Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2) (35 page)

Seventy-Six

Reunited

Charles tensed when the group emerged from the trees, several children of different ages and a few ragged adults, all covered in dust. He counted fifteen heads.

His grip tightened over his sword handle. He’d searched the inn for Alexia after the conflict and came across Ethel who had the good humor to explain that his daughter was now married, and she’d been dragged off to face the Soulless. He’d left that very hour.

Alexia stepped out from the woods, braced under the weight of her limping husband.

Her husband.

Charles ground his teeth. The miscreant should have waited to marry her proper, with her father present. He should have been there.

But none of that mattered. They had survived!

He kicked his horse and dropped at her side, throwing his arms around her. “Thank God you are safe. When I heard the collapse, I thought you were all dead!”

Her husband laughed. “You, of all people, should know how difficult I can be to kill.”

“And by virtue, her?” He held his daughter away as heat rose to his cheeks, remembering those early weeks after Dana’s death, after his child had been dropped in Rosalind’s arms and his entire world destroyed. Loading his rifle, he’d excused himself to go hunting. And hunt he had—twice firing shots which must have grazed the man who would become his son-in-law.

Alexia straightened her husband’s collar, and he slipped his fingers through hers. Charles’s fists tightened. He reminded himself he had consented to their marriage, even if he’d been cheated out of the actual ceremony.

“So long as I live,” his son-in-law vowed, “she shall.”

Charles inhaled through his teeth. How many years had he known this man, and yet he had not aged a day. If what he offered Alexia was timelessness, a world without age, without end, it was more than Charles could ever hope to give her.

And yet...

He frowned, studying her. Powder clung to her clothing and skin, but something about her hair... He scowled. A patch of white swirled through the curls very near her face, a sign of premature aging.

He lifted the strands.

Alexia pulled them out of his grasp. “It is nothing, Father.”

He bit down, nodded, and followed them down the woodland path.

Seventy-Seven

Nelly’s Gift

Kiren could not hope to travel on his leg. He rode, most of the time holding one of the Passionate children who’d been prisoner, and Alexia led the horse. They made slow progress with the exhausted little ones and camped in the open, taking turns to watch. He slept deep and true, deeper than he had in ages. Come morning, he had only a strong limp and a couple bruises. Alexia stared in wonder, rubbing a finger along his no-longer split lip.

The children rode, and Kiren staggered along with Alexia for support.

“You said the Soulless could not be killed but by your necklace or my sword.” She clutched his arm about her shoulder. “What has happened to them? Are they gone?”

He rested his cheek against her curls. “Buried, yes, but not dead.”

“They may as well be. I cannot imagine them digging out from under that rubble.”

“But in time, they shall.”

The sound of her swallow tickled his ears.

“And Nelly?” she asked.

He nuzzled her brow tenderly, inhaled her pomegranate sunshine, and sighed. “Her parents both died at her birth—you see—Nelly is very rare. She is what we call a
true elemental
, one who connects with the very earth and can command it at will.”

Alexia blinked up at him, her single white lock catching the light.

Kiren slipped the ringlet behind her ear. “When one of these rarely gifted Passionate are born, their talent manifests. There is no safe haven for those closest to them, and indeed the babe cannot control the violence.”

Her mouth dropped open. “She killed her parents?”

He grimaced. “When I met the old girl, she was but a child—a very gifted child.”

Alexia tensed. He groaned, realizing he’d just affirmed his longevity to her. Not much he could do about that now. Did she understand how lonely those decades had been without her?

“Nelly had moved from one home to another, always shuffled off elsewhere, until someone recognized her dangerous gift—one of the Passionate—and decided she should be the tool for undermining our peace.”

Alexia squeezed his arm. “They used her as a weapon?”

“Intended to.” He smiled sadly. “They did not obtain their goal as the poor dear was apprehended by the Soulless because of her extreme emotions.”

Again her jaw hung. “Nelly was taken by the Soulless?”

“Almost. What they did do effectively was break up this little rebellion, and as I was in ripe pursuit of the other Passionate the Soulless had in their sights, I happened upon the scene.”

“You saved her.”

He cleared his throat, tugging a hand through his hair. “She had been made to use her gift often and in the benefit of her enslavers, frequently to her utter exhaustion. They used anything she cared about against her—which, for Nelly, is pretty much every living thing—especially animals. At the time I carried her away, she had lost all trust, all confidence and tenderness. She lived only in fear, only to punish or be punished. It took decades to win her love.”

Alexia slid her fingers through his. “I can hardly imagine anyone hating you.”

“And yet it happens.” He kissed the top of her head. “I promised Nelly she never need use her gift again, and I have held to that.” Wrapping his arms tightly about her, he whispered into her ear. “She thought to save us all from the Soulless in her selfless act, and we must not forget.”

Seventy-Eight

Going Back

The inn was a welcomed sight, the grounds quiet as when Alexia had first seen them, not the chaos of their recent battle. She breathed easier. She wasn’t certain she could have faced the war-zone without crumbling. But it was too quiet.

She aided Kiren through the door as the others made their way inside.

Regin whistled. “Mae, darlin’, ain’t you still the lassie o’ the lee.”

She waved the sleeper off and hurried forward to the children.

“Where is everyone?” Alexia asked.

“Ethel brought word this morning,” Mae said. “They have returned to their homes, or to rebuild.”

“They, but not us?” Alexia turned to Kiren.

Happiness drained from his eyes. He seized her fingers, studying them individually. He met her gaze briefly, then returned to her hand, twisting her wedding band as he whispered, “One day I will be enabled to return home, and you will go with me.”

“To the kingdom that is lost?”

He bit his lips from the inside and glanced around. He nodded her toward the stairs.

They entered her previous room on the second floor, and she settled him on the bed. He lay back and slid one arm beneath his head. “The kingdom may be lost, but it will always be my responsibility to restore it.”

She sat next to him and clasped his hand in both hers. “And what will that mean for us?”

Shifting onto an elbow, he faced her, his earnest eyes probing hers. “Will you leave with me, Alexia? When that day comes, will you be my queen?”

She slid her fingers through his and averted her gaze, smiling. The decision still lay before her: this dangerous life with her husband, a future king, or going to the aid of thousands to stop the Soulless from becoming. And if she hadn’t succeeded before, what were her chances of doing so this time? Was there a good choice?

He leaned back, apparently satisfied with her physical response and closed his eyes.

“I love you, Kiren,” she said.

Kiren slept. Alexia slipped away, down through the kitchen and into the secret basement. She carried with her a lamp, one that warmed the tiny chamber her aunt had occupied. She sat on the bed, thinking of Sarah, how she had yearned to save her. Perhaps it was better that Sarah was not here, one less thing to hold her back.

If the Soulless never existed, Sarah would never have become one of them. Nor would John. And Miles—what kind of wonderful life would he have, living with his parents rather than running from them?

And Nelly—the kindly cook who cared for poor, estranged Miles, her loud jokes and straight forward manner. Alexia’s heart cried for the loss of so dear a friend, for Nelly’s last gift to them. But perhaps Nelly need not be lost after all? 

She rubbed a hand over her abdomen. What of her daughter and Kiren? Would leaving destroy either?

A noise in the hall pulled her around.

Mae shuffled into the room, feeling her way forward. “Never did like coming down here.”

Alexia scooted over, making room for her on the bed.

The woman joined her, head tilted. “It still smells like them.”

Alexia hadn’t realized, but it did. Sarah’s perfume clung to the sheets, almost drowning out the slight hint of decay.

Mae’s hand landed over top hers. “I did everything in my power to save her.”

“I know you did.” Alexia held in the sob that wanted to escape.

“If we’d had the medallion, she would have survived.”

“But we did not.” Alexia closed her eyes. This was what her mother meant—that some people’s fates were sealed, and that she could not save everyone. But perhaps she could. “And what became of John?”

Mae’s lips cut a tight line. “Gone. He buried Sarah and departed.”

Alexia’s fists clenched. “I tried to change it, Mae. I went back and tried, but it was not enough.”

A kindly hand patted her shoulder. “You did not go back far enough.”

“How far back should I have gone?” She turned to study the woman, wondering precisely how long Mae had been waiting to see her.

Mae’s lips twitched upward, pulling down just as quickly. “It was over five hundred years ago when the Soulless came to be.”

“Is that when we first met?”

The lines across Mae’s brow deepened. “It is.”

The breeze in her ears died. Her muscles froze. Stillness settled over the world as she worked to rectify those words.

Alexia rose to her feet. “You are saying I can prevent it, all of it?”

Mae’s mouth twisted and she stood. “I am saying you did go back, and you made a difference.”

Her throat was suddenly too dry. “But if I failed before...”

The woman straightened the sheets they’d ruffled. “You did not fail me, Alexia. Nor did you fail any of the others who depended on you. You are needed.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “You are powerful beyond your own understanding.”

Alexia touched her belly absently. The miracle that would allow her to go may already be in place, and yet how would she provide for a child in another time? What did she know of the thirteenth century after all? And how could she leave Kiren?

“I can tell you everything you need to know,” Mae whispered.

“But my husband...”

The woman stepped around her, clasping her shoulders. “You must do this for him. For us all.”