The Soulstoy Inheritance (Beatrice Harrow Series Book 2)

by Jane Washington

  “If you drowned them all now, they’d die happy,” Harbringer whispered in my ear, causing me to choke on an unwilling laugh.

  I felt a tiny pinprick of energy, and when I looked down, a small shoot had speared from the ground, a tiny piece of green in a clearing of mud.

  “Do that again!” I turned to Harbringer.

  “Do what again?”

  I pointed to the sprout, and for some reason he frowned.

  “I can’t make you laugh on command.”

  ‘Why not?”

  “I’m not a funny guy.”

  I tilted my head, considering him, and then finally nodded. “You’re right, you’re not a funny guy.”

  He stood. “I am a few other things though.” And then he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.

  I had no time to question him before his hand slid around the side of my neck, his thumb brushing across the base of my jaw, tilting my head up.

  “Where’s that line?” he muttered, drawing me closer, his lips hovering so close to mine that I could feel every breath he released, warming my face as the rain splashed onto my cheeks.

  My hands were on his chest again, and despite how calm he seemed, I could feel how his heart raced. It made pushing onto my toes and pressing my mouth to his that much easier. He froze, much as he had the first time I kissed him, except this time I didn’t draw back. I slid my hands higher, over the planes of his chest and along the back of his neck, leaning into him until his free arm angled across my spine, and the hand that had frozen on my neck moved to tangle in my hair. My feet left the ground for an instant, and he tilted me backwards, shielding me from the rain as he returned my kiss with an intensity I had never experienced before. I thought that if he didn’t stop, I would faint. But he did.

  He straightened all too soon, and set me back on my feet, pushing a lock of wet hair from my face.

  “Causing a scene here is probably that line.” I could tell that he was trying to make light of it, but his voice was rough and his eyes were shaded.

  It seemed that there were equal parts passion and anger in his eyes, and I couldn’t understand the combination. His hand lingered by my face for a moment longer and then he let it drop. I stepped hastily back, unable to meet his perplexing expression in my state of utter, spent disarray, with the rain soaking me through to my skin. I looked to the ground instead, blinking rainwater out of my eyes, and was met with tiny blotches of green among the mud: a patchwork of new life spreading about the clearing.

  I laughed then, and flung my arms wide. The energy buzzed throughout me again, there was finally enough life within the clearing for me to nurture. I noticed people staring, but I didn’t care. I ran to the nearest tree, placed my palm against the trunk and closed my eyes. It lunged for my energy after a little coaxing, and I sank to the ground, leaning back against the rough bark as the branches once again began to sprout leaves, sheltering me from the pummel of rain. I felt the roots of the tree winding about my wrists, snaking their way up my arm, and I had to briefly chastise them before they bound me completely, though I contented myself to stay in their embrace while I pushed my energy out into the rest of the clearing.

  It was a tiring task. While the majority of the clearing had been sucked of life, there were still many patches of darkness that my mind couldn’t reach, as they were too far gone. They had not only been drained; they had been destroyed. When I felt that most of the work was done, I opened my eyes and found a disconcerting number of synfee villagers gathered before me. They sat in the slosh that had become of the ground, a straggling spray of rain falling around them, their hands joined as they stared at me. It unsettled me to my very core.

  Harbringer stood with Grenlow, Cereen and Rohan beneath another tree across the clearing. It had re-sprouted foliage. I ordered my own tree to release me and struggled to my feet, uneasy with how shaky and weak my legs had become. A man rose as I did, and I recognised him from the night before. He smiled at me and I flinched again at his sharp, pointed teeth.

  “Lady Queen…” He stepped forward, but Grenlow suddenly moved across the clearing, angling himself in front of me, his expression uncharacteristically hard.

  “That’s enough, Daggar, keep your distance.” Even his voice was harsh.

  Taking a step backwards, wanting to put some distance between them and myself, I examined the startled look that Dagger gave Grenlow, which rippled quickly into surprise, before settling—just as rapidly—into understanding. He gave a short nod, turned, and signaled the others to their feet. Was he some kind of village leader?

  “The Lady has been sent to us by our beloved King, may his soul live on forever through her gracious actions!” he cried, inciting the cheers of the gathered people.

  I turned from them all, not wishing to be cheered—or associated with Nareon—and began to walk back to the cottage, my mind spinning with absurd notions. Harbringer fell into step beside me.

  “I underestimated Grenlow,” I said lowly, sliding him a look. “I think he might be a little more like Nareon than I gave him credit for.”

  Harbringer’s mouth was pressed into a hard line and his eyes were unfocussed. He was lost in someone else’s thoughts.

  “His mind is always so guarded, it’s hard to be sure, but I think you might be right.”

  “Whose side is he on?”

  “Nareon’s.”

  “Whose side is Nareon on?”

  “His own.”

  I nodded, and when we reached the place where our horses were tethered, I untied the reigns, looking back down the road to make sure the others—who had begun to follow us—were still far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to overhear.

  “Are any of them on my side?”

  “That depends, Harrow. Which side is yours?” He tossed my question back at me.

  I frowned, but he shook his head, intercepting my expression before it could follow the unhappy direction of my thoughts. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I used the fence to vault myself into the saddle, and steered it away, looking down at Harbringer.

  “I have no idea which side is mine. I just don’t want to die, I don’t want to lose anyone else, and I’m doing what I can under the circumstances.”

  He pulled himself onto his own horse, but didn’t say anything more, as Grenlow, Cereen and Rohan reached us and began readying their mounts. We waited in silence, and then when I saw that everyone was ready, I took off without a warning. I was weak, hungry and angry, and knowing that it was because I needed to feed my synfee craving after using so much energy didn’t help.

  We rode in tense reticence for the time it took to reach Red Ridge, and then I spent several hours sitting in the middle of the devastated city, trying to find even the slightest hint of life in the destroyed vegetation. At one point I turned to Harbringer, who stretched out on the ground beside me, atop a tiny square of mostly broken tiles that he had arranged, staring broodingly up at the sky.

  “Why can’t your Force do this?” I asked him.

  “The synfee specialisations differ just as widely as the human ones. A mind ability can cover anything from an enhanced empathy to what Hazen and I possess, the same way that Force can be obtained in varying degrees. My Force lends more finesse to the elemental power that I already had, whereas yours… yours is a version of raw, unabridged power that I’m sure most other Force users would kill all over again to possess.”

  I didn’t say anything more for a short time, as I fought a loosing battle with the remains of a shrub somewhere in the city. My awareness was spread thin, encompassing as far as I could reach. Usually that would have been too much for me to handle, but the lack of overall life in the city made it easier.

  “You make it sound better than it is.”

  “You haven’t learnt to use it properly, Harrow. You’re barely scraping the surface.”

  A distant shout carried to us across the ruined expanse of nothingness, shattering my concentration then. I yanked the connec
tion closed, pushing to my feet and craning my neck to catch sight of the others. They stepped out from behind a crumbling building and ran toward us; I counted an extra person, a man by the look of it. Harbringer stood too, and we both looked to the newcomer as they reached us. He was panting and bent over, his hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath.

  “My Lady,” Grenlow said. “A large gathering of Read soldiers have amassed at the border. They haven’t crossed, but they sent an emissary over, the boy Cale.”

  “Cale? Where is he?”

  “He returned after giving us their message.”

  I felt disappointment start to well, but I pushed it aside. “And what was the message?”

  “They want to discuss the terms of your upcoming trial.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “They offered to send back the emissary tomorrow, I am told he will convey your willingness or otherwise to comply with their offer.”

  “That really doesn’t sound good.”

  “Someone is giving Hazen a hard time,” Harbringer agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire party of advisors were rallying for your immediate execution. They aren’t as tolerant of the Tainted Creatures as Miriam, and as long as they are kicking up a fuss, Hazen’s hands are tied. If they’re willing to negotiate though, you might have a chance.”

  “Did they say anything about Harbringer? Why only the terms of my trial?” I was half-hopeful that they might have discredited blame on Harbringer’s part, possibly assuming that I had compelled him.

  Every eye turned to the nameless messenger, who now housed a look akin to an animal staring down the bolt of a crossbow.

  “I… ah… they only mentioned you, Your High—er, Lady Beatrice.”

  I sighed. “I’ll assume that’s a good thing… for now.”

  I looked back to what progress I had managed to make with Red Ridge. “I’ve done what I can here for today, but you mentioned something about the Raven River, Grenlow?”

  “The water runs poisoned. It isn’t something that can be done with Force. Someone has to be manually altering it, with or without power. Since it’s still usable in Kingsbed, it’s safe to assume that the culprit is working out of Ravenport. It is not an unlikely assumption, considering that most of the kingdom’s river trade operates through Ravenport. The docks run along the entire eastern perimeter of the city.”

  I grappled with that information, knowing that he was right from what I remembered of the map Marlean had given me. And then another thing occurred to me.

  “Grenlow, who the hell do you trade with?”

  He coloured, and I got the distinct impression that he had slipped up, offering me a piece of information that he hadn’t meant to. Cereen—along with Rohan, this time—appeared insulted merely by the nature, or perhaps the tone of my question.

  “Grenlow?” I prompted.

  “Some trade is done with the Read Empire,” he offered.

  I knew that he was distracting me from insisting he tell me the rest of it, but I didn’t care, because I was distracted.

  “Is that a joke? The two kingdoms have been at war for the entirety of my life!”

  “Nareon and Fenrel had an understanding, apparently.” Harbringer spoke, causing Grenlow to flush with obvious anger now.

  But whatever he felt, I was sure it didn’t come close to my own rage.

  “Nareon!” I yelled.

  Nothing.

  “God dammit!” I kicked at a rotting piece of steel that poked up through the ground and moved to storm off, before managing—by some miracle—to curb the childish instinct.

  I closed my eyes, forcing my raging emotions to calm, and called out to him again, this time in my mind.

  Nareon. The word sounded calm, coaxing even.

  “Twice in one day.” Came the silky reply. “I confess it pleases me to be so needed, Spitfire.”

  I snapped my eyes open and found him right before me, closer than he usually appeared. It momentarily stole my breath, being so close to him again, under the scrutiny of grey eyes so full of secrets; I barely even believed he was really there.

  Taking a bracing step backwards, I suddenly found my anger fading away. Only a few moments ago, I had wanted to scream at him, to punish him for once again hiding something important from me. But now… now I felt nothing.

  “If you can disappear and reappear at will, as you certainly aren’t supposed to…” I spoke with a calm voice, beginning to pace without lifting my eyes from the ground, “how can I be sure that it wasn’t all you, Nareon?”

  I looked up briefly, satisfied by the surprise in his eyes. “How do I know it wasn’t you that killed Fenrel, for reasons of your own—or my father, to teach me a lesson?”

  The surprise melted from his face, and in its place was something harder, something that Nareon had never shown me before.

  “Tell me something, Beatrice.” He stalked forward, until we were toe-to-toe. “Do you think I would lie for you?”

  “Yes…” My answer was hesitant, but not because I wasn’t sure. I simply didn’t understand why he had asked the question.

  “Do you think I would kill for you?”

  I saw it then. His bloodied hands as he cradled me against him, controlling his own murderous rage just at the knowledge that someone had hurt me.

  “Yes.” My voice had begun to shake, and I knew that what I said next would hurt him even more, but I had to say it. “I don’t think that would be a stretch for you, Nareon.”

  He smiled as if I had made a joke.

  “Do you think there are bounds to what I would do for you?” He jabbed a finger at my chest and for a frightening moment, I imagined that I could actually feel the touch.

  I waved my hand in a movement that might have been intended to swipe away his arm, but only sifted through him and shot a numbing coldness up to my elbow.

  “That isn’t what I doubt about you, Nareon. What I doubt is your skewed perception of what I need, or what might help me. You would never hurt me personally, but what you don’t understand is the empathy I have for all the other people you would hurt.”

  He made a face, as if this thought displeased him.

  “If I had wanted to kill Fenrel, I wouldn’t have hit him over the head with a book, I’d have lopped his head clean off. And your father…” His eyes narrowed, becoming two darkening, golden-grey slits set into his perfectly vicious face. “I would have killed him years ago, when he made off with Caroline.”

  I let out a rush of air I hadn’t even realised that I had been holding, and tears rose unbidden to my eyes. I felt his pain, it ripped through me just as it was ripping through him.

  I’m sorry, I thought, not knowing if he could hear me or not, but unable to voice the words through the sudden tightness that worked my throat. I’m so sorry, Nareon.

  His eyes immediately softened, the change as instant as it usually was with him. He reached out, his hand hovering by my face, a whisper of coldness on my cheek, and then he was gone. Without me willing it.

  Chapter Five

  A Glass of Tears to Dispel Your Fears

  We decided that Ravenport would have to wait, and returned to the castle close to midnight. I fought the urge to send for Cale immediately, knowing that he would return on the morrow. Hoping to avoid sleep a little longer, I hunted down Gretal, who seemed to be in relatively good spirits as soon as she satisfied herself that the bandage on my arm was nothing to worry about.

  She led us to one of the higher floors in Nareon’s castle, and into blessedly unfamiliar quarters. Mine housed a connecting sitting room, bedchamber, dressing room and bathing chamber. The sitting room connected each of the other three rooms, with the bedchamber at the rear, overlooking the same side of the castle grounds as Nareon’s glass tower-room. The bathing chamber was to the right, and connected to Gretal’s own chambers; and the sitting room was to the left, with a secret door connecting to a passage that led into Harbringer’s chambers. It was more than
I needed, but I was grateful nonetheless, because they weren’t Nareon’s rooms. That would have been too much to bear.

  I allowed Gretal to draw a bath, and pulled off my clothes, trying not to be self-conscious as she forced me into the tub and started scrubbing the dirt from my skin and from beneath my nails.

  “You know, I can actually bathe myself,” I told her, after she dumped a pail of warm water over my head.

  She tittered, and began massaging some sweet-smelling lotion into my scalp, which had me quickly dispelling any of my previous objections. Once I was clean, my faintly golden skin scrubbed raw, she towel-dried me and dressed me in an atrocity of a shift, with impractical lace edging, and material so silky it rather felt as though I still turned about the warm water of the bath. I was past resisting by this stage, however.

  She brushed out my hair, exclaiming over it the entire time, and then looped it into a loose braid before turning down my bed and leaving me. I stared at the bed, shaking my head in bewilderment, and then sat on the edge as the sound of a door clinking softly from the dressing room announced Harbringer’s presence.

  He strode into the room, seemingly surprised to see me out of my boyish, dirty clothing, and then proceeded to simply stare at me until I cleared my throat. His eyes snapped up to mine, and I got up again, rummaging around in the dressing room until I found a coat, which I slipped around my shoulders.

  He laughed. “I’ve seen you in less than that, Harrow.”

  “You were my professor then, Harbringer.”

  He tilted his head, considering that, and then moved to one of the armchairs beside my bed, inviting himself to sit down.