A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 2

Soren

“You’ve been summoned.” Three words no one wanted to hear, especially as I was attempting to take a few blissful moments away from idiocy and stubbornness to slip into the one corner of this hell hole I enjoyed.

I ran my hands over my shaved hair, pushing away the warm water of the baths. “Who asked?” I grumbled, not even bothering to look at Peter.

The general was unfortunately still sprightly at the ripe age of fifty, though his age showed in stubbornness running through his ox-like limbs. He stepped up to the edge of the bath, crouching down and resting his hands on the thick material of his tactical pants.

I had half the mind to tell him to fuck off, though that would likely end with a gun pointed directly at my head. He’d never pull the trigger, seeing as I was the closest thing to a son he had, but he would certainly enjoy waving it in my face and threatening to do it.

I’d been feeling unsettled all day. The Mark burned into my back was throbbing. In all the Goddess’s infinite wisdom, she decided to let those blessed with a Mark also benefit from some isolated moments of pure knowing , not unlike prophecy.

And this knowing made me think I was walking into my immediate and very painful death.

It would be a mercy, really.

Not to mention my only way out of this fucking torture.

“Summons came directly from the Emperor,” Peter said, and I noticed for the first time that he was sporting a grin. That meant this was very, very bad news for me, and he’d enjoy laughing at me while I suffered it.

He chuckled through my answering grumble, rising to head to the far end of the baths towards a stack of files. While he picked up the documents containing my new sentence, I hauled myself out of the pool and threw on a towel.

In the exposed air, the pulsing in my Mark got worse, like all the blood in my body was pooling in the swirling lines of my tattoo.

Dread pooled low in my stomach.

The combination of the Emperor’s summons and this … unsettled feeling from a Mark bestowed on me by a faceless deity was the worst sort of combination.

The most powerful of the humans and the gods working together to deliver bad news on a shining silver platter.

The Emperor, at least the one in power now, was an old friend. Our world, Virterra , or simply Vir to most, was ruled by the Emperor, but not in the typical sense of a royal lineage, as legend told exists on other worlds.

Or on one, very particular world in question.

On Vir, seven families were considered Royals, with the Emperor rotating between the ruling Houses every seven years—for symmetry, obviously. That system was intended to balance the power, but in my opinion, it only created a system that threw our planet into a constant state of whiplash.

But no one asked for my opinion. Not since my own Royal title became meaningless the moment the Mark was burned into my back.

“He can fuck off,” I bit out, unable to stop the rage that burned through my limbs at the thought of our current ruler. The very same one who threw me into the middle of a war to further his own agenda.

Peter laughed, the sound booming off the slick marble walls of the bath like gunshots. That marble was perhaps the only remaining part of the original glory of this temple, once used to honor, now destroyed and used for parts and proximity to the one thing keeping our world from being invaded. “I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to relay the message soon,” he said, extending the file in his hand to me.

I didn’t have time to think about his odd response, because my hand was buzzing with energy, reaching toward the file on it’s own accord. The throbbing in my back got even worse, extending past the confines of my Mark to push into my arms, my legs, my stomach.

I snatched my hand back, flipping my palm over to inspect it as if I was expected to find bleeding cuts all over it.

“Soren,” Peter said, his voice serious as he said my name. I looked up, still flexing my hand to try to dispel the feeling. Peter was standing taller than normal, his tactical gear rigid on his strong, steady body. “They found your paranima .”

My heart stopped dead in its tracks, and then promptly fell right through my stomach and out my ass.

No. There was no way.

“Stop fucking with me,” I gritted out, absolutely refusing to entertain that idea. “You aren’t that funny.”

“I know,” Peter said, nodding solemnly. He ran his hands together, pushing into his dark brown skin with his fingertips. A nervous tick, I realized, seeing as I’d never seen him nervous before. Not once. “I’m not joking. I don’t even know how to.”

“No.” I shook my head as I said it to make sure he understood me. I didn’t have a fucking paranima . That was just ridiculous. Even if my hand had…

“Yes.”

“ No. ”

Peter stepped toward me, waving the file in my face. “You really don’t have a choice. Clearly you’ve spent too long in the baths and melted your brain. That’s a Soul Match. This isn’t something in the seventies or eighties you can ignore because there’s enough of your Mark that’s different. This was one hundred percent compatibility. You know what that means.”

I did, unfortunately. Our Marks weren’t just a random tattoo, they ran far deeper. Down to your soul.

It was magic gifted by the Goddess, the deity of the planet on the other side of this war.

Paranima s were rare. Extremely rare.

As in, only one other pair was currently on active duty, and their relationship was about as stable as a gushing wound.

“Take the file,” Peter barked, shoving it towards me. I hesitated, something I didn’t think I’d ever done before, just enough for him to notice. “Get it over with. There’s no way out of this.”

“Literally,” I quipped, my tone drier than the desert you had to traverse to get to this hellhole. If they were right, and they’d found my paranima , the only way out was death. Even with the dread coursing through my veins, my hand reached toward the crisp file in Peter’s grip, my limbs moving without my control.

I clamped down on my body, hard. I tensed every muscle, wrangling it back into submission. The last thing I needed was to have the … symptoms of this fucking torture start to creep in and make me turn into a mad man.

A jolt ran up my arm when my fingers ran over the soft paper, the callouses on my hands scraping over it.

Fuck .

Ignoring the pain in my arm, I opened the file.

My heart stopped dead in my chest.

It was a photograph of a woman’s back, completely bare and covered in the exact same tattoo that was inked into my own. I knew that Mark better than I knew myself.

And there wasn’t a leaf out of place on the massive tree on her back.

She had dark hair, near black, that was pushed in front of her, contrasting sharply to the pale expanse of her skin. Even through the tattoo’s ink, I could spy a few dark freckles scattered over her spine and shoulders.

Her arms were splayed wide, showing branches and leaves curling over her shoulders. As if in answer, those very same twists and turns started to buzz on my own skin.

She looked strong enough, her skin stretching over lean muscle. At least capable of growing stronger if needed. That was good, she could protect herself. Limit the chance of her getting hurt.

I blew out a heavy breath at the sheer weight of relief I felt at that thought.

“When?” I bit out, hardly able to push any words past the tightness in my throat. I felt like there was a hand at my neck, squeezing my windpipe.

“She arrives later today,” Peter said. My shoulders pinched at his use of she , despite the soft line of her midriff, dipping and curving from her waist to her hip, staring back at me.

God help me, I was already losing it.

That was the thing with paranimas . If you were paired with a gender you weren’t attracted to, it formed a sibling-like bond, not unlike twins. That’s how it had been with Carson, though we were simply paranovs —blessed with a ninety-nine percent Match. Now that I had a fucking Soul Mate to replace him, our Match would be no more than a distant memory of friendship.

But in the other instance … well, there was only one example of paranimas with the possibility for romantic compatibility that had escaped the inevitable pull towards one another.

I didn’t like those odds.

“I’m sorry, son,” Peter said, his deep brown eyes growing as soft as they could under his stern brow. “I know this isn’t ideal.”

That was the understatement of the fucking century.

I managed to wrangle my tone at the last minute. He didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of my fury. “I knew I was never getting out,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “Even with…” I swallowed the words. Peter knew what I was talking about. I didn’t need to talk about Carson’s disappearance any more than I already had. Than had already been forced out of me through hours of brutal interrogation, ensuring I wasn’t a traitor like he was. “I knew it wasn’t happening.”

Peter nodded, but there was something more behind his eyes. Something he wasn’t telling me.

I secured my hand over the file, fully planning to memorize it and prepare myself for the arrival of my … well, my Soul Mate.

God, that sounded fucking awful.

With the towel still wrapped around my waist, I headed out of the baths and into the main hall of this outpost, fully descended into its war-torn glory.

The architecture and interior was designed with cost and functionality in mind, selecting things based on durability rather than appearance, which resulted in a lot of drab gray stone and pale beige paint to cover up the remnants of the temple that once stood here, lest you be reminded that the Emperor valued winning this war over preserving our history.

Technology was the only thing the Royals invested in out here, and even that was far below what was standard for Vir. And even further below that of the people we were fighting against.

I stomped through the stone halls with Peter in tow, uncaring that people were staring at me a little more wide-eyed than normal. It could have been due to the fact that I was shirtless, wet, or any of the other reasons they normally stared.

My height, standing at a solid five inches over six feet.

The fact that my previous Match disappeared with a spectacularly fucked-up flourish, right into the enemy’s hands.

My lineage, upsettingly full of stuffy, Royal blood that most people in here had never been so close to before.

All of which resulted in a fair share of gawking, none of which I cared to address right now.

Though as I weaved toward the main hall, the large, open area that served as a dining space, meeting room, and entrance all at once, the stares were growing panicked.

Lingering longer than normal, then dropping to the floor when they realized I’d clocked them.

I was used to the stares, and normally wrote them off unless they belonged to a marginally interesting person, but this time they were grating. Good thing I’d developed quite the reputation for someone who was not to be fucked with, especially since my first few years here, I had to overcompensate to get over the Royal prick comments.

Those had ended the day some too-proud fighter challenged me to the mat and got cocky and went for my nose ring, ripping it out. I simply used the silver ring to carefully, surgically ensure that his left cornea was no longer functional.

Besides, I’d gotten a lot better in the six years since. No one challenged me anymore, let alone got that close to my face.

“What the fuck?” I barked at Peter, when one person ran into a table full of dismantled guns because they were too busy staring at me.

“I think you should just get to the Main Hall,” Peter said, nodding politely at the thin man who was clearly trying to restrain a wince from the force of his collision.

“Why? She already here?” I needed about seven million more hours of preparation before I could even think about confronting the woman who drew the shit lot of being my Soul Mate.

Shit, I hoped she was competent. I didn’t need to be worrying about her tripping and impaling herself on a loose branch jutting out of the rough terrain of Muliterra . I saw that happen once, I didn’t need to see that shit again.

Especially because you’d probably try to kill the branch for hurting her .

Fuck, the insanity was already starting.

Peter looked down to check his watch. “She should be here soon, actually,” he said, like time had gotten away from him.

“Why do you sound nervous?” I asked, twisting the towel around my waist even tighter.

Peter barked a laugh. “I was slightly concerned you’d bite my head off after the news.”

“I haven’t filed my teeth that sharp yet. Still time, though,” I said, snapping my teeth for effect. I cared about the way I looked, and didn’t find sharp teeth to be that pleasing to look at, but the only thing I cared about more was survival. I had some people to prove wrong.

Peter tried and failed to smother a smile, unable to admit that I was funny twice in the same conversation.

We turned down the next hallway, the final to traverse until we got to the pain hall, full of long, utilitarian dining tables and lined with televisions. It also happened to house an open space used for any number of fighting or training purposes.

Dinner and a show, really.

When we rounded the corner, the sound exploded, full of voices carrying at a louder level than normal. There were several pleading hush es that split through the noise.

There must have been something on the news to garner that reaction.

Good, they’d probably be too distracted to pay me any mind while I cut through to my quarters. That fact was confirmed when my eyes adjusted to the bright light coming from the center and I saw that everyone’s eyes were turned toward the television screens, their attention cemented on the news playing.

“We’re back with more information on the most recent Draft,” the newscaster said, their voice drawing out in the enunciated lilt that most journalists had.

I stopped dead in my tracks, dread pooling in my stomach. I just knew that this would have something to do with my paranima . Regardless of my feelings about the situation, I couldn’t help but stop and watch, looking for more information about her.

Once I stopped, my instincts, honed and sharpened over years of needing to rely on careful observation to avoid a painful death, I noticed that the newscaster didn’t look as prim and proper as they normally came. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin pale, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like there were tears building in her eyes.

“It is—” she cut off, her voice breaking off in her throat. For God’s sake, what happened? I felt Peter stiffen beside me, but paid him no mind. “It is with a heavy heart that I have to inform you all that—”

I didn’t hear the rest of what she said, because the gasps and screams that rang through the room were so unbelievably loud they cut off the sound of the massive speakers hanging through the room.

The newscaster’s pause to regain control of her voice had delayed her words so that the graphics popped up on the screen a second before she could announce what she’d intended to.

While the photos that appeared on the screen made the rest of the room erupt in panicked cries, asking God, the Goddess, and the Emperor in one combined prayer how they could let this happen, I had an entirely different reaction. My heart fell into my stomach, dread pushing through my veins.

On one side was the photo Peter had given me in the file, the picture of my paranima ’s back, filled with the twin Mark to my own.

On the other was a photo of a woman. Of my Soul Mate’s face, apparently.

One well-known and well-loved far past what was reasonable for any one person, with dark, midnight black hair that hung around her sculpted features, and if it was the same as the last time I saw her, went right down to her waist.

Complete with angular, honey-brown eyes and a full mouth that could pull into a cunning, heart-shaped smile, it was the face of the most beloved woman in all of Virterra , evidenced by the horrified reaction of the entire room.

Little did they know that woman was also a spoiled brat who was better off lounging in the glittering halls of the Emperor’s palace than marring the squalor of war with her pristine fingers.

After the cries died down, enough for the newscaster’s voice to break through and say, “Our sources tell us she has already departed for the Bridge,” everyone fully digested what that meant, turning slowly towards me like I had any answers.

Everyone needed to avert their fucking eyes before I blinded someone.

My rage was too thick, my disbelief too strong.

Because I’d just found out that Bellamy Edelstenne was my fucking Soul Mate at the same time as the rest of the world.

No warning, no preparation to face the fact that the daughter of the Emperor who forced me into this war was seconds away from storming into my life and I had no way out.