Page 56 of Between Soul and Vessel
“That will work,” the empress said, nodding her head.
“Your Majesty.” My words were barely audible. “Please, do not make me do this.”
Her gaze slid to mine, cold as death, as she said, “It has already been decided.”
Tears raced down my cheeks as I ran through the palace halls, unable to rein myself in. My carefully honed mask hadn’t just slipped—it had shattered into thousands of pieces, and right now, decades of repressed emotions and my fear of the future were dragging me into its murky depths.
I was being treated as if I were a device. A factory. As if I had no say over my body. I fucking hated it. Hated that I had no say in the matter. Now I knew how males felt—their bodies used and abused and treated as if they were objects void of feeling.
There was one person in this creator-forsaken world I needed to see.
I tossed the door open and stumbled inside the room, scented with the smell of burning coals and melting iron. Shadow stood over his anvil, a long strand of black hair, damp with sweat, tumbling over his forehead. He looked at me and dropped his hammer. His voice was filled with concern as he asked, “Avriel? What’s wrong?”
“She’s sending me away to be impregnated by Victor and forced to carry his child.All so he can take the body over and use it for himself,” I sobbed, my words using up the last of my strength. My legs gave out from under me, but just before I fell, Shadow was there. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his protective embrace.
His voice was as hard as the blades he forged as he vowed to me, “I won’tlet them.”
Sage
Over the past couple days, we’d flown with few breaks. Sometimes, I’d feel my body grow weary and I’d fall asleep, dreaming of Von, our child, and the family we should have had. In my waking hours, Artemesia would tell me about the lands we flew over, the history behind them—who lived there before and who lived there now. She’d tell me about the empress’s laws and the ways of this realm, portraying it as a matriarchal society where men had no rights.
Talking with Artemesia was easy, simple, and even though we’d been split apart for thousands of years, our sisterhood had picked up right where it had left off.
We had a great deal of things to discuss, and I had dozens of questions I longed to ask her—about how she’d managed to survive all of these years, what she could tell me about my forgotten past . . . if she knew why the empress wanted me dead. And then there were the things that Iwanted to tell her—about my life in the Three Realms, about Von . . . about the child we’d lost.
I wanted to tell her about it all.
But I was tired—both mentally and physically.
And I think she sensed that which was why she kept the majority of the conversation light. Something I was grateful for.
Apart from my exhaustion, I was hungry. Starving, to be exact.
The turkey leg and burnt bun Avriel had delivered to my cell was the last semi-decent meal I had. Come to think of it, it was the only meal I’d had since arriving in these lands.
When Artemesia received word from the vuleeries that I was alive, she had left in such a hurry that she had collected only a handful of supplies. Which meant we had very little to eat. Something our protesting tummies made well known.
We reached what Artemesia called the Forgotten Mountains, a place she explained didn’t exist on any public map, because the mountains seemed to pick and choose who they showed themselves to—who they allowed to live within them. Artemesia said not even the empress knew of their existence, and that when outsiders came here, they would only see flat land. When I asked her how that was possible, Artemesia told me she didn’t know, but it was like there was some exterior force protecting them, that perhaps the mountains were sentient beings, much like the Hollow Tree.
The setting sun illuminated the wintery snowscape, causing it to glitter as if it were crafted from millions of tiny diamonds. Although the temperature was not nearly as cold as it could get back in Meristone, it still was cold enough that my teeth began to chatter.
“There’s a saddlebag behind you, on your right. You’ll find a cloak and a spare pair of boots in it,” Artemesia spoke over her shoulder as she steered Vatara forward. “They should fit you.”
Shifting, I looked behind me, located the saddlebag, and began to search through it. Soft fur brushed against my fingers. Grabbing onto it, I pulled the cloak from the leather bag and put it on. My body shuddered in response, thankful for its warmth. Next, I located the boots. They were brown in color, crafted from animal hide and trimmed with rabbit fur. I tucked them under my arm and closed the flap. Trying my best not to go ass over teakettle and fall off Vatara, I took my time slipping the boots on.
Artemesia was right—they fit perfectly.
Not long after, Vatara landed smoothly, the snow crunching under her heavy weight.
Artemesia and I dismounted.
Gently, Vatara nudged Artemesia with her beak, making a small, pleading squawk. Reaching up, Artemesia stroked her forehead, her gaze fixed forward as she said, “We made it.”
Nestled between the steep slopes of the mountains was a valley, bisected by a turbulent river partially covered in ice. On both banks was an encampment. The round, smalltents were crafted from a white fabric, making them almost disappear in the snow. Despite the simple nature of the structures, there was something magical about what I was seeing. A whisper of the past breathed itself into me—
There was something familiar about the tents.
Had I stayed in something similar in my past life?
