Perception

by A. K. R. Scott

  She smiled, shyly. “I love you, too, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said.

  Her eyebrow twitched as she propped up on one elbow. “What do you mean, you know?”

  Petrin mirrored her movements. “You talk in your sleep.”

  “I beg your pardon,” she said. “I do no such thing. And how would you know, anyway? It’s not like we’ve ever,” she stammered, “well, you know.”

  It was Petrin’s turn to appear offended. “I beg your pardon.” He released her hand. “Wow. When a woman forgets she slept with a man, it’s a blow to the ego, let me tell you.”

  Helaine puffed with indignation and sputtered a few syllables, but Petrin continued before she could pull together an argument.

  “I mean, three whole days is pretty unforgettable.”

  Helaine opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips, fighting back an embarrassed grin. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “I was talking about sleeping,” said Petrin, stone-faced. “What were you talking about?”

  She gave his shoulder a playful shove, then stilled. Her face contorted. “What else did I say?”

  Petrin smiled. “Not much. Something about ghost cats for tea. Though, you didn’t specify if they were on the guest list or the menu, so . . .” He shrugged.

  Helaine’s face warmed, and she buried it in her hands with a groan.

  “Don’t worry. It was adorable. And informative.” His voice was soft and earnest as he spoke. “You gave me hope.” He pulled her hands away from her face, lacing his fingers through hers once more. “I’m just glad you’re here now. And you’re well.”

  “Mostly.” Helaine sighed and flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “But if these swarms don’t stop, I don’t know how long that’ll be true.”

  “How many more will there be?”

  She shrugged. “Grandmaster Brightwater said there should only be about six. But there’s been at least one a day, every day, for the past week.”

  “What will you do once they’ve all finished?”

  “Oh, Dov has plans for me.”

  “Dov? I thought he barely spoke to you.”

  Helaine snorted. “Yes, so I thought, too. Evidently, Grandmaster Brightwater gave him specific instructions not to help me with the actual swarms. Something about testing my resourcefulness. It all felt a little sneaky to me.” She sniffed. “At any rate, it turns out Dov is quite the chatty fellow when he can be, especially when it comes to his bees. I mean, you ask one little question, and you might be standing there for the next hour while he explains, in detail, every tangent possibly related to it.”

  “Sounds like you can learn a lot from him.”

  “I just hope I have room for it all. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Petrin as he reached across her for the half-folded sheet of paper that sat on the nightstand. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about this?” He placed it on her stomach.

  The paper crinkled as Helaine rested her hand on it, gliding her thumb back and forth across the smooth texture. What was she going to do?

  The letter was on the floor right inside her door when she returned from guiding that morning’s swarm. It bore no return address, but she recognized Nadja’s handwriting.

  After weeks spent waiting and wondering, finally a word.

  The letter brought with it both relief and frustration. Concern for Helaine’s recovery was repeated more than once, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much the effect of Nadja’s lullaby had been intentional. And if it was all some terrible accident, she could only imagine the guilt that must be weighing on her friend.

  Still, that Nadja had been able to so completely command Helaine’s own mind, and therefore body, set her nerves on edge. And what about all the people who chanced into The Hen and Harp during the infamous Heartstide Festival performance? How many of those new couples owed their relationships to the natural course of kindred hearts, and how many owed it to the unbridled whim of a Mevocali? And what could have happened if Helaine and Petrin hadn’t been sick? What if they had been there . . . together?

  Why was she suddenly so warm?

  She pushed those thoughts aside.

  Nadja said she had no idea of when she would return. Helaine didn’t wonder at that, with the rumors spreading through Cantio, and the fact that the guard had apprehended the Wanderer woman. They’d managed to keep her identity a secret, for now, and Nadja’s letter reassured Helaine it wasn’t her. Of course, Helaine had no way of knowing when the letter had been sent, so the possibility still remained.

  But what could she do?

  She had written to Nadja’s uncle. And though she had received no reply, Gilburt had reassured her the letter was delivered. Beyond that, she had no course of action.

  “I’m not going to do anything,” she finally said. “She doesn’t say where she is, so I couldn’t send a reply even if I wanted to. I’m just glad she wrote. I don’t feel like I’m left guessing anymore. As for the other things, well, I hope we can get them sorted when I see her again.”

  “What other things?”

  Helaine’s right eye twitched at the slip. She hadn’t told Petrin about her suspicions that Nadja was not only a Wanderer, but a Mevocali as well. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She did, with every ounce of her soul. But it was Nadja’s secret to tell. As much as she wanted to confide in Petrin, she also wanted to protect Nadja and prove her trustworthiness. The less people who knew, the better. And, if Petrin didn’t know, he wouldn’t have to lie.

  “Oh, just some other things.” She palmed the letter and reached over her head toward the nightstand, but her arm wasn’t long enough. “Nothing worth mentioning, really.”

  “But you did.” Petrin leaned across her, taking the letter from her hand. She felt the mattress dip as he stretched, depositing the letter on the nightstand.

  The room door burst open, and in strode Pax.

  Before the back of the door collided with the wall, Helaine became acutely aware of the bed underneath her and Petrin on top of her, and how the whole tableau must appear.

  Pax’s unexpected appearance surprised Petrin, too. He froze at the same moment Helaine bolted upright, her forehead connecting with the spongy tip of his nose. His head snapped backward at the impact, and he reached for his face, losing his tenuous balance on the edge of the bed and toppling onto the floor. Helaine yelped as he brought her down along with him.

  Pax halted for the briefest moment and nodded a greeting. Amusement danced in his eyes as he addressed Petrin. “You know, I hadn’t given much thought to how you entertain yourself while I’m away,” he said, closing the door and tossing a small satchel down on his bed. “But now I’m thinking we need to work out a signal or something.” He headed for his wardrobe.

  “I didn’t know you’d be back today,” said Petrin, at the same time Helaine said, “It’s not what it looks like.” She hoped the scarlet in her cheeks didn’t tell another story.

  Her hip ached where it connected with the stone floor, and she rubbed it as Petrin helped her to her feet.

  She needn’t have worried about Pax. He spared them barely a glance as he rummaged through his belongings, tossing some things aside, and shoving others into the large pack he’d taken out of the wardrobe.

  Petrin led Helaine to the small table that sat between the two beds. He pulled out a chair for her before taking the opposite one. “How are things at the Luthier’s Guild?” he asked.

  Pax muffled response barely escaped the depths of the wardrobe. “Fine, fine.” A pair of slippers slid across the floor, followed by a flying pair of pants.

  “And, ah, are you back for the rest of the summer, or are you just stopping by?” asked Petrin.

  “Who knows,” came the muffled reply, followed by more shuffling. A thud. A groan.

  Helaine and Petrin exchanged concerned glanc
es.

  “Pax,” called Petrin. “Is something wrong?”

  The sounds coming from the wardrobe silenced. Then Helaine heard a faint sigh.

  Pax’s head reappeared, and he walked to his bed. He set his pack, now stuffed to bursting, on top. “Yes, but it’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”

  “Come now, man,” said Petrin. “If there’s something we can do to help you, just say the word.”

  “I don’t even know all the details myself,” said Pax, giving his friend a grateful smile. “So, I mean it, truly, when I say there’s nothing you can do to help.”

  With the focus now far removed from her and Petrin’s embarrassing show, Helaine found her voice. “It’s Nadja, isn’t it?”

  Both men turned to look at her. Pax gave a curt nod.

  “Let me help,” demanded Helaine. The resignation she had felt only moments earlier vanished, replaced by a burning desire to do something, now the opportunity presented itself.

  Pax shook his head. “Thank you. But as I said, there’s nothing you can do to help.” He shouldered his pack and headed for the door.

  Helaine jumped to her feet. “I know she’s Mevocali!”

  Pax’s head whipped around to face her. “What did you say?”

  “Excuse me?” said Petrin, wide eyed.

  “I know. I know what she is. I know what happened at the Heartstide Festival, and I know she’s the reason I ended up in the infirmary.”

  Pax’s face grew stormy as she spoke, so she turned her gaze to Petrin. The mixture of horror and betrayal there tore at her heart.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispered. “I’ve only just figured it out myself. And in the world of secrets, this one is . . . well . . . I mean, can you think of a bigger one? And it doesn’t belong to me.”

  She waited for Petrin’s response. All she got was a bewildered stare. Reluctantly, she turned back to Pax.

  “Nadja is my best friend.” She realized, as she spoke the words, how true they were. Regardless of what had passed between them, Nadja was the closest friend she’d ever had. “She could be a three-headed sea monster for all I care. I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs if there is anything at all I can do to help her.”

  The muscle in Pax’s jaw twitched twice before his long strides closed the space between them. A wave of intense energy slammed into her as his face came within inches of her own.

  “Come with me.”

  Thanks for Reading

  Thank you for downloading Perception. If you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, tap here to leave a review and let me know.

  Early Bird Bonus Scene:

  And thanks for picking up your copy during launch week! I have included a bonus deleted scene just for you early readers. Flip the page for a tasty morsel that didn’t make the final cut, but gives you some clues about things to come.

  Bonus Deleted Scene

  The house was empty when Nadja returned. More’s the better. She didn’t know what she was going to say when she saw him again. What he would say. The cold emptiness that had numbed her all the way to her toes was beginning to thaw, and she had no idea what would follow in its wake.

  Whatever it was, she wasn’t ready for it.

  She marched over to the small, but elegant, writing desk and yanked open the top drawer. Pencils rolled haphazardly at the sudden movement, but she ignored them in favor of a quill and a pot of ink. Another drawer yielded a sheet of paper. With supplies at a premium, she knew she should ask before poaching from his desk. But she didn’t care. Paper and ink was the least he owed her.

  The chair legs whispered across the rug as she sat and scooted closer to the desk. A soft breath passed her lips, and she stilled, closing her eyes, pushing thoughts of him aside for the moment. They would talk soon enough. For now, she had another matter to attend to.

  She dipped the quill into the ink and pressed the nib to the paper . . . and stopped.

  She had no idea what to say. There was so much she couldn’t say, and yet, she had to say something. She blinked at the darkness where her quill rested against the paper, soaking it with an ever-expanding black stain.

  “Ahh,” she spat, setting the quill aside and picking up the paper. What a waste. Her fingers curled around it, but then she thought again. Perhaps she should make do with the stain.

  No.

  Let him figure out how to get more.

  The crisp crinkle sparked in the quiet room as she balled the paper. Crushing it between her palms felt oddly satisfying, and she smirked as she set it aside.

  The clean, blank page taunted her with its perplexing ability to be both infinite possibilities and nothingness at the same time. She stared at it for what seemed like hours until everything she thought and felt merged and condensed down to two words.

  She put the quill to paper once more.

  Dear Helaine,

  I’m sorry.

  She read the words aloud, and the rest of her thoughts came rushing in behind them.

  I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I promised I never would again, and I have. It was unavoidable. And at the time, I didn’t know I would be away for so long. But that’s no excuse for breaking my word.

  I’m sorry for the worry it has no doubt caused you, but please believe that all is well with me, as I hope it is with you. I am safe and with family.

  Family.

  The word weighed on her like an amulet of iron hung round her neck.

  It was the story they had agreed upon. Pax would have already told Helaine by now. But that simple explanation was only a small part of a much larger tale.

  I’m sorry for stranding you in the infirmary, though I’m sure you were well looked-after. Still, I wish I could see the truth of that with my own eyes.

  I’m sorry for things I can’t speak of. But trust that you are a true friend, and I would never intentionally hurt you.

  I don’t know when I will return, but you can be sure I am coming back.

  I hope by now you’ve made a full recovery, and I hope you will forgive me.

  Your friend,

  Nadja

  If you haven’t read Heart of the Wood, grab your free copy now!

  Tap HERE to read it for FREE!

  When Pax left for the Music Conservatory to pursue his dream of becoming a Master Craftsman, he also left his family in a bind. Now, home for the Candlefire Celebration, he discovers his role has been filled by a less-than-perfect replacement.

  Can Pax repair his broken relationships before returning to the conservatory, or will he have to choose between his family and his dream?

  Heart of the Wood is a short story told from Pax’s POV, and set during the action of Inharmonic. Though it is an Inharmonic companion story, it is spoiler-free and can be read as a stand-alone.

  Acknowledgments

  To Aslinn, Jane, Courtney, Katherine and Adam: The fact that you were willing to come back for more makes my heart sing. Thank you for your thoughtful feedback.

  To Jean and Danny: Thank you for your generosity, and for making sure the bees didn’t stray.

  To Jessie: Thank you for making sure my violin was well-behaved.

  To Kim and Darja at Deranged Doctor Design: Thank you for book covers I can fall in love with.

  To Donna and Virginia at Hot Tree Editing: Thank you for your editing expertise. (And for finally convincing me to drop the -s from directional words!)

  To my Girls: Thank you for your continued patience and love. I write with you in mind.

  To Adam: Thank you for more than I could possibly list here. You do so much behind-the-scenes—but I see you. And I love you.

  To God: Thank you for the Cross, your Grace, Mercy and Love.

  To you, the Readers: Thank you for your enthusiasm. It keeps me going when the coffee gets low.

  About the Author

  A.K.R. Scott is a musician, actor, and lover of the written word. This native South Carolinian spent her childhood dev
ouring books, whether tucked away in her bedroom, up a tree, or hidden under the dinner table. Now, she lives in Texas with her husband, two daughters, one rascally dog, and an ever-expanding library. Visit her website for the latest info and to sign up for her mailing list. You can also follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and Goodreads.

  www.akrscott.com