Page 30 of A Royal’s Soul (Soul Match #3)

Persephone Flores

The heavy barricade door was not going to hold up. I knew it would eventually give. All it would take was a pureblood vampire from a strong House. The rebels had purebloods among them. The chef had been a pureblood.

The sound of the door being beaten turned from thunderous thuds to groans and creaks. They were going to get in. They would run up the stairs and I would be taken. Taken if I was lucky. They might butcher me right where they found me—or worse. There were so many worse things than death.

My hand ached then, and I looked to my red and scalded skin from the rabbit stew. I hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t even noticed it at the time.

My hands shook, the kind of nervous trembling I had unfortunately became used to, like when I awoke from nightmares, sweaty and scared and crying for Selene. They had begun to fade—the nightmares—were frequent during those first few weeks after I escaped Vouna. Selene was always there, in the middle of the night. There to hold me so tight the trembling had no choice but to stop.

I clenched my fists, forcing my hands and arms still.

Now was not the time to break down. I had already done that, like a useless child in front of Rylan and Sasha. I was alone now. No one was coming to save me. I couldn’t cry and beg to go home.

I had to save myself.

I turned anxiously, looking around the room, hoping to find something—anything—that could help me.

The windows were narrow. I could squeeze through one, potentially, but the fall would kill me. The only door in the room led to the walk-in wardrobe and then to the bathroom.

The corner of the carpet under the vanity caught my attention. It was the key to the secret tunnels that Selene had shown me on the first day.

A violent screech from the door downstairs pushed me forward.

The entrance could only be opened by Ardens blood. I was not of Ardens—but I was Selene’s soul match. Tied by blood.

I had to try.

I scurried under the vanity, lifting the edge of the carpet to reveal the blood seal.

I didn’t think before I bit my thumb hard enough to draw a little blood. I barely felt the dull ache before I smeared my bloody thumb into the seal.

For a few terrible seconds, there was nothing, but then the seal glowed brightly, and a small click signalled the lock in the closet had opened.

I pushed myself out from under the vanity, then immediately crawled back under to put the carpet back down in place. If they came looking for me and smelled my blood, maybe they’d think I had simply hidden under the vanity before choosing an new hiding place.

The door downstairs creaked and groaned—I was sure that it was about to fail.

I pushed open the closet door, shoved aside our coats and pulled up the hidden hatch on the floor. The dark depths were no less frightening than when Selene first lifted the hatch for me— but the screaming door below and the shouts of those behind it were worse.

I turned around, holding my breath as I attempted to find the first rung of the ladder, feeling around precariously with my foot while trying to grip the walls of the wardrobe for support. When my foot found purchase, I careful pulled the wardrobe door closed and began my descent into the darkness, pausing as I lowered myself to move the coats about my head back into place and close the hatch.

When I closed the hatch, the glow of the blood magic sealed it closed—sealing me into the darkness.

I had no option but to continue my decent.

It was cold, and eerily quiet. I could feel dust or rubble falling against me like slight snow, but the chaos causing the disruption above was muted.

At the bottom of the ladder, I allowed myself to fall the last few feet, losing my balance upon landing and falling on my butt. I was quick to push myself up and feel around in the darkness until I found the torch and matches.

The glow of fire was comforting for only a moment. It illuminated the darkness ahead of me for only about half a dozen steps and the space felt much tighter—much more like being buried alive—than it did with Selene by my side.

I walked as quickly as I dared, refusing to slow, acutely aware that the next explosion could bring the cold stone walls around me, collapsing and then this dark place really would be my grave.

At the fork in the tunnel, I remembered to turn left. Left was towards the outside. Right was a dead end.

When I reached the end of the tunnel, I looked up towards the ladder overhead and groaned in frustration. I tried to reach it, but it was just out of reach. I would have to jump—meaning I would have put out the torch first, so that I had both hands and didn’t risk burning myself. Which was just great.

I took the large candle snub from the shelf and sighed as I put out the torch.

The darkness enveloped me instantly. I immediately wanted to relight the torch. Instead, I took a deep a breath, and one step to my right where I estimated the ladder would be right above and jumped. Blindly I reached for the bottom rung to pull myself up by.

It took more attempts than I cared to count. When I finally gripped the bottom rung, it took four more attempts—and another fall on my bruised butt—before I managed to pull myself up far enough to reach the ladder properly. My weight was not enough to pull it down alone.

I was sweaty and breathing hard by the time I reached the top of the ladder and the next hatch. My thumb had stopped bleeding so I had to bite it again, this time I felt the sting as I drew forth blood and smeared it everywhere I could across the hatch, until I found the blood seal and the glowing red of my blood opened the hatch.

I gasped the cold fresh air as I collapsed on the wet grass and dirt of the hill that overlooked the Ardens Estate.

The sky was grey—no surprise the sky had been perpetually grey since we arrived. I could hear the shouts and screams of people below and the gunfire, the occasional pop pop pop causing the breath to stutter in my chest.

I hated guns.

I had never had reason to really think of them before. There were only a few shotguns in my village, communally used for hunting, never for shooting at people.

It felt like the Houses didn’t really care about life the way we did.

Then it seared through me, the pain.

The shock of it was blinding, physically blinding, a white light behind my eyelids.

I gasped for breath, my hand clutching at my side.

I sat up from where I had been lying on the wet ground, panting to catch my breath, and inspected my right side.

Nothing. There was nothing there.

The pain had vanished.

I lifted my jumper and my top and touched around where the pain had been, but there was not so much as a bruise.

Then suddenly the pain was blinding again.

I was doubled over myself.

And then just as suddenly it was gone.

As my lungs filled with air again, a cold realisation swept over me, like being engulfed by a wave.

The pain was not my own.

Selene had been injured.

My love was in pain. In danger.

And where was I?

On a hilltop.

Having ran away.

I was a coward. I had left without her. I had barely even tried to find her. And now she was hurt, and I didn’t know how badly. But the fact that the pain had broken past her enchantments and reached me….

I feared the worst.

I got to my feet, running my hands over my backside and thighs to remove the dampness from the earth. Looking down I could see the mansion past the small orchard, where I saw Ardens Estate staff gathered under the bare trees. Rebels had rounded them up. Some of the rebels were in a red-wine coloured uniform of sorts, just a jumper really, but they stood out from the others at this distance.

I needed to get back to the mansion.

Selene was somewhere inside. Injured.

I needed to find her.

I looked back to the mansion—smoke rising and even a fire burning in the west wing.

It was like nothing I had ever witnessed before.

I had heard accounts of the civil war. There was an old fisher in the village, I couldn’t remember his name—Father would politely stand and speak with him if we passed by. It was the polite kind of way he sometimes spoke with me as a child. Like he didn’t want to hurt my feelings but whatever I was speaking of wasn’t that interesting or maybe just didn’t make much sense.

I remembered the old man had scared me once, with stories of houses and people on fire.

Father had been getting supplies; I needed new shoes, and we were going into Maria to shop. I had been excited. But the old man had started speaking and I tried to be polite like Father, to engage in the conversation, to nod and hum. But the stories he told that day were the stories of his grandfathers’ father. Stories of the civil war.

Of houses and people and even babies on fire.

Father must have rescued me from the horrible tales at some point, but stood on the hillside looking at the mansion—the mansion that could soon be ruins—I was reminded of the old man and his stories.

The spark had been lit.

The orange glow was growing and it felt like soon everything could be on fire.

I knew that I might have already been spotted on the hillside, but how would they know who I was from such a distance. It wasn’t like I was anything special looks-wise, nothing about me really stood out. Not like Selene, with her height and her hair and her image that was known by everyone. I was just a girl. Sure, my eyes were unique but you had to see me up close to spot that, and my sand-coloured hair wasn’t uncommon. From this distance, I was just a servant. That’s what I told myself as I began to run down the hill.

Running downhill was surprisingly not as easy as I had first thought. It was difficult to keep my balance; occasionally I would skid precariously—my heart in my throat—on the wet dirt before finding purchase again and continuing down.

There was no way around it, I couldn’t sneak up on the mansion, I could only run directly towards it. I wasn’t surprised when rebels broke off from the orchard and began to chase me. They were gaining on me fast —longer legs, more accustomed to running. I was closer to the maze than the mansion when Sasha’s idea to hide in the maze earlier came back to me. I don’t know what it was exactly, but something about the maze almost called to me. It felt like safety. One glance over my shoulder and I knew I would not reach the mansion before the rebels had captured me, but I could reach the maze. Maybe.

And maybe I was crazy, maybe the way the cold air scraped down my throat and into my burning lungs and the way my legs felt heavier than they ever had, had interfered with my ability to think, but I changed course. As I ran down the stairs towards the maze, the feeling of safety from the maze grew.

I was making the right decision.

The maze was protection.

The maze knew me.

I entered the maze and immediately the ground rumbled and shook. I turned to see the rebels had stopped before the entrance. Shock and fear marred each of their faces. The walls grew and closed over the entrance.

“What do we do now?” I heard one ask.

“She’s as good as dead now,” another replied.

“Yeah, but we need her body,” someone else stated. “Who’s going to believe she’s dead without proof?”

“The maze will spew her out eventually,” the second voice answered. “We wait.”

It was odd, their voices were clear and yet not. Like listening to sound under water —it was distorted yet clear. Magic, undoubtedly. I could even hear their footsteps as they walked away, muttering that someone or other wasn’t going to be pleased. But then —nothing. I could no longer hear the chaos, the fighting, the fire burning.

Lady Aquilae had screamed instantly. Selene had listened intently, curiously. I expected the maze to begin its torture, but nothing seemed to be happening. If I made it to the centre, the maze would open an exit for me. I began to walk. Occasionally the ground would rumble and a wall would slowly move. It was almost as if I was being guided somewhere.

It was strange, how calm I felt. How I felt so utterly safe. Before, my heart had been pounding so hard and fast with my efforts it sounded like the ocean in my ears, my breaths coming quick and desperate, my legs burning and heavy, a stitch in my side. But within the maze, I was fine, as if reset. Even the worry for Selene that had consumed me and sent me down the hill back towards the danger of the rebels was not as all-consuming. I was worried, I knew I needed to find Selene, but the sense of safety, of peace within the walls of the maze was so powerful, a part of me wanted to stay here.

As I walked, the maze began to move more—twisting me around, turning and changing direction. I might have been in the maze for five minutes or five hours, I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t know. But the maze seemed to be growing upset, as if it had feelings, moving more and move. And the ground began to shake more violently.

Previously it had rumbled almost gently as new walls grew and moved, pushing up from the earth, never too close to me, never too fast—but now the earth shook and the walls of the maze grew, shooting up rapidly, knocking me down to the ground and turning me so fast I no longer knew which direction I faced.

And then the sound began. The sound of stone being blasted through.

Explosions.

I knew instinctively that someone—or someones —were trying to breach the maze to reach me, and that the maze was guarding me, pushing me back, keeping me safe.

As the explosions grew nearer, the maze surrounded me more and more until there was no exit, no other direction to turn. I was surrounded by walls taller than I could ever hope to climb, all around, a diameter no taller than myself. I doubted I could even lie flat on my back if I wanted to in the space I was enclosed in.

The strange peace that had enveloped me upon entering the maze began to fade, and a sort of dull panic began to enter at the back of my head.

The maze was injured. It could not protect me.

The wall behind me burst open, pushing me forward. I tried to catch myself, but my head cracked off the wall in front of me and I fell limp to the ground.

Through the dust, I saw blurred figures approaching me—but what was more pressing was the ache in my left leg. I tried to move but couldn’t.

It took a moment for the panic to fully set in, for the peace of the maze to completely dissipate—but when it did, the terror of the situation crashed over me.

Rebels were approaching through the destroyed walls of the maze and a large chunk of maze wall had landed on my leg, trapping me.

There was no escape.

I looked up towards the rebels approaching, like shadows growing larger—monsters in sea fog.

Until they became only men.

My head felt dizzy, my heart close to exploding like the maze walls.

“Percy?” A familiar voice called, concerned.

“Dylan?” I asked, speaking aloud for what felt like the first time in days, my throat dry, my voice more a croak. It couldn’t be. I was imagining things. I had hit my head hard and my eyes were droopy.

A man said something as he approached me, but I couldn’t hear him, his voice muffled.

I was cold. I couldn’t feel my leg anymore and part of me wondered if that was a good thing.

When I looked back to the man, my vision had blurred considerably with the movement of my head, so much so I wasn’t sure if someone was there or not.

My head pounded, and dark edges began to encroach in on me.

Thank You for Reading

Thank you so much for joining Percy and Selene on their journey. I’m beyond grateful you chose to spend your time in this world — it means more than you know.

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