A Soul for Trouble Read online

  “I can’t really describe it, but yes.” Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his cloak. “It’s like I’ll never feel warm or happy again.”

  That’s one way to describe it. “Remember these sensations. If you have them again, you’ll know that undead are nearby. It may be the only warning you get.” A few minutes of silence passed before her muffled voice said, “Thank you for getting me away from whatever was shooting those arrows.”

  “Are you finally starting to believe me?”

  “Possibly.”

  He almost groaned. This girl was more stubborn than any previous Soulbearer he’d protected before. The gods must have sent her to try his patience.

  One of the boulders shifted in front of him. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he rubbed his eyes. Lady Luck, please let me be seeing things. The boulder moved again and raced toward them.

  ***

  A tingle shot down Arden’s spine a split second before the horse reared and tossed her to the ground. Pebbles dug into her flesh, and the stars danced in the sky above.

  “Get up before you get killed,” urged the voice in her head that was becoming all too familiar.

  She rolled to her side in time to see a pair of hooves kick up the dust in front of her. Fear rushed through her body, and she scrambled to her feet to escape the frenzied horse. The smell of rotting flesh intensified. Shadows coated the darkened surroundings, deepening the chaos around her. The clang of swords echoed nearby.

  “Trouble, behind you!”

  A shriek escaped from her mouth when she turned to see the man wielding a scythe. The blade sliced through the air. She jumped back. A whoosh of air rippled her tunic from the near miss. Sweet Lady Moon, he’s trying to kill me.

  “This brainless minion won’t kill you yet. I think he wants that honor. ”

  “Who wants that honor? ”

  The grey-skinned man swung the scythe again, forcing her back to avoid the blade.

  “The necromancer is standing about twenty feet behind you.” Her chest tightened. It was all true—everything Dev had tried to warn her about. Undead.

  Necromancers. And now they wanted her.

  “They only want you to get to me,” Loku continued.

  She twisted to avoid the blade and changed her direction. Like hell she was going to be herded like a mindless sheep. “That’s rather conceited of you to think that,” she said to him through clenched teeth while she focused on her attacker.

  “Didn’t I ever tell you that the world revolves around me? Life is dull without chaos.” If she weren’t inches from being slashed into ribbons by a man with glowing red eyes and scythe, she would have laughed. Her hand wrapped around the handle of the knife Dev had given her. The slim blade would probably shatter if she tried to block a blow with it, but at least she could flash it around and let her waxy-faced attacker know she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Maybe she’d even be lucky enough to draw blood.

  Other than her own, that is.

  A burst of flames ignited nearby, chasing away the darkness. Her heart pounded in her throat. Cinder was on fire. She ran toward the glowing wolf with the intention of extinguishing the inferno but stopped when she realized he was wasn’t in pain. Quite the contrary, actually.

  He seemed to attack the undead around them with renewed vigor.

  “Trouble!” Dev pointed behind her.

  Scythe-man caught the end of her braid as she whipped around, and her hair tumbled into her face.

  Several small pyres burned around her, and the number of attackers grew smaller. Dev struggled to avoid three of them while Cinder attacked two more.

  “Remember what Dev told you. Fire can kill undead. ”

  “But how—”

  “Gather it up inside you like you did in the inn and launch it at him.” If only she had a few seconds to cast the spell. The curved blade hissed through the air. Its wielder took a step toward her, directing her toward the dark-cloaked figure waiting on a boulder behind her.

  Fury at becoming a pawn in his game gnawed at her stomach until it burned. The heat travelled through her body from her core to her fingertips, building in intensity until her fingernails glowed like white-hot coals. With a strangled cry, she released the magic. Six fireballs erupted from her hands. Scythe-man moaned as the flames consumed his face, and he dropped to his knees.

  Arden grabbed his harvesting tool, swinging it with all the strength she could muster. The blade cut cleanly through the undead’s neck, and his head rolled across the ground.

  Waves of nausea enveloped her. What had she just done?

  “Very impressive, young Soulbearer,” a gravelly voice murmured behind her. “Loku chose well this time.”

  Although her lungs burned for air, her breath froze at the end of a shaky exhalation. She lifted her head. The necromancer glided toward her like a shadow of a large bird. An icy chill gripped her. Her hands shook when she raised the scythe. “Back away, or you’re next.” His laughter felt like thousands of ants crawling on her skin. Sparks of black lightning zapped between his fingers. “You think you can destroy me?”

  “Uh-oh. Time to put up a shield.”

  Before she understood what Loku meant, a bolt of the black lightning struck her. The scythe fell from her hands as she doubled over in pain. Searing blades tore at her insides, clawing their way to the surface. A black veil descended over her vision and, off in the distance, she heard her own screams.

  She had never prayed for death until that moment.

  An orange glow bloomed in front of her, and the torture ended. She slowly opened her eyes. A circle of flames surrounded the necromancer. Hooves thundered toward her.

  “Get your shield up now before he has a chance to mount another attack.”

  “A shield? ” A haze of exhaustion clouded her mind.

  “Imagine a barrier covering you that will block any magic that comes toward you.” She focused on the idea of a blanket wrapped tightly around her, one that could drive away the cold dread nibbling at her soul. She stretched it further, covering her head and limbs in its warmth. Her muscles unlocked. When a rough hand grabbed hers and pulled her onto the horse that galloped past her, she willingly molded her body to the task. The blanket doubled in size, enveloping Dev and his horse.

  Something collided with the shield. Her body jerked forward as if she had been punched, but her back and chest remained pain-free. She tightened her grip around Dev’s waist, burying her face in the folds of his cloak.

  The wind carried a whisper that penetrated her shield, coiled around her ear like a tendril of smoke. “Very impressive, little Soulbearer, but don’t worry. You’ll soon come crawling to me, and Loku will be mine.”

  Chapter 9

  Dev’s jaw began to unclench when the next farming town came into view. He had underestimated this necromancer, and Trouble had almost gotten killed because of it. The threat that followed them on the breeze served as a challenge.

  A yawn behind him also reminded him that he’d also underestimated the new Soulbearer.

  It was one thing to shoot a single fireball at an enemy, but six? Either she’d received some training in the magical arts, or she was more powerful than he first thought. Judging by Ranello’s hostile attitude toward mages, he placed his bet on the latter. He remembered what Loku had said about being drawn to her power. What did the god have in mind for her?

  He shook his head. Too many questions without answers. Fatigue sagged his shoulders, reminding him of how little sleep he’d gotten tonight. Maybe in the morning, the answers would appear more readily than they did now.

  Trouble yawned again, and the warm glow of her shield retreated from him. Its absence left a chill in its wake. He savored the remnants that pressed against his back. Yet another thing puzzling him. “Where did you learn to cast a shield?” And more importantly, why hadn’t she cast it before the necromancer attacked her?

  “Loku taught me.” Sleep laced her words.

  “St
ay awake until the sun comes up. We’ll be safe then.” Her arms tightened, but she didn’t say anything else. She must be weary not to ask her usual barrage of questions. He slid his hand over hers and let it linger there, enjoying the faint pulsations of her arteries that vibrated through his fingertips. The fact that this naïve little barmaid had managed to stay unharmed so far amazed him.

  “Your hands are warm,” she murmured.

  “Cold?”

  “I’m the one without a cloak here.”

  He chuckled at the return of her sarcasm. “And does Loku have a suggestion about how to get your own cloak?”

  A few seconds later, she tugged on the bottom of his cloak. She reached her arms under it and pressed her body close to his back. “Mmmm, better.”

  “Is this what Loku suggested?”

  She paused before drawing out the word, “No.”

  His curiosity rose, washing the fatigue away from his body for a brief while. “What did he suggest, then?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  The memory of the way her body writhed in bed caused him to inhale sharply. He had a pretty good idea of what Loku suggested. Blood rushed to his groin, and he shifted in the saddle to find a more comfortable position. Why did he torture himself this way? He should know better than to have such thoughts about the Soulbearer. Just because she was a woman didn’t change the fact that he was sworn to protect her, not take advantage of her.

  In an effort to distract himself from the temptation, he started forming a mental list of things he needed to get when they came to the next market town. Arden needed her own cloak, and they’d reach the coast quicker if his horse didn’t have to carry two people. Provisions for the road. Maybe even look into getting her a small sword.

  They rode until the first rays of dawn appeared on the horizon. The weak sunlight illuminated the tall red grass that waved in the breeze around them, turning it into a flaming sea. A necromancer’s powers weakened during the day, so Dev finally surrendered to his weariness. It would be safe to snatch a few hours of sleep while they could.

  He turned his horse off the road and cut through the grass toward a lone fig tree in the middle of the field.

  “Why are we stopping?”

  His lips twitched in response. “Would you rather sleep on horseback or on the ground?”

  “At this point, I don’t care.”

  He stopped the horse, dismounting. Once he secured the reins to the tree, he placed his bedroll on the ground and helped Trouble down. “You can sleep here.” She cocked her head to the side and blinked a few times. “Where will you sleep?”

  “Probably next to the tree.”

  Her brows furrowed together, but she stretched out on the bedroll and curled her thin body into a ball. “There’s still frost on the ground.” Her breath formed a white mist in the air when she spoke.

  “Do you want my cloak?” he asked as he removed the horse’s saddle.

  “But how will you stay warm?”

  Good question. As if he knew what they were talking about, Cinder lay down and leaned against her back. Not perfect, but his fur would at least keep her back warm.

  He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch her shiver. An idea formed in his mind, but he wondered if he had the willpower to carry it out without letting his guard down. He took a deep breath. Duty came before everything else, and right now, the Soulbearer was suffering.

  He sat next to her. “Would you mind sharing my cloak while you sleep? I promise I won’t do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

  “You mean you want to sleep with me?”

  Her large blue eyes focused on him, and he winced at her accusation. “No, I meant more like sleep next to you. But if that makes you cringe, I can go back over to the tree.”

  “No, wait.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward her. For a few seconds, she studied him before she added, “I trust you.”

  If only she knew some of the thoughts that had crossed his mind last night.

  He wrapped his cloak around the both of them. When he lowered his head, she cuddled closer to him.

  He shifted so his arm cradled her shoulders and the side of her face pressed against his chest. His muscles relaxed. Instead of being awkward, she fit so well next to him, it almost frightened him.

  She stopped shivering after a few minutes, and her warm breath tickled the side of his neck. Sleep claimed her, but before he joined her, he tried to ignore the nagging feeling that he could get entirely too comfortable with her presence.

  ***

  When Arden awoke, she was surprised to find herself sandwiched between Cinder and Dev. Not that she minded, initially. She appreciated the warm coziness of the situation. Then she realized she had draped her thigh over Dev’s and wrapped her arm around his chest.

  Perhaps there was such a thing as too cozy.

  “Admit it, my little Soulbearer. You like sleeping next to him or you wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

  She bolted up, but Dev’s hand snatched her wrist and pulled her back down against his rock-hard chest. “You’re not planning on running away, are you, Trouble?”

  “I will if you don’t stop calling me that.” She yanked her wrist free, sitting up. The sun shone high overhead through the branches of the fig tree, and the breeze rustled the red grass around them. “How long do you think we were asleep?”

  He raised his head and squinted at the sun. “I’d say about six or seven hours.” Thoughts of what happened the night before haunted her, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. The necromancer wanted her. She had called upon magic she didn’t know was possible for her to wield, and she had slept next to a man who hadn’t taken advantage of her.

  What was the world coming to?

  Laughter rang in her mind. “You wouldn’t have stopped him if he tried to take advantage of you. ”

  “You’re wrong.” She cast a sideways glance at Dev, and her cheeks burned. Would she have minded if Dev kissed like her like he had in his dream?

  “You are a wench in prude’s clothing,” Loku replied, followed by more laughter.

  Her hands bunched up into fists. “Will you stop implying that I’m nothing more than a common whore? I’m beginning to think the reason why the others went insane is because they had to listen to your constant stream of lewd insinuations.”

  “Is Loku misbehaving again?” Dev held out a piece of dried meat to her.

  She took it and tore off a bite. When it was soft enough to swallow, she replied, “How can you tell?”

  “The ring in your eyes flashes, followed by this expression on your face that can only be described as one of pure annoyance.”

  “Yes, you can say he’s pissing me off.”

  Cinder rested his head on her lap and fixed his ocher gaze on what was left of the piece of meat in her hand. She tossed it to him. It was too tough for her liking, anyway.

  “You’re going to spoil him if you keep doing that.”

  “And what’s so bad about that? I’d rather stay on his good side.” The wolf licked her fingertips. When he finished she ran her hands through his thick, rust-colored fur. No burns, no blisters, no evidence of what she’d witnessed last night. “Dev, did you heal Cinder?”

  “What do you mean?” He dropped the saddle and knelt next to them. Concern etched his face as he examined his pet. “Was he hurt?”

  “One of those undead set him on fire last night. How could you have missed that?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Cinder’s a fire wolf. He can ignite himself and use it to attack others, but the flames never hurt him.”

  The wolf panted with his tongue hanging out of his mouth like he was laughing at her, too.

  “I’ve never heard of such of thing.”

  “I’m not surprised,” he replied. “Fire wolves can only be found in the extreme northern reaches of Gravaria. About ten years ago, Robb killed one, leaving three young cubs without a mother. I took Cinder and found homes for the other two.�
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  “He’s getting up in age now, isn’t he?”

  That muffled chuckle answered her. “Cinder’s still a pup. Fire wolves easily live into their fifties.”

  She stood and combed through what was left of her tangled hair. Until last night, it had reached her waist. Now it fell just past her shoulders, reminding her of how close that scythe had come to her neck. “You wouldn’t happen to have something I could use to tie my hair back, do you?”

  “No, but I’m sure we’ll find something if we can make it to Pasella before nightfall.”

  “But Pasella is three days away from Wallus.”

  Dev tightened the saddle to his horse. “Yes, and in case you’ve forgotten, this is our third day together.”

  Her shoulder blades jerked back like someone had poked her in between them. Had they really been running for three days now? “Are we going to stay the night at Pasella?”

  “Absolutely not. From now on, we ride all night and sleep during the day somewhere off the main road. It’s safer that way.”

  A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. All her life, she’d heard stories of the large market town, and she wanted to have some time to explore it.

  “Yes, let’s linger there and wait for the necromancer to catch up with us. Brilliant idea. I can’t wait to spend eternity trapped in his body.” A shiver raced down her spine. No, she wasn’t in any hurry to meet up with the necromancer again. “Fine, we’ll keep moving.”

  “If it’s any consolation, there’s plenty to see in Gravaria for the first-time tourist. Me, I’m rather bored with it all, but that doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy it. ” She grinned and began wrapping up the bedroll. “Uh-oh, if we’re going to travel like this all the way to the coast, I’m not sure I want to have to huddle next to Dev every night for warmth. ”

  “Liar.”

  “Dev, do you think we’ll be able to find me a cloak and bedroll in Pasella?” He mounted his horse and extended his hand to her. “I’ve already thought of that. They’re both on my list of things to buy while we’re there.”