Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1) Read online

  Any who use the ascard for aught but good shall burn in the Sinner’s Hereafter.

  He who turns his back on his countrymen shall burn in the Sinner’s Hereafter.

  Any woman unfaithful to her husband shall burn in the Sinner’s Hereafter.

  A panicked cry ripped from her throat. She yanked her hand away and fell back, landing hard on the cobbles in the courtyard.

  When she looked up, there was no one by the fountain.

  Her heart pounded and the sting of sulfur persisted in her nose. She grabbed her shawl, scrambled to her feet and ran back to the residence. At the stairwell, she sank panting on the bottom step and covered her mouth to muffle frantic sobs. Panic faded. When the frightened tears stopped, she stood and made her way up the stairs, still trembling like the last fall leaf clinging to its branch before the onslaught a rising storm.

  In the bedroom, she lit a candle and sat at her vanity. She checked her elbows in the mirror. Both had raw scrapes from her fall on the cobbles. She chewed at her lip as she dabbed them clean. How would she hide this from Jayce?

  She could heal them with ascard, but students were banned from using those skills outside of the academy until their third year. Punishment for breaking that rule wasn’t severe, but she couldn’t afford any negative attention.

  Ascard Watchmen, with their fine-tuned ability to sense ascard use, enforced that rule and other laws governing ascard use. Any use of ascard outside of healing was illegal and immoral, excepting the Watchmen themselves. They were the reason her father had Hadris teach her to hide her ascard ability. He hadn’t wanted them taking his daughter away. Now, with Hadris and her parents dead, she had to manage on her own. Her engagement protected her noble status. Becoming a healer gave her value in Caithin society.

  Do those things matter if I’m miserable?

  Jayce moaned in his sleep and her heart jumped.

  When he didn’t move, she relaxed and stared into the mirror. She could still see those glacial eyes piercing into her, the need in them powerful and captivating. The hand that held hers had been strong, but he hadn’t held her against her will.

  He asked for your help and you ran away.

  She scowled at the mirror then shuddered, remembering the smell of sulfur, the red glow, the broken landscape. There was power involved in this beyond her understanding, forbidden power that enticed her with the visage of a handsome stranger.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Indigo struggled from the depths of sleep to the sound of someone rapping on the front door. Early morning light crept in through the window and her gaze returned to the smudge in the corner. Tentative fingers touched her elbows. Her throat constricted when she felt abrasions there. It hadn’t been a dream.

  “Jayce!” Andrea’s voice bounced jubilant through the rooms. “Lord Caplin will be here any minute. He’s invited us on a picnic. I told him you two would come. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.”

  Indigo glowered. Jayce’s reply was far more cordial than it would be if she had made such plans without first consulting him. She threw back the covers. Despite her exhaustion, there was relief in knowing she wouldn’t have to face the day alone with him.

  She pulled on a blue dress with long, off-the-shoulder sleeves and an open back. It maintained the casual summery style they would expect from her while hiding evidence of her nocturnal outing. A glance in the mirror showed tired circles under her eyes that she did her best to conceal beneath a light powder. When she felt presentable, she opened the door to find Jayce reaching for it on the other side.

  He smiled, his hand hanging in the air where the handle had been. “I see you decided to get up?”

  Returning the smile, she offered her hand. He took it and kissed it. She would at least start the day with charming Jayce. Another small relief.

  He escorted her out front where Caplin already waited, indulging Andrea’s nervous prattle with a patient smile.

  Fondness bubbled up in Indigo like happy laughter.

  After her parents’ deaths, her Uncle Theron took her in, bringing her to the city with him on his frequent visits. She and Caplin spent long days together while Theron and Caplin’s father attended the royal council meetings of Caplin’s uncle, King Jerrin. They consumed hours making a game of trying to lose Caplin’s attendants in market crowds or racing horses down the river road. They were special days when she could forget what it meant to be a traitor’s daughter and just be a child. Now they were older and Caplin had his own seat on his uncle’s council, but those memories still connected them.

  Caplin beamed at her when they came down the steps in front of the building. His dark hair hung in deliberate disarray and the shadow of stubble gave a whisper of rebelliousness. His father detested the look, but court ladies fawned over him, a simpering bunch of lovebirds he’d more than mastered.

  His confident strides cut the distance between them then he bowed.

  She withdrew her hand from Jayce and curtsied with an overstated flourish, offering the hand to Caplin along with an impish grin to counter the formality of the gesture.

  “Lord Caplin Duvox.” She batted her lashes in playful mockery of the court ladies.

  “Lady Indigo Milan, you do look stunning.” He smothered her hand with an exaggerated kiss. “If not for the exquisite Lady Andrea, I’d woo you away from Lord Jayce.” He gave Jayce a good-natured wink.

  Seeing the storm rise in Jayce’s eyes, she withdrew her hand. “You jest sweetly, Caplin.”

  Andrea hurried forward and set a hand on Caplin’s arm. “Shall we be off?”

  “Certainly! Your carriage, my lady.”

  He took Andrea’s hand in his and spun her around, sweeping an arm out to present his new carriage drawn by a pair of matching blood bay geldings. Crafted with elegant sweeping lines and a deep red lacquer finish that darkened to black at the edges, the carriage looked fit for the king himself. It even had new heavier springs underneath designed to give the smoothest possible ride.

  Caplin watched Andrea, expectant. When she didn’t comment, the enthusiasm lighting his eyes began to fade and Indigo stepped forward, making a show of admiring the carriage.

  “It’s magnificent.”

  “Thank you.” Caplin gave her a troubled glance before offering Andrea a hand up into the waiting conveyance.

  They settled on cushioned velvet seats and the carriage rolled off, its motion akin to the rocking of a cradle on the cobbled streets. Indigo drew aside black brocade curtains and closed her eyes, letting the morning sun peek in the window to warm her face. The mysterious Lyran nobleman appeared in her mind as if his image were painted on the inside of her eyelids. Her pulse quickened.

  Who was he?

  A poke in her side startled her. She opened her eyes to find the others watching her. Although Caplin looked amused, Jayce was scowling and Andrea, sitting beside her, pursed her lips into a thin, disapproving line.

  “What?”

  “Lord Duvox was talking to you,” Andrea snapped.

  She turned to Caplin. “I’m sorry.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I only said that your uncle asked after you at council yesterday.”

  Theron was in Demin? Why hadn’t he come to see her? Was a brief visit too much to ask? She forced a polite smile. “I didn’t know he was in the city.”

  “He isn’t anymore. He did check after you though and said to let you know he’s impressed with your progress at the academy.”

  She flushed and started to pick at her nails. “Did he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s he off to now?”

  Caplin gave her an indulgent smile. “High Council business, my lady. You know I can’t talk about that.”

  She shrugged. It was worth a try. “Thank you. It’s nice to know he asked about me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Jayce frowned at them and she yearned to chastise him for his misguided jealousy, but that wasn’t appropriate, even among fri
ends. She turned to the window.

  They were passing through the bustling merchant district. Hawkers bellowed out the excellence of their wares while the smells of foods, spices, cured leathers, and other goods blended in an olfactory collage. She spotted a woman picking through an array of bright Kudan fabrics and imagined the textures of those extraordinary weaves under her own fingertips.

  Because Caithin had little direct contact with the Kudaness, many Lyran merchants turned a fine profit offering fabrics and rare spices from the desert tribes of Kudan alongside their Lyran goods. Those merchants all bore traits of the pureblooded Lyran, though the influence of other races was always apparent. The stubble of a beard there, dark eyes on another, one with a round face and dark hair. The slave trade discouraged most pureblooded Lyrans from crossing the Gilded Straight by choice.

  The man by the fountain had been pureblooded Lyran. That was reason enough to doubt the encounter. Still, the light fabric of her dress catching upon the scrapes on her elbows was hard to dismiss. Was it possible she had injured herself fleeing her own imagination?

  After the guards waved them through the city gates, they followed a rutted trade road meandering along open farmland on one side and eventually turned into a sheltered meadow within the line of trees bordering the river on the other. A thicket of willows gathered around the meadow like a ring of bearded scholars standing in silent contemplation, blocking out sounds of traffic going to and from the city. The footman set out a blanket and spread of food in the shade. Goblets of wine leaned, precarious on the uneven ground around plates piled with fresh fruit, teacakes, crisp bread, meat paste and an uncommon array of cheeses. Picnicking with Caplin had a distinct flavor of luxury.

  Indigo savored some meat paste on crisp bread and listened, finding little to pique her interest today in talk of politics and local gossip. At a lull in conversation, she excused herself to go sit by the river where she pulled off her shoes and dipped her toes into the cool water.

  Andrea joined her a few minutes later. “Are you better today?”

  Indigo gazed at her inconstant reflection in the water’s surface. She looked the same, but she felt like a fledgling poised on the edge of a cliff, knowing that a step forward could bring death or glorious flight. She kicked her foot, disrupting the reflection.

  “I had a restless night, but I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you should talk to a healer.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow.”

  “I think you should.” Andrea reached over and squeezed Indigo’s shoulder. Then she pulled her own shoes off and dipped her toes in the water with a squeak of surprise. “It’s cold.”

  Jayce and Caplin sauntered off chatting. After the footman collected the remains of their meal, Indigo and Andrea pulled the blanket into the sun and laid on it.

  Indigo closed her eyes, her thoughts turning to the Lyran man. He’d asked for her help. What help did he need that she could provide?

  The Lyran people possessed knowledge of ascard use far beyond healing. Knowledge Caithin’s leadership went to great lengths to keep away from the populace. Citizens with the ability to manipulate ascard energy were taken to one of the larger cities to train as healers, or, when appropriate, as Ascard Watchmen.

  Her father hadn’t wanted that future for her. He fought to abolish slavery, leading raids on slave camps and caravans. During one of those raids, he hired a freed slave to teach her to hide her ascard ability. An elegant and kind, yet firm teacher, Hadris had been a pureblooded Lyran noble and adept prior to being condemned to slavery for a crime she said she didn’t commit.

  Perhaps the stranger was also an adept. The possibility was exciting and frightening. If she were of a bolder disposition, she might not have fled, but what would have happened then? Thinking about it made her gut clench. Memories of Hadris shoved to her knees before a headsman’s blade brought a cold sweat to her palms. The last thing she needed was to be caught associating with another Lyran adept.

  *

  “Indigo.”

  She woke to the murmur of her name. Jayce leaned over her. The sun had moved well across the sky. It was late afternoon. Accepting his offered hand, she let him help her to her feet. They joined Andrea and Caplin by the carriage as the footman went to gather the blanket.

  “You looked so peaceful we didn’t want to disturb you,” Caplin said, “but I must get back.”

  “I apologize. I didn’t intend to fall asleep.”

  He waved the apology off and offered Andrea a hand up into the carriage.

  On the return trip, Andrea leaned on Caplin and he rested an arm around her shoulders. When he caught Indigo’s eyes, she gave a subtle nod in approval of the match. He smiled back and continued his conversation with Jayce.

  Indigo gazed out into the fading light.

  They were passing a slave wagon fitted with a large rusted cage in which five men and two women huddled. She searched their features for a glimpse of the beauty and strength she’d seen in the man by the fountain. They were dirty, their clothes threadbare and their eyes shadowed. Something, perhaps nothing more profound than their natural lack of facial hair, gave the men an air of refinement out of place in the rusty enclosure. One of the women looked at Indigo. Pride and stubborn defiance shone in her pale eyes. Untouchable beauty rose from the strength there.

  Tears stung Indigo’s eyes.

  “More of Raving Rylan’s discards,” Andrea muttered.

  Indigo bristled. Her father’s voice rang out in her mind. Never judge by appearances, child. The important differences are within.

  A belief he lived and died by, fighting the slave trade until it put him in his grave. She admired his conviction, even if it left her life in chaos.

  A crush of sorrow made her turn from the Lyran woman. The man next to the fountain couldn’t have been real. There were no pureblooded Lyrans in Caithin who weren’t slaves aside from the rare dignitary come to treat with the king. Such a man wouldn’t wander the nighttime streets unguarded.

  She blinked back tears. The prospect of losing her mind didn’t bother her as much as that of never seeing him again.

  *

  She and Jayce supped that evening in silence. Invested in her brooding, she neglected to acknowledge that he’d slipped into a darker mood. The silence suited her. When she rose to go to bed, he stood, bumping the table so it scraped the floor, and grabbed her arm. Startled, she jerked away.

  His eyes narrowed, a storm of emotion boiling in them. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

  She shook her head, confused. “Jealous of whom?”

  “Andrea. I saw you and Caplin share your little moment in the carriage.”

  Frustration flashed like lighting, bowling over caution. “Caplin and I have been friends for years. How can you be such a fool?”

  She hit the floor, her raw elbows stinging with the fresh impact. Shaking fingers touched her lip. They came away smeared with red. She stared up at Jayce. He shifted his feet, his hand still balled into a fist. Then he sneered.

  “That’s what you get for provoking me all the time!”

  His words burned through her daze. She spit blood at his feet. “Provoking you!”

  Using a chair for balance, she got to her feet.

  “Yes!” He threw a hand in the air, warming to the argument. “Dressing like you’re on the market. Flirting all the time. Going to that ridiculous academy.”

  She backed away, shaking so hard her legs threatened to give out. “I’ve always been faithful to you and I have no choice about my training.”

  His gaze flickered from her eyes to the hand reaching behind her toward the front door. “What are you doing?”

  “Going for a walk.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She continued backing toward the door. He lunged, grabbing her arm. While his balance was forward, she twisted away, forcing him to release her to keep from falling. She yanked open the door and ran down the stairs, rushing out into darkness. He screamed
her name into the street a few seconds later, but she didn’t slow, running blind through the tears in her eyes. She sped past two couples strolling in the moonlit streets and a well-lit house where a gathering had spilled out the front door. The sounds of merriment amplified her misery.

  When she reached the Healer’s Courtyard, it was dark and empty, like the hollow in her chest. She sank against the edge of the lower pool and pulled her knees in, clenching her teeth against more tears.

  The Lyran stranger wasn’t there. He’d been a hallucination. She had skinned her elbows on the cobbles fleeing her own desperate imagination.

  Tears burst free. There was nowhere to go from here, nowhere except back.

  “Help me.”

  Her heart stuttered. She looked up. Her lungs constricted when she met his eyes.

  “What are you?”

  “Come with me and I’ll tell you.”

  When she didn’t move, he knelt beside her and she sank willingly into his beautiful eyes.

  I would go anywhere with you. Away from here. Away from Jayce and this endless apprehension. She yearned to say the words, but memories of the molten landscape stopped them in her throat.

  “Don’t be afraid.” He brushed tears from her cheeks with careful fingers.

  At his touch, her head began to spin. She closed her eyes. He took her hands and guided her to her feet, his effortless strength both shocking and comforting. The smell of sulfur filled the air and oppressive heat closed in again. She whimpered, afraid to look. Then his lips touched hers.

  The brief flare of indignation at his inappropriate advance faded before pleasure and a desire to prolong the tender contact. When he moved away, the spinning stopped and she opened her eyes. She could breathe again, but the black, broken landscape surrounded them.

  Fear rushed back in. “No.”

  He took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Stay with me.”

  She grabbed his wrists. “I don’t want to be here. It’s...” His charmed smile baffled her to silence.