Soul Catcher (8 page)

Aleco wore his typical attire—a cloak and hood that hid his entire visage. Accacia wished he felt more comfortable around her. She knew wearing such heavy clothing had to be unbearable, especially in the heat of the scorching sun. A slight breeze tasseled the strands of her hair and she was thankful for the respite.

He could sense the change in their relationship since the evening before. Accacia’s walls had finally fallen—for the most part. She felt at ease around him, no longer threatened or fearful of his unknown intent. Not only was she friendly and nice when he didn’t deserve her kindness, but she felt innately safe around him. She truly believed that he wouldn’t harm her in any way.

“Grip the handle with both hands at all times,” he instructed. “With a long sword such as this, it is necessary. You aren’t strong enough to carry the weight with one arm.” He gripped his own blade, which was midnight black with sparkling black gems in the handle. It was the most unusual sword Accacia had ever seen.

Aleco taught her various stances, defense maneuvers, and offensive attacks. She was a quick learner. He was surprised how effortless it was for her to repeat the gestures and with such ease. Either he was a skilled instructor, or she was a natural. He couldn’t tell which.

Aleco swung his sword and they sparred. He decreased his deadly swordsmanship, allowing her to utilize the novel skills she attained. He did not want to discourage her basic attempt by revealing his deadly adroitness. She could practice for years, but no one would ever match Aleco’s ability with a sword.

They sparred on the beach until Accacia was so exhausted she could barely lift her sword. Her chest and neck were dripping with sweat, and she was parched and famished from their exercise. After a few hours, she dropped her sword to the ground, unable to go on. Aleco ended the lesson and the pair turned in for the evening. The sun had set behind the mountains, and the chill of the ocean crawled upon the beach, causing Accacia to shiver from the cold. A fog drifted to the shore and
blocked the view of the sea from the cave’s entrance. The sound of the approaching tide was the only proof it was still out there.

They sat in front of the fire and consumed their dinner. Aleco ate the fresh cod he caught that afternoon, and Accacia nibbled on the bread she infused with raisins and cherries.

“How did you find this place?” Accacia asked.

“Lucky chance.”

“It’s lovely,” she said. “You should build a house on the beach. You could gaze at the ocean from your window and watch the waves crash against the shore—it would be beautiful.”

“I’ll stick to the cave,” Aleco said sarcastically.

“Fine.  I’ll live in the house and you can remain in this crowded, bat infested enclosure,” she said with disdain. She looked at the corners of the room, waiting for a bat to fly across the cave.

Aleco stopped eating. “First of all, have you
seen a
single
bat while you’ve been here?” he asked. “And secondly, what makes you think you are going to live in
my
grotto?”

“Well, I have nowhere else to go,” she admitted with flushed cheeks. “I’ve been with Father Giloth for as long as I can remember, and I can never return there. So, I need to find a place elsewhere.”

“So you’ve conveniently picked
mine
?”

“No,” Accacia said. “I’ve picked the beach. We would be neighbors, really.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. He chewed the white fillets of the roasted fish. “I picked this deserted beach so I could be rid of people.”

“Well, I’m not people—I’m your friend.”

“I have no friends.”

“Now you do.” She smiled.

Aleco put his plate aside and looked at her face. He was equally pleased and annoyed by her fetching smile. “I should have just let you die when I had the chance,” he said. Accacia could hear the humor in his voice.

“We all make mistakes,” she teased. She moved to an
armchair by the fire and grabbed a book from a shelf,
The Lost People of Asquith,
and began to read by the light of the flames. The book detailed an ancient people to the west of the Continent. They were embodied with mysterious ancient powers. Supposedly, they worshiped the water element, claiming all life originated from its source. The Asquith people were also remembered for their manufacture of deadly weapons, and their open appreciation for nature and respect for its creatures. As a united race, they refrained from eating meat, even when on the verge of starvation, stating it was a crime worse than murder. “Have you read this?” she asked Aleco.

“Many times.”

“What happened to them?”

“No one really knows. Somehow, their island sank beneath the ocean. The sea covered the entire surface of their land. It’s a bit of a mystery,” he said. “The entire race is believed to have gone extinct due to the tragedy.”

Accacia’s heart squeezed in pain. She felt an immense depression at the revelation, even though it was for a civilization she didn’t know existed until that moment. Accacia closed the book. “Aleco?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he said. His gaze was fixed on the dancing flames of the hearth, his thoughts somewhere else. He waited for her to ask her question, knowing it had something to do with the contents of the book. He’d read the novel so many
times, he practically had every word memorized. There wasn’t a lot to do in the cave and sometimes he got bored. Accacia hesitated before she spoke; he wondered what was taking her so long. “Out with it.”

“Why do you always hide your face?”

The sound of the crackling flames echoed in the dim hollow as the silence became deafening. Aleco’s shoulders stiffened at the unwanted provocation, and he clenched both of his fists. He hadn’t expected her to ask that question. Accacia saw the lean tendons of each of his hands swell from his dry and weathered skin. She immediately regretted her curiosity. “That’s none of your concern.” The atmosphere in the room changed. The calm and peaceful evening ignited into one of fierce tension.

“I told you my darkest secret,” she said. “Why can’t you tell me yours?”

“I don’t have to tell
you
anything.”

“I promise I won’t say a word,” she whispered.

“Take my advice; you don’t want to see it.”

“I highly doubt that, Aleco.”

“Well, I don’t,” he said.

Accacia looked directly into his hood, a look of hurt on her face. “How can you not trust me?”

“It’s not that,” he sighed, “but, no, I don’t trust you—I trust no one.”

Accacia was silent as she stared at him. Aleco returned his gaze to the fire, avoiding the look on her face. She was wounded that he still didn’t feel comfortable confiding in her. She had revealed her dark past to him, and he accepted it with no comment. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t reciprocate. They had been traveling together for weeks and she felt a connection with him; surely he felt it too. Accacia knew he needed a friend, an ally to help carry the burden of his pain. She didn’t understand what she had done to be unworthy of his confidence. The sting of hurt and betrayal flooded her body. She felt stupid for telling him something so personal about herself. Finally, she said what she felt. “You
are
an asshole.” Accacia left the warmth of the fire and exited the den, choosing to freeze in the coldness of the night rather than sit alongside him by the comfortable flames of the hearth.

Aleutian Keep, Letumian Province

11

Victor entered the study with trepidation. The duke was never pleased with the news he brought him, and he was certain this instance would be no different than any other.

The duke sat at his walnut colored desk, his hand gripping a glass of Aleutian wine and his eyes glued to the flames within the black wooden hearth. Drake rarely completed work in this room; he just depleted the liquor storage.

Victor noticed the duke had been particularly displeased these past few weeks, ever since the news that his beloved courtesan, Accacia, escaped her imprisonment in the Prisoner’s Circle in Morkarh. Drake’s moods had always been volatile, changing randomly like the weather, and his unexpected tantrums could never be predicted, but lately it was even worse. Victor wasn’t surprised that Accacia had risked her life to escape his clutches. He was fond of the girl. She was always genuinely nice to him when the duke wasn’t around and pitied her because of her predicament.

The duke noticed Victor approach his desk, but he finished his glass of wine before speaking.

“What say you?” he asked. “Has she been found?”

“No, m’lord,” he said.

Drake refilled his glass of wine. “Then why are you here?”

The tension in the room elevated. Victor could hear the hum of static in the air. “Lord Aleutian, we have done everything we can to find Miss Accacia. The soldiers of the border have not seen anyone enter or leave the forest with her description, nor have they seen anyone in the neighboring cities,” he said. “She must be hiding in the wilderness.”

The duke fixed his gaze on the servant. Victor flinched under the stare, understanding the anger flashing in his eyes. Apparently, Victor had said the wrong thing. “Then
why
don’t you look
there
?” he asked. The duke rose from his seat and approached Victor around the desk. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword. “You aren’t called before the duke to explain what you didn’t do,” he hissed. “But what you have done…well, obviously, you haven’t done as I asked. Perhaps you are no longer necessary.” He released his sword from his scabbard and held it to his servant’s throat.

“Wait,” Victor said. “I have other news.”

The blade reflected the light of the flames in the hearth. The duke stared at his servant impatiently, waiting for him to speak. “Well,” he said. “I’m waiting.”

“Pons is here,” he said. “He has responded to your call.”

Drake sheathed his sword. “Very well,” he said. “Perhaps you aren’t completely useless. Send him in.”

“Yes, m’lord,” he breathed.

He dashed from the study into the hall. Pons entered the room and closed the door behind him, approaching the desk. “Good afternoon, Lord Aleutian,” Pons said. He wore the cloak of his guild but his mask was absent. The renowned black sword hung at his waist.

“I need your assistance,” he said, handing Pons a glass of whiskey. Pons downed the liquid in one gulp. Drake smiled at him and poured another.

“As always, the guild is at your disposal,” Pons said as he wiped the amber liquid from his lips.

“Of course it is,” he said. “My primary courtesan, Accacia, has gone missing. She escaped from the Prisoner’s Circle weeks ago. I need you to find her—for a hefty reward, of course.”

Pons nodded.

“Return Accacia to me, and I will reward your organization with sixty
luna,” he said.

Pons’s eyes widened at the sum. It was clear how important this courtesan was to the duke. Drake took another swallow from his glass. “I want her alive, and unpillaged. If any of your men violate her in any way—they will be executed,
stomped like ants beneath my boot. She is
mine
,” he said. “Do you understand?”
              “Of course, sire.”

“Excellent. It seems that we have struck a deal.”

Pons nodded.

“I have another boon to ask of you,” he said. “Lukein from Ponte Robles needs to be—eliminated.”

Pons nodded. “A frame or accident?”

“A death by natural means,” the duke said. “Pons—this needs to happen soon—very soon. The first council meeting will commence in a few weeks and Lukein needs to be out of the way before then.”

“We will see to it,” he replied.

“You will collect your reward when the deed is done. You may go.” Drake dismissed him. “And send Victor in on your way out.”

“Yes, sire.” Pons left the room and shut the door behind him.

Victor entered the study once again, his thoughts on his wife and children in the city. If he died, who would care for them? He had taken this job to support his family, and he never confessed just how dangerous the position was—that his ruler could strike him down at any moment. Victor approached the desk and waited.

“Send the most attractive courtesan you can find to my quarters—I like brunettes.”

“Anything else, sir?” he asked. Victor was relieved by the simple request. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Yes,” he said. “She better be good.”

Victor felt the beads of sweat return to his forehead. “Very well, sire.”

Victor left the presence of the duke and traveled to the brothel within the city. He asked for the most popular prostitute and paid a hefty fine for the entire evening. Victor didn’t care about the cost—as long as the duke was satisfied, Victor got to keep his head.

The duke entered his bedchamber and saw the courtesan lying on his bed—completely naked. She was a brunette—like he requested—but her tits were larger than he preferred and her waist wasn’t as petite as he wished. He knew he was comparing her to Accacia, a rare find, but that’s what he desired. However, he would make do with this one. He could use his imagination for once.

He forced her onto her stomach and had his way with her. In his mind, he imagined the petite form of his beloved Accacia, the silky strands of flowing locks that met her shoulders and the small but firm breasts he loved to caress. The sound of Accacia’s moans brought him to the brink, and he cried her name as he thrust inside of her, releasing his sexual energy. He lay beside her as her hands rubbed his chest. He looked over at the woman, and after realizing it really wasn’t Accacia, tossed her hands from his body. “You may go.” He dismissed her.

The woman gathered her clothes and left his bedchamber. The duke sighed to himself. He wished he’d never sent Accacia to that accursed prison. If he hadn’t, she never would have escaped. She would be there with him. Drake thought about the years they spent together, and one moment stood out in particular.

Drake had been her escort to a wedding in Roslyn. The Duke Artremian Roslyn had wed a pretty girl from the city. She had no royal family lineage; in fact, she was merely a peasant, but the duke had insisted she be his wife. He claimed he loved her.

Drake thought his choice was ill-advised if he wanted to be crowned King of the Continent. Artremian claimed he didn’t, and this news satisfied Drake because he wanted to be king after all. The various factions of the Continent had been divided for many years, every realm having their own culture and government system, but Drake didn’t understand why they didn’t have one unified leader. It would make trade agreements easier and the chance of war impossible. Drake knew he was the best man for the job. It was his intelligence and methodical planning that got him the title of duke in the first place and he had no plans to stop there.

Accacia wore a beautiful green silk dress to the ceremony, and he smiled as everyone looked at his date with lust. She was polite and
well-spoken to the officials and dukes of other realms. Drake knew they were impressed by his choice. He also knew they envied him.

He hugged her waist as they watched the progression. When the bride made her entrance to the ceremony, Accacia said how beautiful she looked and Drake looked at the woman in doubt. She looked like a porcupine compared to Accacia.

“If you say so,” he mumbled.

Accacia ignored his comment.

The idea of Accacia in a wedding dress at their ceremony, with everyone staring at his property with jealousy and longing, made his smile widen. He knew there would never be a more beautiful bride than she. Despite Accacia’s humble beginnings, he would marry her for that reason alone. If his plans worked out right, he would be king before he married anyway. Then, he could have whoever he desired.

Drake ordered Accacia to remain at the table while he spoke to the officials at the reception. Drake dropped his drink when he spotted Lord Lukein across the pavilion chatting with Accacia, his head bent back with uncontrolled laughter at her comment. She smiled at him as he was overcome with merriment. Anger coursed through Drake’s veins at the sight. Lukein was his biggest adversary.

Drake grabbed Accacia by the elbow and kissed her hard. When he pulled away, a silent look of menace flashed across his face and she clearly understood that she would pay for her actions later. Drake turned his gaze to Lord Lukien, the Duke of Paso Robles, from the northern part of the Continent. It was no secret he wanted the crown as much as Drake did.

“I was just sharing a laugh with your lovely girl here,” Lukien said. “It’s nice to know someone around here has a sense
of humor.”

Drake’s eyes blackened at his words. Accacia was prohibited from speaking with anyone without his presence or permission, and she had done both. However, Drake suspected the duke had coaxed her into it. Trying to pry information from her, he presumed. “Yes, she does have quite a
mouth
, I can say that much,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I hope you are enjoying the reception of this lovely wedding.”

“Yes, very much.” He smiled. “It is nice to get a private word with the council. You never know when a simple chat will tip the scales.”

“But I’m sure you tip the scales with something other than words, Lukein.”
              Lord Lukein eyed him. “Perhaps, but only because I have the funds to do so,” he said. “Unfortunately, not all underprivileged realms have such resources.” Lord Lukein referred to the starvation Letumian had experienced in the midst of trade agreements with Roslyn years ago. Miscommunication led to idle threats, which turned into an embargo on all production goods to Letumian. The starvation had been minimal, and only a few of the poorer citizens had passed, but the news spread like wildfire, hurting Drake’s reputation as a ruler.

Drake stepped closer to him. He was fighting with his internal temper, forcing his hands to remain at his sides. If he had a public fight with a neighboring ally, it would hurt his reputation further.

“Darling.” Accacia grabbed his forearm. “Let’s go,” she said as she pulled him away. Accacia hadn’t done it for Drake, but for Lukein, who had been pleasant to her. She didn’t want to see any bloodshed, especially if she could prevent it.

Drake shrugged her arm away. He was angry
with her disobedience and she could see the anger in his eyes. The only reason he hadn’t yelled or slapped her was because they were in public. She took the opportunity to soften his anger to avoid a beating later, so she kissed him passionately, right in the middle of the pavilion. He responded to her affection and returned her embrace, and she knew his fury had ebbed.

As an allied duke, Drake and his guest were accorded guestrooms within the palace, so they slept in a guest bedchamber that evening. When they entered the room, Accacia prepared herself for the beating about to ensue, but Drake kissed her instead. His kiss began lightly on the lips then moved to her jawline and further down to her neck. Drake felt Accacia flinch at his embrace, unaccustomed to the tenderness. He dropped her dress to the floor and commanded Accacia to undress him. She lay on the bed, and for the first time, the duke took Accacia gently, almost lovingly. She looked so beautiful that evening, and she was charming to every person she encountered. She would be a perfect queen.

The memory faded away like the dying embers in the hearth. It was the first night he considered her more than just a slave, but as a woman he truly cared for, even loved—if such a thing were possible.