Page 4 of A Royal’s Soul (Soul Match #3)

Persephone Flores

Selene had classes. I did not. I didn’t know how bored I’d be without anything to occupy me.

I could have studied, but it seemed pointless to do so when I didn’t know if my suspension would be over before my exams started. I only had one exam this term, covering human, shifter, and vampire anatomy for my Introduction to Anatomy for Healers course.

In truth, I was too nervous to think about anything other than proving that Ana and I had not practised inter-coven magic, which should have been easy to do. If I could only make my magic work in the opposite way, like how it had the day before.

I zipped my coat all the way up, a little too roughly, taking my frustration with myself and my inability to control my new magic out on my innocent coat zip before rubbing my cold hands together to heat them up and once again attempted to kill my basil plant.

All I had achieved so far was to produce quite possibly the biggest, greenest, healthiest basil plant ever known.

I groaned loudly in frustration and remembered Heidi’s growling comment. Was I becoming more like Selene, picking up her mannerisms, maybe?

“This is pointless. Why won’t you die, Mr Basil?” I asked the plant.

It couldn’t reply, of course, but that had never stopped me from speaking to my plants. They might not reply, but I thought in some way they could understand.

“I don’t want to kill you, but I need to. I’ll bring you back straight away,” I promised, reaching out to touch a large green leaf.

The air was filled with the pleasant smell of the plant, and it sprouted new branches.

“No,” I cried and kicked the wooden flower box.

I was tired; I hadn’t slept well the night before, and the cold upset me further.

I was made for the warmth of spring and the heat of summer, not the wet, cold of autumn and winter.

And I was meant to bring life to my garden, not attempt to take it, but here I was, trying to destroy my now-prized basil plant.

My magic had never been something that I really thought about, not in-depth. It just sort of happened the way I willed it to. So why couldn’t I will it to decay instead of grow?

I imagined Mr Basil wilting, losing colour, growing brown, dying, and I tried again. More new branches grew—so abundant and numerous that they trailed over the edge of the wooden box and across the rooftop, trying to tangle my feet.

If I kept it up, the whole building would soon be draped in a curtain of basil, and the school would smell of it for weeks.

On a more positive note, my stamina had significantly improved. I had been using my magic all morning, plus the previous day’s debacle of a magical mishap, and I was not overly fatigued. It was a great improvement in my capabilities, and if nothing else, Heidi would be proud.

The sound of someone running up the inside steps towards the rooftop interrupted the growth of my record-breaking basil plant.

I turned apprehensively to face the door, momentarily stuck in place. No one apart from Selene and me ever came up to my rooftop garden—it was even more sacred than our living space.

It wasn’t Selene. I never heard her approach. I was only ever startled by her appearance.

Quickly, I decided to crouch down behind the wooden flower bed to hide.

I watched, peeking over the top of the flower bed, hiding behind overgrown basil leaves as the door flung open. My heart leapt in my chest.

A girl, another servant in the purple uniform of House Maria, was breathing hard. She wasn’t wearing her coat, the cold obviously not affecting her to the same degree it did me.

She looked wildly around as she stood at the open door.

“Percy?” she whisper-yelled.

“Percy? It’s Mhari. We met last term in Political Structure of the Borealis Kingdom . If you’re here, please let me know,” she called out, taking a few unsure steps into my garden.

“Please, Percy, it’s important. I’m here to help,” she begged.

Help with what? How did she get past the guards?

Strands of her dark hair stuck to her forehead as a cold wind blew her hair around. She was sweating, like she had been running for a while.

Her yellow eyes scanned the rooftop, and I ducked down, my back against the wooden planks. Something about this wasn’t right.

“I know you’re here somewhere, Percy. I can smell you,” she called out.

Of course, she could smell me. She was a shifter of House Maria, like Father—no, she was from House Maria, but her clan was of Viridis. I remembered from the awkward class with Mr Jenson.

Mr Jenson had left midway through the summer term. We were told due to a family emergency, and he had not returned for the autumn term.

Was her sense of smell enough to root me out up here, or simply enough to know I was here or had been recently?

All I could smell was basil. I was grateful at that moment for my inability to do anything other than grow the plant despite my efforts to accomplish the opposite.

“Okay, maybe you’re not here now. But maybe you are, and if you can hear me, please listen. They took Ana about ten minutes ago. They dragged her from the halls. I ran here as fast as I could,” she told me, and I heard her begin to step further into my garden.

Ana? They who? Who would take her?

“What do you mean, they took her?” I called and then crawled to the other side of the box, trying to make as little sound as possible, growing the basil as I passed to provide more coverage.

“The Academy guard. I know what the two of you are accused of. The whole of Sanguis knows. She asked for someone to warn you. Screamed it, actually,” Mhari explained.

“How did you get past the Royal Guard?” I questioned. How was she able to get into the building, never mind all the way up here?

“What Royal Guard? There were no guards,” she replied, and I heard her footsteps stop.

No guard? That was impossible. I had informed the guard this morning when I left that I would be in my garden. It wasn’t that long ago. My garden was one of the few places I could go unaccompanied now, but that was only because Selene was sure no one would be able to get past all her Royal Guard.

“Percy, please stop hiding. I don’t even know why I’m here. I just thought someone had to tell—”

The sound of gravel crunching under many tyres from the drive below interrupted us. Even up on the rooftop, the sound was distinct. Was Selene home from her classes early?

Mhari ran right past me to the rooftop edge to investigate, unaware that I was only feet away from her as she leaned over the ledge.

“It’s President Minerva. Why is she here?” Mhari said.

I stood up, and she turned startled.

“Fuck, Percy, you move like the dead,” she exclaimed, her hand rising defensively, reflexively.

I ignored her and how the comparison was truer than she probably knew, and I looked over the edge too.

It was President Minerva, for sure. Her grey bun sat atop her head, matching her grey suit with red lining—her own uniform, as it was all I had seen her wear—the previous day and in every portrait of her in the Academy.

The Academy Guard was with her—at least a dozen men—and they headed for the mansion's steps.

The usual Royal Guard were not at the entrance, which was odd. But what was more concerning was that instead of a confrontation—which I would expect from Selene’s personal Royal guard, who lived in quarters within the mansion and were always on duty and would surely challenge any unauthorised entry—there was only the sound of boots making their way loudly up the concrete staircase towards us.

“What’s going on? Where are the Royal Guards?” I asked, turning to Mhari.

Her yellow eyes were wide and panicked. “I don’t know. Shit! Shit! What do we do?” she asked, looking around as if expecting to find another exit and probably regretting coming to warn me.

We both turned to look towards the only entrance and exit. At any moment, the Academy guard would burst through the door.

I looked around, too. “What kind of shifter are you?” I asked.

“What?” she questioned.

“Could your beast handle a jump from this height?” I continued.

Her eyes widened. “What? Are you insane? No! Even if I could, I doubt I have enough time to shift,” she replied, obviously more panicked than me.

“Okay, okay.” I took an unsteady step away from the door as the sound of boots grew louder and unintentionally crushed a branch of the basil plant. It was so thick and heavy that it trailed across the rooftop ground.

“What about this?” Mhari asked, running over to the wall-mounted hose that Selene had recently installed for me after I had a small accident carrying a heavy watering can. One stumble and a grazed knee, and suddenly, I wasn’t permitted to carry watering cans anymore.

“What about it?” I asked, confused.

“How long is it?” she asked.

“Long,” I replied. “I don’t know,” I continued. It was long enough to easily stretch from one end of the roof to the other.

“I think this will work,” she said, a kind of shaky confidence in her voice.

“What? What are you doing?” I asked worriedly, realising Mhari’s plan as she grabbed the hose, unravelling it as she pulled it towards the roof’s edge.

“They’re coming up here—for you, for me—and we can’t exactly get past them. So, we need to go down. Unless you can fly, this,” she pointed to the hose, “is our only option,” she explained.

I worried her panic—that fight-or-flight instinct—was choosing flight, regardless of the risk.

She began to pull the hose from its reel, the length coiling at her feet. She looked at the hose, then down the side of the building, her eyebrows scrunching like she was doing complicated maths in her head.

“I hope this works,” she said ominously before gripping near the end of the hose and climbing up onto the ledge.

“Wait! Mhari!” I yelled, but she didn’t hesitate in stepping from the ledge.

I leaned over the ledge, my stomach jumping into my throat, expecting to watch her fall to the ground in a broken heap. Instead, I watched as she dropped dizzyingly fast toward the ground. The hose jolted to a stop about three-quarters of the way down, and Mhari hit the side of the building.

My stomach dropped. I held my breath. She groaned but kept hold of the hose. The metal wall hanging for the hose shook and groaned too, but it held steady, as did Mhari.

“That was wild,” Mhari shouted. She looked down. “I can jump from here,” she called up. I watched as she let go of the hose and fell about a floor and a half, landing with one hand outstretched to the ground—like it was nothing.

“You’re turn, Percy. Come on,” she yelled up. “Climb down.”

“Mhari, I can’t!” I called back, panicking as the sound of boots got closer and closer. I wasn’t a shifter like her. I wasn’t physically capable of jumping that far. I doubted I could even shimmy down the hose and hold my own weight for that long.

“I’ll catch you, I promise,” Mhari called up, as if reading my thoughts. “Hurry!” she yelled again, looking around her worriedly.

There was no more time to hesitate. I could hear them now—the Academy guard shouting to each other, affirmations that they could hear me, and questions of who I was with.

I had no choice. I took hold of the hose and climbed over the rooftop's edge.

I wrapped my ankles around the hose and lowered myself as fast as I could without losing my grip. The hose wobbled from side to side, unnervingly, but I continued to make quick progress—at least I hoped it was good progress. My eyes were shut tight from fear.

“Okay, stop!” Mhari shouted, and I looked down for the first time, seeing that I was near the end of the hose. I looked back at my hands, away from the ground that was still too far away.

“Just let go. I’ve got you,” Mhari called confidently.

“Here!” a guard shouted, and I saw a man and President Minerva leaning over the rooftop's edge.

“Who is that with her?” I heard President Minerva ask.

“House Maria,” the guard answered.

“Should we cut the hose?” I heard another guard ask.

My decision was made. But still, I hesitated. I didn’t know Mhari, and here I was, hanging onto a hose, midair, about to let go and trust that some girl I didn’t really know would catch me. What was she doing helping me in the first place?

“Cut the hose,” I heard the command given.

I let go.

My stomach felt weightless during the brief fall. Mhari caught me as she had promised. The impact was not easy—it was hard. Mhari wavered and fell to her knees.

“Could have given a warning,” she said as she let me fall more gently from her arms to the ground. I got up, feeling off balance and wobbled on my feet. Mhari stood as well and shook her arms, rotating one arm out and massaging her shoulder.

“What now?” I asked.

Mhari straightened her back and looked up, then around us. “It’s a lot faster getting down all those stairs than it is going up. We run,” she said and wasted no time, immediately taking off, her long legs carrying her fast.

I did my best to keep up with her as I followed Mhari to the grove towards the main school building.

I hadn’t entered the grove since the Summer Ball. It wasn’t that I had been avoiding it—not purposefully—but Selene had. Or at least, that was the result of her orders. Either way, I was not allowed to enter the grove again.

But I had no choice. The Grove was the quickest way to the school. Selene was in classes in the main building, and there was a chance I could make it to her—if she was okay herself.

I sent a silent prayer to Poseidon that she was safe and that the Royal Guard were with her. Still, I hesitated before entering the grove. My heart beat fast—faster than it really should have. I was exerting myself, but not to the extent that my heart should have been hammering painfully and my chest felt tight.

It was just a grove. It was the way to safety. But my feet refused to move.

“C’mon, hurry,” Mhairi called, looking over her shoulder. I tried to move at her words, but my chest constricted tighter. The darkness of the grove seemed to grow out towards me, almost as dark as the night of the Summer Ball. Mhari came to a stop herself. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I, I, I can’t,” I confessed.

Mhari ran back to me and took hold of my shoulders, looking my body up and down. “You aren’t hurt,” she said.

“No, I—” I stuttered. Mhari growled, and a look of realisation crossed her face.

“I know it’s scary. Something bad happened here, right?” she asked. All I could do was nod. “Right, right.” She took a deep breath as if to calm herself.

“I need you to take a deep breath in through your nose for me, Percy. Can you do that? With me?” she said and began to inhale through her nose. Confused, I copied her.

“Great, hold it,” I did, “Now out, through your mouth,” I copied her again.

We repeated the same action twice, ignoring the sound of the guard shouting and approaching from behind me. “Okay, feel better?” Mhari asked, her eyes focused over my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said shakily. I did feel better, like I could breathe again—my chest no longer as tight.

“Good, good. Can you run for me now?” she asked. I nodded and inhaled deeply. Mhari grabbed my hand and pulled me at speed into the grove.

We ran, my thighs burning, until she stopped her run abruptly and released my hand. I stumbled into her. We were both breathing hard.

I crouched over, my hands on my knees, catching my breath. When I looked up, I saw the Academy Guard at the exit of the grove.

They didn’t move towards us. They simply stood and watched, firearms aimed.

The sound of running boots approaching behind us grew louder. We were surrounded.

“W-what do we do?” I panted. Mhari reached out, took hold of my hand again and squeezed reassuringly.

“We fight, or we surrender,” she replied without hesitation. Her previous panic had seemed to vanish, and I was jealous that she had recovered her breath and mind so quickly.

“What?” I asked. Fight? Surrender? “I need to find the Princess. This isn’t right. Something is wrong. The Royal Guard—I mean, she would never let this happen,” I said, and it hit me, the truth of it. Selene would never let this happen. Would never let me be attacked. If she wasn’t here, if Rylan and the others weren’t here, then they were with Selene, and they’d only be with Selene if she needed them.

“We don’t surrender,” I decided, as the boots behind us became thunderously loud. Selene would stand and fight, and so would I.

“We don’t surrender,” Mhari agreed. “The rumours about you best be true,” she added. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but there was no time to ask.

I dropped to my knees and flowed as much of my magic into the ground as I could, reaching out to the roots—the roots that felt the vibrations of the boots above them. Plants felt the world around them; sometimes, when using my magic, I could feel what they felt. The vibration was terrifying; it felt like an army was charging at us.

I worked my magic. Behind us, startled yelling and groans filled the cold and calm air as roots pushed through the hard earth, tripping feet and ensnaring ankles.

“That you?” Mhari asked, not taking her eye off the academy guard blocking our exit.

“It’ll slow them down. But for long—a few minutes at most,” I told her. My breathing was heavy again. I had been using my magic all morning, and that coupled with the energy it had taken to uproot the trees behind us and the exertion of the run, left me feeling physically drained and weak.

“That’s all I need,” Mhari answered before falling to the ground beside me, a silent frown of pain on her face.

I watched as her uniform tore quickly, her skin split, bones audibly crunched, and tuffs of brown fur sprouted. A button flew past me, dangerously close to my face.

Her transformation was fast—fast for someone who wasn’t a pureblood. I hadn’t seen another shifter of mixed heritage shift so fast before.

The Academy Guard blocking our exit looked alarmed for a brief moment before two broke off from the dozen or so who stood like an impenetrable wall and ran at us.

I was nearly exhausted, physically and magically. There was less than a minute for the guard to reach us, probably less than thirty seconds. Mhari’s shift was fast but would not be fast enough. I needed to do something.

I tried to harness my magic, closed my eyes, and focused on my pounding heart. If I was going to be able to use my new ability, now was the time. I remembered Ana’s hands in mine as vividly as possible and what it felt like to hold magic there—to keep it still, my hands cold, yet burning, and my magic cold with nowhere to go.

A roar startled me, and I opened my eyes to see a large wolf bat one of the guards away. The vampire guard crashed along the ground, the dirt cratering as he slid.

I turned just in time to see the second guard raise and aim his gun at Mhari—so I released my magic.

A coldness rushed from me—from the deepest roots of my chest, down my arms and through my fingers into the earth. It was shocking, electrifying, and conversely like being set alight—if fire was ice cold.

Maybe it was because I was aware of what I was doing now—unlike in the Noble Residence garden—but I felt the power and the coldness of death flow from me.

My chest felt tight again. The air was cold around us, but I would have sworn the air I breathed out was colder.

My hands shook at my side, my fingertips numb, and I looked to my hands momentarily, half expecting to see them blackened with frostbite. But they looked unaffected—they only felt numb and lifeless.

A crack like thunder rang in the air.

Mhari fell beside me, the ground quivering with the weight of her beast. I turned to the guard who had shot her.

Another thunderous crack filled the air—followed by more. But these were not gunshots.

Without warning, a large oak, blackened and rotting from death, snapped and landed on the unsuspecting guard.

I watched as death tore through the grove, withering all vegetation in the wave of destruction that passed over.

More cracks like thunder sounded, and trees around us began to shake, split, snap, and fall violently to the ground. My magic had killed again. It felt cold and wrong. But there wasn’t time to dwell on it. I pushed myself shakily to my feet, wavering and barely able to stand, but still, I forced myself forward to Mhari’s side. Blood caked the fur of her shoulder. I looked around us for the next attack and saw that the fallen trees protected us from the sight of the other guards in front of us.

“Mhari, can you hear me?” I asked and noticed how weak my voice was, how it felt like an effort just to speak, as I pushed down as hard as I could on the wound to slow the blood flow. She lifted her head from the ground and nodded, letting out a pitiful whine.

“You’re bleeding. You’ve been shot,” I stated. She might not have been able to speak in her beast form, but her eyes said clearly enough no shit , “Right, yeah, you know that.”

The shouting from behind us grew louder again, and there were calls for a medic from in front of us. Mhari looked at me with determination in her eyes and shrugged me off as she slowly and shakily got to her legs.

“I don’t think you should be getting up,” I said, panicked.

What were we going to do? The roots were clearly no longer keeping the guards at our rear at bay, and the fallen trees in front of us were as much a hindrance to our escape as they were a barrier keeping the guards ahead from reach us. And I wasn’t sure I could even walk out of the grove, given how weak I was. My magic was depleted past any point I had ever gone before. I felt the danger of complete magical depletion creeping over me.

“That will do,” a familiar voice rang out behind us. We both spun around to see President Minerva walking into view. “Stand down, girls,” she commanded when Mhari growled threateningly. I was truly exhausted; I had no more magic left to give, not if I wanted to keep living. Standing on my own two legs was a challenge alone; any more magical output and I’d risk death. “This test, unfortunately, did not go as originally planned,” she said.

“What?” I asked, confused, and Mhari echoed me with another growl.

President Minerva smirked. “A test to force you to reproduce the same magic from yesterday,” she explained. “Ana underwent the same challenge. When—” she paused as if for dramatic effect— “pushed,” she emphasised, leaving me to only imagine just how my friend had been pushed to use her magic, “all the blood witch was capable of was putting a handful of guard to sleep. However, your shifter friend was an unanticipated addition, as was your ability to flee from the rooftop, and as such—"

“Shut up!” I yelled, my anger giving me the strength to raise my voice. President Minerva’s face soured at being interrupted.

“You’re lying! The Princess would never allow this,” I accused confidently. I could have been hurt. Selene wouldn’t allow me to be harmed. She wouldn’t put me through something like this. She wouldn’t be so cruel. She loved me.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

It was a lie. A trick to get us to give up without a fight. Not that either of us could put up much more resistance, but President Minerva obviously wasn’t willing to risk it.

I glanced at the dead grove around me—the blackened trees, weak, crumbling, fallen. It scared even me. Did it scare President Minerva?

“Where is the Princess?” I demanded again.

“Here,” Selene answered as she stepped into view beside President Minerva.

A wave of relief washed over me at the sight of Selene, and I began to take an exhausted, shaking step forward towards her. My movement and relief instinctual—until the reality of what Selene’s presence meant.

Selene knew of this test .