Page 22 of Soul Hate

T he air is sweet with dew. Crowns of sunshine dust the tops of buildings as I slip quietly through my front door. Closing it with a soft click, I press my forehead to the wood, letting that numbing cold drip slowly into my brain.

I left this city. I left my family. For you.

I deserved to know.

I don’t care about his reasons. That he was protecting me is the kindest argument I can fathom—but it’s not the only one. Perhaps he truly believed that was why he was doing it.

But he’s had ten years to prepare! He’s had ten years to search the world for coping mechanisms. Fate’s Fury, he’s had ten years to become an excellent swordsman. He knew one day he might use those skills on me.

As children, in a duel, I had an outside chance.

Now? It’d be a slaughter.

He’s built his life so that no matter which way the cards fell, he’d be on top. I don’t blame him. I resent the chance not to have been able to do the same.

He’s had a decade head start.

I kneel down, my tunic bunching around my thighs as I tug on my boot laces. Tossing them into the corner, they clatter softly over the brightly mosaicked floor. My toes drink in the chill seeping through my socks as I cross the bumpy tiles. Candles have burned nearly to their stumps, sat in little pools of their own wax, filling my home with delicate wisps of lavender. It smells like Idris. The memory of us pressed together rolls through my mind, his ghostly palm over my mouth, his firm grip on my hip. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, letting a short frustrating breath race through my nose.

I make for the stairs, my hand dropping to the banister as I slowly climb. My eyes are heavy. My shoulders droop. Motivation for each trudging step is the thought of my bed. My nice clean sheets and piles of soft pillows. Somewhere I can roll up and forget about Bellandi, Idris, and this horrible coup. Just for a few hours, I might pretend the world is safe.

“Where were you?”

I jump a mile. Heart in my throat as I spin to see Nouis. He marches out of his room, dark hair tousled, and still in his day clothes. His shoulders are pinched, and his steps hold too much purpose.

“What?” I blink.

“Where were you? You didn’t come home and didn’t leave a note. What was I supposed to think?” Nouis takes my forearms, his fingers digging in a touch too hard. His eyes are stormy. “Renza, I was worried sick. I thought something bad had happened to you!”

“Nouis, I’m so sorry. I’m fine,” I say with a tight smile. “Just?—”

“What happened?” Nouis follows, his words insistent. I stop, a shaky breath bringing tears to my eyes.

“Renza?” Alarm rings like warning bells in Nouis’s voice.

“Idris knew,” I sniff, wiping my eyes. “He knew.”

“Knew what?”

“For years. Since we were children. He knew.”

Nouis goes still for a moment, processing. He takes a deep breath and pulls me into a hug. He holds me close as I rest my head against his strong, muscular chest. He holds me together as I let myself wallow in my self-pity.

“Selfish prat,” sighs Nouis under his breath. “He didn’t tell anyone?”

“His parents.”

“Then they’re selfish too. They should’ve told you,” Nouis says softly. “You had a right to know.”

“We were just kids. Children… What if we had to duel?”

“But it didn’t happen.” Nouis rubs my arm. “Lingering on what-ifs never helped anyone. You deserved to know, and deserved not to be ambushed like that. To have been given the chance to prepare yourself.”

It’s so validating to hear Nouis say all the things that have been doing laps in my head all night. So good to hear and realise I’m not overreacting for feeling betrayed. That it was a betrayal.

“You don’t think … it was malicious?” Nouis asks quietly. My head jumps up as I frown at him.

“What do you mean?”

“That he used the time to … swing things in his favour?”

“He’s certainly done that. He went to Malaya to study mind-stilling. He’s studied with the Princess of War in Coari ,” I mimic bitterly. Nouis shakes his head, lips thinning as he sits down next to me.

“So that’s why he was there. You know, he never answered that question,” Nouis wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“What happened in Malaya?” I ask. Nouis takes a deep breath but doesn’t speak, his mind slipping back into old memories.

“It’s not … pretty. I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to make up your mind about Idris based on my interactions with him,” Nouis answers finally, mouth twisting uncomfortably as he turns back to look at me.

“Idris did something?” I surmise. Nouis takes a deep breath, weighing his response.

“I saw the kind of man he is,” Nouis answers diplomatically, “but that was years ago, history that didn’t feel worth repeating.”

He takes my hands in his, rubbing gentle circles on them with his thumbs. I lean forwards.

“Tell me. I can handle it.”

Nouis nods, pausing to choose his words before he starts.

“It was three years ago. My uncle sent me to Malaya for bank business. We were looking for new merchandise, techniques or new revenue streams…”

I nod slowly. Malaya is far to the West, across a vicious and unpredictable ocean. It isn’t really a serious trading ally for the continent, given how long the voyage takes and the number of the ships that stretch of stormy ocean has doomed to lurk eternally on the seabed. But a few commodities have been brought from that continent to this over the years.

“Malaya has three distinct provinces, and we went to one called Pasadi. It’s filled with huge mountains covered with thick green forests that the Malayan people have populated with the most magnificent temples. Their beliefs and values are so different from ours, it’s strange.” Nouis shrugs. “But their architecture and country are beautiful.”

“Sounds lovely. Maybe we’ll go sometime,” I chuckle, leaning closer. Nouis shakes his head and wrinkles his nose.

“Anyway, we went around all the villages in our search, and we came across Idris and his friends in a village near a temple called Sadhu. It’s the biggest temple in the province, so I asked their spiritual leader if I could take a look around. I was curious and it was so pretty, yet really old. My best friend Orsino was with me at the time and he met his Soulmate there. It was a beautiful moment. We were thrilled, but the locals were furious. They tried to imprison him.”

“What?” My mouth falls open. Nouis nods, face pulling, holding up his hands as though helpless.

“Right? It makes no sense. So obviously we fought back. It got ugly. Idris and his gang sided with the Malayans in the fight.”

“What? Why?”

“To this day I still don’t understand it.” Nouis swallows tightly. “The fight was… It got really nasty and I saw Idris … kill Orsino.”

Nouis’s voice cracked over those last two words. My stomach turns over as he continued. “I had to take my crew and flee that same night just to escape the violence.”

I have no words. My brain empties at the horrible pictures floating through my head. My stomach upturns. My mouth goes dry. This is the man that’s my Soulhate? This man has a thousand secrets. I don’t know him. I might think I know a few facts, but clearly I don’t know him at all. He’s a stranger to me, a violent stranger.

My throat goes thick. My lips tremble. I get to my feet, hands going to my hair. “That’s awful. Nouis, I’m so sorry. If I’d known?—”

“It’s history now,” Nouis answers, green eyes tracking my movements, “but I’m glad you know. I’m glad you have some insight into this guy, and his time away. That sword he carries isn’t just for show. He will use it.”

That I know for myself. That bloody sword on Franco’s table fills my mind, as a cold dread soaks into my bones.

“He’s a master swordsman and I can barely hold a dagger correctly,” I swallow, in a futile attempt to move this lump lodged in my throat. I move to my bedroom window.

Nouis walks up behind me, putting a calming hand on my back. “Well then… Why don’t I teach you?” He takes the dagger from my belt with his other hand and holds it out to me, taking my hand.

“Hold it like this,” he says, moving my fingers and thumbs. I nod, moving the dagger around slightly to test the grip. Dawn pours through my bedroom window and glints in minty blue off the simple polished blade.

“Good. You need to think smart in a fight, Renza. You don’t have strength or skill. But you’re fast. Being fast is good,” says Nouis.

“Why are you teaching me this?”

“Because it might save your life,” Nouis says softly, lifting his fingers to fall under my chin, “I never want to lose you, for any reason.”

He dips down, his lips so soft and sweet. I could melt into him for days. I lean into his embrace, resting my head on his shoulder. Warm and strong, his touch magically wipes all the stress away. Tonight’s exhaustion feels like lead weights on my eyelids.

We both lean back against my bed, and I rest my cheek on his warm chest. His steady heartbeat pulses softly in my ears.

Soothing. Predictable. Calm.

His strong arms around me feel so safe. So secure. Nouis rubs slow, lazy circles at the tip of my spine until I drift off into a deep but troubled sleep.