Shattered Souls (Guardians of the Maiden Book 3)

The Maiden’s presence had changed the atmosphere of the camp. Von felt the tension from the quiet men as they went about their duties. As if they were holding their breath for whatever would come next. He was on his way to find her and dreaded every step, but when Von arrived at his old tent, he halted at the sound of Yavi’s voice reciting the divination.

“’Seek the Maiden with emeralds for sight and tresses of fire, for she holds the key to the Unending thou desires. Beware the Guardians who come to shield her from thee. She will be protected by one of divine blood and a dweller of the moon howling to break free. Thus follows a warrior bestowing his vow, and a sorceress grants her sorcery. A familiar face vies for vengeance, and a creature with the strength of ten eradicates the forgery. Great peril in the venture thou art pursuing. Be not swayed by love, lest it be thy undoing.’”

His eyes widened. Yavi could be flogged or worse for telling her that.

“That was the Seer’s prediction when Tarn asked her how to obtain immortality,” she said. “Don’t you see? It’s fate, Dyna. You’re going to stop him.”

“Pardon, what?” Dyna said incredulously.

“Be not swayed,” Yavi said excitedly. “It means—”

Von entered before she said more. They jumped apart and stared at him with wide eyes, like they had been caught conspiring, or discussing things they shouldn’t. “The Master will see you now.”Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

Dyna nodded stiffly and slipped past him outside.

“Don’t let him hurt her,” Yavi said earnestly.

“I’ll be there.” Von couldn’t promise more than that.

Knowing the way, Dyna walked some paces ahead of him to Tarn’s tent. Her back was stiff, every line of her body tense.

Von kept thinking about the last line of the divination, but he knew Tarn would never be swayed. The only thing he cared about was his ambition, and damn anyone who got in his way. The Maiden was only a means to get what he wanted, then Tarn would crush her as well. The thought of such a thing befalling her made Von’s stomach pitch.

Dyna’s head turned and her gaze fixed on the Hermon Mountains in the distance. Sensing she may attempt to run, he took a hold of her arm. His long strides forced her into a quick gait. Tarn didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yavi said you’re a good man,” Dyna said tightly, pulling against his grip. “If that’s true, then you need to let me go.”

“She shouldn’t have said that.” He wasn’t a good man. Not anymore.

The wind blew fiery red locks across her face as she studied him. “Do you want him to become immortal?”

He looked away. “I serve my Master as the God of Urn commands. I don’t have the right to want anything.” Noticing her arm, Von turned it over to inspect the tree tattoo spanning her forearm to her wrist. The roots wove around her fingers, almost as if tethered to her. “What’s that? You didn’t have that in the port.”

“It’s a geas.”

Which only came about one way.

He hauled her to a stop. “Why did you make a deal with the fae? They are not to be trusted.”

“It was done unwillingly,” Dyna said, her tone cutting. She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp again. “I prefer you not to touch me.”

“I will let you go if you promise not to run.”

“If I do attempt it, will you stab me as well?” Her words were a blade in his ribs. Then it twisted and ripped free with her next reply. “Killing seems all you’re good for.”

Von released her. Dyna’s arm looked pale beneath the cloudy day, but Zev had turned gray as soon as he had plunged the silver knife through his gut, as though it had drained the color out of him. He pushed back the memory of Zev’s veins turning black beneath his skin and the black blood sputtering from his mouth.

“I told you not to move,” Von had said.

Why did he move?

Did it matter? Tarn wanted the Lycan dead. The utter distraught on Dyna’s face in that moment and her broken scream had torn through Von. The weight of regret was a boulder on his back. He’d taken many lives at Tarn’s orders, but this one left a stain bigger than all the rest. His actions broke another family. And he had slayed Zev right in front of her.

Von wished he could take it back. “Dyna, I—”

“There is nowhere for me to run to, Commander.” Her emerald eyes bore into him, the edge of hatred sharpening them. “Go on. Take me to your master.”

He couldn’t expect anything else from her, and it was no more than he deserved.

Von continued, and she followed until they reached Tarn’s tent. He took a deep breath before opening the flaps for her to go in.

Dyna looked up at the hundreds of protection spells and crystals hanging from the roof, then at the charred outlines of runes that marked the canvas walls of the tent. The spells were old and faded but their power pulsed in the air, ready to strike should she attempt anything again.

The glowing amethyst crystal hanging above stopped spinning and the scatter of purple lights it made on the walls faded as they fully stepped inside.

“A Forewarning Crystal…” Dyna muttered to herself.

Von let her peruse as her eyes continued to roam over Tarn’s bed and desk covered in artifacts and scrolls. By it rested chests of clothing and gold. A large dining table was at their left with a platter of roasted chicken, vegetables, fruit, and baked bread. At the farthest end of the table sat his Master.

The white-blond locks of Tarn’s hair were slicked back, leaving every sharp angle of his face exposed. Including his distinct scar that coursed diagonally across his face between his right brow to the left side of his jaw.

He glared at the journal set in front of him, seeming offended by it. There were other missives there and maps, which Tarn gathered and put away before she could get a better look. Von pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the dining table for Dyna to sit.

Only then did Tarn’s gaze lift to her. “We have much to discuss.”

She raised her chin. “Remove the bangles, then we will talk.”

Von was impressed by the flash of defiance on her face, even if her fists trembled at her sides.

“Such hubris, and coming from someone so fragile. Sit.” Cool authority lined Tarn’s tone and Dyna immediately took her seat. He glanced at him next.

At the silent command, Von lifted the carving knife off the table and shaved off slivers of chicken, then plated it with some greens.

“It seems you were correct. My mages cannot open your journal without you,” Tarn said.

Dyna sat straight in her chair. She did her best to keep her expression aloof. Though, from Von’s vantage point, he noticed her fingers fidgeting on her lap. Her complexion was paler than usual.

“I find it incredulous that they cannot bypass your spell.”

After taste testing each item, Von set a plate in front of his master.

“I didn’t place the spell.” Dyna glanced at the truth rune shaped in a horizontal hourglass. She must recognize the wards.

Tarn paused, considering her answer as he glanced at the rune as well. It glowed bright blue, confirming her answer. “Who placed it?”

“Azeran Astron.”

He slightly raised a brow at the name. “He was quite the famous mage in his time. How did you acquire his journal?”

“It’s mine.” She shifted in her chair uneasily as Von served a plate and a cup of water for her next. She stared at the rolls of bread, cheese, butter and berry compote, then at him. He nodded at her to eat, then took his post by the entrance.

“I won’t play word games with you.” Tarn called back her attention. “Speak plainly. Where did you get the journal?”

Dyna seemed to freeze under his icy stare. He had that effect on people. Von caught her eye, giving her an encouraging look that hopefully said it would be all right. She only needed to answer the question.

“It was passed down through my family,” she finally replied. “I’m one of his descendants.”

Tarn linked his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. “How well are you versed in the magical arts?”

Von saw the interest. He knew this would happen as soon as Tarn discovered her abilities.

“I don’t know any magic,” she said carefully.

The rune for lies glowed red. Tarn smirked.

Panic crossed her features and Von tensed. They both knew he would never let her go now.

“Well, I know a few spells but I can hardly use my Essence,” she blurted. “And not enough to be useful.”

The truth rune lit up, supporting the claim.

Tarn observed her thoughtfully. “To channel Essence means you have magic and we all saw evidence of it yesterday.”

She had blasted them away with a surge of green magic at the grove when Zev fell. Von could still remember how powerful it felt. It had knocked him clear across the hill as if he had weighed nothing.

Von didn’t know when Tarn’s obsession with magic first originated. Many enchanted relics were strewn about the tent, the more valuable ones kept on the desk. They had spilled blood for most of them, some were stolen, and a rare few were bought. His gaze landed on a small, antique wooden chest. It was intricately carved with a palace garden scene and a winding dragon. It had gold, plated corners and was sealed shut with a locked clasp shaped with the sigil of Xián Jīng. They nearly died for that one. To this day, Von didn’t know what was inside.

“I’m willing to bet you hold quite a bit of power in you.” Tarn studied her. “All you need is instruction, Dynalya.”

She flinched as if the very sound of her name from his mouth hurt to hear. “Don’t call me that. Only my friends may call me by name and you’re no friend of mine.”

“Then what shall I call you?”

“Maiden. That’s all I am to you.”

Von glanced back and forth between them. The crackle of burning wood was the only sound in the dragging silence. Their staring match was interrupted by the sound of Dyna’s growling stomach. Her face flushed bright red.

“Before we discuss other matters, have a meal first.” Tarn motioned at her plate and she glowered. “Not to your preference? As I understand it, you prefer not to eat meat.”

Dyna glanced at the food warily.

“It’s not wrong to eat at your enemy’s table. You betray no one but yourself to go with an empty stomach.” Tarn raised his goblet, nodding at Von. “If you think it’s poisoned, then Von will be more than happy to taste it for you.”

Von felt her eyes on him as he lifted the flagon from the sideboard table and poured wine into Tarn’s cup. The red liquid swirled inside, the spiced, fruity aroma drifting to his nose.

“Is he truly happy?” Dyna asked after a pause and Von met her gaze. “To risk his life in favor of yours?”

“He lives merely to serve me, is that not right, Von?”

Von lowered his head, emptying his mind of all else but the reason why he was here. “Yes, Master.”

The image of long, golden brown curls lying in a pool of blood flashed in his memories. He briefly closed his eyes and took a breath. When he opened them again, Tarn’s soulless eyes were on him.

They had learned a long time ago where they stood with each other.

From his coat pocket, Tarn drew out a glass vial. The black contents swirled inside as he poured six drops into his goblet. They hit the surface and gleamed silver before disappearing.

Dyna watched the action as well, following the cup to his lips when he drank it. “You say he serves you willingly. Yet you don’t trust him or the others enough to sleep around them.”

Tarn paused.

She leaned forward, mouth hitching on the ends. “Why else would you drink Witch’s Brew?”