Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (27 page)

So where were these feelings coming from, this unabandoned rage
that pulsed deep within her? It didn’t even feel like her own; it felt like it belonge
d
to someone else, a being stripped of its right to live.

Part of her wondered whether the feather was responsible for making her feel so conflicted
. But when she remembere
d
coming out of that hallucination and not finding a feather there at all, she bounce
d
back to the first theory that her mother was mad all over again. It was a never-ending cycle, her
questions and ludicrous answers, chasing each other without finding any solutions.

Her
lips twisted into a sardonic smile. Maybe it was part of becoming an adult, lifting the veil off one’s innocence so as to expose it to the realities of the world.

They ate twice daily, slept while the sun
was high in the sky, and travel
ed only by the pallor of the moon. She always felt hungry, and during those first days of
a reversed sleeping schedule,
her stomach rolled and turned in on itself as it tried to digest the food given her. 

Once or twice she had contemplated escape, but she dismissed the thought almost immediately upon realizing she d
idn’t have a clue where she was
and might end up lost for good.

Dreaka’s Forest was massive, covering nearly half the eastern border of Asilee. Lian had never spent much time in the forest, having only played on its outskirts when she was a small child.

Though she mostly sat all night and slept all day, she noted strange an
imals she had never seen before:
colorful, two-headed birds that sang with haunting human-like voices; small, furry mice with long tails that allowed them to swing from branch to branch; and insects with glowing wings.

The colors of the forest also changed as they wound
their
way deeper into the wood
s
. What started out as pale green leaves with red and gold veins
were
starting to give way to nearly black trees with blood red leaves, their jagged edges lined with silver. It was funny; the stories never mentioned that. They must be deeper in the wood
s
than she thought, perhaps to some part unexplored by humans. There was something else about the wood
s
, an almost metallic hum that hung on the air. But if it bothered the creatures or Rowan, they never said. 

The more time she spent in the company of the strange, skeletal-like creatures, the more comfortable she became around them. She was sure of it now, that fear was what made the creature charged with her binding keep messing up and nervously rolling its beady glass eyes up at her. The moment it had a sloppy knot, it let go of t
he rope as if it had scalded it
and scurried back to its companions at the front as quickly as it could.

Laughter rolled off her tongue as she watched it stumble over its awkward feet until she realized with a start she was smiling and abruptly closed her mouth, resuming her solemn facade once more. Why should she have joy when she had been the cause of so much suffering for so many others? Ursa, Gabriel, Ana, her father, Alastor, Rowan... they were all either dead or worse because of her.

Upon waking, she had asked him what had happened. She was surprised they were still alive. All Rowan had said was that the necklace had saved her, but he had not elaborated. When
she
had pushed the topic, it only seemed to irritate him so she kept her thoughts
to herself. She had her theory
, that the crystal was some sort of weapon that could alter a person’s soul, but
that didn’t seem
quite right. There was something else there, something she couldn’t quite grasp.   

Rowan had spoken very little to he
r, mostly to ask questions like
“Are you all right?” and “How are you?” She wasn’t quite sure how to answer him; she wasn't sure what she felt anymore, if anything at all, and gave only short, vague replies before they both returned to uncomfortable silence. 

On the fifth night – at least she thought it was the fifth night – after building up her courage,
she
decided to chance a real conversation with Rowan. She ha
d been removed from the cart
and now walked beside him with her hands loosely tied at the wrists. She had lost her heels somewhere along the way, and her bare soles were so sore after the first night that she could barely stand to put any pressure on them
.
When they developed calluses,
she no longer noticed the pain.  

She stole a glance at Rowan, who was staring intently
off into the darkened trees.
“What are you looking at?”

He didn’t look at her; his attention was on something in the distance, though she couldn’
t be sure if he was daydreaming
or ignoring her completely since she doubted anyone could see much i
n that abysmal forest at night. (T
he blood red leaves apparently did not glo
w.)

To her surprise, his eyebrow twitched. “Nothing,” he replied curtly before prying his eyes off of whatever had him transfixed. His jaw was set as he stared at his feet, not saying a word.

She
chewed on her lip. “How are you handling all this?”

He turned his head slightly. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

“Nothing rea
lly.” She shook her head. “It’s just
that so much has happened lately, terrible things, but you still seem to be holding on somehow.”

Though she couldn’t see his entire face, she knew it hardened. “Sometimes people are so immune to evil that it eventually holds no power over them.”

She blinked. “That seems a bit harsh,” she said softly.

“Well, life can be harsh.”

She faced forward, wondering if she had been right to try to talk to him. After all,
they weren’t friends; they were barely
acquaintances. They were like light and shadow. Why should he talk to her? He had given her no reason to like him in the past, but a part of her felt compelled to try to make it up to him, for the mess she had gotten them into.

“I didn’t see you at the dance the other night,” she said, kicking pebbles along the path with her filthy feet. 

He sighed irritably. “I was there.” He returned to staring at the trees.

She followed his gaze
but saw only pitch black.
He’s probably trying to avoid conversation, but I will make him talk whether he wants to or not.

“Did you like it?” she asked.

His shoulders sank. “What?”

“I meant, di
d you enjoy yourself? A
t the ball?”

“Enjoy,” he repeated, drawing out the syllables. He chuckled once, harsh and dry. “It was more like being tortured slowly over the course of several hours.”

She grimaced. “Surely it couldn’t have been all that bad? I thou
ght it was rather fun, at least
before the fire choked all the life out of it.”
She blinked, and in that instant of darkness,
she
felt Gabriel's hands twirling her
around the crowded dance floor,
recalled her
loathing at seeing Ursa for the first ti
me after she had kissed Gabriel, remembered how she
blushed at the way the beautiful
stranger had held her so dearly,
and
how she had
trembled in
fear
as her father died in her arms.
She
shook her head, concentrating on locking all of those memories up in a box at the back of her mind where they couldn’t trouble her.

When she opened her eyes, she caught Rowan giving her a peculiar look. He took a sharp intake of air and immediately broke her gaze. “I don’t enjoy things like parties and balls as you do, my Lady.”

She decided to not
point out the inaccuracy of that statement. “Why do you say that?”

“I have a hard time talking to people,” he admitted softly, as if it were a crime to say so.  

“You talk to me.”
             

He half-smiled. “
Yes
, I suppose I do.”

She smiled with him, feeling faintly lighthearted for the first time in days.

Their shoulders bumped as they were lead on by their captors. She still had no idea what they were. “Do you know what those things are?” she whispered, not wanting to draw their attention in case they understood her and became offended. Though they had not harmed her, it didn’t mean they weren’t capable of it.

“They’re called murdels,” he replied.

“How do you know?”

“Didn’t you grow up hear
ing any of the stories? There are
enough
tales
about the wood
s
to go around.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I believe in such things. I mean, did you know they existed before now?”

He
shrugged. “I’ve seen them before.
I’ve s
een a lot of strange things, actually. The cottage I grew up in was nestled on the edge of the forest. You can’t help but learn a few things about the wood
s
when you live that close to it.”

“I see.”
She
chewed her lip. “What did you say those things were called again?”

He
sighed. “Murdels.”

“Murdels,” she said slowly, tasting the word on her tongue. “Why do they look so...?” Her question hung in the air, unable to find a word that adequately described how she thought of them.

“Odd? They live in the mountains, laboring in the caverns digging for saffurite. Their long arms help them reach it, and they have very sensitive ears to navigate through the dark tunnels.”

“For
what
? What did you say they were looking for?”

“Saffurite,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “It’s a valuable blue mineral that can only be found around here.”

She
remembered sneaking a peak under the blanket she often slept on in the ca
rt; beneath it
was a bed of sparkling blue rocks. Their beauty made them no less irritating as they poked her in the back day after day. 

“What’s so special about it?” she asked, stepping over a small log just as the
tip
of her
big toe
brushed
against it. She stumbled a bit
but quickly regained her footing.

He eyed her sidelong, a g
rin toying with his lips. “
You really don’t know much about the world, do you?”

She blushed. “Of course not,” she snapped. “Being a lady somewhat limits one’s outdoor explorations.”

“You know, there are these things called books.”

“Imbecile.”

He smiled to himself, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “
You never answered my question, my Lord, a
bout the saffur-rock.”

He sighed and shook his head. “
Saffurite
.” He glanced around and leaned in. “Only those who deal in the Dark Exchange know of its hidden properties,” he explained, keeping his voice low. 

She leaned in, nodding. 

“You see, when saffurite is ground up, it forms a powder that can be used in drinks, foods, or even taken directly, though that’s not recommended because the effect isn’t as strong. There’s magic in the mineral that is only unbound when it’s dissolved, which is why most people opt to drink it. Rumor has it can grant longevity.”

“You mean you will never die?”

“No, no. Just put off death a bit longer. Something about the powder makes you age slower. At least, that’s how I understand it.”

She
was silent, letting it all sink in. “If this big secret is only known to people trading illegally, then how do you know so much about it?”

Again, he ghost-smiled. “In case you’ve forgotten, I am the Black Knight of Accalia,” he said. “I make it my business to know.”

She
gave him a
shy
smile
and was amazed at the sheer pleasure found in such a simple gesture. It felt strange and guilty and wonderful.

She glanced at him, ducking her head the smallest fraction so that he wouldn’t notice her staring at him. Was this really what it had taken to make them speak cordially to one another, the destruction of so much they both had held dear?

“What about you?”

“I beg your pardon?” she breathed, her focus returning to his weathered face. She could actually see all of it now; his entire head was facing her.

“What are
you
thinking about?” he asked, narrowing his brown eyes slightly as if it would help him to peer into her mind. “You always seem so lost in your own fantasies.” He turned his head back to the front as the path became more rugged, filled with fallen tree limbs and a milieu of holes burrowed by small animals. The moon poked through the vegetation, casting shadows all around them.