Harmony of Their Souls Page 2

  “You’re hurt.” The certainty still gripped me.

  “Nay. I bumped my shoulder running, but I’m ok.” My eyes assessed his shoulders. One of his sleeves was torn, the skin beneath was red but not bleeding. He captured my gaze again. “We need to leave now. The High Commander is looking for us.” His eyes met Mason’s over my head, and I felt their resolve shift. Mason’s mind spun with logistics and awareness as he returned his attention to the preparations. I looked back at Ian with a frown. Why had my soul felt like it was being ripped apart if it was just a bump?

  Chapter 2

  Ian

  Kiarra didn’t believe his wound was minor, but they didn’t have time to tend to his injury. They had to flee before the High Commander found them and burned the entire Commoners Housing to the ground. The city had exploded into turmoil overnight. The lower tiers went to work and school as was expected, not suspecting anything, but the upper tier patrons knew something was wrong. Guards loyal to the dead King and not the Prince were being killed or imprisoned in the dungeons. The previous King’s Advisors and their families who hadn't escaped were being held in more lavish cells. Ian pursed his lips. They needed to leave the city before all the guards were replaced with Everett’s, barring their escape.

  The horses were saddled and the supplies were stowed. Mason directed the men to their mounts. Thankfully, they all had experience riding; it wasn’t a given in the city. Seb’s Planning training and Reed’s proximity to his brother had afforded them the opportunity.

  Everyone mounted their horses while the Mishokian wise woman watched from the darkness. Ian nodded to her, biting back a hiss of pain as his shoulder jolted with the motion of the horse. He was fairly certain he had dislocated it. It would be easily remedied, but he couldn’t address it until they were safely through the gates.

  The wise woman approached Kiarra, who was still watching him with a narrowed gaze. He’d been surprised she felt his pain and wondered how it would affect her if any of them suffered greater injury. He didn’t want to find out. He angled his horse closer to Kiarra, wanting to hear the woman’s words. Unfortunately, the woman seemed adept in the ways of his craft, and the words she spoke didn’t carry to his ears. Kiarra nodded with resolve in her gaze and turned back to the rest of them. He noticed she hadn’t yet mounted her horse, a pretty mare they had chosen for her calm temperament.

  “Um, I don’t know how to ride,” she confessed.

  Ian sighed. Of course. She hadn’t been trained, and her schoolmasters hadn’t offered any advanced lessons, believing she was a hopeless case. She attempted to mount his horse with him, but Ian caught Mason’s eye. It was going to take all of his concentration to stay upright. He wouldn’t be able to tolerate Kiarra bumping against him, as much as he wanted to hold her.

  Mason interpreted his expression correctly. “Reed, take Kiarra. We need to ride fast. We’ll switch off who she rides with.”

  Kiarra glanced again at Ian, suspicion warring with disappointment on her face. Ian gritted his teeth. There were certain disadvantages to having a woman so linked to him that she caught his every emotion, especially when time was at a premium.

  Mason had lifted Clay into the saddle, his bond with Kiarra strengthening him so that the physical task was effortless. Clay settled onto his horse, confirming his mount could take directions from his knees and thighs rather than his heels. They were the best horses, stolen from the palace stables; Ian had no doubt the beast would adjust. Reed pulled Kiarra up before him, tucking her under his chin, and bracketing her with his arms.

  “Move out,” Mason commanded.

  They rode down empty streets. The citizens who lived in this area were working or attending school. The youngest children were still sleeping or inside. The chill of the morning lingered, the sun barely sending its light over the walls. Ian directed his horse with one hand on the reins; Kiarra's irritation along their bond suggested she noticed. The Accleshian accompanied them. Rowan had departed near midnight to assist his mother's escape. The Prince had assigned several guards to the task of finding the missing Soul Tender. The other three remained imprisoned in the tower, either unable to leave or refusing.

  The horses’ hooves echoed hollowly along the alley that separated the dull facades of the impoverished tenements. Kiarra studied her surroundings, determination squaring her shoulders. She wouldn’t allow the Commoners to stay in these buildings for long when they returned to the palace. Ian loved her compassion. Mason directed his mount alongside the Shadow.

  “Status report,” he barked, his Soldier persona taking control.

  Ian sighed. “The lower tiers are as normal. The upper tiers are not. The Planning Advisor and his family didn’t make it out, neither did the Military Advisor. They are both being held in the palace. Everett is planning a coronation for later today; he is wasting no time. The first tier and some of the second are aware of what is happening, but not the logistics behind it. The other Advisors made it out.” Ian’s voice caught and his friend understood the reason.

  “Advisor Carson?” Mason inquired softly. Carson was Ian’s mentor, the Advisor of his House, but also his friend.

  “Underground,” Ian confirmed. The head Spymaster wouldn’t leave. Matters in the city needed his attention. Ian’s friend, Jeff, remained to help carry out Carson’s orders in the streets.

  They approached the gates of the city and slowed their horses. A line of men stood in front of the northern entrance, their pikes raised before them and their hands on their sword hilts. Ian didn’t recognize any of them, but Mason did.

  “Men,” Mason greeted them. “Stanley, Habbard, Jones.” Called out by their own names, the Soldiers shifted nervously, studying the motley group. They still wore the colors of their Houses, though they were wrinkled and disheveled. Although dressed in the gray tunic of the Information Exchange house, Kiarra glittered like a jewel in her position before the Scholar. Her hair shone in the morning rays. The Accleshian made the guards nervous. His formidable battle ax was tied to the saddle, and he was dressed in fighting leathers instead of a red Military uniform.

  “Sir Brantley,” the tallest one said after a hesitant clearing of his throat, “we’re not supposed to let anyone through by orders of the High Commander.”

  Mason paused, his black stallion prancing nervously underneath him. “Do you men know what’s going on in the palace at the moment?” The Soldiers shared guilty glances. They had probably been left in the dark; Mason’s father didn’t believe in giving his subordinates valuable information. One of them shook his head.

  “The King and his wife have been murdered by their son, Everett. He seeks to take the throne without the blessing of the people.”

  The Soldiers shifted again. “It is sad about the King and Queen, Sir, but the throne rightfully belongs to their son.”

  Ian nearly rolled his eyes. The men’s logic was flawed. Their excuse prevented them from second-guessing their orders. “Even if that son has murdered our King and Queen?” Ian asked, his tone dark. The Soldier named Stanley shifted again, his resolve weakening.

  “Let us through,” Mason demanded in an authoritative voice. “I still outrank you.”

  “I don’t think we can,” Stanley began. He was the leader, and the others would follow his order. Mason sighed and Ian tensed. They’d have to fight their way through, and soon, if the Soldiers didn’t change their minds. There wasn’t much time.

  A horse moved next to him, and he grew alarmed when Kiarra kneed the beast closer to the guards. Reed’s attempts to stop her were futile; the horse seemed to respond to her command. She drew up between Mason and Ian, her gaze upon the Soldiers. Their eyes widened noticeably.

  “Stanley is it?” she asked in her soft, commanding voice. The Soldier nodded, his throat bobbing. Ian’s grip on the reins tightened. He didn’t know what Kiarra planned, but he trusted her. He would give her a couple minutes before fighting through. If any of the Soldiers made a move toward her, they would die. He caught
Mason’s eye over Kiarra’s head, and they shared the resolution with a single look. “Your Soul Match is pregnant, isn’t she?”

  Stanley blushed, his pockmarked face tinting as red as his uniform. Pride glittered in his eyes, though. “Yes, Miss,” he stuttered uncertainly.

  Kiarra’s eyes hardened to steel gray but didn’t lose their compassion. “Do you want your son to grow up under a man who killed his own parents to take the throne, one who keeps a dark Sorcerer at his side?”

  Stanley’s hand drifted away from his sword. “It’s a boy?”

  “Yes, it’s a boy,” Kiarra responded with a bright smile, “and Sir Jones, your Soul Match works at the herbal shop on Low Road.” The thin man on the end brightened, his eyes darting in that direction as if he planned to immediately run to the woman. The man in the middle smiled hopefully, awaiting Kiarra's strange wisdom. “You and Jessica need to stop worrying about whether you’re Soul Matches or not, Mace Habbard. Trust your intuition; it tells you the truth.”

  The three men exchanged uneasy glances before Stanley sighed. He moved to the side and motioned the others to stand down. Kiarra nodded. “Thank you, men. If you want to stay alive until this is over, keep your heads down. Everett won’t hurt the common people. Soon, he’ll be a memory with the true ruler in place.”

  “And who is the true ruler, My Lady?” Habbard stuttered. Kiarra’s hair glowed like a crown around her head with the sun rising behind them. Something indefinable rustled in the air. It was similar to the tingle that had passed through Ian when Kiarra helped him hide the group during their escape. The Shadow shivered in the chill morning air, but not because of the temperature. He’d spent his entire life not believing in magic, thinking it had no place in the modern world, but his woman proved him wrong every day. Magic existed; it lived within her, enhanced by their bond.

  “She is,” Mason intoned. The trio of Soldiers bowed as one, not even questioning the statement.

  “Hurry back, Your Majesty, and stay safe,” Jones murmured. Kiarra nodded once, emotion heavy upon her face as they urged the horses through the gates. Ian looked back, and Kiarra caught his concern.

  “The Soldiers will be safe. I can’t tell you how I know, and I can’t tell you how I knew those things about them, but they’ll be alive when we return.”

  Ian nodded. Her reassurance settled him. Gritting his teeth against a new wave of pain, they pushed their mounts harder. Shouts rose behind them in the city. He hoped her hunches were accurate. Too many good men had died already.

  Chapter 3

  Kiarra

  Ian was hurt. He wasn’t dying, so I didn’t push to stop, but he couldn’t fool me. I felt his pain. His shoulder throbbed mercilessly as we thundered away from Treleaven, and my body ached in response. The city disappeared behind us, and the open land felt strange. I had been surrounded by walls my entire life. The Midwood forest was a dark shadow to the east. Beyond the wood were smaller villages and Bleshing, the direction my mother and brother had gone. I worried about the rest of our families – Mason’s sisters, Seb and Reed’s parents, and my sister.

  The Accleshian accompanied us, but I didn’t know why. We had no need of a guide because the mountains to the north were our navigational tool. If we crossed the mountains, we would find Acclesh. I didn’t believe we needed to travel all the way to the border; Carson hadn’t been certain either. He had said an envoy would meet us; one who could teach me about my magic and the soul bond. That person would not be a man if I understood the information correctly.

  The darkness carried by the Sorcerer, Synlair, nudged at my soul. I was eternally grateful that the people of the Kingdom couldn’t feel it, or they might all fall into a pit of despair. We needed to work quickly to oust him and Everett from the city before too many innocent citizens died.

  We rode so hard, at first, that we possessed no time or quiet in which to speak. I relaxed against Reed’s broad chest, absorbing his warmth. When I first mounted the horse, I had fought against its movements. A mile later, I realized I suffered less if I rolled with his bouncing gait. Farmhands watched from the fields as we galloped past, surprise coloring their faces. They weren’t accustomed to dramatic happenings and probably hadn’t been informed of the King’s death.

  The horses tired within a couple hours. Although we had settled into a smooth trot, our horse started to struggle with the weight of two bodies. Mason, ever the consummate leader, realized this and slowed our horses to a walk. He reined alongside us. “We’ll reach the River Ilia within the hour. We’ll stop there for a while to water the horses before we continue.”

  I nodded. The country was a beautiful tapestry of rolling hills and patchwork fields. The houses resembled small compounds. The typical arrangement consisted of several buildings clustered together, allowing the families that worked the land to live in a small community. They could conserve resources by sharing stables, housing, and a well. They could rely on others to help them perform their duties if one grew sick. It was an impressive idea. Some of the traditions put into place by my ancestors still functioned today. Seb scanned the countryside with his Planning gaze.

  Another jolt of pain rattled my shoulder, and I hissed through my teeth. “Are you all right, Kiarra?” Reed asked, his lips brushing my ear. His strong arms tightened around me. I glared daggers at Ian’s back.

  “I will be soon.” My irritation escalated, and it took everything within me not to stop the horses and force Ian from his saddle. His naturally dark coloring was pale and sweat coated the back of his neck. He still wore his cloak, and I suspected he hid something from me. Imagined worries cascaded through my mind, pictures of him bleeding out from a gaping wound in his flesh or broken bones piercing his skin under the wool of his cloak.

  When Mason finally called the horses to a halt, I didn’t even glance at the river rushing by despite my lifelong desire to see it. We stopped a reasonable distance from the cliffs banking the edges of the Ilia, but we could still hear its roar. I ignored it, slipping off our horse before Reed could stop me. Though my legs wobbled and ached, I stomped to Ian and put my hand on my hip.

  “Get off that horse,” I demanded.

  Ian grinned crookedly, but he slid to his feet. He cradled his right arm against his chest, and pain shadowed his eyes. I couldn’t decide whether to kiss him or slap him. “You bloody, stubborn ass.” I pushed the words through my clenched teeth. “The next time you are hurt, you will tell me. Now, let me see.”

  Everyone watched the drama unfold, but my gaze remained on Ian. He still smiled, appearing amused as he shrugged out of the cloak. I pressed a hand to his uninjured shoulder and forced him to his knees. “Take off your shirt,” I murmured. He nuzzled his face against my belly, his uninjured arm wrapping around my waist.

  “You want to do this now? With everyone watching?”

  Despite my frustration, my lips twitched. Ian used humor to mask other emotions, but I refused to let him distract me. I pulled back from him. “Strip, Shadow Spy, or I shall strip you myself.” His eyes darkened, and lust mastered his pain for a brief moment. I shivered in response. His eyes undressed me as he attempted to pull off his shirt. When he tried to move his injured arm, though, he hissed in pain.

  “Saint’s ass.” I halted his movements and retrieved my dagger. I slit his shirt from neck to navel, pulling the sides apart. He never flinched although my dagger bit close to his chest. I was careful not to scratch him.

  His shoulder was purple and disfigured; the bone on his back protruded. The skin was unbroken, though, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not so bad, Lass, just a dislocation. Twill be fine when I get some strong lad to pop it back in.” His accent had thickened. I glanced up. All the men were watching, Seb’s face as green as his tunic. Mason was the strongest, but Reed would have trained in first aid as part of his Scholar training. I caught his gaze and he joined me.

  “Can you help him?” I asked Reed, my heart breaking with Ian’s pain.

  “Yes. Mason
, hold him.” The big man took Ian’s other side, and I stepped back to let them work. Ian held my eyes as Mason clamped his friend’s unharmed shoulder between his powerful thighs. Reed pressed a hand to Ian’s back and one to his chest, then nodded to Mason. The Soldier returned the signal. Ian didn’t cry out when Reed jerked him to the side. The sickening pop of bone snapping into place was audible over the roar of the river. I whimpered as my shoulder wrenched in sympathy, embarrassed because I hadn’t even been the one injured.

  Ian sagged to the ground, sweat pouring down his face. I fell to my knees in front of him and held him as Reed manufactured a makeshift sling for his arm. Ian’s lips pressed against my neck. “I’m sorry, Lass,” he said thickly. “I didn’t realize you were hurting, too.”

  The adrenaline of the morning shivered to an aching halt. I nipped his bare, uninjured shoulder. My teeth sunk so deep, I left a mark. He shuddered in my arms; I felt sorry until I realized his reaction was desire. “Don’t ever do that again,” I demanded.

  He nuzzled my neck. “If I do, will you do that again?” His voice caressed my skin, and I shivered. Guilt trickled through me as I examined the mark I had left.

  “You want me to bite you?” I asked in surprise. His eyes rose to meet mine. The shadow of pain had been entirely replaced by lust, and he captured my lips in a fierce kiss. My legs weakened, despite the fact that I was already kneeling. His tongue slid against mine hotly, his healthy arm held me to his hard chest with a strength I couldn’t fight and didn’t want to.

  He pulled back, leaving my lips swollen, and caught my gaze again. “Aye, Lass, I liked that.”

  My breath caught, another tremor of desire rolling through my center. A horse whinnied, and I shook out of my stupor, belatedly realizing we still crouched on the dirty ground. I captured Ian’s mouth again, quickly this time. “Again, then, when we have more privacy.”