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

Selene Borealis

Percy was dreaming. She twisted and turned in her sleep. The blanket crumpled tight in her fists.

Her legs kicked out tirelessly. Her heartbeat raced.

Sweat beaded at her forehead and a drop ran down from her temple.

Her eyebrows scrunched together in a hard frown. Her lips were downturned, and her teeth clenched.

I had hoped that exhausting her physically before bed would result in a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

It had been some weeks since she had experienced a nightmare like this one. I had anticipated its possibility from the events of the day. Such nightmares had first occurred the night we had returned home from Aqua in the summer.

For the first few weeks, she hardly slept, and after much convincing, she eventually agreed to take a sleep aid—a disgusting brown-yellowish concoction delivered by Mable personally.

I didn’t trust Mable. Then Percy had asked if she could consult the enchanter regarding her magic.

Outrageous. How could my pet still be so trusting after everything that had taken place? She needed my protection from herself as much as from those who would threaten her due to her connection with me.

Percy began to moan, almost as if in pain, as her leg kicked out and struck my knee—not hard enough to injure herself, thankfully. I had thought that perhaps the worst of the trauma from her abduction had passed, but the confrontation with the Academy guard and the manifestation of her novel ability had clearly brought it to the surface.

I reached out for her and tried to gently pull her into my arms. Some nights, I had been able to soothe her without waking her. However, she did not come willingly to me. She pulled away, lashing out, her arm thumping down onto the mattress.

“Percy,” I called her name softly, hoping to calm her.

Her blond hair stuck to her forehead as she shook her head in refusal. Even in sleep, she was defiant.

She turned away from me, her face against the pillow, and I worried for her ability to breathe. Then she began to scream.

“NO! NO! NO!” Her screams were agonising and loud enough to hoarse her voice if I allowed them to continue.

It always surprised me that her own cries did not wake her. Unexpectedly, I felt her despair break through my enchantments, the raw pain of the emotion causing the breath to catch in my throat.

Quickly, I grabbed Percy by her shoulders and flipped her onto her back, taking hold of her shoulders again, giving her no freedom to pull away from me.

“Percy, wake up,” I commanded sternly, loudly.

Her eyes flew open as she screamed in fear, blindly looking around, before they focus on me. She sagged, breathing hard as her tears began to spill.

“Oh, Selene,” she cried, clinging to me with such force that she pulled her back from the mattress to grip onto me.

I shushed her gently, wrapping my arms around her back and cradling her head as I shifted us to a more comfortable position, with my back against the headboard and Percy nestled against my chest.

“It’s alright, it was just a dream. I’m here, and you are safe,” I reassured her.

She cried harder, gripping my silk shirt between her fingers, causing the fabric to pull at my shoulders. I wondered briefly if her grip was strong enough to rip the fabric. Her heartbeat was fast, the vibration trembling between us, like that of a mouse’s rapid pace.

“You were… you were dead because of me,” she said between tears and heaving breaths.

“My little pet, it was a dream. I am fine and here with you,” I promised her.

My own heart had been racing to match hers since the flash of her emotional despair had surged through me. Selfishly, I was glad that my enchantments were strong enough to ensure that what I felt of Percy’s emotions was brief. Even more selfishly, a part of me was pleased to be reassured of Percy’s feelings for me—that even a dream of my loss would cause such pain.

Of course, if I simply allowed the bond to act as in its nature, I would need no reassurance. But the risks were too great; neither of us had the control necessary to withstand the full effects of the soul match bond.

She nodded her head against me, her tears dampening my shirt.

“It was… Selene, it was so bad. I can’t lose you, I can’t—not ever. Not ever,” she reiterated, pushing herself against me as if trying to meld into me.

“I will never leave you, I promise. You are my love,” I told her while I ran my hand over her hair and wrapped my right leg over her hip. If she wanted to be closer to me, if she wanted to meld into me, I would welcome her always.

“You can’t promise that,” she replied, her tears lessening as she lifted her head to look at me. Her yellow eye glowed softly. It was such an enchanting feature. Only purebloods were meant to possess such an ability, but here my little pet was—her emotions on show. It was subtle, so subtle that perhaps only other pureblood vampires or werewolves would notice, but it was something that thrilled me of my little soul match.

She was different. And now, she had proved herself perhaps the most powerful witch in the Borealis Kingdom with her novel ability—and as only a half-witch. I could not help but be proud of her. As much as the potential consequences of her new ability terrified me, there was no denying her power. There was safety in power.

“The soul match means it’s not up to you,” she continued. “If I die, you do too,” she explained.

“Then we would be together in the afterlife,” I told her.

“No, Selene,” she said, and I was almost amused by her reprimanding tone. “You cannot die because of me. I can’t have it. I can’t stand even the thought of a world without you in it.” She began to cry again. I hated when she cried; it made me weak. I was not weak. I could not afford such weakness.

“My pet, you and I will not die until we are old with grey and white hair—until we are frail and ready to turn to dust. We will not be taken from each other until we have lived lives so full and wonderful that the kingdom’s children grow up repeating the tales of our story. If you desire eternal life, I will give it to you,” I promised her.

The oral histories of inter-coven magic flashed quickly across my mind, questioning how far I would go if my pet so wished it. The answer was yes—I would risk everything and everyone if my Percy so desired it.

Her tears had stopped again, and she breathed heavily against me. Her nose, blocked from her tears, wheezed squeakily. “I never want you to die,” she said nasally.

I reached to the bedside table beside me and pulled a tissue from the box there, the addition solely for Percy’s benefit, so her tears and snot did not ruin her pyjamas.

“Blow,” I instructed, holding the tissue to her nose.

She tried to push my hand away. I did not allow her to move me. “I can blow my own nose, Selene, I’m not a child,” she protested.

“Blow,” I repeated, my tone less forgiving.

She huffed but did as I requested. “Happy now?” she asked as I placed the used tissue on the nightstand. “That’s so gross,” she complained.

“You no longer sound like a badly played trumpet, so yes, I am happy,” I answered.

I saw her try to suppress her smile at my joke, and I began to comb my fingers through her hair, pushing back the strands stuck to her forehead and untangling the mess her twisting and turning had created.

“What happened in your dream?” I asked softly.

“The Academy guard—well they weren’t the Academy guard. I mean, they were, but they were Vouna guard,” she explained. The Vouna guard that attacked her and her friend were starring roles in her dreams.

“I understand,” I told her, encouraging her to continue.

“They killed us—killed Ana and Heidi—and I tried to run. I was on the boat again,” she explained.

The rowboat and River Vouna were recurring elements of her dreams too—my pet reliving the experience night after night.

“Only it wasn’t Remy on the riverbank, it was you,” she explained.

I resisted the urge to interrupt—that no Vouna guard, even a pureblood, had the strength to kill me—but I held my tongue for Percy to continue.

“Suddenly, the boat was sinking, and I couldn’t use my arm at all. I tried to swim, tried to kick with my legs—like we were taught as little kids when you need to stay afloat and tread water. But I couldn’t. I don’t know why. And he laughed, Rick did,” she paused, her voice shaking on the name.

“He laughed because he knew when I died, you would too,” Percy finished.

Rick of House Vouna—the Vouna guard who likely killed one Remy of clan Arbor. He had disappeared—either keeping low in the hopes that one day I would stop searching for him, or, worryingly he may have joined one of the growing northern factions of rebels.

The various rebel groups had been causing minor chaos for the northern Houses—something which my aunt’s letters did not cease to complain about. But now was not the time to become distracted with the work of the kingdom and my new House and titles.

“It sounds to me like recent events have reminded you of the summer, bringing fears—new and old—to the surface,” I replied after a moment of thought to encourage her to speak more.

I had written to General Creel when Percy’s nightmares had begun. They reminded me of a lesson he once gave on the psychological impact of war. He had agreed that Percy was showing some symptoms that soldiers and others could experience after traumatic events. He advised talking with Percy when and if she was ready about her dreams and the events of the summer.

He informed me that the simple act of talking either with a trusted individual or with others who had experienced similar trauma could provide significant relief and improvement. He had also mentioned that Borealis had a program for our guards experiencing such symptoms and extended an invitation for Percy to attend upon our return to Borealis.

Yet with the inter-coven magic accusations cast against Percy, I wondered when we would be able to return to Borealis. My House did not feel safe. Sanguis Academy was entirely unsafe, despite the reassurances offered after the Summer Ball. Nowhere felt safe anymore.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she mumbled against me. “I feel so much guilt,” she whispered, like a dark confession.

“Guilt?” I questioned. It was a new emotion expressed by Percy. What could she possibly feel guilty about?

She was silent for a moment before replying.

“So many people have died because of me,” she explained. “Evie, Desdemona, Remy, the driver of the van we escaped in, Remy, the guard from today, even Valen and Clara.” She listed the names easily, as if they were always at the forefront of her mind.

It did not escape me that Remy’s name had been repeated twice.

“You have killed no one. Evie died at my hand as a result of her actions. Valen was executed on my orders as a result of his actions. Desdemona and Remy were murdered the by Vouna guard—an act likely to have taken place regardless of whether you had ever crossed paths with Remy.

Remy killed the driver; he had no choice while protecting you both. Collateral damage is sometimes unavoidable.

The Academy guard was executed on my order as a result of his actions. And as for Clara, while I pray she is dead, a body was not recovered.

You, my pet, Percy Flores, have not harmed or killed anyone,” I replied. I feared that my pet’s innate caring nature would only cause her pain.

“Without me, Evie never does anything you classify as worthy of death. Valen doesn’t try to use me against you. Remy never escapes, so his wife and the driver never die. Clara doesn’t betray you. The Academy guard never witnesses what he thinks is inter-coven magic. It’s me. I’m responsible for it all. And now with this new ability—this death—that I can’t even control. How many more people are going to die because of me?” she asked angrily.

I pulled her in tighter to me.

“None of those deaths are on your conscience,” I tried to reassure.

“But they are. I’m the common thread, Selene,” she told me, defeated. “I think I’m a bad person.” She spoke so quietly if not for my enhanced hearing, I would have missed in.

I pulled her even tighter against my chest, almost crushingly tight.

“My pet, you are not to blame,” I hushed her. “You are so sweet. You even cry for those that hurt you, that would have taken your life without hesitation. You are not responsible, even if you feel so. You are good, and you are mine,” I reassured her, even if Percy were to ever be the cause of any harm or crime, as my property, the weight of the responsibility would fall upon me.

I hated hearing Percy speak lowly of herself. It hurt me in a foreign way. Before Percy, I did not truly care how others felt, and I was not concerned at all with how others viewed themselves. Such worries had never entered my thoughts. Yet now, the knowledge that my pet thought poorly of herself upset me.

Percy did not speak further; she fell back asleep against my chest, and I continued to murmur affirmations that she was good and kind, in the hopes that they invaded her mind and produced sweet dreams.

However, I could not sleep myself. I stayed up, contemplating the various dangers that Percy’s novel ability could bring about. The Royal Conference would be a delicate political affair, and the growing disquiet of the northern Houses was not a problem that could be left alone.

For the first time in my life, I truly feared for the future and questioned my ability to hold and protect what was mine.