The Master and The Marionette (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 2)

My skin has absorbed a second skin, and it’s called dirt.

My hands feel grimy when I rub them together like I’ve been rolling fresh dough. The rest of my body is stiff from sleeping in the dirt. My muscles have hardened on my left side and moving them is like taking a bite of stale bread. And I dare not look at the bottoms of my feet.

Dessin pointed out a small lagoon I could bathe in. I hear the peaceful stream of water trickling over rocks and clumps of mud. The water is a sheet of black crystal.

I’m hesitant to climb in. What if there are dangerous beasts that lurk under its surface?

But I’m with Dessin. He’d never let anything happen to me. I slip off my clothes and toss them into the water. Dessin gave me a bar of soap that smells like honeysuckle and jasmine. I step in, feeling the sliminess and wet clay cushioning my feet. The water is frigid, lacking the natural rays of the sun that would keep it warm. Fog and darkness curl around the trees, slinking over the trickling waterfall like a predator.

I move through the dark lagoon faster, hoping my skin will acclimate to the temperature so this deafening urge to get out will disappear. It’s up to my neck, and my body trembles like a coward on the front lines of war. I hold my breath, buckling my legs against my chest so I will sink into the arctic ice batch. When I rise with wet golden hair sticking to my neck and back, my flesh now feels numb and at peace with the cool temperatures. With the citrus soap in my right hand, I get to work.

A ring of oil and dirt forms around my body as I scrub my face and neck, working the soap bar in my thick mess of wet hair. I bounce up and down in the water, feeling the cold atmosphere of the lagoon freeing my naked body. After cleaning down to my toes, I hold my breath to wash off the remaining bubbles. When I come back up, I see DaiSzek standing in a crouched position above me, where the top of the narrow creek turns into the waterfall that feeds the lagoon.

He’s facing something ahead, to my right. Low to the ground, he takes each step like the dirt is made of glass and can break at any moment.

“What’re you doing up there?” I say in a lighter voice how you would speak to a child. He doesn’t look my way. His stare is focused and precise.

Fear strikes a nerve in my spine.

Hands grip the caps of my shoulders and spin me in the water. I cover my breasts and almost shriek when I see Dessin, fully clothed, in the water with me. The scent of cedar fuses with the aroma of murky water.

He gently places a hand over my mouth and shushes me. His other hand shifts over my lower back. We’re treading toward a low-hanging tree, grazing the lagoon’s surface adjacent to the small waterfall. He angles us under the leaves to hide from whatever DaiSzek is creeping upon.

My eyes are searching his with panic. But his are calm, like a king so wise he’d reign forever. He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. “Don’t move,” he whispers.

Footsteps shuffle around behind our heads. Whispers and the clinking of metal. Dessin’s breath brushes against my lips and cheeks. Just like that, the pull to be closer to him is palpable, burning at my fingertips.

That darkened gaze of his is an avalanche. Daunting, dangerous, and cruel. I lift the hand draped over my chest and relax it over his forearm.

His eyes open. And I can see the switch, the dissociation, the change in tension over his brow. It’s like watching the clouds clear after a hurricane.

It’s Kane. He shifts his hand to cradle the side of my face, and I lean into his subtle embrace. This spurs something to awaken inside of him. His body presses into mine, sandwiching me between him and the wall under the low-hanging tree.

I know they are two different people, and I shouldn’t be attracted to both. But they each hold something that draws me in.

He sighs, forehead still pressed against mine, lips so close I can almost taste them. And again, my pulse races, driving my need to press my lips against his.

“Kane,” I exhale, moving my lips closer to his if he would just close the distance…
Suddenly a snorting sound comes from above my head that makes me jump. DaiSzek’s big black nose pushes through the underbrush of the tree we’re hiding under. Kane releases a long breath and lets his head fall back. “They’re gone.”

I keep my gaze cemented on him. If I could have had a moment longer with him.

“How did you know it was me?” he asks, dropping his hands from my body. An empty, hollow sensation fills the spaces his hands once covered.

I wrap my arms over my breasts as I recover from the sudden distance.

“You’re cold. Come on, let’s get you dried and dressed.” He touches my shoulder blade and guides us to the edge. “Let me get out first so I can get you something to cover yourself with.”

His clothes are soaked, a downpour of cold water. He kneels down to grab a Skylenna-sized brown wool blanket from his bag; stretching it out, he turns his head and looks away.

I stand in front of him, turning my back to the blanket. The crisp wind stings my skin.

Kane’s hands linger after he untucks my hair. “You said my name. How did you know it was me again?”

My teeth chatter when I answer. “I just felt it.”

“How?” His expression is a locked chest of secrets.

I shrug. “When you open your eyes and look at me. It feels like the look of a man returning home. I don’t know; I guess I can’t explain it.” A violent shudder takes over, and I bury my face in the warmth of the wool.

He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my wet head. “I’d say that’s a pretty good explanation.” His chest moves with a sharp inhale. “Skylenna, you are my home.” He speaks, and it’s like hearing a thunderstorm in the warmth of my bed. A rush of pleasure burrows into my soul.

~

As I finish off the deer he cooked, I lie back and look at the stars. We’re close to the edge of the Evergreen Dark Wood, where the trees open up enough to see slivers of the constellations.

“Do you think about your family often?” I ask.

I hear him stop moving beside me. “My family?”

I nod. “Your mother and Arthur?”

He sounds like he’s holding his breath. “I try not to.”

“They’re up there, you know.” I point up to the stars. “They’re watching over us now, guardian angels.”

I look over at his face tilting up to the stars.

“Only the strongest of souls can endure what your family did. And that means they are guardian angels. I think your mother and little brother are with us everywhere we go.” I smile at him. “They keep us safe.”

He smiles, yet there’s a sudden weight of sadness in his gaze. A beacon to darkness, the way a vulture is drawn to blood. “Are all of the thoughts in your head so sweet?”

“Just the ones about you.” I shut my eyes immediately. Nice.

I lift my hand to smack it over my eyes, but it’s intercepted. Kane’s hand wraps around mine, pulling it toward him. “If that’s true, why don’t you voice them?” He softly kisses my knuckles. A hot, jittery feeling flushes through my gut. Scattered wisps of desire flood my thoughts, clouding my focus.

“I—well, because—” Nothing. I can’t think. Blank. My mind is pudding.

He folds my hand into his chest with both hands to keep it warm. My exhale turns into a quiet hum. “I want to hear all of your thoughts. All the time.”

“You and Dessin have that in common.” I blow out a nervous laugh.

“And you don’t like that?”

I shrug. “I just don’t think you’d really want to hear everything I think about.”

“You mean, you don’t want to say when you think about me.” I hear the smile creeping from his words. I roll to my side and place my free hand on his shoulder.

“That’s right.” I pause while the words work to unclog themselves from my throat. “You’re my friend. My best friend. I don’t want that to go away.”

He looks at me and unveils a smile that is the heat of a blueberry pie fresh from the oven. “Until hell freezes over.”

I grin back. “And even then.”

~

I wake up to the deep grinding of my own teeth and my face swallowed by a mass of black fur. The cool morning air kisses my arms, the back of my neck, my toes sunken in the dirt. I caress DaiSzek’s coat and smile. I’m about to greet him when I notice Kane on the other side of him, still sleeping.

The sun has barely begun rising, and I can’t believe I’m awake before him. His right hand is tucked under DaiSzek’s throat. His face is at peace like a prisoner that has just been freed from bondage. I rest my chin on the ridge of DaiSzek’s back to get a better look. The stubble along his jawline, his long onyx lashes, the smooth cushion of his lips.

“You enjoying the view?” Kane mutters sleepily.

You have no idea. “How’d you know I was staring?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s a ninth sense.”

“Ninth?!”

He laughs and props himself up. “Well, look who decided to keep us from getting frostbite last night. How’d you sleep, Dai?” He ruffles the fur on DaiSzek’s head. DaiSzek lifts his head like it weighs more than a mountain. He pushes his chin in Kane’s hands while being scratched and adored.

Kane’s face morphs into surprise like he isn’t sure if he saw a poltergeist lurking nearby. His eyes flicker to me darkly, mouth parting to say something.

“What?” I lift myself off my side and sit, trying to look at DaiSzek’s face.

He shakes his head, scans the area around us. I try to pull DaiSzek’s head toward me by his chin, but Kane pushes my hand away. Something wet is smeared on my palm.

Blood.

“Oh god.” I examine it, half alarmed and half grossed out. “You must have eaten good last night, huh?”

Kane sits up. “It’s human blood.”

I yelp, wiping my hand against the dirt frantically. “Human?! How can you even tell?”

But Kane doesn’t answer. His body is rigid and taut at my side.

“Care to show your face?” That voice. Rough, cruel, and deep as it warms my lower belly.

Dessin. He switched fast. Does that mean we’re in danger? Did he get triggered by the blood on DaiSzek?

I look around the dim forest sprinkled with wisps of morning light. But we’re the only three living beings in the area. Maybe he’s overreacting from the blood. Wouldn’t DaiSzek be the first to know if someone was nearby?

“I’m losing my patience,” Dessin warns, rough and deep, like a king standing over an execution block.

The hairs on my neck stand at attention. I should never doubt him. Not when his instincts have always been correct.

There is a deafening moment of silence, not even the wind daring to make a sound. The forest holds its breath.

“If your beast trusts me, then so shall you.” A voice like a snake, slithering between us with its scaly presence.

Dessin’s eyes shoot to the source behind a wide Hyperion tree, then back to DaiSzek, who remains calm and unthreatened.

“I think I’ll be the judge of who I trust,” Dessin says, his tone splashing over me like a bucket of ice water.

A cloaked figure reveals itself from the shadows. The face is hidden, but instantly we’re made aware that the figure is a woman. Her cloak is open, showing her bare, pale stomach and legs. Black silk and leather cover her breasts and a small portion of her bottom half.

We gawk at her in silence.

“If I were a threat to you, I would have attacked in your sleep,” she says.

But Dessin isn’t convinced. His eyes are scaling the length of the woman, studying her posture, her clothing, the language of her body.

“No,” Dessin utters. A rare moment to hear the surprise in his voice. “You’re from one of the ancient colonies.”

Like the moss-covered man in the Emerald Lake forest, I narrow my eyes at her. Kane thought he was from the Naiadales…

“And which colony would that be?” Her tone is glossy and seductive. A jealous wave rips through me as I realize she’s speaking directly to Dessin and not to me. I swallow down the acidic burn crawling up my throat.

“The Nightamous Horde,” Dessin says slowly, still unsure of his discovery.

The woman bows her head. “Descended from Dark Elves, original inhabitants of the Evergreen Dark Wood. You know your bedtime stories.”

Okay, I’m confused.

“And I remember the horror stories that follow your people. What exactly do you want with us?” The unrelenting dominance in Dessin’s voice settles my nerves. He isn’t afraid or threatened.

The woman lifts the hood of her cloak. A pair of sultry black eyes focus on Dessin’s face. Her features are pointed and elegant, but her skin is so white it’s nearly translucent, showcasing the blueish veins under layers of flesh.

The forest seems to grow smaller.

A smile tugs at the corner of her thin peach-colored lips, feline and hungry. A dazzling imitation of friendliness. And there is no shyness in her stance. It’s proud, daring, and coy. She seems, if anything, to enjoy the attention of a man. Especially a man that looks like Dessin.

Annoyance flashes through me like a hot whip of lightning. My fingernails bite into the palms of my hands.

“Your presence in our territory is rare. It makes me wonder, who would dare be so foolish from the inner city?” The woman stays unnaturally still, refusing to come any closer. I’m confident she can sense the essence of death that hangs around Dessin like a storm cloud.

“I’d be foolish to tell you who we are,” Dessin replies.

She licks her lips at his response. Obviously, she wants him and wears that craving around her like a scarf. “Pity.” She traces a strap of leather over her chest, considering something. “How about your age then?”

Age? Isn’t that what the forest man wanted to know?

Dessin’s head tilts to the side. “I am twenty-three, and she is nineteen.” Twenty-three? He had a birthday since he first told me his age months ago and didn’t tell me.

I slash my stare through him like a knife. Why is he telling her anything at all? We don’t know her.

She nods as if something has clicked into place. She chuckles to herself.

“I fought alongside the RottWeilen this morning. We took out a few of Demechnef’s finest.” The woman wipes a bloodied blade over her cloak. “There will be more. I’d think you should like to come with me back to my village for safety until they’re led astray by the shades.”

Shades. Scarlett told me a scary story about them once. Reimagined life forms possessed by evil spirits. They could have once been elves, faeries, dwarves, or any other fictional being.

Does she believe they actually exist?

Dessin looks just as perplexed as I am.

“And why would we trust you?” I ask, finally gathering the courage to speak up.

The woman’s large pupils slide to me, only just realizing I’ve been here all along. She hooks her crooked index finger under a shiny strand of sunless white hair.

“Because, Skylenna. Harming you would interfere with a prophecy I would like to see come to pass.”