Shattered Souls (Guardians of the Maiden Book 3)

Dyna left the dream with tears streaming down her face. When she first met Von in Landcaster, she thought he looked like a kind man, who was a little tired and a little sad. Even when he stole her away the first time, those opinions didn’t change. Not until he killed her cousin. Then she hated him and wanted him to suffer painfully, brutally, wanted him to feel the tearing in her heart when Zev fell. But even when she had pointed an arrow at him, that shadow of sadness remained.

It had imprisoned him as much as his duty.

Maybe everyone was imprisoned by something. She was trapped by her fears. Tarn was hiding from his grief. And Von was chained to his guilt. He took all the blame, forged it into manacles, and bound himself to them all these years.

Tarn’s eyes fluttered open and found hers. He may not have sensed her presence in his dreams, but whatever he saw on her face gave it away, and he knew what she saw. For a while, they simply sat there together in his tent breathing in the herbs of the charms above and listening to the gentle crackle of wood burning in the brazier. The air filled with the many things that went unsaid. Perhaps he was plotting her death for disobeying him, or because she could make him her slave, too.

Dyna broke the silence when she dipped a fresh cloth in water and it trickled as she wrung it out and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I relieve you of your debt.”

He snatched the cloth. “I have no debts.”

She rolled her eyes at his indignant tone. Of course, he couldn’t be bothered to show any gratitude, regardless of her saving his life. “Even if I were so inclined to make you my life-servant, I don’t believe you would allow someone to have such power over you.”

Not after what he endured under Lord Morken. He had enough of others controlling his life.

“In that you are correct.” He glowered. “Only you would save your enemy.”

“You’re not my enemy, Tarn.”

He was struck silent by this, searching her face for the lie he assumed she spoke. She hummed when the truth rune lit up blue.

“We shall see,” he said.

Sighing, Dyna reached for the bandage on Tarn’s arm, but he winced and lurched away. She gave him a look. “I need to change the dressings.”

“Then be careful.” He gritted his teeth when she untied it and pulled the old poultice away to reveal the wound. While swelling had significantly lessened, it now oozed a foul puss, which she expected. The healing needed a little more help. “Why does it look that way? You call yourself a Herb Master?”

“Cease your fussing.” Her nose twitched at the sharp vinegary smell of disinfectant ointment she poured on a clean bandage. “Only a child mewls from such a little cut.”

“First you defy me, then you insult me. Many have died for far less.”

“For someone who is infamous for taking lives, your threats seem to fall short.” She pressed the bandage on the injury, probably harder than she needed to, and wrapped it around his arm, jerking the knot tight enough to make him wince.

Hissing a curse, Tarn snatched her wrist and yanked her so hard she nearly fell on him. “For someone against violence, you seem to enjoy inflicting pain.”

She glared. “Perhaps only against you.” But her anger switched to regret at remembering the lashing he received as a child. Most of his life was made up of pain inflicted on him. Dyna shrank back in her chair and lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that,” Tarn said icily. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity.” Dyna couldn’t bring herself to look at him past the red curtain of her hair. Everything she’d seen had been so personal and horrible. She couldn’t help feeling sympathy for him.

He exhaled heavily and sat up in his bed. “I told you not to pry where you didn’t belong.”

“At first, I did pry,” she admitted. “But after seeing…I couldn’t stand leaving you to experience it again. Guiding your dreams to the better parts of your past was the only way to pull you from the nightmare.”

“How naïve of you to think it wasn’t all a nightmare.”

The tendrils of his memories had been swathed in dark smoke, but there had been light moments too. Beautiful instances trapped between the graze of a hand and glow of a smile, moments where he had received something genuine and precious as her love. How devastating it must have been to at last find a sliver of joy, only for it to be cruelty torn away.

Fifteen years later, that wound was still unbearable.

“So you became addicted to Witch’s Brew to forget,” she murmured. “All this hate you have, your grief and pain, it’s like mold. You have left it to grow in the edges of your being, not realizing it’s taken over you. Ignoring it will only make you ill.” She tangled her fingers together on her lap, her breath clouding in the tent as the temperature dropped, but she kept talking. “You punish those who follow you for their mistakes because you see your reflection. And you keep Von around as a source for you to punish for everything wrong in your life. You chose him to blame, but I think we both know the one who you truly blame is yourself.”

“You think you know me after seeing a few memories?”

“I know the pain you carry.” Dyna met his frosted eyes. “Because I lived it when I saw my family killed, too.” She was cursed to experience that day in her dreams over and over, as though it was the only time her mind didn’t have the strength to forget. “I am sorry for those you lost. But emotions aren’t a weakness. It’s part of being human and we cannot hide from that.”

Tarn’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “Is that so? Then what of you? I watched how you reacted at the mention of your cousin. Your grief reared its head only to be cut down by you, so don’t pretend to judge how I chose to deal with mine.”

Tears sprang to her eyes when she realized he was right.

Grief took different forms. Sometimes it moved through you. Sometimes it got stuck.

Hers had been buried. Her grief for Zev, her father, her mother, and Thane, had been locked away to rot, because facing it would hurt much more. Their loss already carved a hole in her, and she felt its vacancy when she was reminded of them. A sound of laughter. The smell of lavender. The dust of magic books. Every moment had left her immobilized, so she had to bury it. It could be she didn’t know how to grieve, or she did know, and she hid it because she would never be able to get up.

A sudden clarity came over her and the tears she fought spilled. The reason why she was stuck on that snowy hill was because she never let herself move on.

“I wish I could forget, too,” she whispered. “But you cannot erase your past…as I cannot erase mine.”

Tarn looked away from her. “Enough talk, Maiden. Get out.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood. “Call me Dyna.”

Dyna left the tent and found Len standing guard outside. Once telling her Tarn was awake, the spy smiled and ran inside. Dyna continued on in search of Yavi, but she wasn’t in her tent. None of the Raiders would speak to her, so it took stopping by the mages tent to get answers. Novo was their assigned guard, and he refused to let her see Dalton.

“No one is to speak to them until Tarn decides their fate,” he said. “They are traitors, lass. He isn’t the kind to forgive that.”

She recalled the viceroy’s treachery and knew where Tarn’s lack of tolerance came from. But violence shouldn’t be answered with more violence.

When she asked for Yavi, Novo pointed her to another large tent across camp. It was big enough to fit a minotaur, and Dyna was glad to find them all inside. Sorren sat on the ground, his arms and ankles chained to the support pole. Yavi and Geon sat with him, both bruised and wrapped in bandages. When they looked up, they ran to hug her.

“God of Urn, are you all right?” Dyna asked worriedly, looking them over. “What happened?”

Geon sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “The plan worked at first and Sorren came for us, but it went south when…we told Von what was happening.”

Yavi covered her mouth with a trembling hand as she cried. Her voice was small and broken. “He…he chose Tarn.”

Dyna embraced her tightly. Yavi broke down and sobbed, her body wracking with them. She was grieving. To her, this was the end of their marriage.

“He didn’t choose Tarn over you.” Dyna took her face. “I know it’s hard to understand, Yavi, but Von’s doing this because he feels he has to. You need to ask him how he became a slave.”

Odd that she was the one defending him now. But nothing was as simple as it seemed.

“I know how.” Yavi moved out of her hold. “He saved that man’s life when he should have let him die!”

Geon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, gently shushing her. “There wasn’t time to argue with him. As soon as the Azure Knights infiltrated the camp, Von left to lead the battle. We tried to fight our way out, but there were too many knights, and they had Sorren surrounded.”

The Minotaur growled. “We nearly made it until they knocked me down. When I woke, I had these back on.” He beat his chained hands against the ground, making the brass bangles clank against his hooves.

“I tried to help but one nearly got my head,” Geon said. “Then Yavi…”

They all looked at her. Yavi wept as she shakily lifted her skirts. Dyna’s eyes first snagged on the slave bangles she still wore, then she noticed her skin. From her left foot to her thigh, her leg was warped and waxy with fresh scars.

“A burning wagon pinned me down,” Yavi said. “Von got me out, but not before this. Dalton had to heal me…” She looked at Dyna, a new fear entering her face as she touched her belly. “He knows.”

Dyna gasped.

Dalton would have discovered the pregnancy as soon as his Essence moved through her body.

“He won’t say anything,” Geon insisted, taking Yavi’s hand. They must know now, too. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Sorren’s growl rumbled through the tent. “You think he won’t? Their heads are due to be removed, lad. They will do anything to secure their lives. We’ll probably die next.”

“What are they being held for?” Dyna asked. “Only for dropping the veil?”

Geon nodded. “Von suspects Benton somehow called the Azure Knights here, but they are blaming you.”

Which didn’t surprise Dyna. The old mage would use anyone or thing to preserve his life, even lie. But if Dalton had told him about Yavi’s baby, he wouldn’t have wasted any time to expose it either.

“Dal hasn’t said anything yet,” Dyna told them. “So we need to give him a reason to keep Yavi’s secret.”

“How?” she asked.

“By finding a way to save their necks. Also, Von hasn’t disclosed your attempted escape yet, and I don’t think he will.” She kept it to herself that his Master had been unconscious the whole time. “Tarn is distracted by the current state of the camp.”

They heard a commotion outside and they all looked at her grimly.

“Sounds like he is very undistracted now,” Sorren said. “Careful where you meddle, lass. Once fingers start pointing, they point right back.”

“Then I will make sure they point only at me.”

As the Maiden, she had some leverage. Albeit a tiny one.

Dyna rushed outside and saw the Raiders surrounding something. She sprinted to them and pushed her way through the wall of bodies. Her blood ran cold to find the mages already kneeling in the center with Tarn standing before them. He was still pale, but dressed and clean. And in his hand, he held Lord Morken’s sword.

She leaped in between them, throwing out her arms. “Stop.”

“Move her,” he commanded with idle boredom.

Von stepped forward, but Dyna lit her hands with green flames, halting him in place. Gasp and murmurs surged from the crowd.

“Don’t make me knock you across the clearing, Commander.” She waited for him to understand she meant it before addressing Tarn. “Don’t you tire of death? You cannot kill everything in your sight.”

His eyes narrowed. “Careful. At the moment, you’re the only thing in my sight.”

But the mild threat hardly phased her.

“They don’t deserve to die,” Dyna said aloud. She shot the mages a warning look over her shoulder. Benton and Clayton glared at her, but Dalton seemed to understand the message she tried to convey. “I was the one who lit the royalrods on fire and I forced Benton to drop the veil by threatening his son. I held him at knifepoint.”

The Raiders snickered at that.

“It’s true.” She drew out the opal knife from the sheath on the back of her belt with her magic, and levitated it in the air for everyone to see.

Von patted his bandoliers, realizing it was missing. “When did she…?”

“Which son?” Tarn asked icily.

“Me,” Dalton said, his expression now completely neutral. He pointed at the long red scab on his throat. It must have happened during the skirmish. “She cut me good.”

Tarn pointed the sword at him. “You expect me to believe she overpowered you?”

Dyna expertly flipped the knife, making it whirl in her hand. “I told you I wouldn’t stop trying to get out, even if that meant I had to draw a little blood.”

But he didn’t look away from the mages. Tarn gripped the sword’s hilt tightly, showing how much he wanted to kill them. Dyna glanced at Von, silently begging him to help her.

“They fought with us during the attack, Master,” the Commander said after a pause. “And healed the wounded. Our losses could have been much greater without them. We still have use for their magic.”

Tarn’s wintry eyes met hers. “Do we?”

Now that her magic was free, wielding as she did proved she knew more spells than she pretended. And he took great interest in that.

Dyna would worry about that later. Holding Tarn’s gaze, she inched forward and laid her hand over his, gently making him lower the sword until the tip hit the dirt.

Under her breath, she whispered. “Reason and compassion outweigh violence. This is where gaining their true loyalty starts. With mercy.”

Everyone’s attention clung to them, waiting on his decision.

She huffed. “Please, Tarn.”

As he scanned her face, one end of his mouth hitched. “For you, Dynalya, with pleasure.”