The Chosen Soul (23 page)

almost made her laugh. A soul stolen twice! And the Elf Prince had hired a bounty hunter

to track her down and bring her in. Why? Was it as she’d feared? Did he want her

punished because she’d attacked him? Was he going to have her put to death?

She would have shivered, had she been in Raven’s smaller form. But Winter was

somehow stronger, somehow more capable of dealing with these stresses, both

emotionally and physically. She merely continued to stare down, into that strange yet

familiar visage on the water’s shimmering surface. And she knew, instinctively, that she

needed help.

She could call upon her father. Except that he had told her he could not help her a

third time. And perhaps that was a good thing after all. She was in danger. She needed to

learn to defend
herself
, with her
own
power. There was magic within her, stirring beneath the surface, ready to use. She simply needed instruction. Practice.

She would call Adonides. He could help her. She was not certain his nearness was

the best idea after their episode in the sunflower field the day before, but at this point, she had little choice.

She opened her eyes once again and searched the perimeter for any movement. She

had the strangest feeling she was being watched. She peered as deeply into the shadows

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as she could. But there was nothing there. Nothing but the darkness and the underbrush

and foliage.

She shook her head and placed her hand to her forehead. Not wanting to waste any

further time, she then opened her mind, allowing the power within her to re-surface, to

extend from her body like arcane tendrils. She let them go, spread away from her in every

direction, feeling and searching across the feet, the yards, and then the miles. In silence, she called for Adonides.

Then she opened her eyes and waited.

The surface of the pond shimmered, cool and inviting. On its opposite side, a small

waterfall sent fresh water into its depths. The babbling song of its descent was hypnotic

and calming. Her skin began to itch. It felt strange beneath the mid-day sun above, as if it was made for glaciers and ice flows and thunderstorms. Not summer.

The water of the pond continued to glisten invitingly.

She extended her black feathered wings and smiled, still not used to the rush of

pleasure she received from witnessing their glorious breadth and deep, rich color. Then

she glanced once more at the water and stood.

It would probably be a while before Adonides came to her. She had never tried to

contact him before, and she had done so in silence, not wanting anyone who might be

near to hear her call out, thus giving away her location.

She had no idea whether the devil would be able to receive the mental

communication.
Not as she had with Tanith
.

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Heather Killough-Walden

She paused as she recalled the handsome man in black leather. Her bounty hunter,

the elf had said. Hired by the Elf Prince. He’d been inside her head. How had he done

that? And she’d been drawn to him, inexplicably, deeply…

She wondered where he was at that moment. Had the elf defeated him? Had he

gotten away?

The heat of the day continued to rise and her skin prickled.

With one last glance at the trees surrounding the small clearing, she took a deep

breath, pushed her wandering thoughts from her mind, and began to disrobe. A quick

swim would hurt no one.

*****

The bounty hunter watched the woman who sat still on a patch of grass upon the

shore of Mandarin Pond. He was completely concealed in the shadows afforded by the

tall foliage overhead and by his enchanted armor, which caused him to become one with

the shadows, to melt and meld, obscured and entirely undetectable.

It was noon and Drake watched as the sun directly overhead played colorful magic

with her glorious raven’s wings, refracting their dark light into a thousand shimmering

rainbows. She shifted and her waterfall of silk, flaxen hair cascaded over her shoulder as

she lowered herself onto her side and trailed one long, elegant finger across the water’s

surface.

Drake studied her carefully. He took in every detail, his eyes grazing her long

silhouette, memorizing every feature, as he had done of his marks for countless years,

though he had never in his life enjoyed it half as much as he was at that moment.

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And because he had been doing what he did for so long, he noticed within her the

signs of fatigue, fear and doubt.

Suddenly, she stiffened and straightened up, turning to gaze into the bushes where he

hid. For the briefest of moments, he felt her eyes upon him and could have sworn she

knew he was there.

But it was impossible. He was hidden in such a manner, by both armor and magic,

that she simply could not see him.

He watched her more intently, mesmerized by her every move, by her mere presence.

She remained so for several moments, a look of deep concentration on her lovely face.

Then she opened her eyes and effortlessly extended her wings to their full span. She

smiled a stunning, pleased smile. His breath caught in his throat. His chest felt

constricted.

Then she stood and Drake found himself gritting his teeth as she began to pull off her

clothes, one article at a time, her motions graceful and deliberate. His molten silvery gaze flashed like liquid lightning, his irises smoldering as she at last stood beneath the shafts of summer light, completely naked.

When she slowly, gracefully, slipped into the cool water, his fists clenched at his

sides.

He was invisible, but not inaudible, and when a groan escaped from low in his throat,

his heart slammed against his chest, terrified he had heard her.

However, the waterfall’s constant trickle and the sound of water splashing softly all

around her drowned out anything she might have heard.

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Heather Killough-Walden

Drake found himself sweating beneath the midday sun, a problem he had never had

before. His heart was pounding too hard, his muscles tensed too tightly. This was not

going at all as he had planned. He had simply intended to come back here, take her into

custody, and wait for Grolsch to arrive.

But at first sight of her, he’d been stilled and instinctively hid in the shadows in order

to watch a while longer. She was in her true, devil, form, her skin darkened to the color of dusk, her hair as white as snow, her wings glorious beyond any before imagined. Her legs

were long, perfectly muscled, her body proportioned like that of a goddess. Her breasts

were full and taut, her waist tight and defined. She was an impossible dream.

And then she rose from the depths of the pool and Drake dared not breathe. She

slowly emerged from the water, droplets of moisture running in rivulets down her perfect

flesh. She stood on the bank of the pond and gathered her long luxurious hair, ringing the

moisture from their locks.

He could only gaze upon her in rapt admiration as she then laid out on the thick grass

and allowed the summer’s heat to dry her.

There was no way in Hell he would approach her when she was in that state. He

waited, his body aching in a way that it hadn’t for many long years.

Within a few minutes, she’d dried enough to dress once again.

And he knew he could afford to wait no longer. She’d managed to blow every

coherent thought from his brain, and he was aware that he simply was
not
in top form.

But this had to be done. The capture had to be made. If it was not, his plan would never

carry through. It had to be believable.

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Raven was safe, for the time being. However, it would not be long before Cruor

regrouped and came after her once again. If Astriel was allowed to come into possession

of her, she would be that much easier for the Death Mage to find. After all, he was there,

at the elven castle, in the guise of Gray Beard, the Master Mage of the Blue Robes. There

would be no safe place in Eidolon for her to hide. She would be as good as dead.

Drake had no choice. He had to get her out of Kriver, away from the Prince, away

from Cruor. And the first step in that process was to capture her.

He opened his eyes, settled them once again upon the beautiful creature in the

clearing before him, and stood.

Then he stepped out of the shadows.

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Heather Killough-Walden

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Sixteen

Elves of all age and stature gathered around the courtyard to watch the two men in

armed combat. The few elven children there observed the match with wide luminous eyes

and completely rapt attention. No one within the elven kingdom was better at sword play

than the two that battled before them now.

The two combatants thrust and parried, dodged and dove, slammed their swords

against each other with barely checked fury as tiny trickles of sweat slid down their

perfect faces and stained the thin linen of their white shirts.

Astriel released his rage into his movements, slowly, little by little and bit by bit so

as to not overwhelm his opponent. As he moved, his shirt front stretched open, revealing

four long, thin scars where Raven’s magical iron claws had sliced in clean.

For his part, Malveis withstood Astriel’s onslaught. He was the captain of the elven

guard and the prince’s best friend, and the two sparred often. However, today, though he

managed to withstand the prince’s onslaught, he had only enough time or energy to

concentrate on taking the brunt of Astriel’s expertise while not completely succumbing to

his powerful attack.

After what seemed like an exhausting eternity, Malveis began to weaken. The anger

behind his master’s attacks was wearing him down. He’d never before felt this kind of

wrath when sparring with his prince, and his own well trained muscles were, alas, no

match for the intensity of that kind of passion.

A few more delirious moments passed and Malveis found himself on the ground, the

tip of Astriel’s gleaming sword pressed gently but threateningly against the hollow of his

throat. Malveis’ blood hammered in his ears and he fought not to breathe too heavily, as

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the sword’s edge was incredibly sharp and was weighted all too dangerously against his

flesh.

He peered up at his friend, his gaze caught by the tell-tale marks on the man’s broad

chest. Then he looked up into Astriel’s eyes and found himself locked in their intense

blue gaze. His prince was lost in the moment. He appeared, for all the world, a harrowed

man hell-bent on destruction, with a very deadly sword in his hand.

“My prince.” Malveis said softly, a little unsure, the tiniest amount of beseechment

lacing the rims of his words.

“LORD ASTRIEL.”

The crowd turned at the deep command and even Astriel was jerked from the

darkness of his thoughts. All eyes were averted to the marble balcony that towered above

them at the head of the courtyard.

King Oberon stared at his son from where he stood above them all and the silence

that stole over the outer gardens was palpable.

A voice in Astriel’s mind spoke unhindered, loud and clear.

Do not lose yourself, Astriel. Malveis is your loyal servant. What has come over you?

Prince Astriel tore his gaze away from his father’s and looked down at his best

friend, who laid perfectly still, his expression unreadable. Astriel sheathed his sword and offered a hand to his friend. Malveis took the outstretched hand without a moment’s

thought. He came to his feet and, though he wobbled unsteadily for a moment, he was

quick to regain his balance and enough strength to stand on his own.

Astriel glanced back up at his father. Oberon had never looked away.

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Heather Killough-Walden

Behind the King, from the shadows of an open veranda, stepped Astriel’s sister,

Princess Zeta. She approached the railing and gazed down at her brother. Her eyes

sparkled with interest, her thin, arched brow shot up inquisitively.

Astriel glared at her. She smiled a slight, entirely wicked smile.

She had won and she knew it.

It was time this ended.

“Accompany me to my sister’s study, Malveis. We have some business to attend to.”

Astriel clapped his friend on the back and made his way into the castle, Malveis just

behind him.

A few moments later, he strode into Zeta’s chambers, knowing she would be waiting

for him. She glanced up from where she sat upon her fainting couch, idly playing with the

long strand of finely cut gems around her slender neck. Her smile was victorious, her

cheeks flushed, her violet eyes twinkling with triumph.

Astriel barely afforded her a glance as he said, “The bet is off,” and headed directly

for her viewing pool.

She threw back her head and laughed, the sound reminiscent of tinkling bells, and

then she rose and joined him at the edge of the large bowl. Malveis entered the chamber

next and came to stand beside them.

“I had a feeling it would not be long,” Zeta teased softly. “After all, she attacked you.

I knew the girl had to be special.”