Timeless (Maiden Of Time Book 3)

by Crystal Collier

  Nineteen

  Perspective

  Leofrik stopped at the edge of the field, impressed by the variety of colors and leaves—a blooming garden able to feed at least fifty souls. The farmhouse nearby had been burned down years ago, but portions of it remained—a single stone wall, charred eaves now covered in creeping ivy, and most startling, a sun-bleached tunic hanging to dry.

  The horizon showed no other residence.

  He knelt and brushed a hand through the leaves of a berry bush. Fruit had been plucked from the plant—not merely nibbled off by pests or rodents. If he didn’t know the truth, he’d question if ghosts harvested and maintained this place.

  He would watch. If these necromancers were using this space, he’d observe their patterns and decide the best way to trap them. Know thy enemy.

  Twenty

  Mischief

  A scream.

  Alexia dropped her stitching and threw back the curtain door of her hut.

  Deamus squealed again. He brushed grubby worms off his head and shoulders, stumbling over a bucket that still contained a number of grubs. She glanced at the roof of his hut where the bucket had been perched.

  Kiren and Zephaniah stood in the distance, chuckling.

  Deamus had been mending the last week, slowly recovering what would have taken Kiren mere seconds to restore. Tensions had increased between the two, and she’d been struck with a growing animosity toward Kiren for his unkind words, and now actions.

  She gave him an incredulous glare and went to aid her friend. She understood that Deamus and Kiren had disagreed, but this was childish and demeaning. If Deamus hadn’t insisted Kiren was innocent of knocking him out, she would have taken steps to banish her once and future husband.

  Since he’d kissed her, they’d hardly spoken two words to one another. Something she’d said must have sunken in, but she didn’t understand why he stayed.

  ***

  Kiren threw his hands up at her glare. Just because he thought a man being doused in wigglers was funny didn’t mean he’d made it happen. She truly didn’t know him if she believed him the cause.

  Thank the heavens she didn’t know about the incident earlier today when Willem couldn’t find his whittled knight. Kiren had discovered it wrapped in his bedroll. He’d snuck it away and placed it on a rock near the center of camp. Zeph caught him, but thankfully his friend believed his innocence. There was also Mae’s shield which found its way to his prayer spot in the trees. He hadn’t been so lucky there. Amos had needed his assistance with one of the children who’d consumed poison berries and found him holding the shield.

  Someone was trying to make him look like a villain.

  ***

  Another scream. Alexia and Amos exchanged looks and hurried through the underbrush, pushing through other people who had gathered. Little Filia crouched near the pool, trembling. Regin knelt next to the girl, speaking softly.

  “I-it was a monster.” The little one tucked into Regin’s chest, and he lifted his hands and chin away, avoiding the contact that would put her to sleep. Her voice was muffled, “Black like midnight. Hiding.”

  Alexia sighed. Wonderful. Now they had a bear to watch for.

  Someone whispered behind her, “Beware the Soul Eater.”

  Another person chuckled. “He will come for you at night, whilst you sleep in your bed.”

  “He will steal away your soul and plant stories in your head.”

  She turned on the group, scowling at their rhyme. “The Soul Eater?”

  Amos waved them off. “It is a silly story, passed down through generations to scare children.”

  “I have never heard it.”

  He smirked and shook his head. “They say a monster was created out of people’s hate long ago. It was a beast that could not be contained by any physical element. The thing roamed free, stealing people’s souls until it was trapped in a great cage.”

  “A cage in the sky,” Regin shook a fist at the heavens as he arrived at her other side. Filia now resided safely in Oriel’s embrace. Regin cupped his mouth conspiratorially. “But it sneaks out to steal the souls of naughty lads and lassies.”

  “I know this story,” Deamus said, surprising them not only by speaking up, but with the youthful bounce in his step. “They tell it in my home as well, but they say the man who created this other world sealed the monster in the between, to guard one sphere from the other. It eats the souls of naughty children to keep itself strong.”

  Although they jested, Alexia couldn’t silence the warning bell in her head. “These children who have their souls eaten, what becomes of them?”

  The three men looked at one another, tipped off by her tone.

  “They are silly stories.” Amos dropped a hand on her shoulder. “But we should be more careful. Any kind of creature could inhabit this mountain.”

  She nodded, still uneasy. “We could erect walls?”

  “Is that how long we plan to stay here?”

  She shrugged.

  “Let us bring it before the council. But for now, we should keep constant to the young ones.”

  She agreed.

  ***

  Amos approached, and Kiren didn’t like the sober look in the man’s eye. Without a word, he signaled Kiren to follow.

  They entered a hut where Alexia stood, arms crossed in one corner, Regin and Lucian bent over Sarlic on the floor, his branded face white. Mae clutched a bloodied cloth.

  Kiren knelt to search for a wound. “What happened?”

  “He attacked Mae,” Regin supplied.

  “He was not in his right mind,” she whispered.

  Kiren found the wound on the back of Sarlic’s head and brushed his fingers over it, telling the fibers to mend. Still, the man’s mind was silent—more so than merely being unconscious.

  Kiren lifted his gaze to Mae. “What did you do to him?”

  Her grip tightened on the bloodied rag. “He came at me, inflicting pain, his eyes all wrong.” She twisted the cloth. She lifted her golden cuff, the metal clasp bent out of sorts and nearly broken. She met his stare. “He tried to force my bracelet free while muttering about the gateway. How he would stop us all…” Her shoulders hunched inward.

  “And you touched him?”

  She nodded. “The forehead, just a fingertip.”

  Kiren placed his palm over the man’s brow, closing his eyes and seeking deeper. He found a glimmer of consciousness, suppressed, but there.

  Amos spoke. “We could not go to this other world if Mae sucked everyone dry.”

  They were all watching Kiren, even Alexia, although she averted her gaze when he met her stare. He lifted his hands in surrender. “What do you believe that has to do with me?”

  “Did ye put him to it?” Regin asked directly.

  Kiren turned on the man. Grinding his teeth together, he asked, “Why would I do that? Why would I care in the least if any of you were stupid enough to try and reach the other world? It cannot be done.”

  Lucian stood. “I said it was not him.”

  “But he is the only one who can alter the body and mind,” Amos argued.

  “It was not him,” Alexia finally came to his defense. “He cannot alter minds.”

  How convenient that her intimate knowledge of his skills should finally come to his aid. Even if she was revealing things he’d rather they not know. Kiren rolled his eyes in disgust and surged into Sarlic’s mind, reaching for that flicker of consciousness. He focused on expanding it, opening it wider, feeding it into the rest of the brain.

  The inflictor startled. His arms flew out either direction, and his head jerked around to take everyone in. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

  Kiren didn’t waste any time. “Did I ask you to attack Mae?”

  The branded man scowled at him. “No. We have not spoken in days.”

  Kiren stood. “Search my memories if you like.” He turned directly on Alexia. “You will see the truth.”

  No one moved. No one sai
d a word. He shook his head and exited the hut, appalled.

  ***

  Darkness fell over the camp, the sun taking its warmth with it. The usual evening fires had burned down, and Alexia shivered in her bedroll, comforting herself with memories of her husband’s arms wrapped around her on chilly nights. She remembered how, without fail, his hand always found its place over her heart. It was nights like these when his loss became unbearable.

  She tugged the blanket tightly around herself and rose. The makeshift hut housed three women and two girls. The girls, sisters, huddled together for warmth next to their mother. She stepped over Mae and Ravia, reaching the doorway.

  The song of insects filled the night, and the most amazing view of stars littered the sky as she wandered, like pulsating specks of sand, thousands upon thousands—so many she would never be able to count them all. They reminded her of souls. Thousands upon thousands of people who had lived upon this Earth, each a shining beacon at some point, eventually fading into old age and finally death. But not the Passionate. Or at least, not most of them. They went on. While lights burned out around them, they survived the centuries, brightening or festering as they refined in character.

  Kiren was like one of those stars—a light that had only begun to shine. By the time she would meet him again, he’d be as brilliant as the North Star, and just as fixed in character. She questioned if she would be the same after centuries of existence. Although, she wouldn’t get centuries.

  Kiren sat in the darkness near the edge of camp, alone. Moonlight caressed the planes of his high cheekbones, too perfect without the defining scar. His soul bore all the scars in this age. Alexia couldn’t decide if she should approach or turn and walk another direction. She hated what they’d put him through earlier, but no one would listen to her. Something unspeakable had happened and they all wanted someone to blame. She’d insisted Kiren would never harm another living soul, and Lucian had vaguely mumbled his assent, but the evidence stacked too greatly against the one member of their band. Pranks and other troubles had started after he’d appeared.

  She’d been standing too long, indecisive about changing course when he muttered, “Have you come to gloat?”

  “Gloat?”

  His ultra-blue eyes turned on her. “About having turned everyone against me.”

  She huffed. As cruel as the comment was, she knew it came from a place of pain. Indeed, they had turned against him, and she had been terribly slow in coming to his defense. But she had. He must believe she’d encouraged their attack with how she’d pushed him away.

  “Why are you still here if you feel so ostracized?”

  His head fell into his hands. “That is the answer then. Flee. Run away again.”

  Heat burned in her cheeks. She understood why he’d left the first time, and it stabbed her to the core knowing he felt entirely homeless, even among his own people. The accusations tonight hadn’t merely been because of recent events. There had been plenty of animosity toward him before.

  She maneuvered into a seat next to him, loosened her blanket from around her shoulders, and placed a hand on his back. “No one is asking you to flee.” Firm muscles beneath the wool belied the aching soul they shrouded.

  “I should have let Zeph take me away.”

  “See now, then you would not have learned how to guard your mind from attacks.” It was a weak attempt at levity, and not enough. She slid her fingers over top of his, pulling his hand away from his hair.

  He met her gaze. The desperation and hurt was too much. Alexia touched his cheek, opening her memories just the slightest. A glimpse of Miles slipped through, the lonely, sad child Kiren had reared and saved from the fate of becoming Soulless or losing himself to the self-gratification of his gift. She allowed him a snatch of Nelly, the earth shaker he’d saved from both the Soulless and Breeders, how he’d housed her and asked nothing of her until she learned what it meant to be loved.

  “You are not a man who runs.” She slid her fingers up into his hair, loving the feathery softness. “You are a man who embraces and shields those who need it most, those who have no one else.”

  His brow met hers. “Like you?” he whispered.

  She bit her lip, certain of what was coming. “I was different, but you saved me nonetheless.”

  His mouth reached for hers. She knew she should resist, but she let him have it. His heart was torn enough. He needed something and she could be that thing. She could be so much more than that thing. She ached to be more.

  He pulled her closer, one hand traveling to the back of her head, locking her in place, and the other rounding her back—as if responding to her unvoiced wish.

  Whoa.

  A whisper at the back of her mind warned against relenting. She half-pulled away, but he tugged her closer, delving deeper. Her body erupted in tingles, an aching to have him more fully, to have him completely.

  More, his mind begged. It was a wild vortex, swallowed completely in sensations. No rational thought remained, no tender feeling toward the woman he was quickly consuming. She was his ale, his escape, his distraction of choice. Alexia burst into his torn landscape, startled to find a bust of herself shaped atop the crumbling tower. He’d begun to rebuild by molding everything around her likeness.

  I cannot save you, she whispered to his mind.

  I do not need to be saved, he answered. Not tonight. No indeed. He only wanted to expend all his pain by exploiting her.

  Alexia shoved out of his arms, hard.

  They watched one another. He panted. She trembled with the need to return to his embrace, but he was not her husband, no matter how much he felt like the man.

  “I am here because of you, Alexia.” He pushed up onto his knees. “I do not know what you were showing me with these people who are…who will be so desperate for help. I am not that man. I have never been that man.”

  “But you could be.” She struggled to her feet, taking her blanket with her. “You will be.”

  He laughed and turned away. “Whatever you say.”

  She hugged herself. He was aching. She knew that, but she didn’t need to stand for his abuse. More importantly, she was suddenly feeling tired, so much more tired than a physical weariness. She couldn’t carry them both. All three of them. He had to stand on his own, to at least strive for something better than this.

  “Goodnight, Kiren.”

  ***

  Kiren listened to her go, instantly regretting that he’d been so hostile toward one of the two people who valued him. He was doing everything wrong. All of it. So much so that they had blamed him for an attack.

  He ripped both hands through his hair.

  He was to blame—not for this attack, but for those they’d lost. For their animosity. It was deserved. If a ruler couldn’t rule, he should step down, and Kiren had, but it wasn’t enough. Years away hadn’t been enough either.

  It never would be.

  Alexia was right. She’d stopped him from going down a physical path he’d regret, but she’d also turned him from a mental road. He could sit here, feeling sorry for himself, or he could be that man—maybe not the one she envisioned, but a man of confidence, good feeling, and service. He wouldn’t let anyone’s glares or unkind words determine who he became. From this moment on, he was his own. Let them think what they might.

  ***

  Alexia dismissed Kiren’s lack of chivalry when he didn’t follow her or offer to escort her to safety, but it hurt. Sometimes he was so much the man she’d known, and sometimes he was a boy pounding his fists against the glass. Kiren had warned her: “You will see many whom you recognize, but be patient… Recall that they still have five hundred years to become who they are now.”

  He’d been warning her about himself.

  Alexia gasped. Kiren had carefully concealed the details about when he’d first met her, because it was in this time. She’d assumed it was when she was born. Ah, the dangers of assuming. Still, he’d attempted to prepare her for this. Why? What forbade
him from telling her everything? The same reasons she kept his fate from him?

  Tonight had been a mistake. It was one stitch deeper into the bond, the unbreakable ropes that Alexia didn’t want choking her future husband. She stilled and felt for the timeline. Only a few minutes back and she could erase the moment from existing, except for in her mind. Her mental fingers stumbled over a blank wall. Ebony. She shoved against it, but it held firm. She reached harder. The barrier softened but remained.

  Alexia withdrew.

  Strange. It had never happened before. Perhaps it was a consequence of her late pregnancy, or the shield of her own subconscious against pushing too hard and fast.

  Peculiar.

  Coolness settled over her skin, a sadness weighing her heart. Was it even worth fighting? If he wanted to be a wretch, let him be a wretch.

  No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t feel that way and didn’t want to feel that way. Why was she suddenly so down? The sorrow hung on her like a London haze in the dead of winter.

  She halted. While consumed in thought, she’d wandered further from her hut, not toward it. Twisted branches reached from the ground to her waist, scattered trees behind them stretching to just above her head.

  The air had stilled like it was holding its breath.

  There was always wind here. She shivered. No insects hummed. Hairs on her arms bristled.

  Movement.

  She jumped and twisted.

  Nothing.

  But something hid in the darkness, something she could only see out of the corner of her eye. Probably a llama or bear. Nothing she wished to stumble into after dark.

  Still, goosebumps ran up her arms.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Another being occupied the stillness, one she couldn’t see. An animal—whose heart must be pounding as quickly as hers. It was silly to stand here, allowing her mind to build horrific fantasies.