Page 8 of Soul Hate

T oday’s humidity proves once again that Fate hates me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be late trying to wrangle the chaotic mess on my head into a semi-respectable ponytail for my dinner with Nouis. My bedroom door swings open and the candles jump in shock as Giulia sweeps into the room.

“Shoes!” announces Giulia throwing several pairs onto the bed. “I’d go with these gold gladiator sandals, with the thicker heels. Nouis is tall; you can get away with some added height.”

“One moment.” I pull the last free strand away from my face, sliding a red pin into place. Hopefully that’ll be enough to lock it down for the night.

“You don’t think this is too much?” I sigh, assessing my reflection in the pearl-framed mirror. “This dinner is supposed to be as friends. I made a point of saying that to him…”

But I can’t deny when he’s around, I feel calmer. Not to mention how he didn’t hesitate to spring into action when I needed him outside the Grand Temple. How he didn’t complain, being exactly what I needed, when I needed it, without being asked.

Giulia shakes her head, grinning. “Not too much at all, but you have a stray.”

She marches over, every step makes her golden hair shine, smoothed into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck. I slump forwards as she deftly starts work on my head, wishing I had a tenth of her effortless grace.

Michelle appears in my doorframe, greeting me with a wicked grin.

“Did you kill him?”

Giulia throws her girlfriend a sharp look. Michelle smirks, not at all sorry as she presses a kiss to my sister’s cheek.

“What? That’s what the whole city wants to know,” Michelle teases, perching herself next to my vanity.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” I scowl, playing with the end of my sleeve.

Michelle lets out a whistle of appreciation and I’m almost able to hear her thoughts as she tries to keep them to herself. Michelle doesn’t have any semblance of a poker face. Most of the time I appreciate it.

Today is not one of those days.

“But!?” I push, folding my arms. She shrugs, looking down at her feet.

“My brother met his Soulhate a few years back. At my aunt’s wedding. Bludgeoned his head in right then and there, in front of the man’s wife and three kids. It was like he was possessed or something.”

Fate’s Fury! Michelle had never told me that before. I shudder, my stomach curdles … because I get it. Hadn’t I almost done the same thing yesterday? Children were present. His family had been there.

I twist my body to face her, one hand going to the warm wood vanity.

“Your point?”

Michelle hesitates before answering, looking for the right words. She holds up her hands, as if trying to remove herself a step from the words she says next.

“Do you think it wise to tempt Fate?”

“Coming from you? Seriously? You don’t even go to church!” Disbelief drains blood from my face as my jaw hangs open.

“True, I don’t go to the weekly service,” Michelle says. “I’ve never been able to find spiritual comfort sat in the pews of a temple, listening to some bishop or cardinal prattle on about scriptures I haven’t read. But of course I believe in Fate. It’s everywhere around us, all the time. I just prefer to worship the world around me by capturing its majesty with a brush and paint.”

“Well, it’s been decided now,” Giulia cuts in, giving us both meaningful looks. “Now Michelle, did you bring the earrings?”

“Yeah, right here,” says Michelle, pulling them from her trouser pockets. They had to be one of Uncle Ruggie’s creations; the dancing dragonflies are so delicate I can’t imagine another artist crafting them.

Giulia quickly pops them in for me. I study my reflection sceptically in the looking glass. The red slides gleam like a crimson crown, matching the soft vermillion organza dress Giulia had picked for me. My earrings glitter as they sweep the tips of my shoulders.

“What are you two doing tonight?” I ask them, tugging at the sleeves of my dress. I can already tell by their attire, however. Both wear gorgeous, shorter silk dresses with gleaming beaded belts.

“Dancing,” Michelle answers. “There’s a new drummer at the Castrum. We want to see if he’s any good. Plus, they’re doing a three for two deal on drinks if you arrive before ten thirty. Serra and Emilia are meeting us there.”

“Renza, you look perfect!” announces Giulia, with a flourish of her hand like she’s created her best work of art yet. A knock comes from my bedroom door.

My father leans on the doorframe, folding his arms and wearing a wry smile. He speaks quietly.

“Nouis has called his carriage around.”

“Excellent. Let go see what he’s got planned for your date,” grins Giulia, grabbing Michelle’s hand and darting from the room. I snort, shaking my head. Father raises one eyebrow, turning back to see me.

“I take it you’re going out this evening then.”

My heels clip against the wooden floor and I offer a playful shrug.

“Nouis and I are having dinner …as friends.”

“Good. You should be seen in public living your life like normal.”

I don’t know how to answer that. He’s not wrong, and I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t occurred to me already.

“But clearly this is more than as friends,” Father adds, taking in my attire. Self-consciously I run a hand over Giulia’s dress. When she wears this, it highlights her tiny waist and generous bust, the red organza fluttering like magic with each movement. She’s a knockout while I’m a child playing dress up.

“I should change. My black tunic is nice?—”

“Oh no, don’t keep that young man waiting. He’s already at the mercy of your sister,” chuckles Father, eyes glinting.

“Oh please, we both know he can handle Giulia,” I answer before blowing out my candles. Their warm smoke tickles my nostrils before I follow Father into the hallway. He nods slowly, something churning behind his eyes. He hesitates before he opens his mouth, locking his gaze on mine.

“Enjoy yourself this evening, but be careful, alright.” The warm wood creaks under our steps as we walk down the wide hallway, lined by creamy stone walls draped in rich tapestries.

I don’t blame his caution. The last few days have seen so much change, things feel like they’re almost spinning out of control. But Nouis has been so wonderful. So calm and caring, taking the chaos in his stride. I owe it to myself to at least give this a chance.

“Of course,” I promise as we come to the top of the staircase, and I lower a hand to the smooth wooden banister. “It’s just dinner, there’s no need to worry.”

“I’m your father, worrying is part of the job,” he says, planting a tender kiss on the side of my head. “Have fun, and try not to break his heart.”

I smile at him before turning and looking down the stairs. The mosaic floor below is arranged like a blossoming garden—one of my mother’s designs. Tall columns line the edges of the hall, wrapped with metallic flowering vines which ripple with amber and canary from the many candles they hold. My sister leans against the dark banister as she faces Nouis, seeming to capture his whole attention.

My throat goes tight at the sight of the tall, dark man waiting for me at the bottom of the steps.

Nouis’s gaze jumps up to me. His jaw goes slack, green eyes widening. I narrowly defeat the instinct to shuffle on my feet and tug at my dress, instead I slowly descend the steps, and give him a coy smile.

“Ah, here she is. Isn’t she beautiful?” chuckles Giulia as I reach them. I’m about to give my sister a snarky reply, but don’t get the chance.

“Beautiful is an understatement. You are stunning.” Nouis’s sparkling green eyes glint with mischief. My heart skips a beat as warm roses bloom over my cheeks. He offers me a hand, and as I wrap my fingers around his, goose bumps tingle up my arm.

“I hope Giulia hasn’t been giving you too hard a time,” I respond, eyes flickering to my golden sister.

“Not at all. Apparently, the plan for this evening even has her seal of approval.”

“Now that is impressive,” I tease.

We walk to the front door, Nouis opening it for me like the chivalrous gentleman he is. My eyebrows jump in surprise, my gaze cutting down to the small bundle wrapped in a plain blue muslin. I stoop, identifying the contents of the strange parcel as books.

“Did you order something?” asks Nouis confused, looking back inside. No one answers, so I guess not. I pull the three books free of their wrapping to inspect them.

The Art of Mind-Stilling by Eshin Shakya, Inner Peace by Khoa Saanvi and Your Relationship With Fate by Arif Mudaris.

“They’re foreign translations. Those two look like they’re from Malaya.” Nouis points to the first two titles. “Not sure about the other one.”

“Malaya?” I ask, eyes wide. That’s all the way past the Holy States to the West . “How do you know?”

“I’ve seen books like this before. When they stain their leather for books, it comes out this faded green colour, and their paper has this almost orange quality to it,” Nouis says, taking one of the books and raising it to his nose. He gives it a sniff and nods, holding it out for me. “See, it still smells kind of sweet from the sap they mix into the leather stain to give it the emerald colour.”

“Interesting,” I mutter, deciding not to sniff the books for myself.

“No note?” Michelle reappears, taking the book from Nouis’s grasp and flicking through the dusty pages. “These have to be at least a little expensive if they’ve come all the way from Malaya.”

“Well, it’s pretty clear who they’re for at least,” Giulia chimes in.

“That doesn’t forgo the politeness of a note,” I say, flicking open the first few pages, quickly scanning the foreword from Arif Mudaris. “But clearly someone wants to help me ‘take control’ of my relationship with Fate.”

“And here I thought going to the temple helped with that,” chuckles Nouis as though the concept is bizarre and unnecessary.

“There’s notes scribbled in the margins. Someone’s really studied this,” Michelle says, showing me the stranger’s scrawl. I close the book in my hands, shaking my head.

“Who would just leave books like this at the door without a word?” Giulia frowns. “It’s not like they’re common translations.” I shrug, handing them all over to my sister.

“A question for later. Right now, we’re leaving.”

“Indeed. Your carriage, signora,” Nouis says, wrapping his arm around mine again. He pulls me close as we step out into the night.

The warmth of his body radiates over me, chasing away any thought of a chill. I cast my head back to my sister who throws me an enthusiastic thumbs up, sharing giggles with Michelle as she shuts the front door to our home.

My head snaps back around to my date, stomach fluttering. His eyes trace my face as we stroll towards his carriage. Blood threatens to flood my cheeks, but thankfully he speaks, giving me something to focus on other than my frolicking pulse.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks as we settle into the plush carriage. I’m surrounded by luxurious, blue velvet cushioned seats. Two candles sit behind glass protectors and shower the small space in wriggling creamy gold. He eases next to me, his thigh pressing against mine and making my heartbeat crash against my ribs.

“Yes, in the end it was.”

He smiles, leaning closer. All thoughts drop from my mind, those sharp features cast in golden candlelight and inky shadow.

“It isn’t over yet.” His deep voice sends my stomach into somersaults. He knocks on the front wall, the carriage starting off.

“How was your day?” I ask, the jostling carriage seeming to push us closer together.

“I spent it reacquainting myself with Halice. It’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”

Pride floods up my spine and a warm smile spills across my face.

“Where did you go?”

“Well,” he says, running a finger over the back of my hand currently folded over my lap. All thoughts freeze in my head. Small sparks shoot up my arms as he makes small circles on my skin. “I went for a walk along the river. I had lunch at a lovely little cafe with live music near the Grand Temple. I handled some business. But, most importantly, I’m spending my evening with you. That’s the real highlight.”

Fresh memories of my childhood friend bringing me flowers and playing in the garden flood my mind’s eye. Walks by the river where we threw stones in the water and the times we ran away from my mother to explore Halice together. My cheeks are on fire. I dip my head, looking at him through my lashes. “You, sir, are a charmer.”

He ducks his head down, lips brushing against my ear. “I try. Particularly with you.”

His gorgeous face is inches from mine, green eyes sparkling even in the dim lighting.

Friends. We’re supposed to be friends . There is so much that won’t work here, too many factors. We can’t cross that threshold. We shouldn’t.

“So, where are you taking me?” I ask softly, trying to break this … this connection that seems to be taking us further and further to that point of no return.

“I hear the best restaurant in town overlooks the River Vitta. I made us a reservation.”

My eyes widen, delight flooding onto my tongue.

“Pulchra Tradite?”

“It’s promising that you’ve heard of it.”

Live music, the best wine, exquisite chefs. He’s really going all out.

The carriage journey doesn’t take long. As we walk towards the restaurant entrance, Nouis takes my arm, pulling me close to his side and shielding me from the cool breeze peeling off the river. He shortens his stride to suit mine without making it a big deal. The confidence of his gait and the generous greeting to the server only feed my rapid pulse and stretching smile.

We walk the long hallway to the central dining room. The circular area is made of large arches of stone, with shallow balconies looking over the river. The patrons are some of the city’s wealthiest, many watching as we’re shown to a small, intimate table right by a balcony. Outside the swirling lanterns of purple, blue, and green slowly trickle with the onyx water, the colours mingling and dancing beneath a clear, navy sky. The gentle strokes of the evening breeze send delicious tingles up and down my body, as I sit across from my handsome date.

“We should’ve gone somewhere more private. Save you the gossip this will cause.” Nouis’s brows pinching in question as his eyes dart around the crowd.

Guilt forms a knot in my throat. I’m not really using him, but it’s far more helpful if we do this in public.

“I can handle gossip. Besides you’re already staying with us.” I clear my throat, not quite able to meet his eye as the wine is poured. “Plus there are a hundred rumours floating around about why you’re in town. What’s the harm in adding one more?”

Nouis leans forwards, flashing me a wicked, intelligent smile.

“Is that your way of asking me what business I have here?”

“No, but now you’ve piqued my curiosity.” I pick up my glass, waiting for an answer. “Are you working with Cardinal Bellandi on something?”

Nouis chuckles. “Business before pleasure?”

“I’m always both.” I lean forwards, giving him my best sultry voice.

“Well, no, I’m not working with or for, or around, Cardinal Bellandi,” Nouis chuckles. “He asked for a favour and I didn’t see any reason why not. Besides I couldn’t pass up the chance to see Electi Renza Di Maineri in action.”

I laugh quietly, fixing him with a bright smile. “So how do you know him?”

“We’ve crossed paths a couple of times before, I think we’ve made small talk maybe five times?” Nouis shrugs. “But I was coming this way anyway. I’m actually here to assess some financial matters for the Holy Mother.”

“That required your attention in person?” My brow pulls together. Considering the tax bill Morteselli brought before us, I’m suddenly concerned about just how expensive the Spiritual Works in this city really are.

“When the Holy Mother speaks, you listen. When she tells you to go, you go,” Nouis explains wryly, before sipping his wine. “Particularly when she’s your aunt.”

I chuckle. “Sounds demanding.”

“She has every right to be. She raised me after the accident.” Nouis’s lips tighten and his tone holds forced levity. “Well, both she and my uncle. The two halves of my life, the Church and the Bank.”

Despite hiding it well, a familiar sadness seeps into his handsome face. It hits like a sucker punch. I reach across the table and wrap my fingers around his.

When a building collapses and the richest man in the Holy States is crushed to death, people talk. Particularly when that leaves a young boy of only twelve as his successor. The pain hovering in Nouis’s eyes is all too familiar. It’s lived in my reflection since my mother died. Not exactly the same… but no less sharp. I squeeze his fingers, lowering my voice softly.

“Let’s not dwell on old history.” He tries to wave off the heaviness.

“Old history leaves long scars. They hurt,” I say softly. He squeezes my fingers tight as the waiters set down some starters for our table.

“We both know that well enough,” he agrees gently.

Nouis flashes me a smile, turning to the food. The minute the smoked fish hits my tongue I can’t help but smile. The smoky salt mingles with the rich velvet of the wine like a symphony.

“So tell me, when you aren’t shaping this city in your image, what do you enjoy doing?”

“Being an Electi is an all-consuming honour. I don’t have much free time.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be utterly consuming—you’re here with me. What do you enjoy the most? You always enjoyed art and music and the theatre when we were younger. You’ve always been an avid supporter of the Garden.”

“That’s because the Garden will shape the future.” I gesture with my wine, feeling a flame beginning to flicker in my belly. “Our efforts have already secured Halice as the capital of innovation and art across the continent. Here, people are free to challenge the boundaries we think we know and change the world. Not to mention?—”

I cut myself off, a hand going to my face embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean this to turn into a lecture.”

“Not at all,” Nouis answers instantly, a spark lighting in his own eyes. “Never apologise for passion. No wonder you’re such a revered politician. You speak so well.”

My cheeks are sure to be the same shade as our wine.

“I take it then that you don’t like our Garden?”

“That would be a scandalous disservice.” He shakes his head emphatically, setting his wine glass down on the white linen tablecloth. “You know I love it, if not quite as much as you. I’m merely aware of its potential threat.”

“Threat?”

“Challenging boundaries isn’t always a great thing. Sometimes good can become great, but sometimes bad can also become worse.”

“And what about all the beauty it’s proven to bring?” I ask. “Is that not worth the potential of a little danger?”

“Hmm,” Nouis leans forwards, catching my gaze and locking me in with those warm green eyes. “Sitting across from you seems to make my position clear. Beauty like yours is absolutely worth a little danger.” Warmth flickers in my chest.

Nouis stands up. He sets his glass down and holds out his hand. “The next course won’t be out for a while. Dance with me?” he asks.

I hesitate a moment. I look up at him and find swallowing doesn’t alleviate the tightness in my throat. My palms are sweaty and my knees feel weak.

We’re supposed to just be friends. But friends can dance, right?

I gently lower my hand to his. Sparks fly up my arm, my heart picking up a speedy tempo. Fate’s Fury, how does he do it? How does he make me feel like this? A feeling that is enough to battle my sane logical arguments and my good reasons for wanting to hold back.

Nouis leads me to the small dance floor, already populated with a few other couples. He pulls me in close, his strong arm wrapping around my lower back. There are inches between us as he starts to lead. The strings’ serenade is sweet and soaring, the drum is slow, steady, and dependable.

His embrace is warm, his arms are secure. I’m floating. Our gazes lock and everything inside me drops; tension slipping from muscles I didn’t even know I had, my skin bursting with tiny exploding stars.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Nouis murmurs, his voice soft and inviting like a warm feather bed.

“You’re not so bad either.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so. You know, you never answered my question.” The warmth of his breath tickles the tip of my nose. I can’t think of anything except how beautiful his eyes are, and the closeness of his body to mine.

“Oh?”

“What’s your favourite thing to do in your spare time?”

“Same as everyone else I suppose?—”

Uncomfortable heat licks down my bones. I stop in my tracks, an itching spotlight appearing on the back of my head. Familiar, damning whispers flicker around the base of my skull.

“That bastard,” I hiss. A frown mars Nouis’s perfect face, before his eyes jump over to the entrance.

“Ah.” That noise tells me all he needs to. Patricelli.

“I’m sure he’ll leave,” I scowl.

“Actually, he’s heading this way.”

“What?” I spin around just as Idris arrives at my side. Outrage bolts through me like being doused in acid. His lips are thinned, eyes narrowed and glued to the floor. My hands shake, my entire body coiling and hardening.

Kill.

Rip out his throat.

Quick and easy. End this, once and for all.

Nouis shifts, slipping his shoulder in front of mine as he prepares to intervene. To protect me or hold me back, I’m not sure.

“Maineri,” Idris says in clipped greeting.

“Patricelli, what do you want?” I fight to keep my tone civil, though it still flirts with irritation. I turn my entire head away, glaring at the pretty floors. My muscles lessen their shaking even if I can’t unclench my fists.

“On any other night, I’d just leave, given that you were here first,” Idris explains. “However, tonight is my parents’ anniversary. It’s the first time I’m back in the city in almost a decade. I was hoping you’d agree to leave, as it’s a special occasion for my family.”

Change my plans? For him? Pah! Spite writhes on my tongue but I don’t release it. I swallow the poison and shuffle where I stand, searching for any position where my bones aren’t crawling.

I look anywhere but at Idris, and realise people are staring. Other dancers have stopped, tables have quieted. They’re waiting for the violence they all see as inevitable.

I grit my teeth together, stubbornness swelling like a storm. No. I won’t let the gods control me. Not like this.

Not ever.

“Fine,” I reply sharply. “But remember this favour Patricelli, because I will collect.”

I’m squeezing Nouis’s hand like a vice. I drop it, unable to look anywhere but the door as I leap for it, flying past the tables. My breath is fast. My lungs ache. My pulse feels like lightning under my skin.

I push past the staff until I’m outside. My rushing breath begins to slow as the cool air pulls all the disgust from it, dragging that toxic sensation from my body.

I double over with relief, reaching for a tall stone column to steady myself. Its coolness sucks any remaining venom from my fingers, washing the memory of Patricelli far away.

Footsteps approach behind me and I turn to see Nouis. His smile is careful, like he’s waiting for the influence of Patricelli to leave my mind.

“You … okay?”

I nod, rubbing my eyes. Shame crawls up my tongue. “I’m so sorry,” I groan. “I didn’t… I shouldn’t…”

A lump forms in my throat and my fingers itch to do something, anything. I pace back and forth, taking several deep breaths. This is going to be the rest of my life. Anywhere I go, I’m going to have to dance around Idris Patricelli. This hatred, this loathing can come anytime, any place. It’ll be with me forever. I was a fool to think he’d only be in the High Chamber.

Nouis takes my hand, and my head jumps up.

“Come on.” He tugs softly, pulling me towards the river. We leave the cobbled road and start down the worn path to the riverbank. The gravel crunches with each step, as we drift further and further away from the street. His warm fingers are woven through mine.

“Where are we going?” I enquire.

“Just follow me and you’ll see.” The moonlight sprays his eyes with a sheen of silver, as the world folds us in varying shades of navy. A smile creeps over my face as I follow him towards the giggling water. Above us, the sapphire sky bleeds into the river and lanterns of pink, green, and blue twirl lazily along their path. A stray breeze mingles with the overhanging willow trees, making each trail of leaves sway and dance.

“Better?” he asks, fingers still linked through mine as we stroll. The music from the restaurant floats out of the arched windows and balcony. The strings are so sweet, serenading the stars and the stream.

“Thank you for understanding,” I whisper. “I’m still … learning to deal with it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

My eyes lock with his. Nouis’s angular face is outlined in moonlight. That jaw is sharp enough to cut glass.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know you,” says Nouis softly, stepping closer to me. “You love this city, and this city loves you. Killing Idris Patricelli would cement a war between the Maineri and the Patricelli that could tear Halice apart. You’d never let that happen.”

A rush of relief floods through me. The intensity of it shocks me, rushing from my shoulders to my toes and pushing a gasp from my lips.

“Everyone thinks I’m mad. That a bloody, violent end is inevitable,” I admit, searching his face as if the answer would appear there. “I can’t help wondering if they’re right.”

Nouis seems to consider that for a moment.

“Maybe it will come to that. Maybe it won’t. But if it happens … I don’t think it’ll be a slip in your control. You’re much too strong for that.”

I can’t fight the smile itching itself onto my face.

Nouis takes my other hand and we stand almost chest to chest. His eyes sparkle with lantern light, his lips pulling into a crooked smile.

Friends.

We’re friends. This can’t work. We live in two different places and we think differently. What if this doesn’t work and we lose each other permanently?

“No matter your choice, you’ll have my support … should you need it.”

Friends. We’re friends. Only friends.

He leans closer but stops, his lips barely an inch from mine. His cologne of almonds and vanilla mingles with the fresh night air. “Renza, I would like to kiss you.”

Forget being friends. I push up on my toes, closing the distance between our lips. Sparks flurry up and down my spine. His mouth is soft, tender with each gentle movement. His arms circle around me, pulling me close so every line of my body is pressed against him. So secure, so strong. One of my hands snakes up to tangle amongst his dark hair, the stubble on his jaw brushing against mine.

His lips are patient, savouring and exploring. Like he refuses to rush a single moment he has with me. Eventually he breaks the kiss, both of us now breathing a little raggedly. My lips are red from the scratch of his stubble, but the sensation is glorious. Neither of us says anything, smiling at each other, soaking in the euphoria of the moment.

Standing here under the moonlight, safely wrapped in his arms, I can’t help but think: this is perfect. “Come on,” says Nouis pulling himself away. “I think Giulia and Michelle said they were going out dancing. If we hurry we can catch them up.”

And just like that, I let Nouis whisk me away for a night of drinking and dancing on the town.