Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (21 page)

It was like a weight she hadn’t realized she
carried
had been lifted. Her voice caught in her throat
,
and she simply nodded. 

He smiled, like the first rays of sunlight after a terrible storm. “I must check in with the other guard. Meet you soon?”

She nodded again, mute. Her throat was suddenly very dry, so devoid of moisture that when she swallowed she nearly choked.

Reluctantly, he released her hand, bowed, and strode toward the dais. 

She
watched him go, u
nable to take her eyes off him, like it was the last time she’d ever see him again.
Gabriel, my Gabriel. I can make it right.
I
will
make this right.

Flutterings of doubt danced in her chest. What if the darker side of her strong-armed her sensibilities again? What if she ended up hurting him worse than before? Was that a chance she was willing to take, to possibly damage their relationship beyond repair?

The first notes of another tune floated through the air, and she turned to leave when someone took her hand and started leading her back to the dance floor.

“That was quick,” she said, her confusion becoming
bittersweet
anticipation
at the prospect of
being held by Gabri
el again. “Did you change your
…” Her eyes froze on t
he black glove holding her hand
then gradually made their way up the shimmering dark fabric to the
horned
devil mask.   

It was the stranger she had seen across the room earlier. He was staring at her steadfastly, the hint of a mischievous smile playing on his pale lips.

“You,” she breathed. 

He made no reply
and only smiled in that seductive, knowing way.

He was eve
n more gorgeous up close,
or at least
from what
her imagin
ation would lead her to believe
. Intricate patterns made from black pearls swirled throughout his
tunic
and pants. His undershirt was black silk, and his tall black boots looked like they were made from expensive leather. The
cologne
he wore smelled sharp but sweet, like cinnamon and lust.

She was speechless as
he swung her around to face him
and began swaying to the beat of a tune he must have heard only in his head. It was much slower than the lively courante dancing through the air. They stood just outside the boundaries of the dance floor; the other dancers didn’t seem to notice them at all, as if they were invisible.   

He watched her intently as he pulled her closer, so close she had to almost look straight up to hold his gaze. He held her with the intimacy of a lover, as
only
Gabriel had, and it made her uncomfortable and excited at the same time. It felt so strangely familiar, like coming home for the first time in ages.

She blinked, coming to her senses.
What am I doing? If Gabriel sees me like this…

She tried to wriggle out of his arms, but he resisted. “Stay with me,” he whispered.

At the sound of his low, musical voice, the warning in her head subsided
,
and her heart stopped its rapid ascent as he tucked her against his chest. She should have been scared, maybe even repulsed by his audacity, but she could not bring herself to fight him.

“I don’t know you,” she said. It took longer for her to form the thought; her mind felt like it was encased in fog. 

“Are you sure?”

She narrowed
her eyes at him. “Actually, I take that back
. I know the
type of man you are.
You’re arrogant,
thinking you can charm your way into the hearts and beds of women with an attractive smile and pretty words.
”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “So you think my smile is attractive?”

Deep down inside, she had to admit some part of her was attracted to him. He was alluring, and though she should be frightened and wary of him, some part of him called to a piece of her she was not aware of until now. 

She pursed her lips, looking away.

He chuckled
,
and her expression soured even more. “Has anyone told you
that
you look quite
lovely
when you’re angry?” he said.

She looked at him then, sharply.
“Don’t patronize me.
”

“I wouldn’t dare, my Lady,” he murmured. “But when I saw you, I knew I would forever regret it if I didn’t share at least one dance with you.”

“A dance I never gave you permission to have
.”

“And yet it appears we are
, indeed, dancing
.”

She glared at him. She thought about moving her hand, but she could not lift so much as a finger.
Why can I not move? Who is he? 

They rocked back and forth to the imaginary melody, and she felt her muscles – and her mind – relaxing against her will into the fold of his arms. 

“It’s been a long time since I danced like this with anyone.” It sounded more like he was talking to himself than to her, somewhere between sad and wistful.

She
stared past his shoulder into the crowd. “I gather you don’t attend many masques?”

He chuckled under his breath,
and his laughter vibrated
through her body. “One might say I am a bit of a recluse.”

“I can’t imagine someone like you keeping to the shadows.
You seem to crave attent
ion, particularly that of women
if I had to guess.
”
Her tone was condescending; she didn’t mean it as a compliment.

That same dry smile spread across his lips. “Sometimes you are safer in the dark.”

“
Safer in the dark.
”
She thought of Ursa and Gabriel’s kiss
and
how different things may have gone had she never seen that. 

“That may be true,” she said carefully, “but then you never learn to appreciate the light.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “You’re different from the others, the courtiers, that is.”

With some reluctance, s
he returned his wry smile. “Well, I’m not exactly of noble blood.”

He pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. He studied her for a second. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t already kno
w? Perhaps my travesties are not as famous as I had thought.
”

The man who had seemed so confident looked very fragile
all of a sudden
, almost lonely. A piece of her felt sorry for him, though she reminded herself she barely knew him. Maybe he had done something to deserve to be left alone, something so terrible that the rest of the world had shunned him. 

And yet she was not afraid. 

She was on the verge of speaking when he stepped back, unwrapping her from his arms. He bowed deeply. “Thank you for the dance, kind lady. It has been the highlight of my evening.” He reached out and brushed back a curl from her face, a gesture so tender one would have thought he had done it a thousand times. “Dream of me, and maybe we will meet again.”

It was like being jolted by lightning.

By the time
she
regained her breath, he had already slipped into the crowd, vanishing from sight. She tilted her head, trying to see through the dancers, but did not see so much as a trace of his dark robes.

Her sluggish mind struggled to make sense of what was happening to her.
What am I looking for? A person? An object? Why do I feel so… numb? 

Someone was looking at her; she could feel their gaze burning into her back. When she turned around, Gabriel was staring back at her. He looked deeply hurt for a reason she could not fathom.

Oh, no. Did I
lash out at him again
?
I don’t remember anything. He left only a few seconds ago to talk to the guards, and I’ve been
standing here waiting for him. Why is he looking at me like that?

An abrupt hush fell over the crowd as every head turned toward the grand staircase.
She
peeled her eyes off of Gabriel and lost her breath. 

Countess Merí was descending the last few steps. Her long
black hair had been pulled half
way up
,
and it fell i
n soft curls down her back
with a few tendrils framing her face.
A dainty mask with black feather accents hid her eyes, which were done up in dark purple eye shadow.
Her dress was a deep plum
with an empire waistline that
flowed all the way to the floor and a small train with lac
y beadwork sewn along the hem. It was a mixture of satin and a silvery sheer, and it shimmered in the light as she moved.  She looked so exquisite that she could have been one of the Goddesses from the painting.

Everyone seemed
awed by her beauty. E
ven Gabriel looked entranced.

But Lian did not feel jealous, not with the scent of cinnamon still hanging in the air.   

Cinnamon. Why did the air smell like cinnamon? And something sharper, like smoke. She sniffed.

Is that… sulfur?

Without warning, several images came to her at once. Stormy blue eyes behind a
horned
devil mask, a deep voice flowing over her like velvet, and the electric thrill of a man’s fingers gently caressing her face. 

She
blinked, and the images cleared.
What was that?

After a moment, the hum of conversation resumed as Merí was circled by courtiers. When
she
turned around, Gabriel was gone.

Shadows

MERÍ HAD TO FIGHT
the whim to frown when she looked around the room and did not see her prey present.

Upon her arrival at the palace, Orris had continued to dodge her, and she was growing restless. She was so close. All she had to do was stab him through the heart, and her contract would be fulfilled.  

The sheer thought of that prospect alone made her long to storm through the palace right then and there, not stopping until she had found him and killed him.

Just be patient. He can’t evade you for much longer. No one escapes Death in the end
.

Memories of a ship full of dead or dying men, women, and children sinking into Mariah’s River lurked dangerously near the surface of her mind, but she quickly pushed them back as she turned to address an elderly gentleman and his lady.

She had been swarmed the moment her foot left the last step. Auras popped all around her, a surprising amount flecked with blue.

Just like the members of the death cult.

Everyone wanted to meet the mysterious stranger who had bravely endured the vicious attack upon her entourage. No doubt the stories had been exaggerated, and she had become famous overnight. Luckily from years of watching people’s habits and customs, she had the social finesse to blend in with the elite. No one ever mistook her to be something other than a lady of the court. Her conversa
tions were engaging; her manner was
polite and charming. 

Mid-sentence, her eyes flitted to a corner of the room that was unoccupied save for one person. 

Him
. 

Rowan was propped up against the wall with his arms crossed firmly over his chest and a sco
wl on his face. Though he wore formal attire – a black tunic and a red cape –
he still managed to look disheveled.

It’s his wild hair.
It makes him look s
o much like Draxonus. 

It was like she had been slammed into a wall. Draxonus. She had not thought his name in years. She was not sure she had any memories, or heart, left at all, and that revelation was equally disturbing. It was such a long time ago, and she had been an entirely different person. 

Weaker. Mortal. 

Paling,
she
excused herself from the conversation. 

She neared the garden doors at nearly the same time as Rowan, who looked so consumed by his own misery that he almost plowed into her. “Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive –” He looked up and growled.  “Oh. You – er, I mean,
Countess
.” He gruffly motioned for her to lead.

She stared at him, lost in thought.
He even acts like him sometimes, with his brusque manner.

Rowan sighed irritably. “Is there a problem?”

She
shook her head. “No. N
oth
ing at all.” She hastily curtsi
ed and stepped out into the lukewarm night.