Shrouded: Heartstone Book One (29 page)

Shayd joined him, removing his own ring and then pushing Dielel forward as well. None of them looked at her directly, but she felt the static dim with each ring that dropped to the cushions. When Haftan grudgingly added his, she thoroughly enjoyed the fading of static. Then only Mofitan and Dolfan still stood staring at one another. Vashia held her breath and watched them. They did it together, slid the stones from their hands and set them down in one movement.

For the first time since she’d met them, the static hushed. Her mind was silent; nothing buzzed under her skin. It felt like a shuttlecraft had lifted from her shoulders. When they both turned to look at her, she couldn’t bring herself to miss it. Not even looking at Dolfan. Not for a second. She didn’t need the static to know who she wanted to belong to.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Oh thank God.”

D
olfan watched
her relax and couldn’t help the rush of nervous tension. The stupid rings had done it all along. Syradan had used them, had tried to give her to Haftan. Now, without the buzz to confuse things, would she realize that she was his?

Shayd suggested destroying them, having new Council rings cut, and, this time, following the rules. Dolfan was fine with that. So long as those new rules didn’t get between him and Vashia, he could live with that. He stood with Mof, listening to the Council decide what to do next, but his eyes were on Vashia, resting on a couch beside the mercenary Commander she’d managed to win to her cause.

The woman had a way about her. She burned in his blood, ring or no ring.

“We shouldn’t wait,” Mofitan said. “Our defenses are down. The relays, Moon Base 14. We need damage control.”

“And a trial,” Peryl glared from Haftan to Dielel. “Tondil died because of you, even if it was by Syradan’s hand.”

“A funeral too,” Lucha added.

“But who is king?” Mof found his point.

“Pelinol is perfectly capable of making these decisions,” Lucha said. She gave Mofitan a chastising look. “He’s ruled here long before you wore that tainted ring, young man.”

“Lucha,” Pelinol took her hand. “He’s right, dear. My Council has scattered to the winds. The new one needs its own king.” He pulled her closer before continuing. “Shayd, I believe we can all agree that you’ll take Syradan’s place, at least for the moment. Can we do this now?”

“Yes.” Shayd had yet to release his grip on Dielel. “Tondil’s line is not represented, but this is in accordance with what I’ve
seen
.”

“You’ve
seen
?” Dolfan couldn’t help himself. Shayd had tried telling him from the start that something had gone wrong with the Heart. He’d only been too stubborn and too cowed by Mof’s involvement to listen. “How much did you know? The invasion? Tondil?”

“No.” Shayd’s eyes darted to Peryl. He didn’t quite turn defensive, but his voice wavered. “I only knew for certain that the Heart match was not the one I’d
seen
.”

“You never spoke of it to me.” Pelinol didn’t accuse, but there was a question in the words.

“I was not your Seer,” Shayd answered. “I trusted the Heart.”

“How?” Now Dolfan felt his patience fray. “You
knew
it had made a mistake.”

“The Heart doesn’t make mistakes,” Shayd practically chanted. “Never. The match was wrong, but if the Heart allowed itself to be tampered with, then I believe it had a very good reason.”

“You’re mad,” Mof summed up for everyone present. “Syradan cursed us.”

“I believe the Heart condoned it.”

“Why?” Peryl whispered it. “Why would it allow all this?”

To that, Shayd said nothing. His gaze drifted to Vashia this time, and his next declaration made no sense. “She is not the Kingmaker.”

Dolfan pulled Vashia in even closer. They didn’t need the static. The static had been something not of the Heart. He reminded himself of that again when she whispered, “Did you mean it when you said you didn’t want the throne?”

He turned to her. Her eyes held no doubt, and he let out a slow breath. “I never wanted to be king, Vashia, but I will take it happily for you.”

“That may not be necessary.” She didn’t explain, but she didn’t leave his side either.

“Do we have a Kingmaker or not?” Pelinol asked. He arched a brow at her and gestured to the crystal, but Vashia stayed rooted. She shook her head.

“I believe we should ask Shayd,” she said. When the Seer’s head snapped up, his normally stoic face grinned at her. Grinned. Dolfan shook his head, but she repeated it. “We should ask Shayd.”

“We
do
have a Kingmaker.” The twinkle in Shayd’s eye, and the fact that he’d just said they didn’t, only cemented Dolfan’s unease. Once again, things were happening that he didn’t understand. He had no doubt, however, that they affected him.

Shayd pressed Dielel into the nearest chair. Commander Rieordan had moved his mercenaries back while the court debated, but he moved them closer now. Two of them stood like shadows behind Haftan and Dielel. Perhaps Haftan hadn’t known about Syradan and Dielel. Perhaps he’d only wanted so much to believe he was king that he could look the other way when the Heart failed him. The man’s guilt or innocence was still ambiguous in Dolfan’s mind, and he was glad for the armed soldiers in the room.

Shayd stalked forward with his long wraps billowing like smoke behind him. He bowed low before Pelinol, the rightful king, and tossed another amused glance toward Vashia.

“Your Highness,” he said. “I believe your son should go first.”

“What?” Peryl nearly shouted. His eyes widened and he instantly turned ghost white.

Vashia chuckled along with Shayd. Dolfan was certain he’d missed something, something very important and completely obvious to everyone but him. Peryl? He looked to Mofitan, and found the same shocked, confused expression that he felt on his own face. Great. He was just as dumb as Mof. It didn’t make him feel much better. How could she laugh? Had she wanted Peryl the whole time? Peryl?

Pelinol hooted his joy. “Go ahead.” He waved Peryl toward the Heart. “Give it a go.”

The king’s son approached the Heart as if it might leap up and devour him. His feet dragged and his eyes kept darting back over his shoulder. Each time he looked, his father waved for him to go on. Peryl kept moving, but anyone could see that his heart wasn’t in it. Dolfan nodded. He shouldn’t have worried, but as soon as Peryl’s hand rested against the dome, the crystal inside flared to life.

As much as that light shocked him, he couldn’t rival the terrified look on Peryl’s face. The stone glowed and refracted its rainbows across the room. Peryl’s other hand came up, he placed it against the dome and stared at the Heart as if he’d never seen it before.

Dolfan felt the lump that always lodged in his throat when the Heart was active. He felt Vashia’s sharp inhale, and pulled her into a protective embrace, though she hadn’t made any effort to move away. She stood quite happily where she was. Still the Heart glowed, and all eyes turned to her. The room waited for the Kingmaker.

“Excuse me.” Dolfan turned. The mercenary Commander stood behind him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what—”

“Go ahead,” Vashia urged. “It’s okay.”

Dolfan’s universe expanded by light years in that single second. He stared at her, smiling up at him, and realized that she must have known, had always known about Peryl. Had anyone else? Tondil, yes. Perhaps the boy’s mother. He turned back to the Heart, heard the room’s collective gasp as the Commander’s goal became clear. The rest of them had been so blind.

The Heart flared and pulsed as Rieordan neared it. Dolfan had seen this before—it put him in awe every time—and when the king’s son took his bonded’s hands and the crystal declared them perfect, he found tears against his cheeks. Dolfan let them fall. Vashia’s arm held him at the waist. Her head leaned in to rest on his arm. He’d never wanted to be king, anyway.

He heard Pelinol’s whispered, “What?” as if it happened far away. He saw Lucha smile and pat the old King on the back. Yes, she’d known as well. Maybe only the women in the room had any damned sense. He couldn’t say. The only thing he knew for certain as he watched the two at the crystal see one another—really see one another—for the first time was that the Shrouded had a new King, and nothing would ever be the same again.

N
ow
she trusted the Heart
. Vashia sighed and leaned into Dolfan. She’d seen him cry for it. She brushed her own tears aside to let the moment linger over her as it did over them all. Shayd was right. The stone had meant for this to happen. The Heart was never wrong. It was the system that had flaws. How did they expect the bloody thing to do its job, to pick the perfect king, if they only sent it female brides?

Vashia would believe it now, when it glowed for her and Dolfan. She knew it would, and now she had no reason to doubt the crystal. But first, they’d let Peryl have his moment. She sighed and thought of Tondil. Poor Tondil hadn’t deserved to die. If anything could be missing from a bonding, today they lacked Tondil’s bright laughter, his sideways smile that would have approved wholeheartedly of the new king’s pairing. Tondil would have loved to see it.

She let tears for her fallen friend mingle with her joy for Peryl and Rieordan, at the moment, the most confused mercenary in all of history. When she laughed at that, Dolfan looked down to her. His eyes still shimmered. “I was thinking of Tondil,” she whispered. “And of that lucky man out there who has no idea what just happened to him.”

“I suspect he’s sorted it out by now,” Dolfan said. At the crystal, Peryl and his match embraced. Their foreheads met and no one else in the world existed.

“I suspect you’re right.”

“My parents died when I was young.” His jaw tensed, and she saw another tear spill over. “But I remember what it was like for them. I’ve always remembered, and I’ve always wanted only that.”

Vashia reached up and brushed a finger along his cheek. She wanted to give that to him, to show him exactly what he did have. What they had.

“How do you feel about being the wife of a Council member?” he asked.

“How do you feel about being the husband of a planetary governor?” She saw his eyes go wide and felt a shadow of fear. She’d signed a contract. No bride had ever left Shroud. Her worry vanished when he smiled again. His shoulders lifted in a shrug. Good. She’d meant what she said about her father’s mess, and it would go easier—at least it seemed easier—with him beside her.

The newest bonded pair moved away from the stone. They approached the dais cautiously, the group of well wishers even more so. The Shrouded would sort it all out in time, but she suspected the next shipment of candidates might look a little different. Or maybe Peryl would open the vice-grip they had on their own planet. Maybe the next generation of Shrouded would wander away and pick their own brides to bring home—or not.

Either way, she’d be around to see it. Dolfan tugged gently at her elbow and she followed his steps toward the Heart, toward their own future. Tomorrow would be different for the Shrouded, but today, right now, it was their turn.

F
rances Pauli writes
across multiple genres. Her work is speculative, full of the fantastic, and quite often romantic at its core. Whenever possible, she enjoys weaving in a little humor.

Once upon a time she was a visual artist, but she’s since come to her senses. Now she fills her minuscule amount of free time with things like crocheting, belly-dancing, and abysmal ukulele playing.

A full list of her published works, free stories and a
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can be found on her website at: francespauli.com

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