Soulbound Read online

  A red and black shield hung above the mantel, divided into quarters. Two gold bearcats stood rampant in the middle, and the Dahe motto was engraved around the gold edges: "Time dares us all, but forever does not yield; as the heart of Kattal beats, so do we."

  The wall to Tash's right was devoid of decoration except for the stained glass window, its blue and green panes arranged in the image of a tree. With the mauve curtains still open, light spilled over the two black chairs beside the window and the grey blankets draped over their curved backs and thick arms. The wall behind him was equally unadorned, save for the bed and two black bedside tables. A worn black chest sat at the foot of the bed, emptied of the blankets and linens it contained during the warmer months.

  The rest of the furniture in the room consisted of what stood against the wall to his left: a black chest of drawers that contained formal attire, a metal chest of weapons, and a wide armoire crafted from red wood darker than the colour of blood—a gift from Mayr's parents when he became Head of the Guard. The armoire's gold handles were exquisitely engraved with vines, and carved into the bottom of its doors were stalks and flowers with a bear cub sleeping among them, a look of contentment on its face.

  Tash could not help but smile. As hard as Mayr wanted to seem, his family would never stop seeing the softness in him. It was no different than the spiritual reverence Mayr rarely showed, except for the items on top of the armoire in their makeshift altar. Four gold statutes in the likeness of the Goddesses stood on either side of the glass keepsake box containing feathers Tash was certain came from Halataldris, the Father of All Birds. Around them were four thick white candles, a bowl of water next to a bowl of red earth, a crown of white flowers and white ribbons, a silver goblet and bowl for offerings, a silver matchbox, and incense in a clay bowl.

  Although Mayr said the altar was for Tash, he sensed there was more to it: a need for Mayr to connect to the Four on his own terms, without anyone to tell him how to show veneration. He never saw Mayr use the altar, yet the candles burned down whenever Tash traveled without Mayr, suggesting Mayr used the altar in secret. Perhaps he wanted to reconcile what Tash brought into their lives. Mayr had always doubted the Four's existence, but had come to realize the Goddesses were more than alive—They saw Mayr as much as They saw Tash.

  Tash shivered and turned back to his breakfast. His Uldana Trials had made it clear he was being watched. Emeraliss had stood at his side between the worlds of the dead and the living, giving him permission to abandon the strict rules of the priesthood. Not only had Emeraliss understood his struggles and gifted him with guiltless clarity, She had anointed him as a servant. His soul was bound to Emeraliss as much as it was to Mayr.

  Assuming that's true, what we are. Tash glanced at Mayr while they ate, debating the theory that they were soulbound. Deep down he wanted to believe they were more than two people who had stumbled across one another, taken by appearances and whatever drove them to love. He wanted to believe they were meant to be, regardless of the barriers posed by time and death. Such barriers had always been suspect to him, never endless, never absolute.

  "You're thinking again," Mayr said softly, tapping Tash's knuckles.

  "Just reflecting on what we have." Tash nibbled a flaky pastry and licked his lips as seductively as he could. "What about you? You're quiet." He leaned forward to suck glossy drops of bright red jam from Mayr's lips.

  Mayr blushed. "Thinking about what we want."

  "We?"

  The blush deepened. "What I want. For us."

  Tash scooted closer. Perched on the edge of his chair, he trapped Mayr's knees between his. "Which is?"

  Mayr caressed Tash's lips. "I know there are children who need homes—orphans we could take in—but is it wrong to want a child of our own, from us? Would it be terrible if we put off adopting for a little while and try something else? Am I really that insensitive?" He drew his fingertips along Tash's jaw, his brow furrowed. "Is it strange to want to raise a child of your bloodline above all others, even my own? To see a bit of you in their eyes whenever they look at me? How self-absorbed is that?"

  "You are not self-absorbed." Tash forced himself to breathe as he kissed the back of Mayr's hands. "Nor are you insensitive. You love deeply. It is not a violation of morality or a crime. I would beg Emeraliss for a chance to hold a child of yours in my arms and never let them go. I'd do anything to have it."

  Mayr's face brightened. "Yeah?"

  Tash leaned his forehead against Mayr's. "Yeah." He exhaled slowly and considered his next words. It was their only alternative, even if it unsettled him. "There's another option, one you mentioned after I first suggested having children, though perhaps only in jest."

  "Maybe." Mayr nuzzled Tash's cheek. "Or maybe I was hoping you'd see value in it."

  "I wouldn't put it past you." Tash leaned into Mayr's touch. "You and I… we feel something when a woman strikes our fancy, no different than men." He steadied Mayr's chin with one hand to look him in the eye. "So maybe that's our second option. Maybe our experience with Sarene was a way to open our hearts to something new. For others in our position, adoption is the only choice, but we could… if we could find someone… if someone were willing to be ours…"

  Mayr sighed and kissed Tash. "Ours," he echoed. "I wouldn't want to do it any other way."

  "And I wouldn't mind seeing you happy," Tash said, pulling Mayr into his arms. "You didn't have a fair chance with Iliane, not like what I want to give you."

  "Is it what we want, though? Can we share our bed for this? Share each other? Because I might get jealous, I'll be honest. If you start to prefer them over…" Mayr hugged Tash tight. "If we do this, we're in it together. Promise me that."

  "I'll swear to it however you need. No one can take me away from you, no matter what's between their legs."

  Laughing quietly, Mayr kissed Tash's throat. "I love when you talk crude."

  "I love when you fight for me."

  "So we'll do it? Not that we need to rush." Mayr lifted his head, his nose scrunched, tongue out. "I'm all for someone who's not Sarene. Someone we actually li—"

  Tash drowned the rest of Mayr's words with a kiss, hard and wet, weighted with moans. As Mayr sank into his embrace, Tash felt his annoyance bleed away between them, back into the past where it belonged.

  "We should finish eating," Tash said against Mayr's lips. "We're needed elsewhere."

  "Can't I just drag you back to bed and pretend no one else exists?"

  "If you want Pellon and Aeley to annoy you for the rest of the week, go right ahead."

  Mayr huffed. "I suppose you have a point." He pouted and dug into his food, stealing glances at Tash.

  Tash chuckled and worked through the rest of his meal, unable to forget the seriousness of their agreement. They would commit to a family, a shared life, a home. Everything he had given up had come back around.

  This time, there would be no running away.

  Chapter Five

  "What did you do?"

  Mayr grinned at Tash's question as they entered the ballroom. "Told you I had more plans."

  "Here I thought everyone had gone home." Tash peered around his veil, eyes narrowed. "What else don't I know?"

  "I can't tell you that." Mayr laced their fingers together and continued towards the elegantly dressed tables. All day he had let Tash think dinner would be a small affair with Tash's family. In truth, the number of guests had increased from the previous night's celebration of Tash's Uldana anniversary. "I figured they need to eat, so why not?"

  Tash's amused gaze suggested he believed nothing about Mayr's flimsy reasoning. As they neared the tables, all attention turned onto them. Almost everyone sat in their places from the previous night. The only differences were the switch in Mayr and Tash's placements and the additional guests.

  "Sure, now you grace us with your presence." Loftin twisted in his seat, throwing his arm over the curved back. His lips contorted as he scrunched his nose. "Figures. Whenever you pl
an these things, you starve everyone to tears first."

  Mayr led Tash to his seat and veered towards Loftin. "Only you, bane of all existence. Someone's got to torment you." He folded his arms, settling back on one heel behind Covran's chair. "Orlee won't let me test you in the ring, so I need to get my kicks somehow—older brother's prerogative and all."

  Estara jumped out of her seat and hurried around the furthest end of the table. The hem of her heavy teal gown swished along the floor, the toes of her scuffed black boots peeking out from beneath. "Oh, Loftin," she called, slowing on her approach. "Look at me for a moment."

  Loftin tensed and turned slowly. "What?"

  "Nothing much, just—" Estara's blue-grey eyes widened as she jammed a candied orange fruit the size of her fist into his mouth "—there, you're fed. Dinner's done. See you tomorrow." She patted his cheek and ran away before he could grab her, giggling on the way back to her seat.

  "Mama!" Dayla and Efae shouted in unison, their jaws dropped while Alith and Iliane howled with laughter.

  Chuckles and snorts sounded from the adults, save for Malary, who bowed his forehead into his palm and shook his head. Bremary threw up her arms in agreement and signaled her appreciation to Estara in a flurry of motions. Even Orlee's eyes were bright as she giggled behind her hand.

  Loftin blinked, the fruit clenched between his teeth. Arching one brow, he tilted his head and gazed around the table. "Wha?" he asked, drawing fresh laughter.

  Aeley grinned, her goblet tipped towards Loftin. "Never a dull bunch, I'll give you that." Beside her, Lira struggled to remain composed, her cheeks red, glance aglow with disbelief.

  Mayr gripped Loftin's neck and kissed the top of his head. "Love you, kid. You're such a good brother." After ruffling Loftin's black hair, he headed for his place between Aeley and Tash.

  The laughter quieted. Loftin removed the fruit from his mouth before sputtering and licking his lips. "Thanks. Love the hospitality here." He frowned at Aeley. "Weren't you supposed to save me? Something about protecting citizens from displays of public embarrassment?"

  Aeley shrugged. "Let me know if it stops being justifiable retribution and I'll think about it."

  Loftin huffed and stuck out his tongue. The next moment, he raised his goblet in her direction. "Here's to you knowing exactly what to say." When Aeley winked and nodded, he sipped his drink and flicked his fingers at Estara.

  A cleared throat silenced the room. "Perhaps it would be best to say the blessing now," Kee announced, pushing up from her seat, drink in hand.

  Murmurs of agreement followed. All except Renett stood, goblets held towards the food on the table, the thick aroma of herbs, butter, and smoked vegetable glazes filling the air.

  "To the Four Goddesses of life, being, and divine understanding," Kee started, loud and clear, "I ask for blessing upon this feast…"

  The rest of Kee's blessing was a dull mumble behind Mayr's thoughts. He clasped Tash's hand, his gaze falling to Tash's fingers. The marriage ring looked perfect on Tash's hand, as if it was always meant to be. There would be no doubt Tash was his, not anymore.

  "… Blessed be the Four," Kee finished.

  "Blessed be the Four," everyone else intoned before drinking and taking their seats.

  Excited chatter spread through the room. Food was passed around the table, but Mayr remained standing. Aeley's shrill whistle brought movement to a standstill.

  "Thanks." Mayr cleared his throat, daring to meet the curious stares. The wide smiles of Ress, Pellon, Aeley, Kee, and Armamae betrayed the secret they already knew. The joy in Iliane's eyes reeled him in. Perhaps she would appreciate the changes to come—maybe even enjoy the idea of being a sort-of sister.

  Reminded of the silence, he gripped his goblet of mead. "A few of you know why we're all here, and it's not only because we wanted to spend more time." Mayr flushed. "Not that we don't, it's just we—I—there's been a slight… change in plans." Silently cursing his nervousness, he held his goblet towards Tash. "So here it is: we’re getting married in the spring, and we'd like all of you to be there."

  The responding cheers and whistles echoed through the room, goblets hoisted in the air to the shouts of congratulations. Tash beamed before Mayr kissed him, the sweet gaffa nectar on his tongue a delectable complement to Mayr's bittersweet mead. Allaysia squealed. Her arm crept around Tash's waist to give him a squeeze.

  Mayr fell into his seat and leaned into Tash. "Love you."

  "And I you, troublemaker," Tash whispered, stealing another kiss.

  "But we love you both, all of us," Allaysia said.

  Tash and Mayr parted to look at her. She rested her chin on Tash's shoulder, her lightly painted face framed by soft brown and blonde curls. "This is the greatest news, and we've really needed it. After everything our family's been through…" Allaysia hugged Tash, her lips grazing his cheek. "It's good to see you so happy, Little Bird. Little Bear will love you real good."

  "Little Bear?" Mayr asked.

  Allaysia shrugged. "You've got the snarly defensiveness of a big, nasty bear but all the play of a cub. That's who you are to me, to us," she said. "I'd wager that's who you are to everyone."

  She had no idea how accurate she was. The image of a bear cub had been engraved in his furniture since childhood thanks to his mother's ability to read her children deeply. His heart warmed to hear Allaysia gift him with a nickname—her way of saying he was family. "Thanks, Ally." Mayr kissed her cheek.

  Allaysia's face lit up. "You're welcome." She straightened in her chair and accepted a bowl from Bremary. Quick words passed between them, accompanied by glances at Mayr and Tash for whatever reason.

  Mayr let out a long breath and sat back. His plans had fallen into place with less difficulty than anticipated. With his fear tamed, he worked mindlessly through the motions of accepting dishes from Tash, adding food to his plate, and passing the dishes to Aeley. His thoughts were scrambled, unable to remain still, no different than his body. He could not stop fidgeting.

  Once his plate was filled, he commanded himself to calm down. He picked through his dinner, snatching pieces of conversation. To his relief, Tash ate at a steady pace and conversed with a light, playful tone. Whatever ghosts silenced Tash the previous night had retreated.

  A quiet sigh slipped from Mayr as he studied the others at the end of the table. Betta's attention was on Iliane, but he suspected she was pleased by the news. Both he and Betta could be happy sharing Iliane, the only connection between them that truly mattered.

  He swept his focus towards the four new guests. Beside his mother sat Orae, the woman Mayr considered a second mother. When his parents had moved to Dahena to claim the land Malary inherited from his uncle, Orae had befriended them and welcomed them into the community. Since the accident that left Renett paralyzed, Orae visited the farm weekly to ensure Renett felt included in the bustle and blunders of society, a kindness for which Orae was aptly suited. She had owned a tavern in the village for as long as Mayr could remember, the business passed down from her mother as was the tradition set by the generations of foremothers before her.

  Age had caught up to Orae, yet she remained the headstrong woman who helped instill confidence in Mayr. Her long, white hair hung in narrow plaits with orange ribbons and gold beads woven throughout. The skin around her dark brown eyes was wrinkled, but her gaze was youthful as she grinned, listening to tales she would tease Mayr with later. Tiny in stature and frail only in appearance, her memory was long and sharp like her wit.

  Across the table from Orae were her youngest son, Liele, and his nine-year-old daughter, Girana. Given the amount of time Mayr had spent in the tavern over the years, Liele had become a good friend, mostly with the tavern bar and empty tankards between them.

  Yet it was the woman beside Orae that steadied Mayr's attention for countless moments: Arieve, Orae's granddaughter from her first marriage. Except for the shapely figure that teased Mayr's imagination and golden brown skin that became richer over time,
Arieve resembled her father, complete with the same gently lilted speech and feminine grace. Thick black-brown hair tumbled down her back in a mass of tamed curls and thin plaits, the blonde streaks throughout almost as white as the tablecloths. Long lashes framed her hazel eyes, their irises more green than brown, particularly around the middle. The outer rings of her eyes were a lush green like a field at the end of spring, fresh and alive. Warm. Deep enough to sink hearts, Mayr's included.

  Heat raced across Mayr's cheeks. He stared at his plate, unable to meet Arieve's gaze. Although she worked in the kitchen at the Dahe estate in the afternoons and evenings, then spent her nights managing Orae's tavern, he rarely saw Arieve as much as he wanted.

  A blessing in disguise, he reasoned, downing a hasty mouthful of mead. Arieve was a past of longing wrapped in the beauty of the present, a delicate fragment of temptation from his youth. She was a hope he had never shaken off, only hidden under layers of justification and doubt. Part of him would always be drawn to her, his feelings nestled in his jaded core. No one knew the truth, not even Tash.

  He might never know. I can't talk about it, let alone tell him. Mayr's blush continued to spread, its warmth creeping down his neck. Several times in his life, he had considered courting Arieve. Each time, he shied away and chose other women. Eventually he had stopped thinking about wooing her altogether.

  Still, he remembered being sixteen and fumbling his way into infatuation. Arieve's beaming smile and bright laugh had haunted him as much as her expressive eyes that suggested she saw leagues-deep into a person's spirit. By the time he was seventeen, he had fallen hard for her but reeled away, desperate to stop what could not begin. Only fourteen, Arieve had been too young, four years short of lawful marriageable age. Had he tried to court her, their parents would have intervened. Rather than part from her completely, he had offered her small gifts, long walks, and a horrible attempt at poetry to express what feelings he could.