Page 5 of A Royal’s Soul (Soul Match #3)

Persephone Flores

I was stunned. It couldn’t be. My legs felt weaker and heavier. The ground felt like it moved beneath me, my world thrown off balance.

Selene was dangerous, had always been so, but not to me—not really. She wouldn’t truly hurt me, would never do permanent harm, and she certainly would never allow someone else to hurt me.

That’s what I thought, what I had been so sure of from the start. But then came the realisation that this was all part of some planned event—that she had been the reason that the Royal Guard was not there to protect me. Not because they were busy protecting her, but because she must have sent them away.

That she knew when she left in the morning that, come the afternoon, I would be attacked by the Academy guard again, in my own garden.

Why would she do something like this? To try to force my magic? What if it hadn’t worked? What if Mhari or I had been killed?

The way she stared me down, walking from President Minerva’s side, taking purposeful, predatory strides towards me, made me wonder if she would have even cared.

“What?” I asked quietly, still shocked, taking a step back.

Mhari growled low beside me at Selene’s approach. Her beast was a massive brown wolf, and even injured, she was clearly still strong—but she would be no match against Selene. No lone shifter ever could be.

I placed my hand on Mhari’s shoulder for balance, to steady myself and reassure my new friend. “It’s okay,” I told her as Selene neared.

“While I admire your loyalty to my pet—and it will not go unrewarded—I warn you: she is mine, and I will end any who stand in the way of what belongs to me,” Selene spoke to Mhari, and I heard the grit in her voice as she held back her own growl.

Mhari’s head dropped, and she turned to me, whining apologetically.

“It’s okay,” I reassured again. It was all I could do.

We had stood together, ready to fight. The adrenaline that had been pulsing through me—giving me the false sense of endless energy and the mistaken impression that my stamina was greater—had come crashing down, and it was an effort to not collapse. My cold hands shook.

“The medics will attend to the shifter first,” Selene commanded.

I couldn’t look at her when she reached me, took my wrist, and removed my hold on Mhari.

“Look at me,” Selene instructed.

I kept my head turned down, eyes focused on the ground, and angrily moving my jaw away from her hand when she reached out.

The ground was blackened and cold in a way that the coming winter could not match.

Death was a type of absence, the lack of life somehow palpable.

Winter was cold in a different kind of way—a pause, with life always somewhere below the surface, pulsing slowly. Not here.

Here, I had created an abyss.

My magic had never felt cold before. It had never taken; it was warm, bright, and big, but now…now it wasn’t.

“The formal investigation will be concluded once my report is submitted for the annual Royal Conference,” President Minerva stated icily behind Selene.

Selene shifted beside me, her jaw tensing. “Very well. And the Syngeneia witch?” she questioned.

Ana? I lifted my head and looked to President Minerva, waiting to hear news of my friend. What test had Ana been subjected to? Was she hurt, safe?

“Performed no illegal magic during her test. She will be released shortly,” President Minerva replied.

“And the dog?” Selene continued, referring to Mhari.

I was aware of Selene’s prejudice toward shifters. Well, not all shifters—just any that happened to interact with me. Whether fuelled by jealousy or possessiveness, I wasn’t sure anymore—not as I stood there in the grove of my nightmares, surrounded by death.

“I will grant a pardon for the assault against an academy guard, given the circumstances,” President Minerva replied, completely ignoring the fact that it was an Academy guard who had shot Mhari—that she was only protecting us from their attack—speaking like she was the criminal!

Selene turned to me, and I turned my face away from her again—a defiance I knew irked her greatly, especially by how her grip on my wrist increased.

Her grip wasn’t painful, but it was a warning.

“If that is all,” Selene stated, not waiting for a reply before she began to drag me back through the grove.

My refusal to look at Selene allowed me to see the disapproving frown of President Minerva.

“What about Mhari?” I asked, despite not wanting to speak to Selene. It was silly, but withholding my voice and eye contact felt like my only power, and I was angry and confused.

She had betrayed me, forcing me back into this grove to run for my life again.

I turned to Mhari, who was in the process of shifting back to her human form. It looked painful, like her body was stuck somewhere between human and wolf, but she barely made a sound.

“She will be fine,” Selene growled, yanking at my wrist and pulling me forward more forcefully.

Dr. Phears ran past me with her big medical rucksack on her back. She glanced in my direction momentarily as she passed before continuing to Mhari.

I was relieved that Dr. Phears had been called; she was an expert in shifter medicine. Mhari was in good hands. It alleviated some of the anxiety making me feel nauseous to know that Dr. Phears was the Academy medic called upon.

As we left the grove and the Royal accommodation mansion came into view, I began to try to free my wrist from Selene’s grip.

I didn’t appreciate being pulled around—not when I was so angry, hurt, and confused. And why had she agreed to effectively let me be hunted?

“Why are you fighting me?” she growled in frustration, stopping but not releasing my wrist from her hold.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to let me go and stop dragging me wherever you please!” I yelled. “I’m not some toy for you to play with!” The anger bubbled up and out of me, and my voice rose.

“You are mine to do with as I please,” she replied, pulling me closer to her, causing me to trip and fall against her chest. My wrist was trapped in her hold between us, and her free arm wrapped around my waist. “Remember your place,” she whispered against my ear. “There are those who watch your insolence even now,” she warned.

“I thought my place was at your side, as your equal?” I whispered back, anger seething through my words. I used my free hand to push myself away from her. She let me create some space between us—it calmed me slightly, momentarily.

“By my side does not make you my equal. It makes you wanted, desired—my pet. Do not disrespect me in such a way that demands correction,” she replied, dragging me back into her by my waist and squeezing my wrist harder.

“You—you cruel, sadistic monster!” I yelled. “Did you watch as they stormed our home and my garden? Did you watch as they chased me into the grove? Do you know what it was like to be back there? To be chased, again, knowing it was useless to run, that there was no escape but no choice other than to try? I thought you were hurt, attacked, being kept from me. I kept thinking where were you? Why weren’t you there to protect me? And all along, you were in on it!” I accused.

“Enough!” she yelled.

“No!” I yelled back. “What you did was not the action of someone who loves me,” I continued.

“Stop,” she growled menacingly, her eyes glowing bright silver, her fangs on show. “You’re crossing a line,” she hissed quietly, pulling me tighter to her until I was pressed firmly against her. “How dare you, you insolent, na?ve little witch, incapable of comprehending the danger you have wrought upon us. All that I do, I do for you,” she hissed, her forehead pressed against mine, her lips a hair’s width away from my own, sharing my breaths.

I was stilled by her closeness, and despite everything, I wanted to lean forward, tilt my jaw ever so slightly, and taste her lips, but she continued.

The fire of anger in my chest that had been squashed to embers was reignited once again in outrage. “Know your place and your duty to me,” she said.

The hypocrisy was outrageous. I was to know my place and duty, but apparently, she held none towards me.

“What about your duty to me as my—" I was cut off sharply.

She gripped my jaw tightly, fingers pressing firmly into my cheeks and forcing my lips to part before she leaned forward and kissed me with a painful pressure.

I tried to pull away—I couldn’t breathe from the suddenness of the action—but it was useless.

I was trapped in her grip. My lips ached from the force, the ghost of the pressure remaining as she released me from the kiss, allowing me to take a sharp inhale.

“Silence! Before I bruise your lips so thoroughly they cannot move to form words, or perhaps you would rather I draw screams from you until your lungs ache and your voice becomes so hoarse you struggle to so much as whisper,” she warned.

The anger in her eyes was stinging, and the promise in her quiet threat was clear. Fear ran down my spine like nothing I had experienced from her before.

And I remembered the strange anger from the previous night, how it had manifested bodily in my chest, and I wondered if this bone-deep fear was all my own. “Do you understand?” she demanded.

I did not reply; I simply held her eyes with my own. Defiant, but submitting with my silence, the silence she demanded.

All of Selene’s previous kisses had brought me pleasure in some way, had been expected, but this—this was something else, something wrong and I didn’t know how to respond. I felt further from her than ever before.

My response seemed to please her—her head tilting to the side slightly in a way that, in any other circumstance, I would have found cute—but it in that moment, it was animalistic, almost feral, and it caused my heartrate to spike.

She inhaled deeply, and her eyes left mine as she lifted her face away from me. I watched her critical eyes scan the area around us.

“Good. No more of your impertinence here,” she stated. She released my face and began to drag me towards our home again.

I stumbled up the stairs. If not for Selene, I doubted I would have had the energy to make the journey back. All my muscles protested with every step, and my stomach churned.

No Royal guard stood waiting to open the large double doors. Selene pushed one open herself and pulled me in behind her.

Usually, I felt a type of warmth when walking through the entrance to the Royal residence quarters, but now, there was no warmth. It felt eerily quiet, still, alone. I had not realised before that moment that there was usually a low hum of noise—of the guards who had rooms within the building.

There was never disturbing noise, but there was something comforting in occasionally hearing another person cough or sneeze, the quiet thud of boots, or the very rare mumbling of conversations. The building felt empty, and with that emptiness, the sense of home was lacking, as was the warmth.

I shivered. I was cold, the building was cold. Everything was cold now.

Selene continued to drag me forward and up the staircase towards our rooms. No guard again.

“Where are the guards?” I asked.

Selene’s response was to tighten her hold on my wrist and growl. I meeped at the pain of the increased pressure—I would be bruised.

“You’re hurting me,” I complained. The pressure eased, but I was pulled forward with greater speed, almost falling as I struggled to keep pace when we reached the door to our rooms.

Selene pushed the door open with such force that it whacked loudly against the wall inside. I was released, stumbling forward precariously as the door was slammed shut behind me. I caught myself using the arm of the sofa for support, holding myself up, trying desperately to not look as weak as I felt.

I regained my balance and turned around to face her. Her eyes glowed brightly, liquid silver shimmering in the grey, dull light of the room.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

Selene did not reply. She stared at me hard, a soft rumble of a growl vibrating the space between us. She stepped forward, and the quiet rumbling of her growl grew louder.

“What are you doing?” I asked nervously. Selene had closed the space between us, moving in that way that was too fast and always left me feeling a little dizzy and on edge.

Her hands gripped my face—firm enough to stop my movement, but soft enough to not cause discomfort.

“Are you injured?” she asked, the growl low in her chest, a vibrato that seemed to charge the air between us.

“N-no,” I stuttered, feeling confused by the unexpected questioning. I was weak, exhausted—I wanted to sleep for a week—but I was not injured. A few bruises, maybe, but otherwise, I was okay. She watched me critically, as if not believing me.

“What?” I asked, my frustration and anger coming back to the surface.

“You have no concept of what any of this means, do you?” she asked, wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling me flush against her chest and dipping her head to my neck.

I felt like a ragdoll in her arms. “You have no idea of the power you wield,” she continued, inhaling deeply, pressing her nose against me, her words muffled against my flesh.

A silence fell between us. I felt that I couldn’t—or shouldn’t—speak. Selene’s behaviour was almost erratic. She only held me in such a way, breathing in heavily against me neck, only used my scent to calm herself when her instincts were overwhelming.

It felt like a lifetime could have passed in the silence that only her breaths broke before—“I’m scared,” she whispered so softly I wasn’t sure I had heard her.

I tried to push away from her to look her in the eyes, but her hold on me was too tight—I was too weak, and she did not let up.

Her hold only grew tighter at my meek attempt to move away.

“Scared of what?” I asked, instead of continuing to try and create space between us, my own voice shaking. Selene did not fear anything. No one could challenge her. No one was her equal. Was fear the cause of her behaviour? The cause of her betrayal?

“Of what will happen now. I cannot hide this. Slow the spread of information, perhaps. Maybe others will not believe it. Not until the Royal Conference, that is. But what then?” she said. I couldn’t follow her. I didn’t understand the meaning behind what she was saying.

Suddenly, she lifted her head from my neck, and her glowing silver eyes met mine with a fierce seriousness. “We must leave,” she said. “Immediately.”

“Selene, slow down,” I demanded as she retook my wrist and dragged me, stumbling towards the door.

“Rylan,” she called as she opened the door.

“Selene, stop,” I tried again and attempted to pull my wrist free. What did she mean by leave? Why? And right this moment? She turned on me fast, teeth bared, and gave a growl of warning. Her eyes seemed wild, like an animal’s. I was shocked into silence and stopped any attempt to free myself from her grip.

She turned from me and called Rylan’s name again. I didn’t know what to do. I had witnessed her struggle with instinct before, but she had never seemed so close to being entirely out of control. Stories of vampires lost to instinct never ended well. My ears were filled with the rush of my blood, and a strange feeling—like cold water—fell down my spine. I shivered.

Rylan appeared as if he had materialised into being, his movement too fast for me to track. I jumped back in fright, and Selene responded by pinning Rylan against the open door by his neck with her free hand. She growled loudly, animalistically.

I could see her venom coating her fangs, and I remembered Dr. Phears's lecture on venom. During intense fighting, the production of venom could increase tenfold. Another’s venom was inherently dangerous to a vampire. Small doses were non-harmful, easy for the vampire immune system to fight, and posed little threat during mating, but in conflict, venom in much larger volumes acted as a painful paralytic.

Recalling the lecture calmed me slightly, like gripping onto the knowledge provided a moment of order in the quickly unfolding chaos. It also alerted me to Selene’s very real fraying of control. She had never behaved aggressively towards any of the Royal Guard.

Rylan was still, almost limp, and he looked away. “My apologies, Your Royal Highness, for startling Lady Flores,” he spoke calmly. His voice did not waver, but he did not attempt to move or lift his eyes. “How may I be of assistance, Ma’am?” he continued.

“Ma’am,” I said and reached out, taking hold of her upper arm with my free hand. “It’s Rylan,” I said softly when Selene only bared her teeth further in response. “He’s our friend,” I reminded her.

I watched as her eyes shifted to me briefly and back to Rylan. There was a moment of intense silence. Selene’s hand around Rylan’s throat clenched tighter before she slowly released him.

“A car, immediately,” she finally spoke as she dropped her arm. “We leave for Ardens. Every member of my Royal Guard is to depart with me. Every Borealis servant is to return home tonight. Every Ardens student and servant is to return home tonight. Make arrangements. Anyone still here in the morning will be treated as a traitor. No one shall speculate on the reason for their departure from Sanguis Academy. Any talk of the matter shall be an act of treason. The only reason they shall be given is that I am no longer a student of Sanguis Academy, and the Academy is to lose its Royal patronage,” Selene commanded.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Rylan replied and left, vanishing much like he had appeared.

“Ma’am?” I asked, my voice cracking. What was happening?

Selene turned to me and lifted her hand to my face, carefully wiping away a tear. I was unaware that I was crying. “Do not fret, pet. I will keep you safe.”