Page 12 of A Royal’s Soul (Soul Match #3)

Selene Borealis

I was furious. Too upset to handle her in the moment. I needed to calm down before interacting with Percy again.

My maddening little half-witch had pushed too far past acceptable behaviour. Perhaps it was my doing. I had become too lenient with her, allowing her freedoms and privileges she was not yet ready for.

Valen’s abduction of Percy had been so very traumatic. I felt responsible, and I had been making up for it by attempting to better care for my pet. But my attempts to better care for Percy had created a spoilt brat who felt it her right to question—nay, argue—with me in public during our time at the Academy, and now before an Ardens councillor.

Fotis of Cliffwind would undoubtedly speak of the incident. Even the servants would be whispering about it by tonight!

Did she have no sense, or was it simply a lack of respect for me? Did she not understand the importance of my stature—of showing only strength? She was already viewed as a weakness of mine, a target for others to take and/or harm for use against me. If it was suspected that she was more than simply a valued and beloved slave—suspected that she held sway with me, could influence my decisions, make demands, that she was in some way in control of me—the consequences would be disastrous.

Not only would it open a new avenue by which those seeking to destroy me and Borealis could use to their advantage, it would lessen my standing among our allies, call my leadership and intentions into question. The smell of war is in the air, and has been since the night of the summer ball. Now is not the time for Percy to be acting out.

I need to correct her behaviour, push her back into place. Firmly, but not so rough as to harm our bond.

I rubbed my temples. A headache courtesy of my little pet.

The bond was growing stronger, my enchantments were failing more regularly. Thankfully, it seemed that for now, it was I who suffered more from the bond. Percy’s feelings were beginning to bleed into my own with worrying regularity. I was not sure if my anger in the dining room was entirely my own, or if the tight-chested feeling of Percy’s anger fuelled mine further.

Had I been too rough? I had not harmed her. Caused slight and non-lasting pain, yes, but no actual harm.

Why did I care? Why did I question my actions?

This was my problem. The reason I had allowed Percy to run amok these past months. No more. I had to rein in my emotions and be objective. Percy was strong-willed and overly empathetic.

I must help her control her impulses, and to behave in a respectful and acceptable manner with me. She was my soul match, and I loved her dearly, but she was also my pet, a half-witch. Nobility might be in her blood, but her standing was below mine. And until, or if such time as I managed to change the social structure of the land, Percy had to play her part within it. Even then, it was in my nature to control. Even if our social roles were reversed, I would still have her beneath me, on her knees, under my hand.

I had suppressed my nature for too long, paining myself in the belief that I was caring for my pet, but I saw now that my lack of firmness was causing us both pain. If Percy had kept her mouth shut as she should have, she could have beseeched me in private. I may not have changed my mind in this circumstance, but in others she may have been able to argue a reasonable case for her cause. I would listen. Of course I would listen. Instead, she chose to challenge me publicly.

“I must apologise. I feel rotten,” Fotis said as I took my place at the dining table.

“My pet’s behaviour is my responsibility. I have handled the insolent creature. That is the end of the matter,” I replied.

“Yes, Marchioness,” he replied.

There was a lull in the conversation, a silence that fell over the table, interrupted by the arrival of our starters for the evening.

“I heard—well, we all heard—what we thought to be the maze,” Fotis broke the silence. “I think it spooked the others that are spending the night and why they have chosen to eat in their rooms,” he continued.

“Yes, the maze was active earlier,” Adamantia said.

“It appears that a new and young servant had entered the maze the night before last. His disappearance was only noted this morning when he was absent from his duties. After some questioning, a friend of the boy came forward and confessed that he and some unnamed others had dared the boy to enter the maze.

It has been quiet, unmoving for some years now, I cannot remember the last time someone was foolish enough to enter, anyway the youth of the staff had believed the nature of the maze to be nothing more than fable. A fatal mistake.

We have been waiting on the maze ejecting the body, so that we may send him home to his family, we had hoped that it would not happen while yourself and the others were visiting. But the maze does what it does, and we have no control, other than to adhere to the clear warning sign posted and leave it be.

The servants have been warned not to so much as speak of the maze again, for fear that future others may be tempted to enter.”

“A tragedy,” I added.

I was impressed by Adamantia’s quick and believable explanation.

Truthfully, we would not know who had entered the maze until the body was retrieved. All servants were fully accounted for.

Ardens was unsettled. Adamantia had sent reports of rebel activity to me during my time at Sanguis: small-scale espionage and propaganda, and the occasional violent disturbance.

The people did not openly discuss the rebel groups, who themselves were fractured. The joining of Vouna with Ardens may have very well helped to lessen the momentum of rebellion, as the various factions and offshoots fought amongst themselves for the time being.

Yet there were growing murmurs; the general population were beginning to take notice. If the body expelled from the maze was revealed to be a rebel spy, or otherwise here to undertake mischief, it would only fuel their cause further.

That a rebel died in the maze would create myth—perhaps even a martyr. Adamantia was wise to control the story.

Our servants were themselves all of loyal stock and could be trusted to an extent. I trusted Adamantia’s judgement in the running of Ardens Estate in my absence, including the selection of staff.

“Kids—they think they know best. Think we’re talking rubbish half the time. We have the same problem in Cliffwind. We tell the kids, drum it into them to stay out of the river—it’s not safe. Every year we catch them swimming in the summer. It’s been long enough since anyone drowned that they don’t take it seriously. But the undercurrent can be fast and deadly.

But do they listen? No. I fear each new generation is doomed to learn the hard way—the same way we learned,” Fotis said, shaking his head sadly.

“I agree fully. History repeats in both the small and large scale,” I replied.

“The curse of youth is learning that one is not immortal,” Sasha said, with a sadness to her that was unusual for the witch I had known as my aunt since I could remember.

“If I could be twenty years younger, I worry I’d do it all wrong again—from the fear of experience the second time around, when it was lack of fear that got me through the first time,” Fotis laughed.

“You are still very much in your youth, my Lady. My advice as an old man, if you would hear it?” he asked of me.

I nodded my assent.

“Live life recklessly, chase the heart’s desires, indulge in the wanderlust of all that could be. Age will creep up on you, youth will fade, and all that is unimportant will fall away.”

“And after all that, when all that is unimportant is lost, what will be left?” I asked curiously.

Fotis was a leader of his small town, he was open in a way that only someone who lacked the experience of true betrayal was capable of. He reminded me of Percy—a naive innocence to them both. What great piece of knowledge did he believe he could adorn me with.

“Family, friends, the full spectrum of love. Relationships with those closest are all that matters. When you get to my age, you’ll know it’s true,” he replied confidently.

I disagreed. When everything was final, when everything had come to pass, all that is left are the stories told of us. Most are fortunate enough that their names will be forgotten—never to be uttered once the last person who knew them personally has joined them in the underworld. Others, like myself, are doomed to be remembered, our names written down in history.

“To friendship,” Adamantia raised her glass, “that we are cultivating this evening.”

We toasted.

“As an act of friendship, Fotis, I would like to offer Cliffwind a gift,” I began, and he lowered his cutlery. “I appreciate that your towns people are struggling. It pains me to know that any of my people may go hungry. Ardens has a modest stockpile of preserved foods, for such situations as unforeseen circumstances—such as your crop rot. You will leave with enough rations to get your town through the winter. I am afraid there may still be hardship, but hopefully none will starve. I only ask that you keep this generosity between us as much as possible. Jealousy is catching.”

It was true that Ardens had a stockpile for emergencies. With Vouna now increasing the population by at least a quarter, the stockpile would not suffice even one full winter, and it would have to be strictly monitored, and replenished as soon as possible. Yet I did not offer Fotis and Cliffwind help from my own generosity. I anticipated Percy’s upset and hoped that knowing I was helping in some other form would placate her.

“Thank you, sincerely,” he smiled wide. “This is more than I could ask for! I didn’t know what I was going to do this winter—how I was going to ensure that we didn’t all starve. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You are welcome.”

“And I won’t go blabbing to the other councillors. You don’t have to worry there.”

I nodded and took a sip of my wine, noting that I was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. I set the drink down and chose not to indulge again. I would need a clear head for when I faced Percy.

When the meal ended, and pleasantries with Fotis passed, and he returned to his room for the evening, I was alone with my aunts.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening. I must handle my responsibilities,” I bid good evening to them.

“Don’t be too harsh with her,” Sasha said.

Adamantia cleared her throat. “How our dear Selene chooses to discipline her bloodslave is not of our concern, love,” she said, placing a hand on Sasha’s back and giving the witch a rare disapproving look. “I will join you in our chambers shortly. I would like to speak with our niece alone,” she continued.

Sasha frowned but nodded and accepted a kiss on her forehead from Adamantia.

“Good evening, Selene,” she nodded, as she passed me and left the dining room.

“What do you wish to discuss?” I asked as I followed Adamantia to the fireplace.

“I met Sasha before you were born,” she began. I nodded.

“What do you think of our relationship?” she asked.

“Your relationship has always seemed loving, evenly matched,” I answered. “I have no memory or knowledge of any fights between you two.”

In truth I was envious. Adamantia had the life of nobility with no true responsibility. Yes, she helped to run Ardens Estate in my absence after the traitors execution, and while my equally traitorous uncle was attempting to live like a Royal in Borealis, but Adamantia had no real power. No legacy to ensure. There were no laws barring her union with Sasha. Adamantia was the youngest of three; she was never destined to inherit anything from anyone. There was a freedom that she enjoyed, that I had not—and would never—know.

“It wasn’t always so,” Adamantia responded. “Sasha is strong-willed. It seems to be a trait shared among those of the witching communities, and we butted heads often during the beginning of our courtship. I did not want to marry a witch,” she explained.

“Your union with Sasha was not of choice?” I asked, shocked.

I would have known—would have read about such an arrangement, especially within my own family. How would I not know?

Adamantia nodded.

“Father—your grandfather—arranged it,” she continued, “House Petra were poor in land and funds, they were starving. As our neighbours, and the largest customer of their services within our mining industries, they turned to us, hopeful that we would help. Ardens was struggling too. We had recently found new deposits of coal, and Father was near demented in his search for further deposits of sapphires, but he lacked the funds and resources to search as he wished. Both Houses had something that the other wanted—or rather needed, in House Petra’s case. I do not know the minute details, but a deal was struck. House Petra wanted assurances of a future relationship. House Ardens stood to gain much, when House Petra would simply not starve. My father offered my hand—I was the only one of my siblings not already promised in marriage. Sasha was the only heir of her House. After our marriage, her father conveniently remarried a much younger woman who birthed a son, and Sasha formally became second in line.”

“I had no idea,” I confessed.

“It was hush. Father didn’t want anyone to know of Ardens’ financial situation—especially Borealis—with Arae’s engagement to your father not yet complete at the time,” Adamantia explained.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked.

“I see Sasha and myself in you and your Percy,” she told me. “Only you have made the choice to pursue your pet. I’ve seen the ring around her neck—Mother’s. You have made quite the statement. Your intentions are clear, Selene.” Adamantia said, and I wondered if the circumstances of our relationship were really that different. I felt like I had no choice but to pursue Percy to some degree, due to the soul match, yet I hadn’t envisioned a relationship of a romantic nature and never anticipated loving her. I was foolish.

“And what is it that you see in my pet and me?” I asked.

“I see my young niece struggling to find the balance between her nature, societal pressures and norms, and keeping her love happy. You suffer rather severely from your instincts,” she smiled apologetically. “I believe it is a result of your heritage: a pureblood and Royalty. You were always destined to be a leader, in all ways. You desire submission from your pet, yet also for her to flourish and be content with you—with the added trouble of outwardly showing a relationship that most will accept.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“I believe you have indulged your pet,” she smiled teasingly then. “In all ways. It’s easy to do. You cannot be blamed. It took me a short time to fall for Sasha once I accepted my circumstances, and yet those first years were turbulent as I tried to find my own balance. Sasha was downright infuriating, and insisted on being my equal.”

“You treat her as such,” I countered.

“We are. Yet the way we express that equality among ourselves in private is different. Sasha is of nobility herself, and as such she would never overtly give sole authority to me. Finding compromise took time. We discuss our stance as partners, and we do disagree, and there is continued compromise, but we work because we wish to. We show a united front to the outside. In private, Sasha is far more accommodating of my instinctual need for control.” She smiled bright, flashing fang. “Bring your pet to heel, Selene, before she makes a fool of you both and threatens your stance in society. But do so gently—she must follow you willingly or not at all. Such dynamics require full cooperation, if they are to work.”

I listened to Adamantia, she had revealed much about her relationship with Sasha. I wanted what she appeared to have—what I had seen through my childhood—a relationship that was strong and devoted. I had work to do, when it came to mine and Percy’s relationship.