Her Dark Soul

by Kim Knox

  Her heart hammered. “Will it always be like this? A…craving?”

  “Yes.” His lips almost brushed hers, so near her mouth burned as if he had. “Always.”

  The echo of heavy boots from the stairwell thudded with her pulse. Lucas was back and the thought of him catching her, having him see Marek touching her, kissing her, rushed heat under her skin. Something had shifted. It was different from Marek watching them, something sharper, more like a poke to his chest as if daring him to stop her.

  Ash didn’t understand the emotions that came with these two men. They seemed to make no sense. Still she wasn’t fighting them and fisted her hand in Marek’s linen shirt and took his mouth. The sweet taste of him elicited a soft moan from her.

  She melted kisses against his lips and Marek deepened them, his tongue stroking hot against hers.

  “Busy?” Lucas’ voice cut through the kiss and Marek pulled back, even as desire darkened his eyes. The heavy thump of a linen bag just to her left forced her attention to Lucas. He gave her a sharp smile. “Food.”

  “Are you ready to do this?”

  Marek had slipped back into the cold professional, all need for her gone. Was this his way of controlling what existed between the three of them? Ash wished she had a quiet moment to sit down and sort out what she felt, how she could slot the idea of wanting both men into her life. She had no professional façade to help her hide.

  “It has to be now.” Lucas picked out an apple from the bag and bit into it. He waved it at the window as he chewed. “Something has changed out there, and it’s not just my being bound to a statue for four hundred years.” His mouth thinned. “And yes, that was a surprise.”

  “Changed how?” Marek asked.

  Lucas shrugged. “In the air, how it tastes, the way it hits your skin. My guess? Whoever stole it has read the marker.”

  Marek cursed. “We still need to know its essence, its structure, what the map led to.” His fingers tugged at his shirt buttons. “We should—”

  “It’s not necessary to get naked.” Lucas dropped the core onto the table and wiped his hand over his mouth. “Though how many have you convinced that’s essential?” He lifted an eyebrow. “With the amount of energy we’ve created, touching hands is enough. Did custodian law never teach you that?”

  Anger glittered in Marek’s eyes. “Breaking into someone’s dreams is not custodian magic.”

  “No, it’s ancient.” A hard smile cut his mouth. “And you never suspected what you were? Or you simply denied it?”

  “Should I leave you alone?” Ash pushed past the two men and sat on the rumpled bed. She pressed her spine against the wooden slats of the headboard and crossed her legs, staring at them. How they fitted together was still too raw, untested. She stopped herself from wiping a hand over her face. Sometimes she wanted to question the path the goddess had chosen. Anger tensed both Lucas and Marek and maybe they needed to resolve it with sex. “Is that a part of the dark soul pact too, you two must…?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Not for me.”

  Marek’s strained silence, his dark expression said it wasn’t a welcome suggestion for him either. He sat next to her and took her hand, his fingers warm and strong around hers. Lucas, his gaze shifting over her hand locked in Marek’s, sat on her other side and linked his fingers through hers.

  Ash bit back a smile, the ridiculousness of sitting on a bed with these two men and holding hands rushing through her. “This is…odd.”

  Marek didn’t seem to find it humorous. “Close your eyes, Ash. Drift into sleep. I’ll find the memory.” His fingers flexed around her hers. “Stay sharp and focused. Ready?”

  Ash closed her eyes and tried not to think how much more strange it was to be wearing clothes—

  “Ash, you’re supposed to be sleeping.” Lucas’ breath brushed her ear. “Be a good girl.”

  She slid a look at him, she couldn’t help herself. Her skin burned and the ache to turn her head and find his mouth, had her heart beating hard. “And if I’m not?”

  “Enough.” Marek growled the word. “Ash, close your eyes.”

  She obeyed and darkness took her.

  Chapter Seven

  Sunlight slanted through the wide doors into the circular room, cutting through the shadows of the vast space. Ornate marble columns supported the great dome, the alcoves they created lost to thick blackness. The air tasted dusty, ancient, and the hint of incense tickled. She stared up into a doomed roof, her gaze following the intricate pattern of squares carved there, and rubbed her itching nose.

  “Ash, stand still.”

  Large hands squeezed her shoulders and the soft voice sounded like Rani, but he seemed too far away…until he loomed into her vision, blocking the view of the dome. Her heart turned over. He was more than twice her height. She blinked. Her memory, she was in her memory of seeing the marker.

  “Close your mouth.” He stroked long fingers over her braided her. “You must be on your best behavior this morning, Ash. Today you meet the first priest.”

  Nelek. No, it wasn’t him, he wouldn’t rise to be first priest for another twenty-one years. Ash gave a slow nod and stared down, looking at her small, four-year-old hands, obviously scrubbed clean for the occasion. Her mind scrambled back, trying to remember who had held the position decades before, and the name Cafell fell into her thoughts.

  Ash bit her lip and scanned the shadows of the room, searching for Marek and Lucas. She didn’t know how it worked, how they would appear in a memory in which they’d played no part. There was no evidence of them…anywhere. She clasped her hands together, her fingers too small and thin, and tried to ease the fast thud of her heart in her young girl’s chest. She had no memory of this meeting, this echoing room. And the not knowing had sweat slicking her spine.

  The shadows shifted and an old man with thick, white hair limped towards them, flanked by two younger priests. The one carrying the now familiar plain box was Paavo, who in her time had risen to the office of Temple Protector a few months before. She blinked. The other priest she recognized as Nelek. His hair was darker and his face smoothed of wrinkles, but the same hard darkness lurked in his gaze.

  “Ashsara.” Cafell’s light voice, cracking with age, echoed. “Good morning.”

  Rani’s comforting hand slipped from her shoulders and he stepped back, his sandals slapping against the marble floor. Ash performed a low bow, her body not her own and she felt gauche, awkward. She straightened and gave a smile, finding no reaction in the three men facing her. “Good morning, lord.” Her voice was a little girl’s squeak and she bit at her lip.

  “Do you know why you’re here today, Ashsara?”

  She shook her head, not trusting herself not to blurt out the truth. It was strange. There was no imperative to say or act in a certain way. It was almost as if she had command of the moment, that she really was in her past. But that was ridiculous.

  “To mark your fourth year in the Temple of Fausta, every ward must join with us in celebrating that fact.” He spoke slowly, softly, his shoulders hunched down towards her. “Are you ready to commit your life, Ashsara?”

  What sort of question was that for a four-year-old? But she had to continue to play out her history as she supposed it had happened. She would’ve wanted to please the priests. She remembered only happiness in her early years, sunshine and laughter, security. So she nodded.

  “You have to say the words.” Nelek bit out his order, his jaw tight. He looked behind her to Rani. “Have you not drilled her?”

  “Ash.” Rani bent and his whisper blew the loose strand of hair at her ear. “Remember?” He paused and when she couldn’t answer, he murmured, “I, Ashsara, pledge my life and my flesh to the keeping of the temple.”

  Ash repeated his words, her voice stilted. She didn’t remember him ever saying these words to her. What had they done to her? Her chest grew tight. Had they done to her what they’d done to Kia? Wiped her memory clean of all that happened in this dark room
? Her blood ran fast. Would they cut her too?

  Nelek leaned in to whisper in Cafell’s ear. “Is she the right choice for this role, lord?” His dark gaze speared her and she bit at the inside of her cheek to stop her blurting out some obscenity. Was this why she’d always hated Nelek? Had some part of her remembered him here? “She can’t even remember the oath.”

  Cafell’s wizened lips thinned further. “Ashsara is of the line. Only the line can ward this box and the treasure within. Desma has breathed her last and her blood stains the box. Time is short.” He narrowed his eyes on Nelek. “It doesn’t matter if she’s a stump, the child’s bloodline is everything.” He turned his attention back to her and his mouth lifted into a pleasant smile. “Step forward, Ashsara.”

  Rani’s fingers pressed against her spine and urged her forward. Her shift brushed against the marble floor, the light slap of her sandals echoing. She stopped just before Cafell and her hands pressed together, tight and bloodless. He stretched up so tall, they all did, and the unknown bit at her nerves.

  Cafell snapped his bony fingers and Paavo knelt down beside her. He placed the box on the floor at her feet and returned to Cafell’s side.

  “This is your heritage. Your predecessor gave her last blood to open it.” The first priest paused. “And now it’s your turn.”

  “Blood?” The word escaped her on a tiny squeak.

  Nelek muttered under his breath. “Lord…”

  “Be quiet, Nelek. She is of the line of Kairas. That is all we need.” The old first priest pulled in a wheezing breath and focused again on Ash. “Open the box, Ashsara.”

  Her fingers itched and she stopped herself from flexing them. She didn’t think she’d…well…be herself. She thought she would have observed the memory, with Marek and Lucas close by. It was strange to be her child-self…and have no idea what the hell she was doing in her past.

  She knelt and ran her thumbs along the edge of the lid, the slight separation pressing into her skin. She pushed. With a groan, the internal hinges turned and the thick lid lifted. Cold light cut from the open box, bathing her in rainbow colors. She squinted, trying to see what was inside. The light hit her in a pattern, she could feel the press of each color against her skin and it…opened…something deep within her.

  She breathed hard, fighting the push of whatever it was up through her flesh, but it couldn’t be denied.

  “Pick it up, Ashsara.”

  Fear burned through her. And she hated the priests who had rescued her. They did this to every girl they brought into the temple? Filled her with terror and twisted her body to suit their needs. Ash shoved down her anger. She was here for a reason, to see, to touch the marker. They had to find the treasure it mapped before the ones who would kill them did. Now, Cafell wanted her to pick it up. She could do that.

  Her small fingers cut through the swathe of light and dipped into the box. They brushed against cold glass and she pressed her palms against a curve. Depressions and bumps imprinted on her hands and…resonated…singing through her skin.

  She sucked in a quick breath as it met the surge of whatever-it-was tearing up through her flesh. The collision seared light behind her eyes and nothing seemed to drive it from her brain.

  The shadows of the circular room vanished and disjointed images shone, of stone and chiseled marble arching over her, the feel of hot sunshine on her skin and sand pushing through her sandals to grit under her toes. Something growled, a low, rippling snarl as if a beast circled her, drawing closer. Ash’s heart pounded. What was it? Was this the treasure the marker led to? A living beast?

  “Here is another from the line of Kairas.” Cafell’s withered voice wove around the increasing snarls of the beast, carrying with it the echo of the hall she no longer stood in. “Recognize her blood or devour her.”

  Ash shook and fear shot through her. She tried to yank her hands away from the bauble, but unseen hands held her there, forced her to stay on the gritty sand, the sun burning her skin. The snarl of the beast whipped so close she imagined hot, fetid breath against her cheek. But there was nothing she could see, only the strange, broken architecture, the whirl of sand and the savage sun. The hot air changed, shifted around her, and something pushed against her chest, hard. She dragged in shallow breaths. She couldn’t move, bat away the unseen creature crushing her…and then sharp points punctured her skin, her flesh, biting down into the bone.

  Ash screamed, unable to fight against the wave of fire tearing though her flesh.

  She crumpled and fell…hitting cool marble.

  Dark shadows swept over her and the box lid shut with a low thunk. Ash breathed in and out, the pain in her chest, the fire under her skin a fading memory. What had they done to her?

  Little more than a baby and they had almost fed her to a violent, invisible beast.

  She closed her eyes and the marble eased the heat from her body. A hand touched her shoulder and she shrieked.

  “Ash.” Rani’s soft voice eased through her and she wanted to hate him. He had stood by and let the first priest, let Paavo and Nelek torture her. Tears leaked at his betrayal. “It’s over now.” His long fingers squeezed her thin shoulder. “And once you leave the sanctuary, your memory of this will be gone.”

  The slap of sandals echoed over the curve of the stone walls and Ash opened her eyes. The box was gone, picked up by Paavo. The three priests had gone with it. She let out a heavy sigh. “And now I’m bound.”

  His hand stilled on her shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

  Ash laughed and shrugged off his hand. She climbed to her feet and stared up at the man she had loved like a father. “You let them do that.”

  Rani frowned and then he knelt down so that his eyes were almost level with hers. Pain and confusion gripped him. She could see it in the tightening of his eyes. Her heart twisted and she fought against the need to hug him and offer him comfort. “Every ward of the temple must come to the sanctuary.” He touched her cheek and her flinch made him drop his hand. “Every one of you has been given a talent by the goddess.”

  “How did they know I was from the line of Kairas?”

  “Ash…”

  It was all false. She couldn’t be asking these questions of Rani, but she needed answers and Marek had not yet broken her out of her memory. “You’ve always said you brought me here from the Street of Cries…yet Cafell knows my family.”

  Rani closed his eyes. “You will remember nothing,” he murmured. “When you leave the sanctuary, your memory of being bound will be gone.” He said the words almost to himself, not to her, and Ash waited. Rani had always answered her questions. Always.

  “I did not collect you from the Street of Cries.”

  Her heart tightened. Was this what she wanted to hear? And how did it make her situation more bearable if she’d been given to the temple rather than abandoned to her fate?

  “Every generation, a slave from the palace gives us a child, a newborn girl.”

  “Why?”

  Rani let out a slow breath and his eyes dropped briefly before he met her gaze again. “I don’t know how you know what you do, how you’ve…changed. Maybe something about the treasure opened your thoughts.” He wiped his long fingers over his mouth. “Some treasures need guarding in a very rigid way. The box you opened is one such treasure. The palace, the emperors have always known this, and they supply us with girls to complete its protection. I don’t know more than that, Ash.”

  “You collected me from the palace?” Her mind spun with patterns, with connections. Every generation… “Kia. Did you collect Kia from the palace?”

  Rani blinked and confusion filled his face. She realized he could have no idea to whom she was referring. Something shifted in his expression, something dawning and his hand trembled against his lips. His skin flushed. “I…” His chest heaved. “Yes…yes, I did. Oh by the goddess, what have they done?”

  Ash stared at him. It made no sense. He could not know who Kia was…unless… “Rani?
Are you really here with me? Am I grown? Have I left the temple?”

  His eyes widened and he found his feet, stumbling away from her. He shook his head. “No. I will not be fooled by magic into saying what should stay silent. Our first duty is silence. You’ve already taken Ash from the temple, wounded Kia—”

  “Rani, it’s me!”

  “No.” He stood straight. “You think that, down the years, I haven’t learned how to defend myself? That I don’t know my heritage?”

  He closed his eyes and a wave of heat smashed into her, tossing her back like a rag doll. Pain blinded her, shot down her spine—

  And with a scream, she lurched forward on the wide, soft bed.

  “Ash…”

  Lucas wrapped strong arms around her and pressed her to his chest, his warmth, his scent puncturing her panic. She gulped in air and clung to him. The riot of pain and terror eased with every breath. What the hell had happened? It hadn’t been a simple journey in a long forgotten memory. Somehow, she’d—they’d—dragged Rani in with her, a Rani who knew about and could use magic. She fisted Lucas’ shirt. “What happened? Where were you?”

  He stroked a hand over her tangled hair and pressed a kiss into her hair. The gesture tightened her heart. She bit her lip, denying the burn of tears. “We didn’t know what you were…are.” His fierce hold eased and his fingers stroked her jaw, the light touch burning against her skin. He made her look at him. “You’re from the line of Kairas, Ash.” Something lurked in his dark gaze that she couldn’t name, but her gut said it was unease, perhaps even fear. “That line died out centuries ago.”

  “Obviously not.” Marek’s hard voice came from somewhere behind her. “So now we include the palace in the conspiracy.” Curses flowed from him and he strode the floor, the boards creaking beneath his heavy strides. “And I thought the emperor too weak, too under the thumb of the Orders of Magic to conceive of something like this…”