A Soul For Trouble

Chapter 11

Dev blocked another swing and added one of his own. Trouble's sword barely met his before he tapped her shoulder. Sweat dripped down her face, and her breaths came in loud pants now. In the distance, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. She spun around, trying to attack him once again. He stood back, calmly parrying her assault.

This was their third night of combat training. So far, she'd proven to be a quick study. He only had to show her a maneuver once or twice before she mastered it. Aided by her cat-like reflexes, she was becoming a formidable opponent in short stretches of combat. The only thing she needed to work on was her stamina.

She swung and missed, leaving her body open for attack. He whacked her on the flank with the flat of his blade.

"Ow!" Her sword fell from her hands.

"You get sloppy when you get tired. Take a break."

She walked to a tree stump, still clutching her side, and sat with a grunt. "That's going to leave another bruise."

"Consider it a lesson learned. It's far better to be alive with a few bruises than to be dead."

"I'll try and keep that in mind when I can't find a comfortable sleeping position in the morning." She wiped the sweat off her face. "I'm just glad that spell of yours keeps the blades dull, or I'd be full of holes by now."

"Only by your own blade. In case you haven't noticed, most of my hits on you haven't been with the sharp edges."

She grimaced. "I've noticed. They leave bigger welts."

He studied her once again for any subtle signs of madness while she rested. Thankfully, he hadn't seen any yet.

His mind drifted back to the blacksmith's comments in Pasella. He waited for her to explain it to him, but so far, she hadn't. "Trouble, what did the blacksmith mean the other night about women obeying their blood and being cast aside?"

She flinched like he'd slapped her, and he realized too late that he shouldn't have asked. The insults were still too fresh. By Jussip, why had he insinuated that she would sleep with men for money? Deep inside, he knew the answer. She'd wounded his pride by proving she could pick his pocket without him noticing it, and he wanted to knock her down a few notches. And it had backfired.

To his surprise, she answered him. "In Ranello, women are under the control of their nearest male relative, or their 'blood.' Everything we have is owned by our blood. They arrange our marriages for us, and if they determine we can't be married off or if we bring shame to the family, they cast us aside." Her eyes never left the ground as she spoke.

"What a strange custom that is. In Gravaria, women have the same rights as men. In fact, our ruler is a woman, Empress Marist. But why did he call you a whore?"

Her head snapped up, and her mouth tightened into a thin line. "Women who've been cast aside have only one option available to them to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. And since it's quite obvious we're not related, he assumed the worst."

Dev shook his head. The sooner he got her out of this kingdom, the better.

She reached inside her tunic, playing with the gold pendant around her neck. Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a roll of thunder a few seconds later.

"Who is your blood? Your father?"

She froze. The halo in her eyes flashed golden, and her fist clamped around the pendant. "The man who sired me cast my mother aside and left her. Hal, my mother's cousin, took her in when she returned to Wallus pregnant with me, even though he wasn't obligated to do that. She'd left the village to foolishly find a better life for herself in Trivinus. Instead, all she got was a broken heart and bastard child."

"So, you have no idea who your father is?"

"Why should I care?" She jumped up to her feet and grabbed her sword. "That asshole took advantage of her."

He barely had time to grab his own sword and block her swing. The force of the blow sent vibrations up his arm into his shoulder, and he braced for the next thrust as he jumped to his feet.

Her upper lip curled in a snarl. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "He gave her fancy gifts and told her he'd love her forever in order to seduce her into his bed, and then he left her when she needed him the most. It was all a lie." She continued to swing her weapon in a blind rage, forcing him on the retreat.

Whoever her father was, he feared for the man's life if she ever found him. Her anger toward the man poured into her strikes.

"Even though Hal took her in, he never let her forget she'd been cast aside, and he resented having to be responsible for me. He forced her into other men's beds for the money to keep me fed and clothed. She would have never become a whore if my father had been man enough to take responsibility for his actions."

After a few more hits, fatigue set in. Her swings became less precise. At last, she made a mistake that allowed him to grab her sword arm and pin it behind her back.

"Let go of me! I'm not ready to surrender."

He pulled her closer to him so her body pressed against his. Tears streamed down her face, and a dull ache formed in his chest. So much pain in someone so young. She wrestled against him, but he held her even tighter. Her anger would continue to fester inside her and drive her closer to the abyss of insanity if she let it. She needed to be shown that if she let go of the past, she'd have so much to look forward to. And he vowed he would help her see that.

Her body stilled. The softness of her curves pressed against his chest. He stared down at her trembling lips. Why would anyone ever cast her aside? Lightning lit up the sky, driving away the shadows on her face for a brief second. The beauty of her spirit called to him. The sudden urge to kiss away her fears overwhelmed him.

The first raindrops pelted them from the heavens, but neither one of them moved. His head inched closer to hers. She lifted her chin, yielded to him. Just before she closed her eyes, the golden-green halo in them flashed, and she gasped.

Dev released her and backed away as if she'd burned him. Dear Jussip, what had he been thinking? She was the Soulbearer, and he'd almost given into his baser desires and kissed her. And judging by the flash he'd seen, Loku had witnessed his moment of weakness. Some protector he was turning out to be. Sometimes he couldn't even keep his head on straight when he was around her.

"I refuse to end up like her," Trouble whispered. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her confession. The rain ran down her hair, forming tiny rivulets along her clothes.

For the last century, he'd questioned the gods' wisdom when they'd punished him and made him the Soulbearer's protector. His duty had exposed him to the worst in humanity—the weakness, the greed, the cruelty. All things he had seen in himself at one point, but magnified threefold. And yet, as he stared at this fragile girl in front of him, he finally understood why fate had chosen him—to save her. "And you'll never have to, Arden. I promise you that."

A scream pierced the night, followed by the distant clang of swords. The familiar coldness of undead crawled up his spine.

Dev tightened his grip on his sword.