Soul Wanderer

Chapter 1

1

From under the farthest archway, I watched as Oscar, Artan, and Tomas pulled the open vurdon to the center of the square.

Pain snaked into my chest, and once more, I realized my life sucked.

Being the heart maiden could be an honor, but it was probably the worst thing that had happened to me. Everything changed when I found out I was a heart maiden. I was stripped of my college and dance classes, and sequestered inside an enclave—aka my beautiful prison. I found love, but he lied to me and pushed me away. I had believed my relationship with my mother was on the mend, until I found out she was still lying to me; she knew who my father was, someone I knew, but she never told me. I had tried to help my friends and had only brought tragedy to everyone. Now, my best friend, Ellie, had been banned from the enclave, and she wasn’t talking to me. Ryane and Tomas had recovered, but they, too, barely spoke to me.

And Sloan was dead.

My heart squeezed as it always did whenever I remembered that horrible mission.

Over a month had passed since we returned. During that time, two big snowstorms had hit Connecticut, I had turned twenty-one but hadn’t celebrated my birthday, Christmas and New Year had passed, and I had moved to a small cabin at the edge of enclave.

Sloan had been buried, but because of the snow, the ceremony in honor of his passing had been postponed.

Until today.

The snow had stopped a few days ago, and the tziganes had been working around the clock to shovel it all from the main paths around the enclave. Now, under gray skies and a biting-cold wind, Oscar, Artan, and Tomas brought the vurdon to a halt beside the empty fountain. The vurdon was covered with a white sheet, and on top of it was Sloan’s picture and some of his things: his sword, a necklace, and some books.

The tziganes gathered around the vurdon. Everyone was here, even the Bellville tziganes: Theron, Ramon, Rye, Cora, Nico, Shay, Jaime, Bryna, Neil, Dolan, Sheila, Marie, and Anne.

Ryane walked forward and rested her head on Tomas’s shoulders. Darcy knelt beside the vurdon and lowered her head, crying. Letting out a wail that cut through my soul, Lala, Sloan’s fiancée, threw herself on top of the vurdon.

Zora, Sloan’s mother, grabbed the young woman’s shoulders and pulled her back. Both of them embraced each other and cried.

My heart sank.

By Saint Sara-la-Kali, if I could go back in time … To be honest, I didn’t know what I would have done differently. Would I have not lied to the elder council so they allowed us to go on the mission? Would we have not snuck out if they hadn’t allowed it? No matter how I replied it, my friends and I would have left and the outcome would have been the same.

My friends …

After the Maine mission, I had taken advantage of their distress. I had distanced myself from them, and they had left me alone. Sometimes, I thought they blamed me for what happened, but I also felt guilty about it.

The only ones who still tried to talk to me were Ramon, Cora, and Rye. And even then, Cora and Rye were merely polite, greeting me whenever they saw me. Ramon, however, was training with me now that Artan and Theron were acting weird. Distant.

As if sensing my distress, Sheila came up to me. With a soft smile, she stopped by my side. The old woman—with her soft wrinkles, her long, gray braided hair, and strong presence—had a way of soothing me like no one else could. “Want to talk?” she asked.

I shook my head. We had already talked, and she knew what was going on in my mind. The guilt consuming my soul. The sick feeling in my gut. I couldn’t shake it off, no matter what I did.

We had also talked about the fact that she was my puri daj—grandmother. I confess that had been one blessing from our last mission. I had always admired Sheila and thought of her as a warm, caring woman. And she had always treated me like I was her puri chey—granddaughter. The news that Dolan, her son, was my father had been a surprised to her too, but now that we knew the truth, our relationship had only grown deeper. Stronger.

In the distance, the tziganes stepped forward one by one, laying white flowers on top of the vurdon. I glanced at the white rose in my hand. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Sheila took the flower from me and put it together with hers. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Why don’t you come over tonight?” Sheila asked, still smiling. “Have dinner with us?”

“You know I shouldn’t.” That didn’t stop her from inviting me over every chance she got. “I’ll only make the others uncomfortable.”

“This distance you’ve created is nonsense. They’ve been wallowing in their pain for long enough. If you speak to them, they will realize that they miss you. They will welcome you back.”

“I don’t think they are ready.”

“Then forget about them. Ramon, your dat, and I would like to have you over for dinner.”

I swallowed hard.

My father.

Despite it being almost six weeks since I found out Dolan was my father, our relationship was still awkward. We had talked a few times, and he had explained to me he was glad I knew, but I wasn’t ready to open my arms and call him dad. I appreciated the support, the visits while I was training with Sheila or Ramon, and the invitations for dinner, but it would be a long time before I saw him as my dad.

As for my mother?

She stood in the middle of the crowd around the vurdon, waiting for her turn to place the white flower on top of it. She and I had talked the day after I came back from Maine, after the council agreed to let me have the cabin at the edge of the enclave. With the punishments they had assigned to me, I thought they wouldn’t concede that one request, but they did.

Speaking of punishments … “I have my last session at the infirmary tonight.”

“Oh.” Sheila’s brows curled down. “Then your punishment is over?”

I nodded. “If they don’t come up with more, yes.”

Because of my lie and our actions during the mission, my friends and I had been punished by the elder council. Their punishments only lasted a week, while I was still laboring away. For the most part, I helped out with random tasks around the enclave, like doing dishes for the elders, organizing books at the library, helping out at the infirmary, cleaning the dance studio after the little girls had classes—and being allowed to dance.

A stabbing pain started in the back of my head, and I hissed, bringing my fingers to my temples.

Sheila rested her hand on my arm. “Pain again?”

I blinked fast and tried pushing through it. I didn’t want to have an episode in front of Sheila. It happened before, about two weeks ago, and she had freaked out. I had lied about the pain, the hallucinations, the dizziness, and the sleepless nights, but I had told her about Damara, that she had been able to reach inside my head before. Since then, Sheila had been working with me on strengthening the walls within my mind and keeping the crazy heart maiden away.

Crazy heart maiden—like I was turning out to be.

The episodes were getting worse and more frequent. I wouldn’t be able to hide the symptoms from the elder council much longer. Someone would find out, and then it would be my end.

I couldn’t let that happen.

“Just a regular headache,” I lied. My soul lost another piece. I had promised myself I was done with lies, and yet I couldn’t stop. “The crowd is thinning. You should go and give him our flowers.”

Her dark eyes shone with worry. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

I forced a smile. I was sure she could see right through it. “I’m fine.”

With a sigh, Sheila patted my arm, then walked to the center of the square. The pain in my skull increased, and I rested a hand on the stone wall beside me to steady myself. I better leave before I collapsed in front of half the enclave.

But as I was turning, I caught sight of movement under the shadow of the archway across the square. A moment later, a tall man stepped forward, out of the shadows. He halted away from the crowd, and I realized I had never seen him before. He was wearing black clothes and the hilt of two swords peeked from over his wide shoulders. His dark brown hair was on the longer side, curling under his ears and against his neck, and his piercing eyes stared straight at me.

I squirmed under the fierceness of his gaze. His eyes still on me, he took another step forward then halted again.

I frowned, a little disappointed that the elder council and I were on such bad terms; they hadn’t even told me we had visitors from other enclaves. Well, they had never actually cared about me. To them I was just a tool.

A tool they would get rid of when my craziness surpassed my usefulness.

Frowning, I broke Mr. Intensity’s stare and turned.

And came face-to-face with Artan, Kizzy, Ryane, Tomas, Darcy, Oscar, Lala, and Zora. Sloan’s family.

My throat went dry as they walked past me, barely looking my way. I wanted to say something. To ask for forgiveness. To say I was sorry. But sorry didn’t cut it. Their beloved Sloan was gone, and sorry wouldn’t bring him back.

Hot tears burned my eyes as I marched away from the main square. Tired of crying, I wiped furiously at my face. I was done crying. Like sorry, crying wouldn’t bring anyone back.

All I could do now was fling myself into my job as heart maiden and try to move on.

“Mirella.” Her voice sent a shudder down my spine. I didn’t stop or slow down. In fact, I rushed my steps, but she caught up with me. “Please, chey, talk to me.” My mother’s tone was filled with sugar and honey, but it didn’t affect me at all. “Please, Mi.” She sighed, and I thought she would give up, but that was wishful thinking. “We need to talk. Let me explain why I didn’t tell you. You’ll understand.”

I only groaned, tired of the same excuses. She had uttered the same ones every time she lied to me. “Stop,” I muttered. “Just stop.”

My mother balled her hands into fists. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

I glared at her. “Watch me.”

I turned right at the next corner and ran down the street, hoping the rubber soles of my boots were enough to keep me from slipping on the recently shoveled stone pavement. But right now, my rage and frustration spoke louder. Maybe if I fell on my butt and hit my head hard on the street, I could blackout and forget everything.

Head. Hurt.

I skidded to a stop and gasped, realizing the pain from my episodes had started when I was in the square with Sheila but it had retreated. That had never happened before. I tried to remember if I had done anything differently, like uttered some chant or grabbed a magical object, but everything had been the same.

Then how had the pain stopped? Why wasn’t I writhing on the cold ground right now?

“Mirella, are you okay?” Leander asked from a few feet behind me. s**t. In my frustration, I had forgotten I had a tail. This morning, Leander and Lash had been assigned to follow my every step.

“Hm, yeah. I’m fine,” I said, not even looking at them.

A second later, I forgot about the warriors, and thought about the pain that had started and stopped. Curiosity welled in my core, but I wouldn’t find any answers in the middle of the street. Trying to avoid my friends and any other tzigane, I continued walking to my cabin.

The back of the enclave opened to a large forest, which was also protected by tzigane magic. I loved coming here to breathe in the fresh forest scents, even during winter, and organize my thoughts. Bonus points for the faint sound of a small waterfall a ways behind the trees, which kept going strong even in winter.

Even though I had come here often, I had never noticed the small cabin to the left, hidden behind a scarce line of trees. When I asked the council for a house, they were skeptical about giving a townhouse to one person. Since they didn’t have many empty houses anymore, it was a waste of space, they had said. That was when Oscar, the enclave’s rom baro, remembered the cabin.

When I first came for an inspection, the cabin looked old and abandoned and had cobwebs and dust everywhere. But with the help of Ramon, Dolan, and Sheila, I had been able to clean it up and bring in some furniture.

Now, I loved it.

There was a nice sized front porch with rocking chairs. On the inside, the cabin was simple. An open area with a living room with a small stone fireplace to the left, a kitchen and dining area to the right, and a bedroom and bathroom to the back. It was more than enough for me.

Breathing in deeply, I sat down on the porch steps and looked out to the trees and the gray skies. It would snow again soon. Ugh, I hated snow. I missed the warm weather of Florida.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself back on the golden beaches of the south, where I had been a high school student and a ballet and flamenco dancer. Nothing else.

Back then, my only worry was my bad relationship with my mother. There had been no tziganes, no heart flowers, no alchemists, no revenants, no Damara, and definitely no sickness that would take over me and either make me completely crazy or get me killed.

With a heavy sigh, I opened my eyes and gasped.

The man, Mr. Intensity, from the square stood at the tree line, his eyes focused on me.

Wary of his sudden presence, I stood and called my magic, ready to defend myself if necessary.

Holding my gaze, the man took a step toward me.

“Mirella.”

I whipped toward Ramon’s voice at my right. A second later, he appeared on the stone path we had made to connect to the street after I moved in. Leander and Lash were a few steps in front of him.

“Hi,” I answered, breathless.

His brows furrowed as he took me in. “What’s wrong?”

The man.

For a moment, I forgot Mr. Intensity.

But when I turned around to look for him, he was gone.

Mr. Intensity had vanished.