Asha's Power (Soul Merge Saga Book 4)

by M. P. A. Hanson

  Then there were the hellhounds, Asha’s constant companions and protectors. Assigned by Silver they guarded Asha silently, invisible except when they chose to be seen, the only glimpses Romana had seen had been out of the corner of her eyes and their presence unnerved her.

  It was impossible not to seem slightly awkward around this newer Asha, but Romana knew with everything in her that no matter what this beautiful woman with her mismatched eyes was her daughter, and always would be, no matter her actions.

  “She’s so different now.” Katelyn echoed her thoughts as she joined Romana on the balcony overlooking the makeshift ring in the courtyard. “But she is still much like you. Remember when you used to ring fight in the Slave Shop?”

  Romana smiled. “The status I acquired I justified as a protective measure against the Slave Master at the time. But to be honest I just enjoyed fighting.” It was a joy she now saw echoed on Asha’s face.

  “You worry too much that she is like Silver.” Katelyn observed.

  “Even if she was,” Romana replied. “It wouldn’t change anything. She is my daughter. I’ll love her no matter who she becomes and she will always be welcome in my home. The same is true for you. It’s a mother’s most beloved and sacred duty, to put her children before all others.”

  Katelyn, though still small in stature, tugged Romana into a surprisingly strong hug.

  “You should go and challenge her.” Katelyn encouraged. “And don’t hold back; she’s getting fairly good after all these hours of practice.”

  Romana nodded absently; already descending from the balcony they had been watching form at a speed that made her a child of the Ancients. Asha didn’t notice as she approached the ring, pulling a blunted sword from the weapons rack. She nodded to the captain overseeing the fight and he called a swift halt to their swordplay.

  “I hope you won’t mind if I take your place, General.” She excused. “But I would like to spar with my daughter now.”

  “Princess-consort,” The General bowed respectfully and left.

  Asha smiled brightly as Romana entered the ring and she was helpless not to smile back.

  “Begin,” The captain yelled.

  Romana shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was by how good Asha had become. From the first shuddering blow against the borrowed sword she remembered the consequences of her Ancients blood for Asha’s strength and speed. Romana, as a pure-blooded descendant of two Ancients was stronger, but not by much. In fact, Asha’s brute strength would probably only just be less than Silver’s. Her skill, however, was incredibly far behind her immortal body and Romana carefully tapped her daughter when she made a mistake, watching as she corrected it almost instantly.

  Romana was making her final lunge, intent upon finishing off this match when Asha pulled a surprise move on her, parrying in a way she’d never seen before.

  The result was Asha seeming to disappear as Romana focused on the complex swordplay and then reappearing behind her, a small dagger poking into her mother’s back.

  “I win!” She cried with an exuberance that made it clear how surprised she herself was with the result.

  Romana beamed, truly happy for her daughter and enveloped Asha in a hug.

  “That was brilliantly done.” She told her as she held onto her child for dear life, knowing that tomorrow was the last day before she would miss out on yet another year of her child’s life.

  *

  Silver knew he was watching her, and slowly the knowledge became more and more distracting till the letters for the Dark Coven seemed to blur before her eyes. She could almost imagine the fire was cackling at her futile attempt at concentrating.

  “What?” She finally snapped at the halfling sat in the armchair across from her.

  His presence had been getting to her all night. With Asha gone, her hellhounds on their own world and her cousins searching for Maria on her home world, the caves were almost unnaturally quiet. Lena and Acis had retired some hours ago; the tea cups on the low table before the fireplace the only sign they were ever there.

  Silver had resolved to try and sort the many disputes within her coven during this quiet time. She had hoped for Roan’s assistance, but a mysterious trip to Elvardis had come up just that afternoon.

  It was almost all too convenient.

  Keenan looked up from his book, a dull title on ancient elvish rites of passage, and smirked at her.

  “Something the matter?” He asked, sounding all too domestic.

  Her hands itched for a blade.

  “You’re so tense,” He commented. “Down time doesn’t suit you.”

  Wasn’t that the understatement of the century?

  “Nothing.” Silver brushed the feeling of his stare off as her imagination.

  He gave her a knowing look, “‘Nothing’ wouldn’t make you get that killing gleam in your eyes.” He admonished, “Come here?” It was a question rather than a demand.

  For some reason she found herself acquiescing, abandoning the pile of letters and slipping across the room.

  When she was pulled sideways into his lap she instantly whipped out a blade.

  He chuckled, “Relax, my fierce wytch. I think by now you know I mean you no harm.”

  Keenan’s hands, which previously had been held up in a gesture of surrender, slid towards her neck where they began massaging the muscles with a firmness that said he knew he was doing this for a warrior, but also with an undertone of gentleness that spoke of the care he had for the woman he held.

  “Do you not think it’s a little suspicious that everyone has disappeared at once?” Silver asked. “Perhaps this is an ambush.”

  Keenan laughed again. “I have a confession to make.” He informed her. “While Issart’e and Dukran left for reasons of their own, I may have convinced everyone else to give us an evening of peace.” At her incredulous look he explained. “Now you don’t have to fear taking your mask off.”

  His scars reflected the firelight as his hands moved downwards to her shoulders. Without a thought, Silver made the wytch armour disappear from her upper body, leaving her clad in her long sleeved black under-tunic and allowing him to continue massaging her back.

  As for the mask, after several long moments she reached underneath her hair to undo the knot holding it in place. A moment later and she undid her braid as well, allowing her hair to cascade in a wavy black waterfall down to her waist.

  “Beautiful,” He murmured softly, his fingers running gently through the silk strands.

  “Keenan,” Silver began and then stopped, unsure for the first time in centuries. He didn’t pressure her, and perhaps that was why she managed to get out the words that had circled in her mind for some time now. “I’m not Romana.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I know.”

  “She traded her freedom for love. I cannot do that. I have to be free.” Silver tried to explain. “I’ll never settle down and start popping out quarterlings. I was born for war.”

  One of his hands changed from playing with her hair to stroking her back while the other rested atop her thighs. “I know.” He finally repeated.

  That was all he had to say? She nearly growled.

  “You want me to love you.” She continued. “What you’re asking goes against everything I was taught, everything that I am, and everything that I have been for three thousand years.”

  “You’re not emotionless, Silver.” He informed her. “You’re not completely incapable of loving either.”

  She snorted. “What makes you say that?”

  He was silent for a while before continuing. “Love is putting someone else’s needs before your own. You did that for Marten when you saved his life and died for his kingdom. You did it for Theria when you rescued her brothers as well as her. You’ve done it time and time again for Romana, Asha and your brothers. It doesn’t matter to me that you’ll never openly admit that you care, or show affection through embraces or glowing smiles. That’s not who you are. That’s not who I fell
in love with.

  “And I will never begrudge you your freedom. I won’t tether you or clip your wings. I’ll follow you where I can and do my best to aid you when I cannot. The only request I have is that you never look at another man the way you look at me.”

  Silver was stunned to silence by how well he knew her. “It’s not fair to you.” She finally whispered, hating the way her voice caught slightly.

  He stroked a lock of hair out of her face. “Ah, but you forget one thing, my fierce wytch.” He gave her a slight smile. “I knew when I started loving you it would be like trying to catch a storm with my bare hands.”

  His fingers delicately traced the skin on her back where her wings sprang from and she recognised the request for what it was.

  Her wings unmerged with a soft swoosh of air, splaying over the armrest in a lazy manner that belied her natural warrior alertness.

  “I haven’t truly openly loved anyone since Kriss.” Silver began. “You know how that relationship ended.”

  The crazy halfling laughed. “I figured if you tried to kill me I’d freeze you and talk you out of it.”

  Kriss had been a scholar, not a warrior. Perhaps Keenan would stand a chance were history to repeat itself, she thought, finally relaxing enough to place her hand over his heartbeat and rest her head on his shoulder.

  Maybe, just maybe, she thought as she dozed under the caress of his hands against her feathers, Keenan Iceblood was strong enough to survive her despite her wildness and love her because of it.

  *

  Kate wasn’t sure she should have been watching Silver again, especially since the Council no longer existed and there was no need to watch her for them. And the scene she had just witnessed between Silver and Keenan made her fairly certain that even if she was supposed to be watching them, the polite thing to do would have been to turn away for a moment. Unfortunately, since the Council was formed, it appeared she had become quite a nosey eavesdropper.

  Gaillean chose that moment to appear on her island. She sighed and rose from where she sat atop the waves, Keenan may have the strength to love someone as wild as Silver, but she couldn’t say the same for herself and the wytch’s father.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.” Gaillean commented, looking around.

  “It was always like this.” Kate gestured to the bright colours of her plane. “Before I hid it from the Council with the mists, that is.”

  Those mists had vanished completely leaving behind not a lake, as many people presumed, but a vast ocean, rippling with colour. Waves rose and fell, sparkling with rainbows, and the small island in the centre gleamed with the colours of a thousand plants and animals. Gaillean himself stood upon slopes made of gems which she’d chosen instead of pebbles for the beaches. It was her paradise.

  “Issart’e and Dukran are getting closer to Maria.” He informed her, opening a small window in the air next to her. Both of them had always had elemental powers, though she preferred the calm touch of water, and he the vibrancy of the earth.

  “It seems to me to be a trap.” Kate replied. “Llewellyn is perfectly capable of hiding his children, just as we do for ours.”

  “But if they are clinging to the ways of the Council, he may not be able to without their permission.” Gaillean said, stepping onto the beach.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd how suddenly they are able to find her, after so long searching?”

  “I wouldn’t know; I have been otherwise occupied.” Kate hedged.

  Gaillean’s smirk said he knew exactly who she’d been watching. “I too keep an eye on my daughters.” He replied. “Do you not think it interesting how Keenan is prepared to love Silver despite, if not because of, her wildness?”

  To admit that she’d been thinking that same thing minutes earlier would only encourage him.

  “It is not the same.”

  “Oh, how so?” He asked, looking genuinely interested.

  “Keenan has proved to Silver he is there no matter what. His vows and even his scars are testament to how far he is willing to go to keep her.”

  “Kate,” Gaillean moved closer, “when will you realise, Keenan may have made a few vows and borne a few scars, but I brought down a Council of gods to keep you?” She shuffled nervously, unable to contradict his words.

  “Asha’s training will need to be sped up.” She finally said, opting for a not so subtle change of subject. “She only has a year to master her powers now that war is even more imminent.”

  “True, though I worry we will end up pushing her too fast, despite Marta’s reassurance otherwise.” He sighed. “In any case, that is not why I came.” She looked up, “I came to invite you to dinner.”

  She smiled, wondering where he’d take her if she accepted and then realising that there was really no ‘if’ about it. “I accept.” She replied

  His smile could have outshone the stars. “You won’t regret this.” He paused, “Now close your eyes.”

  She did as she was told and felt his power wash over her skin, changing her clothes and teleporting them somewhere new.

  “Open them.” He said.

  She did, and gasped.

  They were stood on a rooftop terrace below a single glowing full moon. Below them, emerald waves washed upon the shores of a pristine beach, and around them white painted houses looked out onto the sea. The roof terrace was full of people sitting at tables, tucking into meals, while men and women dressed in black wove through the crowds, dispensing food. Sultry music played from somewhere, though she could see no musicians and as she looked down she saw she was wearing a striking blue shift dress that matched the people’s alien clothing.

  “It’s beautiful.” She breathed.

  “I asked Darren’s permission to visit his world.” Gaillean explained. “He personally recommended this establishment.”

  He pulled out her chair before she could even move to grab it and pushed her in smoothly.

  Kate had almost forgotten how devastating Gaillean could be when he focused his energies on being a gentleman. His courting her would be the death of her, she decided as the servants brought out the first mouth-watering dishes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CONTRAST

  Asha stood in a room that gave new meaning to the word disarray. Clothes lay across every surface and a large leather trunk lay open on her bed. Her child clothes lay in a pile by the door where maids would collect them and take them down for the palace children later. She doubted she’d even need the trunk, large as it was. She had two sets of wytch clothes and as they cleaned and changed themselves the need for other garments was non-existent.

  Other than clothing, what was a girl supposed to take when she was fostered by her unpredictable warrior aunt and told to join the oh-so-reassuringly named ‘Dark Coven’. She almost gave into the urge to laugh hysterically.

  Why was she so shocked? She wondered as she gazed at the mess, she had known she would be going to stay with the Dark Coven since she had eavesdropped on her parents’ discussion what seemed like an age ago. However, Silver hadn’t exactly introduced her to them one by one when she had lived in the fortress; the most she knew was what she had pieced together from snippets of overheard conversations. And what she had heard had prepared her to expect fiercely independent women, living apart from one another so differently to the wytches of the Light Coven on the Isle of the Gifted. She knew they pursued jobs as mercenaries, assassins and thieves and used their magic for black deeds in exchange for gold.

  Not exactly the sort of women she expected to become friends with. Her one consolation was that none of them would kill her while she was with Aunt Silver.

  But how should she act around them? If she showed her nerves would they see her as easy prey? Is she was too arrogant would they perceive some insult in her actions?

  “You’re overthinking it.” Her father’s voice floated from the doorway and she whirled to find him leaning against the frame.

  “How can you tell?” She
asked, dropping the book she hadn’t realised she was still holding onto the bed.

  “Your mother bites her lip when she worries too.” He replied. “If that wasn’t enough evidence, your tunic is also on backwards and you haven’t moved since you began packing at dawn.”

  She glanced down and saw, much to her dismay, that the wytch clothes had indeed reflected her confusion, not only were they on back-to-front, but the threads had changed from grey to a blotchy mixture of purple and brown. With a thought, she fixed their error and threw the spare set of robes into a small satchel hooked over the bedpost.

  “I wish you’d never made that bargain with your grandmother.” He continued, moving into the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “The years you could have had would have saved you from all of this panic. You would have met the dark wytches one by one as Silver decided to introduce you and both covens would have gradually accepted your place in between them.”

  “Mother must be right.” Asha whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “They’re called the dark wytches for a reason. I just keep thinking that they will all be worse than Aunt Silver.”

  Unbelievably her father plopped down on the bed beside her and laughed. “Asha, would you be surprised if I told you that your mother mentored two wytches from the Dark Coven?” At her nod he continued. “Nearly all of those wytches were on your mother’s coven before the split occurred at your birth.”

  “Did you never worry about your wife being around such dangerous people?”

  “All the time, just as I worry about you all the time,” He was honest with her, and oddly enough it was comforting. “But both your mother and you have great destinies ahead of you; there’s nothing I can do to change that.” He looked sad. “Not that your Aunt would ever allow harm to come to you. She is the most dangerous wytch in the Dark Coven, Asha, which makes her the most dangerous wytch in all the twenty-one realms. That makes you safest with her. And I think it’s safe to say that with your mother’s blood in you, you’ll be quite powerful yourself someday.”