The Pawn and The Puppet (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 1)

“Do you believe in soul mates or not, princess?”

I decided to start my morning off with Niles to distract my current river of paranoid thoughts. What happened with Aurick and Masten was—confusing. I don’t want to walk into Dessin’s room with this on my mind. I have to bury it.

Soul mates… I think on the subject like it’s a foreign topic I haven’t explored yet. Soul mates? I’m not even really sure what that means, what it entails. Is it a fairy tale, a myth, a fact of life? The goal in life? I look back at him with innocent eyes, pondering over the thought.

“I’ve never thought about it,” I mutter partly to him, partly to myself. I am curious to hear his opinion on the matter.

“Allow me to paint you a picture.” He sets his tea down. “When we are brought into this world, our bodies are cages, inside we have a spirit, a soul that is greater than the sinfully tempted flesh that embodies us. That soul was created with a twin, so to speak, and those two souls are divinely bound through life, through death, through as many obstacles as existence can bring upon us. When we are born, we begin our paths to find our other half. It’s a subconscious action we are not in control of. It’s a force greater than this body.” He grips his white shirt with a soothing passion.

“The love that is born between the two cannot be mistaken for anything else. It’s not something you can choose or resist. It’s beyond our willpower.” He loses himself in thought.

“How do you know if you found that person?” I ask.

He sighs, caressing the back of his hand in deep thought. “Because, once you find them, there is no life without them.”

We think about this, comfortable with the silence.

“I’m scared.” It’s true, but I certainly did not mean to say it out loud. What am I doing with Aurick? He said he was my friend, and that was all he wanted—if that’s true, why would Masten say wife? The tension between us is starting to bury me under a constant coat of stress.

“What do you have to fear? You are long and lean and feline. You could summon anyone into your bedroom with a blink of an eye,” Niles assures me with a wink.

But that’s just it. I don’t have a bedroom to sleep in without Aurick.

~

Dessin is lying down, arms behind his head, shackles and all. He looks down from his gaze at the ceiling to peer at me. A warm sensation drapes over my body.

“Hi,” I greet, setting my clipboard down beside his chair.

“New necklace?” he observes.

I look down at the silver chain around my neck with a single diamond hanging at the center of my chest. Aurick laid it out for me this morning with a new pink glass bottle of perfume resting next to it. I adjust my stare back up to him.

“An apology diamond,” he states. “How original…” He sits up, trying to maneuver the shackles open.

That’s exactly what it is. An apology for how Masten treated me.

I sit next to him to help speed up the process. “I see you made it out of the storm alive.”

He glues his eyes to my hands as I try to help. “Did you tell Aurick where you really were?”

I give him a sidelong glance. “I told him where I was. Partially.” I give up and let him undo the shackles, realizing I have no idea how he does it without a key. “Thank you,” I say as I reach my chair. “For reminding me to see my father.”

He nods his head and tilts his chin upward. “What did you need to ask me?”

“What?”

He leans forward. “I know there is something you want my opinion about, so let’s hear it.”

“Are you going to tell me how you know I need to ask something?”

He rolls his wrists. Lifts his chin. “You keep clenching your jaw shut and pursing your lips, which means you’re holding back from saying something. You also lean forward slightly when you’re getting ready to ask a question. There, satisfied?”

My eyes widen. A smile uncontrollably appears on my face. “Yes, quite satisfied.” I bite my bottom lip. There is no casually bringing anything up with him. I’m still getting the hang of it.

“Are men…” I avert my eyes to the ceiling, crack my neck. “Are men allowed to harm women—here?”

“Come again?” He narrows his eyes into small slits. “Why would you ask that?”

“Last night, after I got home, I went to examine my findings from the tower in Aurick’s attic. And—something odd happened.”

He blinks twice, leans his elbows on top of his knees, and clasps his hands together. A sharp look of impatience bolting across his eyes.

“I met his close friend in the hallway when I was done, and they thought I was snooping through Aurick’s personal items in storage. They were upset… And his friend…”

“Skylenna, my patience is wearing thin,” he seethes.

“He said that I was lucky I wasn’t struck in the face or getting the paddle for what I did. And that because I’m a woman living with him—I could be his wife one day—so I should be disciplined daily.”

Dessin is on his feet, looming over me like a heart attack.

“And then he grabbed me by my hair to scare me,” I finish, realizing there may be more occasions where I run into Masten.

“He put his hands on you?!” he growls, hands gripping the arms of my chair.

I nod.

“And your precious friend did nothing?”

I shake my head.

“So help me God…” He tears himself away from me, swearing under his breath. He paces the length of the room with his muscular chest rising in anger, his deliberate steps claiming each section of the floor with power and dominance.

He stops before the completion of his next step and glances at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately. I didn’t think he would react this way. I genuinely wanted to know if that was normal, but seeing him boil over in fury is as flattering as it is confusing. Does he actually mean to show me he cares? Because, if this reaction is anything, it’s concern for me.

He nods and continues to pace.

“Is it normal?” I ask. Standing up to intervene in his narrow pathway of agitated pacing. “To strike a woman? Is it acceptable?”

He stops in front of me, eyes falling to my expression, which fails to hide my fear.

“Yes, it’s normal, and it’s acceptable to this society,” he states clearly, lowering his gaze to level with mine. “But no, it’s not normal. It’s not acceptable. It’s unforgivable—to me.”

I tread backward, sinking back into my seat. “I am never to escape the violent hands of a man, am I?”

If I have to go through it again, I might die of despair.

Dessin kneels to my side urgently. “Look at me,” he orders, “if he ever strikes you… You tell me immediately. I will cut off every piece of him that he believes makes him a man and shove it into his mouth until he asphyxiates.”

My mouth hangs open in shock from the finely painted visual.

“For his sake, I hope it never comes to that,” I say.

He looks away, taking in a choppy breath, trying to calm down.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” I ask.

His tightened jaw and furrowed brow fade away like a cloud from a hot summer sky. A side smirk of amusement tempts his lips.

“Soul mates?”

“I was told today that we spend our lives searching for another soul that we are divinely made for. And the love that is born between the two cannot be mistaken for anything else.” Why have I decided to share Niles’s love advice? Not sure, it spilled out without any rhyme or reason, ejecting from my throat like a tidal wave. “I asked, how do you know if you’ve found them? And they said—because once you have, there is no life without them.”

Dessin stares at me, licking his lips as he tilts his head to the side.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I want to know if you believe in soul mates.”

“I have never thought about it.”

“That’s a shame.”

“I can imagine you heard this theory from the patient in room four. The magical cherub that shoots arrows in asses.” I force down the tickle of amusement, the smile wanting to spread. “Do you believe in it?” he asks.

“I want to. The notion of someone who understands me—protects me—knows my heart well is—beautiful. I hope it’s true.” And I mean it. I wonder if there will ever be a human alive who knows my heart, passions, secrets, and demons through and through.

But I stare a moment too long, and there’s a question that sings like a violin between us. The one neither of us wants to acknowledge, but it’s here, all the same, waiting to be noticed.