Keeper

© 2016 Amanda Ryan

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design by Amanda Ryan

Pronunciation Key

People:

Amalia: ah-ma-LEE-a

Kolin: KAH-Lin

Marnie: MAR-nee

Thaddai: Thuh-DIE

Ilyas: ILL-ee-us

Ishom: ISH-um

Mila: MEE-la

Helia: HEEL-lee-uh

Emrys: EM-rees

Serra: SAIR-uh

Places:

Thaddai: Thuh-DIE

Avelu: AH-ve-loo

Kyier: KEE-air

Sybil: SIH-bul

Merin: MAIR-in

Mycra: MY-crah

Other:

Randeldi: ran-DEL-dee

Deliverance

Sharp grit and stone dug into Amalia’s flesh as a rough hand pushed her to her knees. Her friends grunted their dissent at her side, their hands bound securely at their backs. They’d made it as far as the foot of the mountain pass before the men had ambushed them from the forest. Escaping from their tyrannical lord had given them a glimpse of freedom, and as the scant handful of the renegades wilted before their mysterious captors, Lia contemplated their fates and shuddered.

There was no question Lord Thaddai had learned of his missing servants and was furious, but the swiftness of this capture seemed beyond even Thaddai’s capability.

Even now from where she knelt she could make out the beginning of the path that would have led them through the mountains. They were so Gods-be-damned close!

Lia ground her teeth as she scoured the faces of the men responsible for their capture. She didn’t recognize any, which was curious. She knew the sight of Thaddai’s guards well.

Lia, Kolin admonished at her side, don’t.

She ignored him, eyes scanning the handful of men winding between the people she regarded as family. Her eyes settled upon a tall and solidly built man surrounded by several mercenaries. She’d found the leader. It was difficult to make out his features from where he stood, but she distinguished a strong profile. He had bronzed skin and dark blond hair that was short at the back and sides but long enough on top to fall to his eyes.

Do you recognize him? Lia whispered to Kolin and Marnie at her sides.

Her friends returned stunted shakes of their heads. Had Thaddai hired mercenaries to track them down? It seemed rash considering the bulk of their group was elderly or still in childhood. Lia knew he had been fond of Marnie, but none of them expected he would go so far as to have them tracked down.

Sensing inspection, the leader shifted, his eyes meeting hers with a subtle turn of his head. Lia flinched at his startlingly handsome features. He pulsed with a quiet intensity that was intriguing yet terrifying. His head cocked to the side as she held his gaze, and her stomach fluttered with uncertainty. She did not recognize him, though the way he carried himself told her this man undoubtedly believed himself worthy of recognition.

With a nod he left his men and walked toward her, eyes unflinching. Lia shifted back on her knees. Scarlet embellishment on the edges of his cloak flashed in her vision as he neared, adornment she had not noticed from afar. Her stomach lurched. Scarlet meant one thing - the Royal. She forced herself to blink the stinging from her dry, anguished eyes as her heart battered her breastbone.

He stopped before her and measured her silent rebellion. He was ridiculously striking with chiseled cheekbones and a full mouth. Dark blond pieces of hair fell along a strong brow, but the aestheticism of his appearance was inhibited by the calculation behind his cobalt eyes.

Stand, he demanded.

Lia swallowed her instinctive scowl and motioned as well as she could to her bound arms at her back. His eyes shone with a searing cold glint, but she gritted her teeth and refused to cower. Kolin shifted once more at her side. His nostrils flared a warning as he pleaded silently. Lia curbed her temper, then shuffled herself to a position where she could rise to her feet.

What is your name?

Lia’s answer was defiant silence. He responded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

I am Ilyas, he stated.

Ilyas.

She blinked at the scarlet trim of his cloak and the pieces fell together.

Ilyas san Merin.

The Royal’s Right Hand and assassin, one of the most dangerous men in the world, was the man responsible for their capture.

I see you know me, he spoke with little inflection.

I know of you, she croaked through dry lips, enough to know that my name makes no difference in the fate for which you have predestined me.

A soft breeze swept along Lia’s skin, as if the gods were caressing her with misguided reassurance.

It seems Lord Thaddai has misplaced several of his servants, he began.

How unfortunate for him.

Rumors of a revolt, he continued with a tick of mirth tugging at his lips. People missing along with relics.

Relics? Lia quickly steadied her reaction.

You don’t seem the type to play search dog for the likes of Thaddai, she replied.

True. He made no attempt to hide his brief amusement. This is where you try to convince me you’re not the escaped servants.

We are not servants, she answered. Servants work for wages. We were slaves, indentured through false crimes and corruption.

Ilyas surveyed the group of Tribals herded around her.

Choose three to return to Thaddai. His eyes cut back to her. The rest shall be set free.

...what? Lia blinked.

Make your decision.

Y-you can’t be serious!

Do I seem the type to jest?

His play on her earlier words sent a wave of nausea rollicking in her gut. He was no more likely to jest about imprisonment than he was to play search dog.

Would you prefer I choose? He stepped close enough for his breath to skim her cheek. Or perhaps I should take you all? I imagine Thaddai will be less than forgiving.

Images of lascivious torture bled into her thoughts.

No, she whispered.

Your time has begun.

You’re sending us back to certain death!

He stared unmoving at her exasperation.

You cannot do this! We are human beings! Not...chattel! Her hands shook with indignation.

"Tick tick, greika."

His tone caressed the tribal word for grey with a smooth resonance that momentarily startled her. Her pale grey eyes were her most distinguishing feature. They had now earned her a moniker from the most dangerous man in the world.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and turned to look at the people around her. Lia saw in their faces that they had heard Ilyas' pronouncement.

She must choose.

The eyes of several older men and women scarred from hard labor stared back amid a scattering of teens and children. Every one of them had a reason for escape. To send any back would be a death sentence.

I’ll go, Kolin chimed, and she spun around.

Kolin? She breathed in question.

I’ll go, he repeated.

At his side, Marnie raised her chin. I’ll go.

Lia turned to her friend, shocked to hear the declaration. Of all of them, Marnie had suffered the most at Thaddai’s hands.

That’s two, Ilyas tolled. Who will be the third?

Lia looked to Kolin, the closest and dearest friend she’d ever had. He knew her reason for escaping. He understood her desperation. He offered a resigned smile that threatened to shatter her heart into a thousand pieces. He would forgive her if she left him, but she would never forgive herself.

I’ll be the third, she rasped.

Ilyas signaled to his men, and with quick precision the trackers began herding the remaining Tribesmen into a group.

You said you would set the rest free, Lia hissed.

For their safety they will be released in a more remote area, he answered and met her sharp glare. No harm will come to them.

More of Ilyas' men came forward to get Kolin and Marnie to their feet. The three were escorted into the woods where the shadow of a caravan waited. Their prison transport was a wooden cart with heavy linen drapes and barred walls.

The clatter of the sliding gate startled Lia from her thoughts. Ilyas nodded to his men to hustle them inside.

One and two, he motioned to Marnie and Kolin.

Lia focused on her breathing as she watched her friends being herded into the prison.

And three, he said, an irritating taunt lacing his tone.

Amalia, she muttered. My name is Amalia. Do you remember the names of all those you’ve murdered?

Something flickered behind his eyes, but his gaze quickly slid back behind a mask of indifference before Lia could guess at its meaning. Ilyas closed and locked the gate, then turned to bark orders to his men.

We travel without interruption. He paused for a moment seeming to amuse himself with this next thought as he turned to his new prisoners. Know that any chance of escape will be at your peril.

Lia ground her teeth as she watched him turn his back and walk away. It was tempting to wallow, but she vowed to remain stoic, if not for herself then for her friends. Marnie flashed a halfhearted smile in her direction, and Lia met it with one of her own.

I am so sorry, Lia whispered to them both.

Kolin and Marnie stilled for a moment, their expressions wracked with conflicting emotions.

The sudden lurch and rumble of the cart’s wheels stole any of their responses. The bars dug into her back as she propped against them. Her arms ached from being bound, and her stomach gurgled angrily with anxiety.

What do you think he’ll do to us? Marnie quietly questioned.

Of whom she spoke, Ilyas or Thaddai, Lia was uncertain.

I don’t want to think about it, Kolin murmured.

I heard rumors, Marnie continued, rumors about magic.

Marnie, Kolin warned.

What rumors? Lia coerced.

Marnie blinked regretfully as she deliberated her next words.

Thaddai... She began but stilled.

Lia’s expression softened at her friend’s tone. She’d often been the one to tend to Marnie after Thaddai’s attentions left her bruised and battered.

He was obsessed with magic, she continued.

Most Lords are, Kolin murmured.

Thaddai was convinced he had found a way to use magic to overthrow the Royal.

How? Lia whispered.

I don’t know. All I know is that he had managed to get ahold of some sort of book.

Thaddai owned a massive library of books and artifacts, a trove of knowledge and history that drew many from far and wide.

He’d still need a Keeper, Lia murmured. He could have all the magic books and trinkets in the world, but they’re useless without a Keeper.

It wasn’t that long ago that the Royal rose to power because of her Keepers, people who were rarely seen and kept under strict guard. They were a rare commodity nearly hunted to extinction out of fear and greed, for a Keeper was the link between the magic and a magician. Magic was not inherently bestowed to a magician, but instead channeled by a Keeper, a person trained in the art of runes and the history of magic. Keepers were the pool and Magicians were the siphon, and when a Keeper was bound to a Magician it was a partnership for life.

Amalia had inklings about her nature from a very young age. Stolen moments with unguarded texts in Thaddai’s library had been her saving grace. In her quest for knowledge, she realized the horrific fate that awaited her if her secret were revealed. She would be bound to another against her will and forced to be at their beck and call for the rest of her life. If Thaddai were ever to find out what she was, he would rape her and enslave her in an instant.

It was why she escaped in the first place, to find a cloistered hideaway where she could live in unencumbered peace. But now...now...she was headed back into the belly of the beast.

She had a sudden urge to laugh. Her future had always retained a bleak outlook. This was just a hitch in the plan. She would handle this and whatever followed. She would.

Mind resolved, her tense limbs relaxed amid the lull of the cart. Kolin and Marnie murmured softly to themselves, and Lia allowed her thoughts to drift away to dreams of what-could-have-been. Finally, exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a dead slumber.

An Unforeseen Reaction

A sudden stop of the caravan jarred Lia awake. She rubbed away the remnants of sleep and froze. In the distance, the day’s first rays of sun shined along the outer walls of Thaddai.

Anxiety rushed her with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs. It hadn’t been a dream. Their escape had been real - just as real as their capture.

A low moan drew her attention. Marnie had wrapped herself in her arms, her eyes bloodshot and unseeing. The noise braying from her throat reminded Lia of a mourning wail. Kolin murmured calming words in her ear, but it had no effect. Marnie had broken.

It was the final crack to Lia’s dammed fury.

I need to speak with Ilyas, she growled at the nearest soldier.

He turned at her voice and perused her with a smirk.

Please, she begged.

Quiet.

Gods so help me, get me Ilyas or I will make a scene the likes of which you cannot imagine.

When the guard turned away with a sneer, Lia saw red. On instinct, she reached through the bars and ripped him backward. His head bashed against the cage, momentarily stunning him. Lia desperately clutched at the short blade sheathed at his hip.

An explosion of action roared to life as Lia and her guard struggled against each other. More soldiers added into the brawl, pulling the two apart before either had a chance to do harm. The blade weighed victoriously heavy in her fingers as she rolled to her knees.

Ilyas pushed through the crowd and her bluster faltered. His expression teetered from irritation to curiosity before fading behind a veneer of complacency she was beginning to recognize. His bellowed questions to the guard were lost amid the whoosh of blood in her ears. After an indecipherable exchange, the guard scattered, and when Ilyas' gaze honed on her she tightened the grip on the blade.

Have you any idea how to use that? He asked with irritating nonchalance.

She rarely lost control muting the magic running in her blood, but the rush of emotion racing in her suffused heat into her fingers.

Pointy end goes this way. She motioned with the blade.

His head canted in consideration, then he barked a command ordering the encroaching soldiers to back off. He closed the distance, eyes bright with an emotion Lia struggled to identify.

Why did you attack my men?

Man, singular. I asked courteously for him to retrieve you, and he dismissed me.

So you assaulted him?

Nothing bruised but his pride. I warned him.

He had the nerve to tsk.

Going willingly was not part of our bargain, she continued.

I’d wager Thaddai will be relieved to have such a spirited woman back in his clutches.

His mention of their lord triggered an animalistic moan from Marnie, pulling both Lia and Ilyas' attention.

Is she ill?

Of course she’s ill! You’re sentencing her back to depravity. She’s sick to death with it! She took a breath to calm her anger. I want to make another bargain.

Rebuttal swelled in his eyes.

There must be something, anything I can offer you to keep us from going back to Thaddai.

"So it’s to be martyrdom? You’re boring me, greika."

Lia wildly grasped for ideas. This man was an enigma. If she could crack him, she could bargain for the freedom of her friends and possibly herself. He was notoriously brutal and efficient, but he was still a man.

Lia’s tongue darted over her lips as her thoughts churned, and his gaze fell to her mouth.

Seduce him, her mind chimed.

It was an offer borne of desperation, and she quickly dismissed it. Lia had gone her whole life diligently striving to be unnoticeable, so the concept of seduction was foreign to her. It was also forbidden. Her body was off limits.

Marnie has been his primary quarry, she revealed. To return her to him would be the vilest of sentences.

Perhaps you should have taken that into consideration when you accepted her as a volunteer.

Lia once more saw red and felt her fingertips surge with heat.

Fury becomes you, he goaded.

They were too engrossed in their exchange to notice Marnie’s sudden movement. Marnie’s fingers gouged into her arm in a desperate attempt to claim the weapon. Lia tried to pull away, but her grasp was wickedly strong. They fell on each other in a tangle of limbs.

A commotion of voices boomed, the transport rocking deliriously with each frantic movement. Searing pain ran up her arm as the blade slashed into the flesh of her hand, and in a blur, they were were all dragged from the caravan. The guard she’d assaulted wrapped her in a constrictive hold but she cared not. Her attention was riveted to Ilyas gripping Marnie through a fevered rage, her screams tempering only as he lowered her to the ground. The scene blurred from unshed tears, and she numbly blinked them away. Marnie’s hysterics waxed and waned as her lips formed unintelligible pleas. Her tunic was plastered with scarlet streaks, her face flushed and wild with delirium. Ilyas nestled his mouth to her ear, his words lost amid the sounds of Lia’s rasping breath. Both their hands gripped the pilfered blade and blood oozed between their combined fingers. She calmed enough for Ilyas to momentarily shift his focus and give a command, and Marnie seized the opportunity to lash out with what would be her final thrash.

A twist of her wrist, and she buried the blade in her belly. An expression of relief settled over Marnie’s beautiful face as her body went limp in the assassin’s arms. A baying sob quickened in Lia’s ears, and she distantly realized it came from her own throat. Her guard let her slip to the ground, Lia cradling her wounded hand as she collapsed to her knees. She watched in silence as Ilyas once more leaned to Marnie’s ear. Within moments Marnie was still.

An indeterminable minute passed before Ilyas began barking orders, and a blur of guards whirled into action. His eyes rose and locked with Lia’s, the world muting in her ears as he stalked toward her. Her gaze was level with Marnie’s blood staining his thighs and knees.

Where are you hurt? He asked.

Speech failed her. He impatiently yanked her to her feet, hands stilling her injured limb. The medic of his group had arrived. Lia watched distantly as the man tended to the gash on her palm.

What have you done! Kolin’s voice bellowed from where he stood by the prison cart.

Though his words were directed at Ilyas, Lia absorbed their guilt wholeheartedly.

She chose her path, Ilyas murmured. He spoke for her ears alone.

Thaddai put her on that path, she rasped.

He said nothing, watching as the healer did his work.

Restrain him, he directed to the guards, and Lia paled as two guards pulled Kolin’s arms behind his back.

For what it’s worth, he continued to her, I am sorry for the loss of your friend.

Marnie. Her name is Marnie! Her voice came out in a growled sob, and rage once more reared on its haunches.

There is power in your anger, he began, cleaning the blade of blood before slipping it away. Return to Thaddai and learn how to wield it.

His pronouncement was baffling, and she had little time to ponder its meaning.

Deliver them, Ilyas ordered.

Before she realized what was happening, two guards grasped her by her arms.

You coward! Kolin yelled. You will not deliver us yourself?

I was never here, he answered.

The entourage swung up onto their horses and disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving Lia and Kolin with the four men that would deliver them back into hell.

A Lackluster Reception

All things considered, Lia and Kolin’s punishment could have been worse. They were herded before a raging Thaddai where he harangued them with an oddly aimless diatribe of caustic threats. Their lord appeared harried and distracted, his focus disorderly as he dealt with the nuisance of his misbehaving property. Instead of physical retribution for their disloyalty, they were thrown into cells and allowed only dirty water and stale bread for four days. They saw nary a soul during their imprisonment until the day of their release, and they were escorted back to their prior posts.

Kolin returned to the stables, and Lia back to the brothel where she was born and raised. She resumed her task as maid to the demanding flock of courtesans driving the bulk of Thaddai’s revenue, and by night she and Kolin united to serve as the musical entertainment for the working women and their patrons. Lia exhausted herself with paranoia the first few days, terrified any moment her true punishment would be inflicted. One day trailed into the next, until nearly two weeks passed since their abrupt return. No further retaliation came forth. In fact, Lia saw very little of her lord and master. By all appearances, the escape of a handful servants never occurred.

Almost a month after her encounter with Ilyas san Merin, word of an impending visit by a Royal delegation reached Thaddai. The news caused an uproar of chaos among the servants. Though it was unknown who was coming, judging by the spread of carefully planned events it was rumored to be the Royal herself. The finest foods and drink were prepared, and no expenses were spared for beautifying Thaddai’s holdings.

When the date of the delegation’s arrival came, the entire estate pulsated with excitement. Lia did not share the sentiment. In fact, the notion of the Royal being so close filled her with sickening dread. The Royal would be able to sense she was a Keeper, and she’d have Lia under her thumb in a blink. Lia recognized, however, if she refused to show for the planned performances it would draw the ire of Thaddai, and she wished to avoid falling under his thumb any more than she already was.

So it was with great reluctance Lia sat in an alcove off the main brothel chamber, her anxiety a spring coiling tighter with each person entering the room. Kolin tuned his guitar, and Lia stewed quietly while praying for her curdling stomach to relent. The muffled white noise of the room quieted when Thaddai entered with several guests in tow. Lia skewered each arrival’s face, body going rigid as her eyes met Ilyas san Merin’s. For a fleeting moment they held each others’ gaze.

Seemingly ignorant of any recognition, he turned in the next blink to the others trailing behind him. Lia’s breath hissed from between taut lips as her stomach continued its gymnastics. It was a convincing act, enough so that the rest of the delegation, a man and a lone woman, took no note.

Thaddai led them to the reserved table. Though Lia had no idea what the Royal looked like, it was easy to surmise this was not her. She followed in the shadow of the other man, obediently following his every movement and command.

Is that who I think it is? Kolin’s voice burst into her thoughts.

Lia answered with a somber nod, Thaddai preening to his guests as a buxom courtesan brought the table ale.

The Matron approached from backstage, her face painted with cosmetic that enhanced the stern look of her expression.

They are here, she informed. Mona is ready. Are you?

They nodded, and with a satisfied huff the Matron turned toward the crowd. Lia and Kolin shared a final glance before beginning the first strums of Mona’s song.

Mona was one of Thaddai’s most coveted courtesans. Her ethereal blond hair and big blue eyes gave her the look of angel, an irony as she was a vapid, manipulative monster. Her voluptuous curves and well-trained manner on using them brought in the most income of all the prostitutes, so she was the jewel in the Matron’s crown.

For a brief moment, Lia entertained the notion of Mona taking the Royal’s Right Hand into her bed, and it brought a sly smile to her face. While a coup for Mona, Lia imagined Ilyas finding the Jewel of Thaddai to be more paste than gemstone.

The notion calmed Lia’s bout of nerves, and she settled into her seat, content to disappear into the music. The courtesan’s entrance timed with Lia’s first few notes, and the crowd grew anticipatively quiet as the woman revealed herself to the haunting tune.

Music was Lia’s saving grace. Her mother was a courtesan, her father any number of unknown clients. Upon her mother’s desertion, the Matron saw to her purpose. She was not an unkind woman, but her keen business senses dominated her decisions. Lia’s risk of being forced to sell her body abated upon discovery of her voice. Patrons were entranced with her sound, and when the Matron combined the music with the courtesans it equaled a lucrative opportunity. She tolerated Lia’s refusal to put her body to market so long as her voice continued to bring clients. It permitted Lia to remain unnoticed, the clients’ attentions primarily focused on the dancing, scantily clad women.

Tonight, however, there were eyes upon her. She layered her concerns into the music and put up a prayer into song. When she dared to follow her inclination, she was surprised to find not Ilyas appraising her, but Thaddai.

She fisted clammy hands. Attention from Thaddai spelled trouble.

She blinked away from her lord’s gaze and continued with the song, nonchalantly glancing at the other members of the table. Ilyas lounged in his chair, legs crossed and stretched before him in a picture of relaxed boredom. At his side, the male attempted to replicate this indifferent posture, but it was spoiled by his riveted eyes on Mona’s every undulation. The woman at the table was curiously uninterested in her partner’s poorly concealed attentiveness. She was enjoying the food and drink, unmoved by the nude show on stage.

The song ended, raucous applause roaring from the approving crowd as Mona brazenly flitted her exposed wares. More acts performed as Thaddai’s group partook their meal and eventually departed. A wave of relief swept through Lia when the group left, a tangible weight lifting from her chest as she turned to grin at Kolin.

Amalia. The Matron suddenly appeared at their side.

Yes?

Lord Thaddai has requested your presence.

Cold talons of fear seized her body.

Wh-what?

Hush and do as you’re told. You’re to be serving the master and his guests in his suite.

Lia looked to Kolin and the Matron added, Kolin is to stay. You alone are requested. Come.

Lia swallowed as she rose, the woman’s firm grasp like a shackle as she led through the hallways.

Matron, please, Lia found herself pleading.

Hush, she repeated. Do as you’re told and all will be well.

I can’t do this.

I don’t recall giving you the choice, she snapped. I’ve permitted your reclusiveness for as long as I could. Lord Thaddai asked for you specifically, and it is not within my power to refuse him. Now, go.

Outside Thaddai’s rooms, Lia was handed a platter of fruits and cheeses. She had never been summoned to serve, though she had seen plenty of the courtesans do it. Her greatest fear was whether what was offered on the platter would appease Thaddai’s appetite. An unwanted memory of Marnie’s bruises and tear-drenched confessions whispered through Lia’s mind and she shuddered.

Go! The Matron hissed.

Lia stumbled into the Lord’s chamber before fear could crystallize any deeper into her bones.

Ah, finally! Thaddai’s baritone vibrated through the ornate chamber.

Lia pushed through the velvet curtains. Thaddai sat at a small table