Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (23 page)

She
watched from the door as the screams, fire, and sounds of battle died away, leaving just her and the Duke. “Father?” she asked in a broken whisper.

The robed figure’s head jerked up. She pried her eyes off her father’s body long enough to see his face.

A dance… the memory of a devil horned mask on a charismatic angel with eyes as blue as the Jasper Sea. The fog clouding her mind lifted as a white light pushed it away. 

“I know you,” she said.

It was the tall, dark stranger who had stolen a dance earlier, only now there was no mask. His face was flawless, just as beautifu
l as any of the statues of the g
ods in the garden.

“Who are you? What have you done?”
she demanded.

H
e slowly stood, never taking his eyes off hers. He moved like water, graceful and fluid. Something about it was unnatural, and the first t
w
inge of fear grappled with her nerves.

“My L
ady,” he said in that deep, melodious voice, “I am bound by my Oath. Know that I am truly sorry. It was for the best.” Regret and shame shone in his eyes as he looked at the body and then to her.

She
blinked, and he was suddenly in front of her. She started as he reached for her hand and pressed it to his heart. “You know me,” he said earnestly. “See with your heart and not your eyes. Only then will you discern the truth.” 

And then he vanished
as if he had never been there at all.
Her
eyes scanned the room, but she was alone with the immobile body of the Arch Duke. 

Slowly, as if in a dream, she walked over to him.
This isn’t real. It can’t be. Please, Gods, if you exist, let this be a dream.
Her thoughts tum
bled over themselves
, making her head start to hurt
. Her face felt hot, and her windpipe was surely shrinking in diameter. There was a ringing in her ears that refused to go away. 

She
found herself kneeling
beside him
and
didn’t remember
how she got there
. Blood pooled around his torso where he had been stabbed. The knife
lay
not far away, its blade still gleaming red. It looked like he had been gutted with a butcher knife, its jagged teeth crusted with rust and dried blood.

Fighting
the urge to vomit,
she fixed
her blurry gaze on his face
as she fought back the hot tears threatening to spill
at
any moment
. His eyes were closed, like he was sleeping. It would have looked peaceful if he had not opened his eyes and rasped, “Help me!”

All the hurtful words and missed birthdays did not matter anymore.

She
clutched his limp hand, giving it a reass
uring squeeze. “Yes, I’m here, F
ather,” she said as strongly as she could, though she was scared out of her mind.

Feron’s eyes widened in terror, and when he spoke his voice made a strange gurgling sound. “Spare me, wretched specter!”

She shook his hand as he flailed his arm, trying to break her grasp. “Father, it’s me. Lianora!”

“Damn you!” He reached for her throat with his free hand and began squeezing.

“No! What are you doing?” She tried to pry his fingers off, but he was too strong, his power strengthened by a wild desperation.

“Stop haunting me! I’m
done with you!”

Her lungs burned with pressure
,
and she choked. She released her hold and frantically clawed at his hand, but she was quickly growing dizzy. The room began to swirl.

Her vision started to go black when his hand went limp and he fell back, dead. Air rushed into her lungs so quickly she
gagged and
fell
over onto his chest as spasms raked her lungs. 

Lying on his corpse, sever
al emotions came to her at once:
confusion, sorrow, guilt, anger. Her own father had tried to choke her, yet he had been the only father she had ever known. How was she supposed to feel?

The pressure of her emotions
built up
,
but they never erupted into tears. Her eyes were frozen wide, staring at the blood staining the parts of her dress that were pressed in the
growing
puddle.
“No,” she
whispere
d
.
“No, no, no.”  Her voice gave way to
shuddering gasps
as
she buckled over onto his chest again and clutched
him like she had only dreamed of doi
ng when he was alive.

Sucking in a breath tinged with smoke, she pitched bac
k her head and screamed in rage
over the dead father she never knew, the haunting stranger she wante
d
to both kiss and strangle, the darker side of her that she feared and loathed, and the fact her life was falling apart at the seams.

“Lianora!” A man was shouting
her name
somewhere far in the distance. 

Before she had time to look, a pair of strong hands wrapped around her waist and hauled her up. Clinging to her father’s robes, she shouted, “
What are you doing?
We can’t leave him!”

“He’s gone! We have to go!” And with that, he dragged her into the hall. Through the smoke she saw shaggy curls a
nd a black military dress tunic
. 

Rowan.

He
kneeled
and tore off a piece of her dress. 

“What are you –”

“Put this on,” he ordered. He hastily covered her mouth with the cloth, knotting it securely behind her messy blonde curls. “It’ll help with the smoke.” He grabbed her hand and shielded his mouth with his other arm. “Come on!”

They tore down the hallway, veering sharply to the right and tearing down several flights of stairs to the bottom floor. Flames leapt at them from all sides, and more than once they had to dodge bits of the ceiling as it collapsed, eaten away with fire. Her heart was pounding from running so hard, and they were nearly to the main entrance when she cried, “Wait!” She dug her feet in, jerking him to a halt. 

He spun around.  “What is it?”

Something’s wrong. I’m forgetting something
, she thought, toying with the pull in her gut.  Instinctively, she reached for her throat and gasped.

“The teardrop.”

The notion was ludicrous. She knew she shouldn’t, that she could die if she
went back
now.
For all the trouble it had brought, it might even be a blessing that
it would
melt in the fire.
But she knew she couldn’t leave without it. “I have to go back.”

“
No
, stop!” Rowan called, but she was already gone.

Oath

NO SOONER HAD LIANORA
disappeared when a group of men Rowan had never seen before rounded the corner. They were strange, with glowing orange eyes and odd black armor made from feathers and leather. They
had a feral look in their eyes
and a predatory agility to the way they walked. 

Orange eyes, just
like my father
has
.

He
studied them, not knowing if he should attack. One of the men spotted him and pointed, raising his sword.  He yelled something in a language Rowan did not recognize. The others followed him as he charged down the hallway, their screams of battle carrying on the air.   

Slipping into the defensive,
he
met them head-on and parried their attacks, disabling each of them as he went. One of the assailants managed to catch him off guard, knocking his sword from his hand and slamming him into a wall, but his adrenaline was pumping so hard
he barely noticed. He grabbed
hold of the man and kneed him in the stomach. When he slumped forward, Rowan made a fist and clipped him hard across the temple. The man fell to the floor unconscious. He could have sworn there were two more, but when he looked around him, he saw only flames. 

Did they run
straight through the fire?

He couldn’t risk waiting for Lianora if they were going for reinforcements.

She could kill us both. I could leave now, save myself.
He shook his head, weighing his options.
But she’s an heir, no matter how brainless. The people will need her, with the Duke dead and Ana-Elise missing.

He groaned. “You know what you have to do,” he told himself.
Picking up his sword, he
stumbled back up the staircase.   

The smoke was now so thick in the hallway he could barely see three feet in front of him.
He
gagged as soot coated his throat, but he pushed on. He ducked as part of the roof collapsed, missing him by a few narrow inches.

They might not have anyone to fight if this damned blaze finishes me first.

Righting himself, he felt along the wall until he found the end of the hall that adjoined to the upper
wing, where Lianora’s room was. He
a
ssumed
that’s where she had run off
to
. He hoped his hunch was right.

Rounding the corner, he cupped his hands on either side of his mouth. “Lianora! Where are you?”

No answer. 

He shouted again, but all he could hear was the hiss of the fire. Picking a direction, he began shoving doors open, calling her name each time
,
only to find an empty room or a locked door. Finally, at the last room, he found her.

She was on her hands and knees patting the floor, a crazed look on her ash-covered face. The dresser drawers had been pulled out
,
and her clothes were strewn about the room, like someone had sacked the place.
He
inched toward her. Her head jerked up, and he saw
a look of
terror on her face that had nothing to do with the fire.

“I can’t find it!” she shrieked. “Someone’s been in here!” She wildly gestured to the mess. “But… I can still
feel
it. I know it’s here.
Gods, what have I done?
”

Sheathing his sword, he
kneeled
beside her and took her by the shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

She
shook her head irritably and kept feeling along the floor, as if he should already know what she was looking for. “The teardrop! I can’t find my teardrop!”

He
groaned and grabbed her wrist. “We don’t have time for this. We have to get out of here.”

“No!” She jerked her hand free and scrambled to
her feet. “You don’t understand.
I have to find it!”

He
stood up and glared at her. 
She’s crazy
.
If I don’t get us
out of here, we’re both doomed.

It slowly clicked into place. His eyes sharpened, and he grabbed her arm again, twisting it so she was force
d
to turn to him. “Do you speak of the necklace?”

“What else?” she
asked
, her lip curling in a sneer.

His heart picked up.
Perhaps I could find it before she does…

All around them, the fortress continued to fall apart,
and
the heat
grew
more oppressive by the second. His eyes flickered to the door.
We could be ambushed at the blink of an eye. Do something, you fool! 

Jaw flexing, he made a decision.
Forget the necklace. You don’t know what it’s for, and it’s no good to you if you are dead!

Since he was obviously going to have to carry her out by force, he started to reach for her when a white sparkle caught his eye. Turning
a
round, he saw a f
aint glimmer through the smoke.

Walking briskly toward it, he
kneeled
down on one knee and took off his glove. He patted the floor, but all he felt was hot carpet and a bit of debris from the burning room. Then his fingers ran over a cool coiled chain. He grasped it and lifted it up to find the necklace he had noticed her
wearing these past few days.

“You found it!”

His grip tightened around the chain
,
and his jaw clenched as she scampered to him and held out her hand. When he didn’t move to give it to her, she said, “Well, what are you waiting for? Give it here.”

He hesitated, warring with himself.
She has to come with me anyway. It won’t hurt for her to hold onto it a bit longer.