sense of violation. The other part was strangely comforted he’d been able to share some of the best and worst events in her life. After he’d healed her, the magnitude of sympathy he’d shown had suggested as much, but she’d been too caught up in the raw pain and sorrow to ask.

  “Do you have all of my memories or just the ones that had been altered?” She held her breath, waiting. Sharing a sliver of her psyche she could handle, but not the whole shebang.

  He closed his eyes. “Only the damaged ones.”

  She exhaled relief. “Do you like sharing my memories?”

  “It makes me feel closer to you.” He peered up at her through the light. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t.”

  The sense of closeness was mutual. She didn’t have to confide with words, hide her pain or diminish the anguish of the horrible day she lost her parents. Someone else already shared it from her perspective.

  If only it could have been Cyrus.

  Adriel rolled his head, pressing his face against her stomach. The coolness of his cheek made her skin tingle.

  She stroked his damp hair, smoothing it back, and then stopped.

  To touch him in such a way was too intimate, even for Adriel, who she felt closer to than anyone else except her kabashem. Wondering where the inclination came from, she put her hand down on the grass. To allow his head to rest in her lap teetered on the verge of wrong.

  Then again, Talus had ruffled Cassian’s hair plenty of times. He had even massaged her shoulders and calves on occasion. It didn’t mean anything between a brother and sist
er.

  “It’s sunset. We should head back for dinner.”

  He opened his eyes groggily. “I was just beginning to doze.”

  “You were just beginning to snore,” she joked.

  “I don’t snore.”

  “How would you know?”

  All expression drained from Adriel’s face. He jerked upright, facing away from her. His shoulders slumped forward.

  “What’s wrong?” She rubbed his back. “I was only playing. You weren’t snoring.”

  “You’re lucky to have the love of your kabashem,” he said softly. “To know the warmth of another.”

  Careless. Thoughtless. He had a kabashem who wanted to see him dead, not in her bed. And under the watchful, reproving eye of Neith, he’d probably never dabbled with another.

  Adriel dressed quickly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You said nothing wrong. We should go back.”

  The hike to the main building was rushed, filled with uneasy silence. Chatter in the dining hall was a relief. Adriel bypassed the open spaces near Caelius and Nakia, opting for an empty table and breaking another rule. Neith wanted all occupied tables to be filled before sitting at an empty one. It only created more work for the kitchen staff that had to set out additional food. They sat across from one another and he poured two cups of wine.

  When Serenity looked up, she met Sothis’s gaze.

  Seated at a table four rows over, her mother conversed with several warriors. Sothis glanced away, and the moment passed. That was the extent of their contact since the bath they’d shared. A look or stare at dinner. Nothing more.

  She and Adriel nibbled, not saying a word until she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Why do you use an Australian or New Zealand accent when we’re alone?”

  He stared at her, doe-eyed, a mouth full of food.

  “You don’t use it around Neith or the historians. Why do you only use it with me?”

  “I also use it with Nikos. He thinks I sound better with it.”

  Smiling, she ate a sporkful of fish. “I don’t know about sounding better, but you’re more yourself. Why do you use it with me?”

  He lowered his eyes and drank wine. “I can be myself around you.”