The Tenets in the Tattoos (The King's Swordsman Book 1) Read online

  Head turning slightly, she said, “As well as can be expected, I suppose.” Biting my lip, I dithered over how to proceed. She raised her eyes to mine, dark and full of pain. “You’re meeting your soul companion today, I hear.”

  It must have been the talk of the contingent. I felt my chest swell, but the enthusiasm was dampened. Lori had lost her soul companion recently, a short illness that no one expected. Having no idea what being bonded felt like, I had no way of framing what she was going through. It was said to be the worst pain, a terrible loss of half your spirit that greyed out all emotion thereafter, an ache that could never be salved. Breaking the bond hurt just as much, apparently, but a bond broken by an argument or a certain magic user called a soul searcher could be mended. A bond between spirits severed by death could never be repaired, only replaced with another.

  Lori sighed. “I’ll go down again to the soul searchers later. Might be that someone else is looking for – well, half a person, like me.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “You’re not half a person, Lori.”

  “As if you could—” She shook her head. “Forgive me, it’s been difficult. I finally understand what it must be like for you.”

  Blinking at her, I wondered at that. I didn’t feel like I was in pain.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever replace… him,” Lori said finally. “But I cannot live like this either.” She rejoined her closer friends, leaving me to my thoughts.

  The contingent went down to the mess hall for mid-sun meal, but I excused myself to return to the barracks. The Regular at the guard post gave me a simmering scowl, but at least he marked the movements at the gates as he should.

  The training grounds were empty, practice weapons and bales cleared away. Heat shimmered above the cobblestones to the barracks I shared with my contingent. Inside, I took a breath, thankful that it was still and quiet for once.

  I went straight to my bunk, close to the door. The placement in the barracks marked a man’s level in the contingent. I was close to promotion to sergeant, an open position. Our contingent had been without a sergeant for a while since Philo had been moved to the training contingent.

  I felt that my father danced along the edge of awarding me that promotion, except I couldn’t be promoted. I gritted my teeth. Technically, I couldn’t even call myself Special Forces. Entry to the most coveted section of the army reserved for protecting the king and his interests around the world required a test, the specifics of which were a closely guarded secret except that it involved one’s soul companion. Without one present, Captain Shard had pointed to my accomplishments and record for King Gough to grant me entry, but that was by dispensation.

  It didn’t sit well with me that my cohort had had to endure something I hadn’t, that I seemed to get in by exemption rather than by proving myself as they had. No matter. Once I had my soul by my side, everything would be smoothed over.

  I dressed in my best shirt and stood at parade attention in front of the mirror, knowing full well that I could keep this stance for a half-day, but I found myself nearly doubling up with nerves. Today! I would meet my soul companion and find out my true nature, today!

  I walked back through the castle gates, where that Regular was going to go cross-eyed glaring at me, and waited in the courtyard. I had wanted to meet the cavalcade at the King’s Lake, but I had been told by my father to give the king’s soul companion, Rose, and her daughter some time to arrive and settle.

  I paced back and forth. I didn’t want to sweat into my fresh reds, but nervous energy twitched and tumbled in my limbs. Before I knew it, I had begun practising a form I found difficult, trying again and again to execute it the way my father continually berated me to do it. I could almost hear Gavain laughing and taunting my efforts. I went harder and faster, closer and closer to the corner—

  I threw a punch just as someone emerged through the corridor, landing a solid hit on his cargo. Gasping, I lunged and caught him, but bottles tumbled and crashed to the floor. “Gods! Are you hale?” I asked.

  “Damn and blast. Lost it all!”

  I set the King’s Apothecarist, Aubin Tabreksson, on his feet. His usually scowling face flashed pure hatred before a more neutral expression fell back into place. He brushed his jerkin down and seemed unhurt, more upset that his bottles were broken, frowning at them as if they had insulted him personally.

  “Are you well, though?” I pressed.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I was practising. You’re too quiet, so I didn’t hear you coming.” My mouth thickened as it always did around the apothecarist.

  “That’s my fault, is it?” He unbuttoned his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. “Look at this mess. Do you have any idea how long it takes to steep turbrot? Of course you don’t.” He shook his head and bent down.

  I knelt to help. “Let me—”

  “Don’t.” Aubin grabbed my wrist hard, halting my hand stretching for the shards of glass. “You’re lucky you didn’t get any of that on you.”

  I frowned at the veiled threat, then realised he meant the contents of the bottles. It stank of mould and decay. I backed away, not wanting to get any on my uniform.

  He smirked, adding, “It’s highly acidic when it isn’t diluted. If that had splashed on you, well, we wouldn’t be talking. You’d be screaming.”

  “Why are you carrying that around?” I took another step back from the noxious fumes.

  “It has medicinal qualities. That means it fixes people,” he said slowly to me, as if I might have trouble understanding. “It’s not poison. No matter what you might have heard.” Pulling on gloves, he gingerly cradled the broken bottles. “It’s expensive, though. Damn and blast.”

  “I… How can I make amends?” I nearly bit my tongue. I swallowed, feeling the weight of mockery piling up between us.

  He gave me a look as if he were sizing me up for a casket before shaking his head. “I’ll add it to your balance sheet.” He picked up the sheared edges in curt movements.

  “I…” I squeezed my hands into fists. “I can make a full report to Captain Shard.”

  Aubin chuckled. “I’m not going to tell your father, sir.”

  I flushed, feeling the sting of sarcasm when he lingered on the “r” in calling me sir. I always felt like I lost a conversation with Aubin, as if it were a bout rather than a bandy of words.

  “What are you doing hereabouts anyway?” he asked.

  “Classified.”

  “Oho, is it?” He smirked again. “Lying in wait for assassins, no doubt.” He cocked his head. Moments later, I heard approaching footsteps. A small group.

  My heart pounded. Her.

  “Can … Can you clean that up later?” I herded him by the small of his back toward the corridor. His eyes narrowed but he inclined his head, and then I had to bolt from the shadowed corridor toward the King’s Lake to present in front of the wide colonnade.

  Here they were at last! King Gough himself seemed to be showing the girl around, his voice sonorous in explanation. I had my back to them, my heart thumping. Now, the moment had arrived, and it was all I could do to lock my knees upright.

  “And here,” announced Rose, her voice quivering with anticipation, “is a member of Special Forces we’d like you to meet.”

  “Is this some sort of set up?” There was an edge to her voice, one that made me frown. She was likely tired after her long journey. I smoothed my face.

  “Not … exactly, dear. Remember when I told you about things called ‘souls’?”

  My eyes bulged. How could she not know? I set my jaw, trying to maintain my composure. It was difficult when nerves rattled my bones and made my heart pound fast in my chest.

  “Oh yeah. Sure.” That surly snarl came again. I dismissed the thought with a shake of my head. I could not be having such ideas about my soul companion! I steadied my heartbeat as if going into battle.

  “Shardsson. Report!” Gough commanded.

  I whirled aro
und to face them in an attention stance.

  I had to use all my training to stay still. At first, I wanted to rush to them, rush to her, but when I saw them, I was hit by confusion.

  King Gough stood beaming in the doorway to the gallery, an expression he made seldom but which brightened his face when he did. Next to him was his soul companion, Rose, dancing from foot to foot. I had not seen much of her except to identify her by sight.

  Between them stood a little girl. The relationship with Rose was obvious, with the same nose and roundness to the cheeks. She was the size of a child, coming no higher than the epaulettes on the king’s shoulders, he himself being dwarfed by my height. She wore her hair loose in a tangle around her shoulders and sported culottes instead of a dress. Her red face was locked in a tight scowl. At first, I feared that to be her permanent expression, but the frown smoothed off her face and she regarded me with suspicion. Her eyes, a watery pale colour, took me in with arresting frankness.

  I went down onto one knee, staring at the floor to buy myself time. She was so small, she definitely couldn’t be my age despite the acute look in those round eyes. Besides, the soul of the next captain of Special Forces would be, well, taller than that! This could not be my soul companion.

  “Who are you… Um. Do I know you?” Her voice was just as small as she was.

  Rose squealed with glee. I raised my head just as the girl tumbled red-faced towards me. Standing up, I forced myself to stay still. “My lady, no. This is the first time we have been introduced.” I tried not to let my bearing show any of my disquiet.

  There had to have been a mistake. This couldn’t be her; she was nothing like how she was supposed to be. Loss tore my heart open. At least I was used to being alone, and I picked up that burden once again.

  She stared into my eyes. “I… Sorry, but, I mean, it does feel like I have met you, or I do know you from somewhere. I can’t…” She gulped.

  “I regret that you are mistaken,” I said firmly. Still, manners were manners, and while I’d have to ask a courtier like my sister Sylvia to be precise, the daughter of the king’s soul companion was probably due the same kind of greeting as a lady. I slowly put out my hand palm up to take hers so I could bow over it. It hovered between us, unanswered.

  “Yeah. Probably.” She shook her head.

  Rose looked between us. “But… You must be souls! This isn’t right. Gough, are there any other men around the same age who have yet to find their soul?”

  Disappointment closed my throat. This girl was not my soul either. Finding another potential candidate felt incredibly unlikely after all these turns. Crashing expectations soured my stomach. I knew it wasn’t her fault, but my anger couldn’t help turning her into a target. What aspect of me could she possibly represent? And what would she be like as a soul companion, anyway? All she looked to be was well-fed rather than well-bred.

  I still proffered my hand, holding it out in mid-air. Rose motioned her daughter to try again. I could have told the girl not to attempt to re-engage, it was clearly never going to be a match. We were too different: she was short, round and rumpled to my towering height and hard-won form.

  The girl peered up at me under her stubby lashes. Something stirred in me, the familiar longing. I thrust it down and away, as I always had throughout my life. Biting her lower lip, she flushed a little. I stayed still, setting my stance to be stone as she reached out.

  We both gasped as our hands touched. Hers clutched onto mine, and I hastily snatched my hand away. She overbalanced and stumbled. Waiting a heartbeat to make certain she would not fall on her face, I took a step back, my heart beating too fast. Her face lit up and she rushed toward me.

  Retreating, I bowed in haste to Gough and Rose. “My king. My lady.” I nodded at the girl. “Lady.” Turning smartly on my heel I marched off.

  “Wait! What?” Rose called after me.

  “I was so sure they would bond,” Gough said with a deep sigh.

  I closed my ears to them, my heart beating louder with every step I took.

  Chapter 2

  Screwing up the invitation to the royal dinner, I went to the mess hall to find my friends. I had been invited assuming that Rose’s daughter and I had bonded. Given that that hadn’t happened, I stayed away.

  I could hardly breathe as I paced up to Gavain and Aleric’s table. Aleric dropped his fork with a clatter. “What are you doing here?” He looked me up and down. “Thorrn, what did she do?”

  “It wasn’t her. She wasn’t my soul.” My throat closed. I could not speak further, or risk being unmanned.

  Gavain stood up, squeezing my shoulder hard. “Drink. That’s what we need here. Aleric, go get the first round.”

  After a few drinks, I felt my chest loosen. “It’s a good thing really. We didn’t see eye to eye. Literally.”

  “She had been travelling, you said?”

  “It wasn’t just her attire or condition. It was…” I waved my arms. “The whole thing. Her.”

  Gavain nodded slowly. “Ah, indeed. Certainly. It is a good thing that you’re not bonded, then. Especially if you felt nothing from her or toward her.” Nudging my drink closer, he leant in. “So go on then. I bet she was terribly rude.”

  I tried to smile at his effort to cheer me. “Well, she couldn’t even speak properly. Just stammered a few stumbling… things.” I snapped my fingers. “Sentences.”

  “Mm,” Gavain said. “Gods forbid we should stumble over words when we’re overwhelmed.”

  “She wasn’t overwhelmed, she was underwhelmed. I had the distinct impression she had no desire whatsoever to be here. Scowling and muttering, mumbling and sniping.”

  “Sounds unpleasant.”

  “It was! It was so awful. My round?”

  Gavain and Aleric begged off early. Nursing my drink, I stayed in the mess for a time, watching the castle relaxed into repose around me. The messengers still circulated but they were more circumspect, less brisk. As I walked from the mess outside to the barracks, a burst of laughter rang down from the upper levels. Probably the dinner in the Sun Room. The daughter of the king’s soul companion would be sat at the royal dining table, arms folded mutinously.

  Hesitating at the bottom of the stairs, I touched the tatters of the invitation.

  I turned away firmly, walking on, glad I wasn’t there to see her. It was likely my sister would have been invited; Sylvia was an accomplished courtier a few turns older than me, close enough in age to have been chosen to entertain Rose’s daughter. Sylvia would no doubt pass me the gossip.

  My stomach twisted. I had no desire to hear any more about that girl.

  I took a while to sleep and when I did, I had a familiar dream. It was a situation I often found myself in and a daydream I often had, taking place during some feast day, large lavish celebrations for all members of the castle and sometimes members of the public. If I wasn’t on the duty roster, I was allowed and indeed expected to attend as the captain’s son. In my reds and on my best behaviour, I could drink and feast and dance with the good and the great. My friends and I lived for such days; the food, the music and the beautiful women.

  In the dream, I stood waiting for my friends, about to enter whichever area had been set aside for the festivities this time. Usually it was the King’s Basin, or the courtyard, or sometimes even the training grounds. My friends would take longer to get ready; I was naturally handsome – a clean shirt and some pomade and I was magnetic to women. Smiling politely as ladies passed, I noted the ones whose glances lingered and whose fathers glowered at me, saluting the more beautiful ones.

  Whispers of my name and station and prospects would circulate. Fathers would look fondly at me before the night was out.

  And yet a space pulsed beside me. The space to be occupied by a bright, vivacious light in my life. My soul companion.

  “Excuse me?”

  I turned and our eyes met. Instant connection. She was here at last! And she would be talented beyond any measure, bringing pr
ide to my standing. She would have a reason, a good reason, for not being with me earlier. One that salved the heartache of waiting, the pain of seeing others with their souls, the emptiness in my heart walking to and from training, the loneliness of having no one to share my ambition. We would make our way into the world together. At last.

  Familiar pangs of loss accompanied me when I woke up at dawn. Shouldering the burden I had carried all my life thus far, I went about my morning, scrubbing my face and putting on my uniform. A passing glance in the mirror showed me what I knew myself to be: charismatic captain material. Except my gaze looked small and sad. I put on a smile as I made my way to training.

  Sat on the fence along the outside of the training field was Rose’s daughter. Her eyes were sandy, as if she had been awake most of the night, and she scanned the field, watching the troops and their souls assemble.

  “Gav,” I hissed as he passed me. Falling into position beside him, I ducked my head. “Walk normally.”

  “What are you doing?” Gavain frowned at the girl. “Are you…hiding? From her? Is that her?”

  “Yes.” I gritted my teeth. He smirked at me. Staying beside Gavain and Aleric, the only two whose height neared my own, would help camouflage me, but I had little hope of remaining incognito.

  Shard watched as we all gathered, sworn men and women and their souls, and when we were all assembled, he called me to his side. Trepidation lined my stomach as I approached.

  “That the girl?” he asked me.

  “Yes, that’s—” To my horror, he beckoned to her. Lowering my voice I said, “Shard, sir, we didn’t bond. That’s Rose’s daughter, but we didn’t—”

  “I heard what happened.” Shard spoke mildly, but disapproval came off him in waves. I bowed my head. It was not my fault my soul companion wasn’t here yet.

  The girl arrived in front of everyone, red-faced. My insides twisted.

  “Welcome,” Shard told her gruffly. “What’s your name?”

  “Evyn,” she said quietly, and Special Forces started laughing. A man’s name, popular in Dinahe. She flinched as if struck, looking down at the ground, her eyes reddening. Probably she would cry and flee. Being the subject of ridicule to a large group was not comfortable; I hoped that she would run back to her mother, and not be hanging over me.