Pieces of Her Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Soul Tenders Book 1)

by Serena Lindahl

  "I can't wear any of this," I explained wistfully, motioning to the entire store even though my eyes remained glued to the beautiful dress.

  "Why?" The woman's voice turned serious, the rasping craziness relenting to a gleam of sudden wisdom. "Are you affiliated with any House yet? Has any faction of your society claimed you?"

  The strange choice of words caused me to frown. I shook my head. "No, I'm still a student and haven't tested yet..."

  "Then you may be any of these colors," the woman interrupted my excuses. She moved directly to the dress I was admiring. She caressed the short capped sleeves.

  "It's not allowed..." I wrung my hands.

  She cocked her head, her dark eyes pinning me. "Since when have you ever followed the rules?"

  I turned to Ian. Maybe he could explain to this woman what I struggled with, but he merely gazed at me thoughtfully. His eyes burned intensely, and I was hard put to guess what he was thinking.

  "I have no money," I argued instead. This foreign Performer might twist the rules, but she wouldn't accept a customer without money.

  The Mishokian approached me. Her dark eyes burned into my soul. "Your future has a different path than the others of this cursed kingdom," she murmured quietly. I heard Ian's shuffle behind me. The movement captivated me because every action of his was calculated. Something must have surprised him enough to make him step out of character, but my eyes remained trapped by hers. The sudden swirl of a milky white color in her eyes made all the fine hairs on my body stand on end. The same affliction had overtaken my brother's irises when he'd had his first vision. The cloud skimmed so fast through her vision, I might have imagined it. "This dress was made for you. Therefore, the gown is yours with or without payment. Your future will enable you to pay me back if you so choose, myself and others like me."

  "Others?"

  "The Commoners, the Performers, the forgotten who don't pass the kingdom's petty tests or don't want to struggle their entire lives. Some choose to be happy in their place instead of constantly striving to reach the top. The structure of your kingdom doesn't provide well for them."

  I sucked in a breath, her sacrilege freezing my body in place. Her words had crossed my mind several times, but saying them aloud to a stranger was another thing entirely. Without another word, she removed the dress from its hook, wrapped it lovingly in a bolt of blue silk and placed the entire bundle into a box. My gaze darted between her and Ian, my fingers tugging my braid anxiously.

  "Ian," I hissed, "what should I do?"

  Ian's expression was thoughtful but also resigned, like his mind was made up but he wasn't entirely sure of the decision. "Accept the gift, Lass. Wear the dress tonight. Not only would it be inadvisable to deny a gift from a Mishokian wise woman but it suits you. You are of every House and none. You don't fit into the mold this kingdom has created, and therefore you shouldn't be confined into the required clothes."

  The Merchant woman cackled again. I hadn't realized she was a wise woman, but I should have. Only the nomads that roamed the very northern reaches of Mishok had skin as dark as hers. The popular belief was that many of their elders saw the future, not just matches like our Soul Tenders.

  "You have been speaking to one of my countrymen." The woman pointed a bony finger at Ian. He merely shrugged, the usual mask of boredom returning to his face. She shoved the package into my arms. "Go now. The sky will cry soon and I don't want the dress soiled before you wear it. Wear the gown before your King, Indra. And don't forget us."

  Before I could respond beyond a hasty thank-you, she was bodily shoving me out the door. Ian had my satchel swung over his shoulder and fell into step beside me. We were halfway back to Scholar House before I found words again. "What does Indra mean?"

  "I've never heard it before."

  His form wasn't as large as Mason's, yet I felt small next to him, protected. I studied him out of the corner of my eye. Every muscle in his body, every feature of his face, had been trained towards revealing nothing, but it was only an act. The longer I was around him, the more I perceived his emotions. He felt wariness directed toward the outside world, curiosity, admiration, apprehension, and desire. My flesh tingled as I identified the last emotion. Of all the men occupying my mind, his regard, and Reed's, were the ones I was the most uncertain about. He studied me as well, although his feet managed a straighter line than mine. His gaze roved across my face and towards the package in my arms.

  "What are you thinking?" I inquired.

  His lips quirked and I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. His cheek was lightly whiskered. He appeared to vacillate between shaving and not shaving at random intervals. The stubble on his face did not look as soft as Clay's. I imagined his kiss would taste like protection, possession and passion. A tingle traveled my spine, pebbling my nipples at the thought. I held the dress box before me like a shield.

  "I am very much looking forward to seeing you in that dress." His voice was rough, desire coating his words.

  "You're going to be there?" I tried to catch my breath. The sensations assaulting me nearly drove me insane, the images in my head even more distracting.

  "I'm always there," he responded in a low voice. It was the truth. He had been there since that night my life changed. His fingers rested lightly on my arm, effectively pausing me. I realized belatedly we had reached the door of my building. His hand was dark against my tanned skin, his fingers rough and warm. I looked around in surprise. I didn't remember turning the corner or walking up the stairs of each tier. How had I climbed without tripping? A shadow crossed the sun, drawing my attention upwards.

  "The rain will start soon," he commented, removing his hand. He placed my satchel over my arm, his fingers brushing my covered shoulder. I shivered. "An escort will come to take you to the palace. They will procure covered transportation if it's still raining."

  "Mason?" I asked absently, my mind still spinning from his touch. If anyone could lend me strength on the journey to meet the most influential couple in the kingdom, it would be Mason. Ian lent me insight, but Mason gave me strength.

  "Probably." Ian smiled and I was pleased I detected no jealousy wafting off of him. Maybe his friendship with Mason made the idea easier to stomach. My other three men rose in my thoughts but I shoved them away. Now wasn't the time. Before I turned around and entered the door, he raised a hand and trailed strong fingers down my cheek. He smelled of spice and night.

  Fire speared through me, heightened by the static power of the storm building in the air. My body ached to be closer to him and I leaned toward him before I could second-guess my intentions. He reached around me towards the door, so close his arm brushed my waist. Rich brown eyes darkened, pulling me into them. His nostrils flared as he inhaled my scent and I couldn't resist any longer. I fell towards him, angling a kiss towards his cheek. I saw a twinkle in his eye just before he turned his head and met my lips with his own. The smooth firmness of his mouth against mine caused everything else to fade. I wanted to be closer to him, I wanted to taste him. My tongue slipped out and skipped across the seam of his closed lips. The groan which rumbled through his chest was echoed by thunder in the sky.

  The kiss was over far too quickly. He pulled away, taking hold of my arm so I didn't tumble after him into the street. That was intelligent foresight because my legs were decidedly unsteady. His eyes, nearly black now, roved over my face and caressed my body. The broad expanse of his chest echoed the heaving of my own. I could feel his desire, like a lasso pulling me in. My stomach clenched with longing.

  "Sweet Lass," he murmured, "remember that I was the first to kiss those luscious lips." He must have opened the door behind me because I blinked and he was pushing my gently into the open stairwell. The door closed, mere centimeters from my nose. He stayed on the other side for several seconds, amused and aroused, until his presence abruptly disappeared.

  I climbed the stairs in a daze, remembering the way his lips had moved against mine, the weight of his breath
on my face, the caress of his fingers on my body. My core still burned, my breasts felt heavy and my nipples tingled. The first to kiss my lips? Had he seen me kiss Clay on the cheek, then? Did he not care? Their kisses had been my very first, the boys at school as standoffish as the girls after I was declared unfit for a House. Now, though, I was happy I hadn't been kissed before. A smile stretched across my face, completely unladen with worry. I hadn't been happy in quite some time. I skipped up the last flight of steps, letting myself into the quiet apartment.

  The weight of the package in my arms slowly returned me to reality. What was Mum going to say? Would she let me wear the dress? My unit was empty. I was confused for a second until I remembered I had left school early. Mum was still at work. I dropped my books in my room and entered Rowan's old room. Only a couple items indicated Mum had taken up permanent residence in the chamber. A hairbrush sprouting her silky black hairs sat on the nightstand, the bed was rumpled, and the dresser sported a book that appeared to be a horribly boring treatise on the pollination of bees.

  I didn't feel guilty entering Mum's space; she wouldn't mind. This room had the only full-length mirror besides the tiny bathroom. I didn't want Delia to see me until I had to face her.

  Unable to restrain myself, I tore into the box. Lavender silk spilled out, more beautiful than I remembered. Rain pounded on the roof of our building just as I lifted the mass of cloth and held the gown to my body. It promised to be a perfect fit. I lay the dress reverently across the bed and bathed quickly, using Mum's lavender smelling soap. Delia would whine all night if I used all the hot water.

  Itching with impatience, I towel dried my hair, pinned the mass of heavy strands haphazardly on top of my head so water wouldn't drip on the dress and slipped the silk over my plain panties. The feel of the fabric on my skin was decadent and reminded me of my men touching me. The sensitivity of my flesh was heightened from all the wanderings my imagination had been taunting me with. The cloth weighed next to nothing, causing me to wonder if it were crafted entirely of spider's silk. Thankfully, I could fasten the dress myself due to the tiny row of buttons under the arm.

  I stared at my reflection in wonder. The lavender complimented my bronzed skin, shading my eyes to a dark bluish gray with a hint of purple. Each House color paraded prominently but none overshadowed another. The fit was impossibly precise, as if sewn exactly for my body. I shivered as I remembered the old woman's words. The silk hugged my curves perfectly, modest but revealing at the same time. The bodice's boning lifted my full breasts; the skirt flared over my hips, delineating my indented waist and lengthening my short legs. The black lace edging the bottom brushed the floor at exactly the right length. I may be flaunting every rule of the kingdom, but I would look good doing it.

  I wasn't aware of how much time passed while I stood staring at myself. The sound of the door behind me made me twirl quickly, my heart beating faster. Mum gaped, her mouth wide, and shut the door quickly behind her. I barely heard the noises Delia made as she banged through the unit, each sound muted by the hammering rain.

  "Kiarra, what is that?" Awe, fright, and surprise fought for dominance in Mum's whisper.

  My hands twisted before me as I relayed the story of the wise woman in the marketplace, each word she had said, and her insistence that I take the dress. I mentioned Ian's involvement but not his kiss. Mum remained silent long after my words faded.

  Resolve sifted into Mum's face as the story progressed. I waited for her verdict, frozen with apprehension. I couldn't imagine taking the dress off now. I felt beautiful. Fate was demanding my participation, or maybe the wise woman's words had gotten to me after all, or maybe I was making excuses because I liked the dress.

  Finally, Mum twirled me gently and pushed me down onto a straight backed chair. The brush smoothed through my drying hair. She clucked over the way I had pinned it up, causing some strands to curl and others to straighten.

  "Mum?" I asked worriedly when she still hadn't spoken.

  "Your man, Ian, was right. You can't refuse a gift from a Mishokian wise woman. She is the only one in the city. I have heard stories of her, but I've never seen her personally. I am unaware of the translation of Indra, but I'm confident I can find an interpretation in the library."

  "So I can accept the dress, can I wear it?"

  "Yes, Kee, wear the dress. You will soon belong to a House and may never have the chance to wear it again. When the Queen holds her galas, attendees are allowed to wear any color as long as they still display their House Crest. I believe this event qualifies."

  "But the three of you will still be in your everyday clothing."

  "I am proud to wear my Scholar robes," Mum answered with supreme confidence. "Delia will wear her student uniform as is proper. She, and every one of her teachers, is aware of which House she will ultimately belong to. I wouldn't put it past her to put yellow somewhere upon her person and I will allow that because it is a foregone conclusion. No one can guess how you shall test and we will explain to the King if he inquires."

  "And father?" My voice was quiet as I plucked at the delicate folds of my skirt.

  "I have given up caring what your father does or thinks, my love. Once Delia has tested out of this household, I will apply for a divorce. The King will grant the petition if I explain the circumstances. Maybe your father will make such an ass of himself at dinner, it won't even be necessary." No fear rang in Mum's voice, only cold resignation. I rose and embraced her tightly.

  "Finally," I muttered. "I know why you stayed even if I don't understand. I couldn't have tolerated it myself for so long. You deserve happiness."

  Mum's eyes shone with tears as she placed the last pin in my hair. "Sometimes you are wise beyond your years, Kee." She turned me around to face the mirror. I gasped at the magic she had wrought in my hair. My thick tresses were half up and half down, the hair that trailed to my waist wavy. Mahogany, blond, copper, small traces of black, all were present in the strands she had pinned into curls on top of my head. Mum had never had much need for such talent. She had only ever braided our hair and her own.

  She gave me one last hug after I had lightly lined my eyes with kohl and stained my lips with a pale coral. I never used cosmetics but the moment called for a little more than usual. She held me at arm's length, pride transforming her face into a younger version. Her eyes grew serious. "Tell no one what the Mishokian said about our kingdom or the word she called you. I don't claim to understand, but events may soon change our future. We will take them as they come." I nodded. "Come along, it's almost time," Mum said, steeling her expression again. "I think the rain has let up enough for us to make the palace gates."

  I listened but didn't hear the incessant pounding of raindrops which had been present since I arrived home. I hoped we wouldn't be walking to the palace in mud covered streets. I didn't want to ruin the beautiful dress. I planned on returning it to the storekeeper since I couldn't pay. I would wear the gown tonight, and then I would take it back to the wise woman.

  Father waited in the living room, looking bitter but halfway sober. He didn't sway where he stood which was an improvement. He was dressed in brown breeches and a light blue shirt, the Merchant crest pinned to his shoulder. I was surprised. Father or not, I had almost hoped he might be wearing yellow so the King could punish him. Any love I'd once had for him was long gone. I realized how selfish my hypocritical wish was, though. I wasn't exactly following the rules either.

  "Mother!" Delia shrieked. The shrillness of her voice behind me made me flinch. "You bought her a dress and not me?" Delia looked beautiful in her student uniform, her hair elaborately braided and threaded through with blue ribbon. The ribbon was edged in gold to express her potential in the Merchant House. Mum had been right, except Delia hadn't stopped with yellow. She'd gone straight to gold.

  "I didn't buy the dress," Mum responded patiently. "It was given to her as a gift."

  Delia sniffed, only slightly mollified. "Probably by the Performers," she sn
eered. "They know you'll be joining them soon."

  I ignored her petty insult and Father’s accompanying laughter. Being a Performer wouldn't be half bad. I could wear any color I wanted, and Mum said I had a pleasant voice. Anything would be preferable to the menial tasks expected of the lower tiers. I would rather sing on a street corner than muck out stables, spend endless hours scribing parchment, or sit in boredom at a courier station.

  Not saying a word to either Delia or my father, I swished out of our unit. The air would be cold without a shawl, but I couldn't imagine wearing my drab brown coat over the beautiful dress.

  I squared my shoulders as I made my way down the stairs. I was a nobody, born to a Scholar and a man who clung to his forsaken House like a sinking raft. They were a match that was never meant to be. My best friend, my brother, had been taken into the castle, assaulted by visions. He would never be able to comfort me again. My sister hated me. Besides my mother, I may as well not have a family. After I failed the test, I wouldn't have a House. I had failed the kingdom, and tonight I would stand before its King and ask him why. Where was my place, and how did the men I couldn't stop thinking about fit into the preordained order?

  Chapter Twenty

  Mason

  The vision that stepped from Scholar House was not the self-conscious schoolgirl Mason had encountered the morning before. Ian told him the story of the dress and how she had asked if he would be her escort. That had filled him with inordinate pleasure. The description of the garment, however, was nothing compared to the image of the dress on her body. The fabric clung to her curves and seemed to provide a mantle of confidence.

  Mason ignored his fellow escort, the horses snorting behind him, the lingering drops of rain pooling into the rain catchment barrels, and her family following behind. She was all he saw. She glowed like a star, all the colors of Treleaven wound beautifully into her dress, her hair, and her eyes. Conviction nearly knocked him to his knees. He would lay down his life for her, Soul Match or not.