The Caste Marked

by Mariah Esterly

  After ushering Sylvan to her room and into bed, Serra made her way down the stairs and to the tavern next door, where she perched on a stool next to Rian.

  “This is all I’m good for,” Rian was slurring. “Can’t convince my Father what he’s doing is wrong. This is it.” He glanced around the bar and noticed Serra sitting next to him. “Serra!” He practically shouted. “Serra, have a drink with me.” He motioned over his shoulder, “Vaughn, won’t. Never has had a drink with me. But you will, won’t you, Serra? Barkeep!” He motioned the man behind the counter over, “My friend here would like drink.”

  The bartender looked at her expectantly and Serra was at a loss for a moment. “Cider?” she asked uncertainly, half hoping that the barkeep would tell her they didn’t have it, and she could decline a different beverage. Luck was not on her side.

  she lifted the glass and took a sip. It was better than the cider she’d had in Malvern’s Ward when she would sneak away to the tavern. She took a larger sip and Rian laughed, holding out his glass to clink it against hers.

  She met Vaughn’s gaze over Rian’s shoulder. He shrugged. Rian stood and Vaughn was on his feet in an instant. “At ease, I’m only going to the restroom. I’ll be back.”

  He stumbled away. Serra and Vaughn watched him go. She turned to the guard. “What is going on?”

  Vaughn shrugged again. “I think Sylvan said something to him. Hence, his need to rush to his father and try to talk some sense into him. He’s not able to do that, so he chose to do this.”

  She took another sip of her cider. “I wonder what she said?”

  Vaughn didn’t answer as Rian came back to them, draped his arms around their shoulders and hugged them close. “Ah, friends.” He said before sitting down again and calling for another drink.

  “Where are Reks and Sylvan?” Vaughn asked over the head of the prince.

  Serra swallowed her cider. “Reks is getting us a pack mule. Sylvan was growing weary from holding her illusion. She’s upstairs resting.”

  Rian had stopped talking at the bartender when he’d heard the dryad’s name. “She’s okay?” He asked.

  “Yes, she’s resting.” Serra repeated.

  He nodded and noticed that her glass was half empty. Before Serra could stop him, he’d ordered her a second drink. Vaughn gave her a look of pity, and Serra glared at him. “Are you going to do something about this?”

  “There’s nothing for me to do. You don’t have to drink it.” Serra couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might be laughing at her.

  Rian turned his glassy eyes to Serra. “Drink up, Serra, Drink up. Don’t make me drink alone.”

  Serra took another sip of her first glass of cider. And so it went. Rian urging Serra to drink and Serra obliging, until her she’d nearly finished her second glass. She felt warm and fuzzy, relaxed, which was amazing considering all that had happened. She looked lovingly down at the amber liquid in her glass. “You’re the best,” she muttered at it.

  “You’re almost out.” Rian was calling the barman over when Serra felt a warm arm slip around her shoulders.

  “I think you’ve both had enough, don’t you?” Reks asked.

  Serra couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face at seeing him. Happiness bubbled in her chest, as he looked at her, his eyes shrewd. “Gods, Serra how much have you had?”

  “Only two,” She said, indignantly. “Rian’s had loads more.”

  Rian was nodding next to her. “It’s true. It’s true.”

  “Well, you should have stopped at one. Come on.” Reks pulled Serra off the stool, and she stumbled into him. “Vaughn, can you deal with …” he motioned in Rian’s direction. Vaughn gave a curt nod and began talking in Rian’s ear as the prince swayed on his stool.

  Reks steered Serra out of the tavern and into the inn next door. Serra let him, enjoying the feel of his body close to hers, his hand on the small of her back. She felt a warmth pooling low in her stomach. “Reks?”

  “Hmm?” He didn’t look at her, concentrating on navigating the crush of people.

  “Never mind.” She mumbled. Her face flamed. Thinking of what she had been about to ask him. Reks, will you kiss me? That’s what she wanted to say, emboldened by the alcohol in her veins.

  But her stomach flipped at the thought and she lost her courage. Reks took her hand and all but pulled her up the stairs until they stood outside her door. “You should get some sleep.”

  “I’m not tired,” Serra said, leaning against the wood. “Surprising, right? It’s the first time in I don’t know how long that I don’t feel tired.” She reached out and fingered the fabric of his vest along the lower hem, visible through his open jacket. Reks, will you kiss me?

  “Serra…”

  She raised her eyes to his, tugged him slightly closer. His hands came up to rest on her shoulders. The heat from him sunk into her skin through her thick blue coat, made her feel even warmer. She pulled at his vest again and he allowed it to move him closer. His hands slid from her shoulders to her neck, his thumbs tilting her chin up gently. Reks, will you kiss me?

  “This is a bad idea,” he said, as her hands crept up his stomach to twist into the fabric of his jacket at his shoulders. “A very bad idea.”

  “Shut up,” Serra breathed as she pulled him down and pressed her lips to his. A dam broke in both of them. Reks pressed into her, pushing her more solidly against the door. His gloved hand moved to cup her hip while his other hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place while his tongue tickled along the seam of her lips for asking entrance. Her lips parted and he swept into her mouth, mating his tongue to hers.

  Her fingers clutched at his hips pulling him closer asking for something she didn’t fully understand, but knowing that she wanted whatever it was, needed it desperately to cool the fire that was raging through her.

  His hands were at the front of her coat fumbling with the closures. He let out a growl of frustration and Serra moved to help, sighing as the heavy fabric parted. Reks slid his hands inside her coat, one of them circling around her back the other sliding up to her chest. A small moan escaped her lips.

  It was a quiet sound but it seemed to bring Reks back to himself. He dropped his hands and stepped away from her. She reached out, but he shook his head. “We can’t.”

  “Reks, we can. It’s fine.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “No, we can’t. You’re drunk.”

  She straightened away from the door. “I’m not that drunk.”

  “You’re drunk enough to let me touch you like that in the hallway of a busy inn.” He glanced toward the stairs. “Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn’t regret this in the morning?”

  “Yes,” The word was out of her mouth too quick. He tilted his head and looked at her. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I would regret it in the morning.”

  Serra’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry… I thought… I guess, I didn’t think.”

  Now that he had stepped away from her and she wasn’t being driven into a frenzy by his nearness, the reality of what had just nearly happened came crashing down on her. She glanced down the hall, her face flaming as she saw just how close they were to the stairs that lead to the main floor of the inn. Anyone could have walked up those stairs and seen them. In all honesty, someone probably had.

  Reks had his hands clenched in fists, as though trying not to touch her. Serra felt the hot rush of tears to her eyes and tried to blink them away.

  “Serra, don’t cry.” He looked so sincere as he raised a hand to comfort her. She worried that if he did, she might break. She held out one hand to him to stop his forward motion and placed her other on the door knob.

  “I’m not. I’m fine.” She pushed the door open. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you’ll regret in the morning.”

  Reks reached for her again, “Serra, that’s not fa-” he started, but she was already in her room and closing the door in his face. She heard
a thumping on the door, not the sound of knocking but as if Reks was standing on the other side of the door gently banging his head against it.

  She waited until she heard his steps retreat down the hall before she moved away from the door.

  Chapter 20

  RIAN

  Rian woke to the familiar ache in his head and an upset stomach that accompanied over drinking. He cracked open an eye, and was greeted by Vaughn standing by the side of his bed. The guard had a large glass of water in his hand.

  Rain pushed himself into a seated position and Vaughn passed him the glass and two tiny pills. “Sylvan sent these. She said it would help your head.”

  Rain felt his face flame in shame. He’d been doing so well, worked so hard to leave the old Rian behind. And at one harsh word from Sylvan, he’d completely backtracked.

  “How bad was I?” He didn’t really want to know, but felt he should ask, as the night before was a blur.

  Vaughn shook his head. “You weren’t bad. You didn’t try to fight anyone or anything.” He paused. “You may want to apologize to Serra, for making her drink with you.”

  Rian furrowed his brow. “Serra?” He had a hazy memory of clinking glasses and tilting a cup into Serra’s mouth. “Oh, Gods. I was a monster.”

  Vaughn pulled Rian’s saddle bags from under the bed and tossed it onto the chair. “Not a monster, just not yourself.”

  Rain ran a hand down his face. The medicine that Sylvan had sent him had been quick. He was already feeling better. “You don’t have to pack for me.” He said to Vaughn.

  Vaughn shook his head. “Oh, I’m not. But Sylvan and Reks are already in the dining room eating breakfast, so you might want to hurry.”

  Rian nodded and swung his legs over the edge of his bed as Vaughn left. He leaned his forearms on his knees and took a moment to feel disappointed in himself. You’re the fifth son of a king who will not listen to you. What good are you? That’s what Sylvan had said to him during one of their many arguments. What good are you? The memory of it still stung. What good was he? She hadn’t been wrong, and Vaughn had said much the same thing to him, but it hurt coming from her.

  And last night he had set out to prove her right.

  With a sigh, he began to dress for the day. He would have to face Sylvan at some point, but first he would go and apologize to Serra.

  Chapter 21

  SERRA

  Serra didn’t join the others for breakfast the next morning. The idea of facing Reks over a platter of eggs was too much for her to bear. Instead, she poked her head into the hall and flagged down one of the maids to ask her to bring a simple breakfast to her room.

  She forced herself to eat, knowing that she would need the sustenance for the upcoming journey, though her stomach rebelled against it.

  It wasn’t that Reks had rejected her, she considered as she took a bite of bacon… Well, it was partly that… Who was she kidding? It was mostly that. But also, she couldn’t help the embarrassment that washed over her, remembering how she’d all but thrown herself at him. And in the hallway no less, where anyone could have seen them.

  She was sure that it had done wonders for his ego. “As if it needs anymore stroking,” she said out loud and then regretted her choice of words even if no one else was present to hear.

  A gentle tapping came at her door, and Serra’s stomach flipped, threatening to reject the food that she’d recently filled it with. She didn’t answer the knocking. It came again, a bit louder, more persistent. “Serra?” Rian called.

  Serra let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and went to open the door. Rian took in her appearance. “Oh, you’re dressed.”

  Serra nodded. “And packed.”

  His eyes drifted to the half full plate of food on her table. “We thought you were maybe still sleeping, because of last night, but I see that’s not the case.”

  She shook her head. Truthfully, she hadn’t joined them because of the previous night, but nothing that Rian was talking about.

  He looked down at his boots. “I’m told by Vaughn that I might owe you an apology.”

  Serra couldn’t help but smile. “You have nothing to apologize for, I am a grown woman and could have simply left the cider on the bar. I chose not to.” She reached out and grasped his arm. “Truly.”

  He looked unconvinced, but just said, “We are planning on leaving in about twenty minutes.”

  She nodded. “I’ll meet you out front.”

  Serra was the first to the stables and set about saddling Shadowdancer.

  She heard rather than saw someone approach and knew it was Reks. He leaned against the wall of the barn, watching as her fingers completed the familiar task of tightening the cinch and tying her bags to the saddle using leather straps. She tried to ignore him, but could feel her face flushing under his gaze.

  She was struggling with a particularly nasty knot, cursing under her breath, when he pushed away from the wall and stalked toward her. She didn’t look up. She could feel him behind her, his body brushing against hers. Her face flamed. Her fingers stopped fumbling with the knot as he wrapped them in his ungloved marked hand.

  “Can we talk?” he asked, his lips pressed against her braided hair.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” She said not turning to face him, hardly moving. Hating the way that her body responded to his nearness.

  “Serra, look at me.” She shook her head, her eyes focused on where his fingers enclosed hers. “Why won’t you look at me?’

  She sighed, fighting the tears that welled in her eyes. “I’m embarrassed,” she whispered.

  He let go of her hand then placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her toward him. She stared blindly at the fabric of his jacket. His finger under her chin tilted her face up so she met his eyes.

  “There,” he said, his silver eyes soft. “That’s not so hard. I want to be sure that you hear what I am going to say to you. Are you listening?” She nodded and his hands came up to cup her face. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I want you, Serra. Possibly more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. And some day, soon hopefully, when all of this is over, I will have you. But last night… Last night I would have regretted because you deserve more than a thoughtless drunken tumble and certainly more than a hallway at an inn.” His eyes were burning into hers.

  “When we… When we come together I want to be able to savor it. To be able to make sure that it’s good for you. And I fully intend for that to happen. Do you understand?” Serra nodded slightly. “Good.” He bent his head and gently kissed her. This was nothing like the heated kisses from last night but more like a kiss to seal a promise. When they parted, he grinned and pressed his forehead to hers before leaving her to saddle his own horse. And none too soon as she heard Vaughn, Rian and Sylvan at the door of the stable. She turned her face away from them and applied her attention to the knot that she’d been struggling with before.

  They left the city limits of Carpius thirty minutes later. If the guards at the gate recognized Rian as their prince they kept it to themselves. Though Serra was sure that in the minds of the citizens Rian was as good as lost to them, she wondered that no one saw the similarities between their prince and the handsome blond man who rode at that front of a small group of companions. Especially, since she knew that Rian had started training with the guard before he’d left the palace.

  Serra spent her time on horseback pouring over the book Master Gerard had given her, searching for a shred of information that might indicate what Mistress Vaneza had said was true. There was no notation in the whole of the book that mentioned the true parentage of a shifter being a god. Perhaps, though the myth was an old one, no one had put much stock in it.

  Still, if Malvern was the only god who had the ability to walk on the earth as a mortal, then every one of the Shifters mentioned in the book were her kin. She read the names with greater intensity, trying to decipher whether her relatives had been good people. B
ut the accounts of them were so varied that it was hard to tell.

  On their second day out from Carpius they paused by a small stream that wound its way through a field, bubbling merrily in its bed. The weather was unnaturally nice, with the sun high in the sky, warming the earth to some degree.

  After days of rain the bright blue sky was a welcome sight, and thought the companions were eager to continue on their journey, they could not resist the temptation of lunch by the stream in the late fall sunshine.

  The happy scene was broken only by the verbal battle occurring between Sylvan and Rian.

  “I still don’t understand why after over three hundred years of having a set pattern the death muxins would deviate from their course.” Sylvan said. Serra could tell that the thought had been plaguing her since they had left the Sidonia Wood and discovered that the death muxins had been harrying the border.

  “Sylvan, how many times do we have to go over this? Whether you understand it or not the fact is that the pattern was broken.”

  “Yes, I know. But whoever is behind this is most likely a person who is insane. If an insane person is erratic at first then that is their pattern. This person, however, is the opposite, insane and set in a routine. They should not deviate from the routine.”

  “Do you know a lot of insane people?” Rian asked.

  “Do you count?” She snapped. “I have done a lot of reading on the subject.”

  “Reading, hmm? You’ve done a lot of reading on the subject. Well, then you must be right, mustn’t you? Gods know what is written in a book is truth and what is fact in life could not possibly be.”

  Serra watched as Sylvan’s face colored, not with its usual dark green, but with a pink blush that spread across her cheeks in indignation.

  “And you wonder why it is that I don’t talk to you unless absolutely necessary!”

  “I don’t wonder that. In fact, I relish in it.”