Page 24 of A Royal’s Soul (Soul Match #3)

Persephone Flores

I was vaguely aware of being carried by Adamantia, but I couldn’t feel my body. It was like I wasn’t really there. I could see my bloody hands, but they didn’t feel like mine. It felt like I was underwater—everything was dulled and blurred—and I wasn’t sure I was even breathing, or that I even needed to breathe.

Then suddenly, it was like a wave had crashed upon me, spewing me out of the water onto the shore. A shore covered in glass and pink dust, with my ears ringing. I pushed myself up to my knees and looked around.

Adamantia was crouched over Sasha protectively. Her lips were moving, but all I could hear was a high-pitched ringing.

I winced and jerked my elbow away from the carpeted floor—a piece of glass was protruding from my skin. Without thinking, I gripped the shard between my fingers and pulled it free, wincing more as I cut my thumb and pointer finger in the process.

Slowly, the ringing faded.

“…stay here,” I heard Adamantia command. I looked to see her walking towards the door, that dangled by one hinge in its frame.

Sasha was stumbling to her feet.

“Where are you going?” She questioned.

“To find out how bad it is. Stay here. Pack a bag,” Adamantia replied, and then she was gone—moving at her vampiric speed.

“Right. Right,” Sasha repeated to herself, turning around. “Percy?” she asked, walking towards me and helping me to my feet. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“Not—" I began, then coughed. Dust coated my tongue and throat. Sasha patted my back roughly. “Not really,” I managed to answer, tears in my eyes, and my voice hoars.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” Sasha laughed—and it almost seemed manic. “I had no idea how I was going to get you out of here before,” she explained.

“Out of here?” I asked.

“We’re going to Petra,” she told me.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“What happened in the servant’s dining room?” she asked instead of answering.

I felt sick. My hands fisted at my sides, and my fingertips felt sticky blood on my palms. Remy’s face flashed behind my closed eyelids.

“Percy.” She gripped my shoulders. “Breathe,” she instructed.

I took a steadying breath. Remy’s face dispersing like smoke with my exhale.

“They were just there, and they… they were so much like before, and…” I pressed my fingers along the side of my jaw that felt tender at the slight touch. “They attacked me and I… and I…”

“You protected yourself,” Sasha told me, her hands still gripping my shoulders. “Whatever happened, you defended yourself,” she reiterated.

I nodded. I had defended myself.

“I defended myself,” I repeated—like trying to convince myself that I hadn’t murdered a man.

“Okay, good. Now,” she said, releasing me and turning back to the room.

The room felt cosy—a short bookcase with two high-backed and winged golden and grey chairs, a circular table fallen to the floor and a cracked golden lamp.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“This is the entrance to our chambers. I call it the reading nook,” she replied, stepping forward to right the turned over table. Not that it did much good—the ceiling light hung loose by a precarious cable, swinging like a pendulum above us, and books were scattered across the floor. The room was a state.

“What happened here?” I asked.

“I don’t know. We think… we think we’re under attack,” Sasha answered.

I felt colder somehow—colder than the constant cold I had felt since leaving Sanguis Academy.

“Under Attack?” I asked.

Sasha turned to me. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. Ada is checking everything now, and we have the Ardens guard. This estate was designed to be a stronghold of the north. We’re safe here.”

“Then why did you say we were going to Petra? Why leave if it’s safe here?” I asked. Sasha’s uncertainty—her seeming confusion—unnerved me.

“It’s just a precaution,” Sasha answered.

I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. She had no more idea what was going on than I did.

I needed to find Selene.

My palms felt sticky with sweat and blood, and nausea twisted my insides. Fear crept up the back of my neck. Everything within me craved the safety that Selene provided.

A loud blast shook the room. The large ceiling light fell to the ground between us, glass bulbs shattering, adding to the litter of the floor.

Sasha and I both startled and stumbled, but as the dust rose, I became determined to find Selene. What if the attack in the dining room was planned? What if they knew this was going to happen?

I had to get back to Selene.

Sasha attempted to stop me as I rushed past her, but I swivelled out of her reach and made it to the hanging door—sliding and squeezing my way through the gap between the door and frame.

Out in the corridor was eerily quiet. The windows were all cracked and blown out, the art on the walls was crooked or smashed on the ground. A constant fog of dust and smoke made it difficult to breathe and see. My eyes stung and watered, and I pulled my wool jumper over my mouth to help me breathe as I turned and made my way towards Selene’s office.

I moved as fast as I could, doing my best to keep my balance. It felt like I had no sea legs. But I was on dry land—and despite the explosions, because that’s what they had to be—the ground beneath my feet was stable.

It was myself that was off balance.

I hesitated as I neared the kitchen. The kitchen was just down the corridor from the servant’s dining room, and yet no one had come to my aid before—despite someone surely having been able to hear what was happening. Daniel was clearly a vampire of some content, the way his green eyes had glowed in ire at my interruption. Did he not hear what was happening?

The thought led to an even more troubling one: did Selene not feel my distress? Did she feel me constantly, or was it intermittent like I for her? Was she in danger too?

The thought of Selene under attack spurred me on, and I picked up my pace, no longer hesitant to pass the kitchen. A fierceness consumed my thoughts. Selene needed me, and nothing could keep me from her. Steeling myself, I straightened—even my legs felt more stable. I would find Selene. I would not leave her alone in this.

As I passed the entrance of the kitchen, I was pulled from the corridor and into the kitchen, a hand tight across my mouth.

“Be quiet, it’s me,” Katrina whispered beside my ear.

I looked around. The kitchen was empty, the stew boiling over on the stove top, vegetables half-chopped on the counter, knives precariously discarded, as if all at once everyone had abandoned their tasks.

“We’ve got to be quiet, understand?” she asked.

I nodded in response, and she released me.

I spun to face her. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Quiet,” she hissed low. “They’re looking for us,” she warned.

“Who’s they?” I asked, dropping my voice to a whisper and looking behind me anxiously, feeling like a Vouna guard would grab me at any moment.

“The rebels,” she answered.

“Rebels?” I asked.

She looked at me with an expression that made clear she was unimpressed with my lack of knowledge.

“I can’t stand you,” she told me.

“And I don’t have time for this,” I snapped, turning to leave. Selene was all that mattered. But she grabbed my elbow.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“To find the Princess,” I said and tried to yank my arm away from her. She only pulled me closer.

“It’s not safe. I have to get you out of here,” she said.

“Let me go. I’m not going anywhere with you,” I told her, raising my voice in anger. Who did she think she was? Treating me the way she had—causing me to question my soul match bond—and now trying to keep me from Selene when she needed me?

No one would keep me from her.

“Quiet,” she hissed. “You’re so full of yourself. You truly don’t care about anything or anyone other than your dictator of a mistress,” she whispered angrily.

“I’ve had enough of you. Speak to me plainly or not at all,” I said, raising my voice louder in defiance.

She pulled me towards her, clamping her hand down across my mouth again and looking at the kitchen door anxiously.

I bit her.

She yelped and released me.

“You little bitch,” she whispered, clutching her hand. A part of me felt bad. I wasn’t the type of person that bit people. But then, I didn’t think I was the type of person that killed people either—and the tacky stickiness of my palms was proof of that.

“The rebels are a militia group formed by former Vouna guardsmen, Ardens loyalists, and various disenfranchised groups of the north.”

“Disenfranchised?” I asked aloud. “I don’t understand,” I told her.

“Of course you don’t. You don’t understand anything,” she said exasperatedly.

“Fuck you!” I responded angrily and attempted to leave, pushing past her. This wasn’t worth my time. Selene needed me. But she grabbed me again.

“Look,” she sighed heavily. “There are those in the north that wish to secede—that’s separate from the rest of the Kingdom. They’re angry over ever-increasing tariffs, a series of harsh winters and poor crops, and the erosion of smaller Houses and lands. House Vouna’s dismantling, coupled with what is set to be a deadly winter, has fuelled the growth of secessionist ideology. Former Vouna guardsmen provided the training and leadership necessary to bring the various factions of rebel groups together and now—well, you can smell the gunpowder,” she explained. “Does that make things clear to you now, princess?” she asked, mockingly.

I swallowed. “We’re under attack by rebels,” I stated, soberly.

“Rebels that want you dead,” she answered.

“Why me?” I asked, shocked and confused. “I’m nobody.”

“You’re somebody to a whole lot of people,” she said. “A disappointment waiting to happen,” she added coldly.

I ignored the insult. The dislike was mutual. “Who am I important to?” I questioned.

“You’re Percy Flores. Daughter of Oceanus Maria, the son of William Auster, the son of Prince Nikolas Auster. Do you understand now?” she asked.

I shook my head slowly.

“I’m no one without Selene,” I said.

I wasn’t royalty or nobility. I was a half-witch with no title, no great power. My family hadn’t been in any position of power since before my great-grandfather. Nobles were purebloods—apart from Viridis, but they didn’t count. No one took their lines seriously. Dylan was proof of that.

“That’s what she wants you to think,” Katrina interrupted my thoughts. “And you’re so brainwashed by the politics of race, class, and the Houses that you actually believe it. But you’ve not gone unnoticed. Some people think you’re something special, Percy. I’ve not seen it. But it’s not for me to decide. Your lineage and current status make you the perfect symbol for all sides of this emerging was. Having met you, I disagree. But I’m just meant to get you out of here—alive.”

“You knew this was going to happen? Who are you?” I asked, distrusting her, and refusing to believe what she had said. I was no one. My heritage didn’t mean anything, and I certainly couldn’t remember doing anything—ever—that would give anyone the idea that I was, or even wanted to be, someone important.

“We knew it was a possibility. I’d hoped to get you out and to leadership before this,” she said.

“I’m not who you want or think me to be. I don’t care about whatever group you’re with. They’re no different than whoever’s bombing downstairs. I need to find Selene,” I told her, pulling at my arm. “Let me go,” I demanded.

“I can’t do that. You’re coming with me.”