Page 103 of Between Soul and Vessel
“They do,” Harper agreed, her tone less amazed than Ryker’s.
He turned to his twin. “You already knew?”
“I didn’t,” Soren stated, not that anyone cared.
“I’ve been walking with Sage for the past two hours. What do you think we were talking about?” Harper chuckled. “Although the one thing we didn’t discuss . . .” Curiosity lifted her eyebrows. She looked at Sage. “Why were the riders after you?”
“Because the ruler of these lands, Empress Avena, condemned me to have my soul crushed, from which there is no coming back,” Sage answered, voice soft as she revealed this truth, turning my bloodless veins colder than the glaciers themselves. “Wraithlike creatures known as vuleeries rescued me from the arena. The riders were sent by the empress, tasked to collect me.” She shrugged. “There’s a bounty on my head.”
An image of her appeared in my mind, of how broken she had looked when I saw her collapsed in the sands of the arena. My muscles tensed, realization stringing them taut.
“The day Soren linked us to you. That was the day you were going to have your soul crushed, wasn’t it?” I asked, my voice sharp.
She didn’t look at me as she answered, “Yes.”
Anger flared red-hot, branding the truth into my skin. “You were just going togive up.”
“I was dealing witha lot,” she fired back at me, pain lacerating her words.
I took a step forward, shadows breaking off from me. “What if I hadn’t shown up that day? What would you have done?”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.
She had been ready to give up.
Confliction slit me open like a knife, gutting me where I stood.
I wanted to grab her by the chin and roar at her that she wasn’t the only one dealing with a lot. That we both had lostsomuch.
But how could I?
I’d had centuries to process the loss of our child, but she had only just found out. Naturally, the weight of it crushed her, just as it had me.
“I hate to break up this lovers’ quarrel, but we should probably decide what we’re doing next,” Artemesia cut in.
While the group discussed traveling to the city, Sage and I held one another’s gaze, so many unspoken words floating between us. For a brief moment, we faded from the discussion.
I’m sorry, I said, sending the words down the private river that once linked our thoughts.
And although I knew the words hadn’t reached her, I could tell by reading her eyes that she was saying the same thing back.
“Alright, it’s settled then. We’ll spend the night at Weyfern,” Artemesia said. She gave a low whistle, and Vatara,who had been sitting beside her, lowered down to the ground. Artemesia unbuckled one of the saddlebags, flipped the flap open, and began to rifle through it. She started taking out ropes, dropping them on the ground. “Since you all are new here, let me give you a rundown of how things work in the Mother Realm. By law, males have no rights. Most are sent to the arena, where they have their souls crushed for sport. Some are allowed to live as slaves—it’s less expensive to keep ones who are not . . . intact. The extremely pretty ones who know how to handle a sword, both cock and weapon, become part of the empress’s harem. So—” She tossed the last rope to Kaleb. “While in public, you will have to act accordingly, otherwise you’ll risk getting all of us into trouble.” She began to search through another saddlebag. She pulled out a handful of scarves, consisting of various patterns and colors. “Males are not allowed to show all of their faces either, so you will have to wear these.”
“So, what exactly are we supposed to do?” Folkoln asked, arms crossed, a tattooed hand playing with a lip piercing.
She walked over to him, shoved a pink scarf against his chest, and said, “Be a good male, look pretty, and shut up.” She winked at him. “Us females will take care of the rest.”
I cracked a smirk. Folkoln was going to have his hands full withthatone.
Sage
“How many are slaves and how many are castrated?” the innkeeper asked as she folded bed linens that smelled like they’d been dragged through a field of lavender. Each time she dropped the folded linen on top of the pile, a waft of the floral scent filled the air.
Poor Kaleb, who was allergic to lavender, hadn’t stopped sniffling and sneezing since we set foot inside the inn.
Artemesia, who was leaning against the counter, briefly glanced over her shoulder at the guys to do a quick head count. Looking back at the innkeeper, she said, “Five. Also, I have a female mount that will need a sizable stable. And no, they are all intact.”
“Alright, will they be sleeping in the stables, as well?” the innkeeper asked, reaching for the last linen.
