Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (9 page)

He glared at her with clear annoyance. “A lot of men at the palace have dark hair.”

“A name,” she snapped.

“What do you expect me to do when that’s all you’ve given me? Start listing every bastard that fits your exemplary description?”

“One.” She raised her saber.

His eyes flashed with fear. “Wait! I
know of one in particular… damn
it, what was it! What was his name!”

“Two.” She angled the blade.

“Wait, I can remember it!” He grabbed her dress.

“Three.”

“Orris!” he yelled.

She paused. The pupils of his eyes dilated, and she could see the reflection of the blade in them. She stared at him hard. “Who is this Orris?”

He took several shaky breaths, searching her eyes.

“Think,” she said in a low voice.

He shook his head. “I…” He gulped and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they looked more focused. “The captain of th
e Palace Guard. The Gold Knight
and
commander
of Asilee’s armies. That’s all I know.”

Orris. Is that what He’s calling H
imself nowadays?
Her eyes narrowed as her thoughts plunged into deeper, darker secrets. “How long has this Orris been
here?”

Gerard stared into space, as if his wild eyes would find an answer there. “Orris has been here ever since I arrived. Ten or twelve years, perhaps.”

This produced an immediate frown.
Gods never linger for long in any one place. If he’s taken up residence of sorts here, then does that mean he’s finally found
the crystal
?

She
considered this, the tip of her blade still poised above Gerard’s throat. Without another word, she raised the saber.

Gerard gasped, and his face became impossibly paler. “Please, I gave you what you wanted! Have mercy!”

She met his eyes. “I gave up on mercy a long time ago.”

Her blade fell, and Gerard barely got out a scream before his body crumpled to the floor. She wiped the blade clean with the hem of her dress before returning it to the jeweled sheath at her hip. 

She looked at the bodies around her as she strolled back to
the curtained entrance,
not lament
ing
their loss. What was one less thief, murderer, whore, rapist? Leave none alive who knew the truth. It was her personal rule, one that had saved her many times.

“It would appear we misunderstood each other,” she said, glancing back at Gerard’s corpse. “I do understand the importance of keeping one’s secrets safe.”

When s
he was almost to the curtain
,
she h
eard whimpering. She stopped, listening
closer. It was muffled, as if they were trying not to be noticed. She followed the sound until her eyes rested upon a girl curled up in the darkest corner of the room, her eyes puffy and her face raw with tears. 

Vishka soundlessly glided to her, drawing her saber as she did, and leveled it at the girl’s neck. The girl bit her lip as a sob caught in her throat. 

Vishka studied her features. She looked around seventeen or eighteen, young but tough. 

Perhaps…  

“Tell me, are you well acquainted with the layout of the city?”

The girl shook
so badly she could hardly speak. “Y – yes!”

“How well?”

The girl stared up at her with wide, terrified eyes. “I – I was raised by – by the palace. Please, please don’t kill me!” She started crying, pulling at her mussed red hair as tears poured down her cheeks.
H
er shoulders heaved with heavy sobs
as s
he buried her
face into her drawn up knees
. 

“Excellent.” Vishka sheathed her saber and
kneeled
in front of the girl, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder. 

The girl started at her touch, and she searched Vishka’s face with a mixture of confusion and horror. 

“What is your name?” Vishka asked softly.

“Me – Merissa,” the girl whispered.

“Well, Merissa. You’re going to help me.”

Nightmare

THE NEXT MORNING, LIAN
awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in a long time. 

Every nerve in her body felt alive, every muscle in her limbs soothed and limber. Smiling to herself, she laced her fingers together and stretched her arms over her head as she sat up, relishing the feeling of complete relaxation. 

She glimpsed her forearm and gasped. The snow white skin looked almost translucent in the hazy light spilling through the black lace curtains. There were no bruises, no ugly reminder of Orris’ hatred. She stared in wonder at her arm, turning it every which way and noting that the pain was also gone.

How did she heal so fast? Had she slept for far longer than she thought? Surely she couldn’t have been out for more than a night.

A sharp rap at the door interrupted her thoughts, and it was immediately flung open by a rather irritable lookin
g Grehn. He was the Head House k
eeper, and though Lian had minimal contact with him throughout the years, Ursa had complained enough about his famous temper and uncanny ability to spot t
he smallest wrinkle in a sheet –
which usually resorted in a sharp
reprimanding, according to Ursa –
that Lian felt almost as disgruntled at seeing him as the housekeeping staff did.  

He wasted no time and cleared his throat loudly, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “
The
Lady Ana-Elise wishes you to accompany her to the Marketplace,” he said in a blur, tapping his foot. His graying eyebrows were raised in the same disdainful arch she was used to seeing on his wrinkled face.   

Lian blinked, startled. “Now?”

“Yes, my L
ady. When did you think?” He snapped
his fingers, and a moment later Ursa and another handmaiden –
Drenna, she thought her name was – appeared with a basin of steaming water. 

Once they disappeared into the bathing chambers, Grehn turned to leave.

“Wait!”

He
stopped, sighed between gritted teeth, and fix
ed
her with a petulant stare. “Yes?”

“What day is it?” She fully realized how ridiculous she must sound, but she had to know, had to figure out how she had healed so quickly. “Was the engagement only announced last night?”

As she expected, he stared at her like s
he had lost her mind. “Yes, my L
ady. It was only last night,” he replied slowly, as if speaking to a toddler.

She nodded once, her thoughts more troubled than they were to begin with. Ana-Elise had never shown any inclination of wanting to do anything with her. Though Lian loathed shopping, she was a little excited at the chance of spending time with her half-sister, and her glee erased he
r worry. Maybe the look Ana gave
her last night meant nothing
at all, or maybe she had dreamed
it up altogether. As many things that had transpired the past few days, she couldn’t be sure exactly what was real and what she had imagined due to stress.

Without meaning to,
she
glanced at the teardrop. Was it faintly glowing, or was it catching the first
gray
light of dawn?

She
closed her eyes and breathed a hard sigh through her nose.
You ha
ve to stop imagining these things before you drive yourself mad. Magic and evil creatures are for children’s stories. It’s time to grow up.

Grehn took her silence as his dismissal and hastily left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

She
looked at her arm again
and then
at the windows as Drenna drew apart the curtains
. The sun was still obscured by the tree line of Dreaka’s Forest, meaning it must be ridiculously early. As if sensing she was being watched, Drenna turned around, bowed, and scooped up a towel and a bathrobe from the back of a chair.

“Good morning, my L
ady,” she said with a curtsey and a small, shy smile. Drenna w
as a few years younger than her
but already very pretty.
Lian remembered seeing her the other  night, flirting with Gabriel.

Maybe that’s the type of girl Gabriel likes
.
The pretty ones.
Lian scowled and dismissed the stray thought, not bothering to remove the stormy look on her face as she crawled out of bed.

Drenna chewed on her lip. “Are
you, um, are you all right, my L
ady?”

Lian smiled tightly. “Never better.”

When she said no more, Drenna hastily led her to the bathing chamber where a steaming tub of water awaited. Drenna helped
her out of her night-
gown and then left her to wash up.

Lian emerged a few minutes later in her bath robe. One look around her bedroom told her Drenna was gone; only Ursa, who was flitting about lighting candles, remained. Ursa grinned when she saw her. She
set
down the candle she had just lit, walked over to the bed, and held up a dress with so much beadwork that Lian was convinced the sheer weight of it would give her back problems.

She waved it away. “You know I won’t wear something like th
at to a ball, let alone to the Market. T
he hem would be caked in mud within minutes.”

Ursa reluctantly agreed and tucked the dress away. She selected a few more options, each simpler than the one preceding it, until Lian finally chose a plain dress of flowing cream-colored fabric with a modest neckline and gold trim. She wished her wardrobe was more colorful at times. But she knew she was far luckier than most,
seeing as she actually had decent clothes,
and so she tried not to want for things she could perfectly well do without.

Ursa helped her into her undergarments before holding the dress open so she could step into i
t. The sleeves were a bit tight
but would soon stretch out the longer she wore it.
After she was in the dress,
Ursa laced up the back and found some soft
slippers. “How’s your arm?” she asked,
set
ting
the slippers on the floor before her. “I hope I didn’t jostle it around too much. I confess I’d completely forgotten about it.” A light blush crept into her plump cheeks. 

“Oh. It’s, uh, much better. And no, you didn’t jostle it,” Lian added hastily.
The
thought crossed her mind to tell
Ursa it was healed
,
but she decided to keep that information pressed tightly behind her closed lips.
She couldn’t begin to understand her miraculous recovery, let alone try to explain it to Ursa.

As Ursa fussed over her hair, they made small talk,
and Ursa filled
her in on the latest gossip while Lian pretended to be listening. Gossip made her more uncomfortable than parading around in a ball gown. There was something that made her feel undeniably guilty and irritated about finding enjoymen
t in the misfortunes of others. There never seemed to be any good gossip; everything Ursa told her had a melancholy tone to it.
Either that
or maybe she was turned off from it since she always seemed to be a hot topic for gossip. She could not recall the last time she hadn’t heard her name whispered in the halls or at dinner parties. Balls were the worst, and she blanched at the thought of the approaching
gala.

At last, Ursa had woven her damp hair into a complex web of braids that trailed down her upper back. Lian absently fingered the pendant around her neck, which shimm
ered in the early morning light
as Ursa stepped back to view her work.
Ursa’s
eyes fell
to her neck
,
and she smiled in wonder. “The necklace is a nice touch,” she said, motioning for
Lian
to stand. “I do believe you’re ready.”

No sooner had she spoke
than
another knock came at the door
,
and two guards stepped into the room, each taking up a position on either side of the entry. Another man, a page, walked past them and bowed. “The Lady Ana-Elise requests your presence for immediate departure.”

Lian cast one last dreary look at Ursa, who was trying to suppress a giggle, and followed the page out the door. 

***

LIAN WAS GLAD THE
M
arketplace wasn’t open at night or else she
might not
be able to see anyone. At least
in the cheaper section
of the Market
. Everyone wore the same drab shades: black, gray, cream, all inexpensive colors. But the royal entourage didn’t tarry in the cheaper wares for long. Ana went straight to the nicer shops, and more and more colors appeared. She also wore a lavender chemise, and Lian wondered how in Eresea she had managed that.
A gift from Alastor
probably.