Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1) Read online

  Splinter

  Trapped Souls: Book 1

  By Ricki Delaine

  www.rickidelaine.com

  An uncertain future …

  Theron’s time protecting the future Empress is ending. Lady Lynea is to marry the Emperor in two weeks, or so he’s been told. He’s carried out his duty, watching over the lady, guarding her … but everything changes when he learns that what he’s been told is a lie.

  Ria, the village outcast, never thought her forbidden visits to the palace grounds would really get her into trouble. But she finds herself neck deep in it the day she meets Theron, honored Protector of the lady. She’s not exactly sure how it happens, but before she knows it she’s tumbling into Theron’s frightening world, allied with him against an enemy they can’t hope to defeat.

  Prologue

  Two figures moved swiftly over a rocky surface, oblivious of the risky footing and the raging storm.

  The summer solstice was six days away. Dark clouds churned in a night sky where the moon was large and nearly full. Under that smoky gray and black, scarce light revealed the treacherous ground on the plateau. The fight had been minutes, but it seemed like hours. There was no audience to please here – each strike was swift and deadly, meant to end the confrontation quickly and without doubt.

  Cale followed through with the crescent kick, knocking his opponent backwards. It was dark, but the contact was solid. He felt the impact all the way up to his teeth. But the other recovered too quickly. Realizing the opening he’d left, Cale thrust away from his opponent, using a heel to bounce off the rock outcropping beside them. He was almost too late; his enemy spun, the wind of a heel kick slicing through the air in front of him. A second earlier, the blow would have landed. A blade would have followed.

  Lightning flashed, flickering reflections off of the jagged rock along the edge of the cliff. The thunder of the raging ocean below drowned away any useful sound. The man across from him, nearly invisible already in matte black clothing, would use that to his advantage. And indeed that was the case – raking his eyes around him, the young guardian could see that in his moment of distraction, his opponent had vanished. Cale’s mouth twisted in frustration. Breath harsh through his cowl, he sought any flicker of movement that might show his enemy.

  Those first moments of the battle had been telling. Cale knew with a horrible certainty that he was outclassed. It was only a matter of time before … there! From his right, a flicker of movement. Snatching a handful of throwing needles from the small pocket in his jacket, he flicked them in his opponent’s direction. He didn’t need to be precise, there were many, all coated with poison. He just needed luck and not much of that.

  Then a sound, barely there under the thrashing noise of the storm, made him look back. His enemy had fallen to one knee. Lightning, longer this time, lit the sky. It gave the young guardian a clear view of the next nightmarish moments as they burned their way into his brain.

  Cale watched a gloved, shaking hand reach up to remove the face mask. As though the man behind it could no longer draw air to breathe. Still anonymous behind his own mask, Cale’s eyes widened. He took in the familiar features of the man in front of him. His brother, Theron. It had been years, but he would know him anywhere.

  Goddess, no.

  Using those blades had been a desperate act, done through duty and honor to protect the treasure he guarded. It all burned to ash in the harsh light of the storm. Cale’s stomach lurched to see his brother in agony, the dull glint of metal scattered across his arm, his chest. Cursed lightning flashed again, showing an expression filled with shock. Eyes filled with pain.

  Theron stumbled backwards, toward the cliff’s edge.

  “No!” Cale launched forward but Theron lurched into a limping run. His brother must have glimpsed the edge between the land, the open space and the treacherous churning sea below it. He was heading for it.

  There’s no escape there, only death.

  A voice whispered in the back of his mind, it doesn’t matter. The poison is already flowing through his veins. His heart will stop.

  The sound of the storm and crash of the waves roared in the young man’s ears. Cale yelled, he wasn’t sure what, but it didn’t matter. Silently, never knowing who it was he’d fought, Theron fell into the dark. Over the storm and the smashing sound of the sea, Cale couldn’t hear the body hit.

  Tearing off his mask, Cale ran to the edge, straining to make out any detail in the dark waters below. It was too dark and too far down.

  There was only the rain and the relentless sound of the waves, crashing below.

  Chapter 1

  The room was still dark when he opened his eyes. He looked out the window. The glow where the sky met the horizon said it was time to get up. Taking a deep breath, Theron ran a hand through unruly black hair, rolling to his side to sit up. Though the crickets were silent at this time of morning, in the distance he heard the call of birds announcing the coming dawn.

  What was it the old man used to say? Dawn brings change, and new life. In other words, never give up hope. Theron’s mouth twisted at the thought.

  Well, in two weeks’ time the sun would rise on the summer solstice and his life wouldn’t be the same. He wasn’t sure how the whole “new life” thing was going to work, but in the meantime he had a duty to fulfill.

  Moving confidently in the dark, he made his way to the other side of the room. He didn’t bother lighting the lamp, finding his way through long habit. Dipping his hands briefly into the cool water in the worn porcelain washbasin sitting on the dresser, a scrub of the scented water across his face helped shake the dregs of sleep from his mind. It was quick after that to get ready for his work out, to shrug into the rough linen, slip on his leather tunic and pick up his boots as he stepped into the hallway.

  A parting glance through the window as he left, showed a sky already beginning to lighten.

  The servants would be in the kitchen by this hour. He had time for a quick breakfast to fuel him for his session. The hallways were silent and still until he reached the working areas of the palace. There, Theron could feel the muted bustle and energy of the servants preparing for the day. And as he neared the kitchens, he smiled when he heard the growl of a crusty old voice.

  “Tanner. Don’t be eating those, or I’ll take a switch to you.”

  Theron rounded the corner into a warmly lit room, just in time to see young Tanner cringe guiltily, but apologize readily enough (though he didn’t seem worried the old woman would make good on her threat). “Sorry, ma’am.” Sure enough, when the boy brought the tray of pastries over to the counter, the old cook looked at him with a grudging smile. She plucked one of the buttery rolls off the top of the pile and handed it to him. The boy’s delighted smile lit up his features. He trotted over to the wooden bench against the far wall to enjoy the treat. As the Protector stepped fully into the room, he saw amusement in the old woman’s eyes as she turned back to the stove.

  “Hilma. There won’t be any left for the nobles, at this rate.” The gray haired woman jumped, turning to him with a huff.

  “Theron! Don’t be smart with me, young sir. My kitchen, my rules. The day you start cooking for the palace is the day you can have your say.” He grinned. It was difficult to be intimidated, when the top of her head barely reached his chin. Besides, the sharp words were softened by the thread of warmth in her voice and the smile in her eyes. They’d had this exchange before, many times.

  While she spoke her hands were busy, plating some cold roast from the previous evening and one of the fresh warm rolls she’d handed the boy. Before Theron could muster a suitably sassy remark to the cook, she was handing over the plate and pushing him towa
rds the table. He raised his eyebrows. “You seem rushed today. Should I leave you to your work?”

  “No, no, don’t be silly. You’re not in the way. We’re just trying to get ahead on some things, for the …” She paused, looking at him with an odd expression. Clearing her throat, she finished, “for the upcoming celebration.”

  There was an emphasis on those last words that made the Protector frown. Still, he sat down at the table and was about to begin his meal when a young woman entered the room. She was small, with dark hair and dark eyes, like most of the people in the area. Theron knew she had probably worked at the palace for most of her young life. Had probably been born into it, in fact. It was the way things were. Normally, even Theron’s position was passed through family lines, but then, his situation had been … different.

  As the servant girl hurried into the room, her eyes landed on him. Her steps faltered and one side of his mouth turned up at the faint blush that brushed across the top of her cheeks. She blinked at him and stuttered, “Um, h-hello, my lord.” He cringed inwardly. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way people reacted to him, the girls (not that he was really complaining about that) and even the men. Everyone treated him like he was different (like he was better) when it couldn’t be further from the truth. They deferred to him, like he was one of the ruling class, bowing and scraping and “my lord”-ing him until he wanted to hit something.

  He tried to tell himself it was natural for people to do that. As a child, he’d had the same awe-like respect for his predecessor. He tried to tell himself that he’d earned it, just as his predecessor had.

  So instead of wincing or frowning, he smiled faintly and said, “Good morning, miss.”

  She blinked at the greeting, her eyes widening. Absently, she brushed at her dress, tugging at the simple cloth and trying to smooth out the wrinkles. She was cute. Grinning, Theron nodded at her, trying to convey with his eyes the hint that she should not forget she was on duty. It would be wise to greet the head of the kitchen. But he was already flinching inside, knowing the girl had taken too long to remember business. Moments later, the grumbling sound of the cook clearing her throat caught the fraying edge of the girl’s attention and she remembered the reason she’d come. Blushing fiercely now, she moved past him to the older woman, saying worriedly, “Hilma. The Emperor wishes his meal early today.”

  Hilma looked surprised and not a little unhappy. “What? He’s awake?”

  The young woman mirrored her, nodding, wringing her hands. It made Theron wonder as well, the Emperor never woke this early in the day. “Yes’m. And he is not his normal self. I fear it has to do with what is to happen with the lady, mum, and the upcoming –”

  “Well, yes, of course he’ll have his meal when he wants it,” the old woman cut her off, throwing a glance toward the table at which Theron sat. “Just a moment and we’ll have him something to tide him until the main meal.” Quickly gathering what she needed, Hilma added chilled fruit to a meal differing only in size from the one she’d made for Theron. Then she hefted the platter, saying sharply, “Tanner.” The boy hustled over, wiping the crumbs from his hands. The cook looked him over, making an annoyed sound and wiping her hands on a rag. She ran her fingers quickly through the lad’s hair. It didn’t do much for it, for as soon as her hands left it, it sprang back to its scruffy appearance. She sighed. Scrunching up his nose at the attention and apparently oblivious to the strained silence from the two women in the room, the servant boy took the Emperor’s meal and followed the young girl out of the room.

  Theron could not help but notice the awkward silence that descended on the kitchen after their departure. Knowing it was due to Hilma’s attempt to keep something from him did nothing to ease the strain of it.

  “Hilma.”

  “Don’t bother me now, son,” she said too quickly, “With his eminence up already, he’ll be expecting the morning meal that much sooner. My plans for today are completely undone.”

  “Hilma.” He stepped up beside the cook. She was making a show of rolling out some dough. The air of bustle was glaring in its lack of sincerity. Laying a hand on her shoulder, he tugged, turning her around to face him. “Do not hide things from me. I have to know of anything affecting the lady. You know that.”

  Quickly, the cook shook her head. “No, it’s nothing like that, lad. Nothing for you to worry about now,” and just as quickly, he saw her wince before turning back to her counter.

  “Now?”

  Mouth turning down, Hilma sighed again. “I meant nothing by it. It was just a slip of the tongue, lad.” She took a breath, and then said, “It’s nothing, just idle words traded by lazy servants.”

  “Don’t play with me, Hilma. It’s my duty to protect her.” Standing over her, dark eyes concerned and a bit angry, Theron watched her hesitate.

  They had known each other for six years and though the cook’s quick temper terrified the majority of those that served the Emperor, she had always treated Theron like a son. It seemed to make her happy, so he’d allowed Hilma’s smiles and warm affection. It helped him too, to fill the old, aching void his mother had left when she died. In all the time he’d known her, he had never seen this look, had never seen her act this way.

  Now she sighed, sitting down on the ragged wooden stool next to her, nodding. It made her seem older, and smaller, somehow. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, twisting uncomfortably. It took some time to explain the “nothing” she’d tried so desperately to keep from him. And when she was done, his food remained uneaten and forgotten. He bid her goodbye with a nod of his head. He could feel her eyes on him as he strode from the room, fists clenched and jaw tight.

  ˜ ˜ ˜

  Shaking strands of auburn hair from her eyes, Iriana peered over the wall, sweeping her gaze across the field bordering it.

  It wasn’t actually the field she was interested in. It was the building beyond it.

  The Imperial Palace.

  There were a lot of reasons she might want to be here. Beyond the fact that it represented the undying power of the Emperor, the building and its grounds were beautiful. The elegant white structure was constructed almost entirely of wood, topped with red terra cotta tile that sparkled in the sunlight. Each tile was handmade by a village craftsman and shaped to lie perfectly against one another, like the scales of the koi fish swimming lazily in the ponds sprinkled across the grounds.

  Her eyes swept the manicured lawn and over to the path that led to the gardens. There she saw stone bridges spanning the fishponds. More decorative than purposeful, they provided diversion to those of the Imperial house that wished it. So, yes. Beautiful.

  Moving her gaze back to the building, she sighed. If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t really its beauty or what it symbolized. Not really. Iriana couldn’t explain it. The palace drew her.

  It was an ache in her chest that never faded. After a cool night, when the sun struck the grass stretching out before the palace, it glittered. Some said forest sprites decorated the grass, hoping its beauty would hold back the darkness in the Emperor’s heart.

  Iriana didn’t know anything about the Emperor’s heart, but she had often been here, watching the grounds when the grass began to sparkle. If sprites did it, they were hidden to her eyes. In her daydreams she thought it looked like the emeralds that the country, Midorihiro, was known for.

  However it happened, it was as if gems littered the ground, flowing from edge to edge of the elegant compound. Today was one of those jewel-like mornings, so it was inevitable that Iriana would be near, drawn by the promise that maybe today she would understand why.

  Why she wanted … needed to be near. As if her soul were splintered, with some essential piece of her attached to this place.

  She had tried, really tried to ignore it, to stay away. Had managed it even, for years when she was younger and her mother forbid her from coming here. But she was eighteen now, and now that her mother was gone, she was truly alone. She could do as
she wished.

  Safely behind the wall, she watched a patrolling guard pace out of sight, already counting down when the next would appear. It was a dangerous thing, trespassing like this. Especially with the country in the grip of darkness, and only the Emperor’s upcoming wedding a bit of brightness for the people to grab onto. If she were caught, she would end up in the dungeon (if she lived that long). The guards were well armed. Most wore swords, all had daggers. She’d even seen the occasional bow. She shivered at the thought of who they might be aiming for with those. They were very protective of the Emperor.

  Squinting her eyes, she took a deep breath, pushing back that other feeling. The one that said there was something she needed to do here. It was an itch under her skin that grew worse the further away she was from the palace. It was just another thing that made avoiding this place a torture.

  Since she wasn’t one to torture anyone (not unless they deserved it and especially not herself), here she was. Maybe it was Destiny’s thread, dragging her back, time and again to the forbidden grounds – perhaps she was supposed to be here.

  Maybe, maybe not. Today, regardless of the temptation the view provided, it didn’t matter. Today she wasn’t heeding Destiny’s call.

  No, today, as it had been for the past two weeks, she came for an entirely different reason.

  It didn’t take long to cautiously sneak past the boundaries (and guards) to encroach on the forbidden land, heedless of the danger. Silent, nimble fingers grasping the crevices of the border wall. It took little effort to clamber over it; the rough-hewn stone was no real physical hindrance. Everyone in the province was aware of the consequences of breaching it, and life was difficult enough without the fear of the Emperor’s wrath. Rarely was anyone foolish enough to attempt what Iriana did so regularly.

  For Iriana, though, the dangerous behavior was so ingrained she barely recognized its lawlessness. For her, slipping in and out undiscovered had become almost second nature. Of course, it helped that the Emperor’s reputation had made the palace guards complacent. She pushed her hair away from her face and checked one last time that the way was clear. A well-timed sprint took her to her final hiding place undetected, and the young woman smirked as she settled into the protective foliage.