Blossom and the Beast (The Alder Tales Book 1)

by RS McCoy

  Someone pressed a chunk of bread into her hand. “Take a few bites if you can.” She heard the Vice Syndicate sit beside her, and a moment later, his fingers pushed back some of the curls that had fallen into her face.

  Blossom flinched from his touch. Her eyes flashed open, but all she could see was the brilliant blue sky and the ink-black figure beside her.

  As if he didn’t notice her reaction, the Vice Syndicate said, “You need to eat something. I didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten this morning.”

  Blossom lifted the bread to her lips and took a half-hearted bite, chewing it mechanically before swallowing. Then, as much as she hated to admit it, her stomach began to settle.

  By the fourth bite, the spinning sensation subsided. Blossom gingerly pushed herself to sitting and noted how the Vice Syndicate made no motion to touch her again. “There, you already have your color back.”

  “I didn’t realize I’d lost it,” she snapped. Blossom shoved in the last half of the bread in her mouth in one bite, her cheeks protruding from its size before she could chew it down.

  “We can walk from here.” The Vice Syndicate stood and smoothed his cloak before he offered his hand to her. He didn’t seem all that surprised when she refused it.

  “I’m fine to ride.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said with eyes on her, measuring her for what, she didn’t know. “It’ll be only a few minutes on foot. I wouldn’t want you to be sick before the portal passage. If your past travels are any indication, you’ll have a hard time with it.”

  Blossom had no idea what he meant, so she continued marching toward the looming grey wall with her arms crossed. Get in the carriage. Don’t get in the carriage. Ride this horse. Don’t ride this horse. She could only assume the Vice Syndicate enjoyed changing his mind and watching her get frustrated.

  She refused to offer him the satisfaction.

  No one bothered to stop her or catch up to her. The Vice Syndicate and his men stayed back, letting her walk in silence. It was only when they reached the shadow of the wall that the Vice Syndicate requested she stay by his side.

  “The city can be overwhelming at first.” With that, he led her through a tall opening in the wall before walking into the chaos.

  Hydra carts ran in every direction, their owners adorned in the sea-blue and teal of their branch. Terras in forest-green and brown sold bowls and cups made from fallen alder trees. Women walked by with elephants burdened with loads of bamboo or sacks of grain. Children played in the streets, splashing mud on each other or swinging alder twigs through the air.

  Blossom thought this must be what swimming was like. A constant motion around you as you flailed. Vendors and storefronts lined the street, and people came and went, attending to whatever business they had. The smell of roasting fish and burning wood filled the city like a thick fog.

  The Vice Syndicate parted the bustling crowd like the sea. Most fled from his path when they saw his cloak, but a few happened to wander in front of him, oblivious to his presence. One man even crashed into him, his shoulder no taller than the Vice Syndicate’s chest. The Vice Syndicate reeled back from the shove and hit Blossom with his elbow, for which he apologized unendingly.

  But Blossom’s attention was focused on the general chaos around her. There was too much to see—too many people and stores and things. She could spend months here and not see it all. She had half a mind to run to the street carts and vendors to see what they sold, but she didn’t.

  The Vice Syndicate led their party through the city, following a wide thoroughfare to the north, until a large, conical building appeared ahead.

  With a long finger, he pointed toward it and leaned close to her. “You see that building there? That’s the Syndicate. The leaders of our realm are there as we speak.”

  To Blossom, it looked like a large metal tent, similar in shape but shimmering bright in the afternoon sunlight. She might have thought it impressive if it weren’t for the overwhelming commotion of the city.

  Just when she thought she’d started to adjust to the tumult, something crashed loudly to her right. Her eyes darted toward the commotion in time to see the wall of a building explode in shards and splinters. A spotted leopard hurled through the air and debris, landing on all fours with a skid, hissing with threat. Blossom stopped in her tracks and watched the cat’s aggressive display.

  Behind it, a brawny man with a blond beard leapt into the air, and before he fell to the ground, his body transitioned into a black jaguar. His paws only touched the ground for a moment before he launched at the leopard. When the two clashed mid-air, the jaguar won out, pushing the leopard back and straight toward Blossom.

  All she could see were claws and teeth—that murderous look in the jaguar’s eye. She’d seen predators—she grew up in a bear clan—but never had she seen such aggression, and never aimed at her. Blossom’s heart hammered out her fear, but her feet were too slow to move out of the way.

  She landed with a painful crash.

  Beneath her was the smooth black cloak of the Vice Syndicate. Blossom pushed off him as fast as her muscles could manage. When she stood and turned back to the cats, she noticed there were now three. A cougar had joined the fight, circling the perimeter where the jaguar and leopard swatted at each other, claws protruding from their paws.

  “Are you all right?” the Vice Syndicate asked as he regained his footing. Blossom had never seen him look so disheveled. His entire back was caked with mud, even the tips of his dark hair.

  “I’m fine,” she said and backed farther from him. In answer, he lashed out and gripped her upper arm too hard, dragging her through the crowd like an unruly child. His steps were so long and quick she struggled to keep up, and more than once her feet tangled beneath her. “Let go of me,” she shouted, but he ignored her. It was only when her other hand came around and smacked him square in the face did he release her with a heavy thud to the ground.

  And there in his eyes, that angry fire roared to life. He was far too furious to even attempt to hide it. Blossom would have smiled had she not been so afraid. Afraid of the cats that would have killed her without notice during their brawl. Afraid of the Vice Syndicate’s wrath.

  She doubted anyone had ever struck him before.

  Then, instead of unleashing his anger on her, the Vice Syndicate turned his back to her. “A cloak, Olin.” His second serviceman followed behind them with the four horses in tow. Pulling a long black cloak from one of the bags, he handed it to the Vice Syndicate.

  There in the street, only two blocks from the still-raging cat fight, the Vice Syndicate stripped off his muddied cloak and exchanged it for a clean one. Without his collar to hide his neck, Blossom caught a flash of his tattoo, but was too slow to see it clearly. A bird, maybe?

  The Vice Syndicate spent several moments buttoning his cloak, smoothing it over with his hands until it was perfect. Only the mud clinging to the tips of his hair showed any sign of their crash to the ground. Then, when he was ready, they continued toward the Syndicate Center, though now their steps were hurried. She was distinctly aware that the Vice Syndicate meant to move her through the city and to the portal as fast as possible.

  She hadn’t even been there an hour. So much for seeing the world.

  The Vice Syndicate ushered her up two dozen white stone steps and led her into the metal building. The lower floor was wide open and cavernous, but above them, she could see ring after ring of the upper levels stretching toward the top.

  Once inside, the Vice Syndicate relaxed. His steps slowed and the tension eased from his jaw. Blossom decided he felt safer there, though she didn’t know why.

  At a long counter on the far side of the room, a few women sat working in pressed white suits, their hair cut and shaved in dramatic styles. Bits of metal clung to their lips or noses or eyebrows. Aeros, she decided, though she’d never seen any before. The Vice Syndicate approached the nearest and held out a copper coin. It was thick and as wide as three
of her fingers, clearly expensive, but he handed it over as if it were nothing but a piece of grass. “Two to Pyrona.”

  The woman took the coin and deposited it into a peculiar opening behind the counter. A moment later, the groan of active machinery sounded—metal grating against metal—before she handed it back to him. “Thank you for visiting us, Vice Syndicate Landel.” The woman smiled up at him before daring a sideways glance at Blossom. Based on the marked change in her expression, she didn’t like what she saw. Blossom glared back until the woman’s gaze fell in defeat.

  The Vice Syndicate walked to a door at the far right of the counter. There, they found a hallway with a series of numbered rooms. He opened the door to #413, seemingly at random, and ushered her inside.

  While Blossom had never been inside a building before last night’s inn, she was sure this tiny room wasn’t the norm. It was barely large enough to hold the both of them. Even with her back pressed against the wall, the Vice Syndicate’s chest was only a finger length from hers.

  Not her favorite position to be in.

  The Vice Syndicate reached out and inserted his coin into a circular mark on the wall. That was the last thing she saw before the spinning began. Nothing in the room changed, and she was sure she was standing perfectly still, but there was no denying the room spun. She felt the violent swirl deep within her stomach, and while she tried to ignore it, the sensation only increased.

  Blossom clasped her hand over her mouth in preparation for what she knew would come next. The Vice Syndicate put his hands on both her shoulders as if to steady her, though she was certain they weren’t moving. Spinning but not moving. “Hold on. Almost there.” His voice was low and calm, like Hale’s might have been, and had her eyes been open, she was sure his would have been bright and keen on her.

  She shook her head. She wasn’t going to make it. Bile and bread clawed back up her throat, and just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, the spinning stopped. Blossom lurched with the abrupt change but was nonetheless grateful for the stillness.

  The Vice Syndicate reopened the door and held her by the arm as she stumbled down the corridor, though this time he was far gentler. When he pushed open the door to the lobby, Blossom nearly tripped. Rather than the sterile white room from before, she was surrounded by sleek black onyx with dozens of fires in crimson braziers.

  Pyrona, she realized.

  In her sickness, she hadn’t even thought about the fact that they’d traveled halfway across the realm in a matter of moments. “Portal affliction!” the Vice Syndicate shouted over her, though she had no idea who he shouted at.

  At last, he let her collapse to her knees and spew what little bread she had left in her stomach. Tears dripped down her cheeks, deepening her humiliation, and when she was done retching, she found an old man on his knees just on the other side of her mess.

  “First time?” the man croaked.

  Blossom nodded and wiped her tears. The man handed her a cloth for which she was grateful. “Don’t worry, child. Portal affliction is very common. Some get used to it. Some don’t.” He pressed a heavy, wrinkled hand to her arm. “I hope for your sake, you do. Yours is a particularly severe case.” The old man began to laugh as he walked away, though Blossom couldn’t decide why that was so amusing.

  The Vice Syndicate squatted beside her. “Are you going to make a habit of this?” His words were cruel but his lips held a strange little smile.

  “Are you being funny?” she scoffed.

  He sighed. “I was trying to be. A bit out of practice, I’m afraid.” He cleared his throat and stood. For once, Blossom accepted his hand and regained her balance. Once she assured him she didn’t want to sit, didn’t need to lie down, and didn’t want to wait a few minutes to proceed, he decided they could go ahead and continue onward.

  Blossom just wanted to get it over with.

  “Transport is the safest way, but it might unsettle your stomach again.” The Vice Syndicate appeared to be concerned, though she was sure he enjoyed her suffering, getting her sick time and time again, making her look weak and frail. It only made her want to fight back all the more.

  “I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t as if she had anything left to spew.

  The Vice Syndicate led her to the front of the building where they found a few dozen stone steps, but these, too, were onyx. At the bottom loomed a strange metal vehicle, like a huge metal carriage with pointed feet instead of wheels.

  “What is that?” she asked as they neared.

  “A transport. You’ll see.” He smiled as she climbed inside. The windows were larger and the seats more comfortable, but otherwise, it was just another box in which to drag her around.

  Blossom was prepared to hate it.

  Then it took off. Rather than the forward motion of the carriage, the transport shot straight into the sky, pressing her hard into her seat. Blossom felt as if she’d left her stomach behind, but once they leveled out, she found herself completely distracted by the view.

  Below her, the city of Pyrona spread out in every direction. Mountains capped in white and orange cut through the lights. Not fire, but lights, burning bright against the falling evening sun.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said to no one in particular, though of course the Vice Syndicate thought she spoke to him.

  “I’m glad you like it.” He parted his lips as if there was something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t.

  For ten minutes, Blossom watched the city pass beneath her. From a bird’s-eye vantage, she could see everything. The tops of buildings and homes, the stony slopes of the mountains, the winding streets.

  It was nothing like the Alderwood.

  Then, the buildings got larger, the mountains closer. Blossom realized they were descending, and within moments, the transport touched down on the ground. She was more disappointed than she expected.

  The Vice Syndicate opened the door, releasing her from the metal box to reveal a wide open clearing with a cylindrical building at the center. Completely made of glass, she could have seen the entirety of all three floors had it been afternoon. Even in the fading light, she could see the alder tree that grew in its center. It had to be young to be so small, but someday it would fill the central space within the house.

  It was the most stunning home she’d ever seen.

  “May I present the Landel Manor?” The Vice Syndicate extended his hand in a sweeping gesture toward the structure. “The home and surrounding land have been in my family for several generations. Would you like to see the inside?”

  Blossom nodded without taking her eyes off it. This was his home? She was going to live here?

  Suddenly, she didn’t hate it all as much as she thought she should.

  The front doors were two wide alder wood panels carved with mountain scenery. With both hands, he pulled open the doors and let her inside.

  A pair of women waited at the bottom of a rounded staircase. The older one had three long scars down her cheek and grey curls escaped from her black cap. The other woman, tall and pretty with ink-black hair, shook like a leaf, as if she were afraid of Blossom.

  No, not her. Him.

  “Welcome home, sir. We’ve left everything as you like.” Only the older woman spoke.

  “Thank you. May I present Miss Blossom Frane? Ms. Frane, this is Norsa, and this one is Valenta. She’s also new here.” Norsa nodded at the mention of her name, but Valenta kept her eyes on the floor, too afraid to look up.

  The Vice Syndicate didn’t seem to notice. “Please make up a guest room for Ms. Frane. She’ll need fresh clothes and accommodations. While she’s here, she is to have everything she needs.”

  Norsa nodded, and both women scurried away to tend to the room. But Blossom didn’t misunderstand his words. “While I’m here?” she asked.

  “How would you like a glass of wine?” the Vice Syndicate said as he advanced into the next room. With its glass walls and fine alder wood floors, she was sure this room alone was worth more tha
n her clan could harvest in a decade. He found a tray of glasses—real ones, made of actual glass—and poured her some sort of pink wine.

  Then he handed it to her and said, “I traded for your hand, Ms. Frane, because I want you for my own. However, I won’t force you into a marriage. I know better than to cage a wild mare. It will be up to you to decide what you want, but in the meantime, you’ll live here with me—and I have a few conditions.”

  Blossom narrowed her eyes and waited.

  “First, you may never leave these premises. Pyrona isn’t the quiet Alderwood. The people here have dangerous, volatile totems. If you leave my protection, you will be an easy target. Second, you will greet me each morning and join me for dinner each evening. The rest of the day is yours to do with as you see fit.”

  “But I can’t leave?” The words tasted sour on her tongue. She could feel her anger rising like boiling water, surging through her veins and clouding her thoughts.

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “I’m your prisoner?” Her lip curled in disgust at the prospect. Trapped. Again.

  “That’s not the word I would use. I am keeping you here for your safety. I know you would rather—”

  Blossom didn’t need to hear the rest. She sent her wine glass crashing to the hardwood floor and let the sound of shattering glass satisfy her anger. She offered him several seconds of her glaring eyes and heated breaths before she ran back in the direction the women had gone.

  She never wanted to see him again.

  Captive

  BLOSSOM FOUND the two women only a few rooms away, easily located by the light that streamed into the hallway through the open door. She hadn’t noticed the back of the building held a series of rooms with walls of wood, probably all bedrooms.

  Or cells.

  “Welcome, Ms. Frane,” Norsa said with a smile when Blossom burst into the room.

  “Go away.” Blossom was in no mood to be polite. She was too angry, too betrayed. She’d been a fool to think she would see the world. Instead, she’d traded one prison for another, except this one lacked her close-knit family of bears.