Welcome to the World of Displaced History!

Welcome!

Thank you, my friend, for joining me.

Because you’re so amazing, I want to share this short story featuring Sophie Saunders, Soulseer. Sophie plays a supporting role in my upcoming book, acting as a companion to an infamous Truthtaker, Lillia Pennyworth. I adore Sophie. She’s spunky and sweet and fiercely loyal. She also has a few secrets of her own, but you’ll have to wait to learn more. (I’m so mean, I know.)

“Soulseer’s Luck” was originally written for submission to a short story anthology. It wasn’t chosen, unfortunately, because I didn’t read the submission guidelines closely enough and failed to meet the theme. It turns out that mistake was quite serendipitous because now I can share Sophie’s story with you.

I’m sure you’re devastated. So, so devastated.

(We both know you’re not, but just roll with it.)

As I wrote “Soulseer’s Luck” before I wrote Truthtaker, some of the worldbuilding elements have now changed. It’s now a Regency-based culture that has been displaced into the Ice Age. Who knew I’d grow to love history as much as I do? It’s especially fun to mesh different times, places, and people together and see what chaos ensues.

The magic system has evolved too. It’s become [information has been redacted to avoid spoilers]. Pretty cool, huh?

Despite these changes, the spirit of the world remains the same. It’s the same amazing, fantastical world that started when a Truthtaker introduced herself to me as High Lady Lillia Agathina Constance Faith Pennyworth. Her story is told in Truthtaker, coming out December 2025.

I hope you enjoy this world as much as I do.

– Lysandra James

“Soulseer’s Luck”

By Lysandra James

Sophronia giggled and touched the satchel at her hip. She’d done it. She’d fooled them all into thinking she was something she wasn’t. It helped that Soulseers couldn’t tell if another Soulseer was lying. They couldn’t See the manifestation of her soul just as she couldn’t See theirs. 

Not being able to decipher the intentions and desires of the Guild’s head Soulseers had terrified her during her evaluation and she’d panicked when they asked her what she could do. So she’d lied and told them all she could See were shifting shadows about a person’s head. It was the lowest form of Soulseeing, one that was practically useless.  

Having all those stuffy, highbrowed Gifted look down their noses at her when they believed her to be nothing more than a mixed blood nobody had reaffirmed her rash decision to conceal the true extent of her abilities. She purposefully failed every single test they put in front of her after that. The Guild’s Soulseers couldn’t push her out of the stuffy and confining evaluation chamber fast enough, assigning her to the lowest rank of the Gifted and tasking her to menial service. 

She’d been given a satchel, a Guild token, and the minor title of a mere lady. A slap in the face, really, but she didn’t care. She now she was free to be Sophie. Not Lady Sophronia Alexandra Saunders, Soulseer to Her Majesty, the Lady Regent of New London.

Just Sophie.

A gust of wind tickled her skirts and sent her bonnet strings dancing. She felt like dancing herself, but held back, maintaining a dignified pace befitting her station. What if someone saw her acting the fool? Aunt Carol would never approve, even if Sophie had been relegated to a mere messenger for the Guild. A failed Gifted was still a Gifted in the eyes of society and there were appearances to maintain.

That didn’t mean Sophie couldn’t hum to herself as she walked, though, so long as no one heard her. The day was far too fine to pass without some sort of cheer, though she’d heard tell of a storm coming in that afternoon as it often did this time of year. Never mind. She’d worry about that when it came. 

Right now, she relished in everything around her from the cobblestones under her feet to the crisp spring breeze to the smell of fresh bread baking. It all said freedom. Freedom from more testing and lessons and sitting still and having to do as she was told. Here, no one watched her every move, making her palms sweat and chest tighten. Here, on the streets, she could breathe. 

Movement drew her eye to a market stall down the street. It could hardly be called a stall. More like a couple of tables set up in front of a loaded hand cart. Care had been taken to lay fabric over one of the tables, likely to protect the vendor’s wares or to draw more quality customers. As she neared, she could see the stall contained baskets of sweet red apples, a rare treat this far north. The cooler temperatures here provided a growing season too short for most fruits and vegetables outside of a hothouse. This fruitmonger must have traveled far in an attempt to sell at a greater profit.

Her mouth watered. Surely she could spare a moment to purchase something to sustain her as she completed this errand. It wasn’t as if any of her missives held any sort of urgency. The Guild wouldn’t have trusted her with something like that on her first day.

She stepped to the table, trying to decide which of the shiny red apples she would take while she waited for the fruitmonger to notice her. He stood with his back to her, his bald head reflecting the wan sunlight that filtered through the wispy clouds.

“Alexander! You insolent boy!” The heavyset fruitmonger shouted at a cowering boy, who Sophie hadn’t seen until now. “Giving away my merchandise to a filthy urchin? I ought to have you whipped.”

Alexander held an arm over his head and crouched low. The boy couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Sophie’s own fourteen years. He looked nothing like the fruitmonger, which meant he’d been pressed into service. The practice was common, especially in the southern lands where labor was needed in the fields and with the livestock. “Forgive me, Mr. Perth.” the boy said, his voice raspy.

The fruitmonger stumbled toward the boy and lurched into one of the tables, sending several apples tumbling to the ground. “Another misstep like this and I’ll throw you back out on the streets!” Mr. Perth’s soul manifestation screamed, red-faced. It held tight to a bulging bag that could have been apples or coins and was as ugly a soul as Sophie had Seen. She couldn’t help but stare, trying to interpret the miniature version of the fruitmonger only she could see. 

Stingy, that much was obvious. Quick to anger. It didn’t take a Soulseer’s abilities to deduce that one.

And scared? Or perhaps resentful?

Hmmm… She’d have to think on that one to see if that felt right. 

That was the one downside to her deception with the Guild. She couldn’t talk to anyone about what she actually did See. 

She turned her attention to the boy’s soul manifestation, intrigued. While the boy cringed and cowered in real life, his soul manifestation stood tall, head high and shoulders back. The stance felt protective and resolute. Behind it huddled the soft silhouette of a small girl. The urchin he’d fed, perhaps.

“The apple was bruised, sir,” Alexander said, still holding a hand over his head. There was no quiver to his voice, as Sophie’s certainly would have held if she’d been in the same situation. He risked a peek past his arm toward the fruitmonger. “You couldn’t have sold it anyway. Not for full price.”

The angered man raised his hand as if to strike, then lowered it again. He frowned, then growled. “Pick those apples up, boy.” He stabbed a finger in the direction of the scattered fruit, then stomped back to the hand cart. He picked up a basket of apples and carried it to the stall, arranging the fruit to best display it. A lady in fine clothing stepped up and engaged Mr. Perth in conversation, drawing his attention away from Alexander and the cart. 

 A little girl with tattered clothes, stringy hair, and dirty face scrambled out from behind the cart while the fruitmonger’s back was turned. She gave the boy a gapped-tooth grin, then ran the other direction, bruised apple clutched close to her chest. Her soul manifestation skipped, holding the apple high above her head.

Sophie’s heart melted. The poor, sweet girl. Did she have any family to care for her? The next time Sophie saw the girl, she’d be sure to give her a coin or two. No child deserved to go hungry, no matter how low their birth.

An apple rolled toward her, stopping at her feet. Sophie picked it up and shined it on her skirt. A small bruise had formed where it had hit the ground. The fruitmonger would have a difficult time getting full price for this one as well. 

She pulled out a coin and held it out to the boy who knelt nearby. “I’ll take this apple, please.”

Alexander paused in his effort to collect the rest of the apples. He looked first at the coin, then at Sophie. “With that, you could purchase one that didn’t fall.” He set the apples in an empty basket and wiped his hands on his shirt. “I can’t charge you full price for damaged goods.”

Sophie smirked. That pride she’d seen in his manifestation earlier remained. Well, two could play that game. She had plenty of practice circumventing Aunt Carol’s pride to get precisely what she wanted. “You can if I say you can.” She took his hand and pressed the coin into it. “And I’ll take two others as well. The ones from that basket you just filled,” she said before he could grab any others.

He watched her for a moment, likely sizing her up. “All right,” he said slowly. He gave her the two least bruised apples from the bunch. 

Before she could thank him, the telltale rattle of a horse-drawn carriage filled the air. Conversations ceased and children stilled in their play. Necks strained as people searched for the anomaly. Horses were an uncommon sight indeed here in New London. More common than apples, but rare enough to draw the eye of most people. Only those wealthy enough to import grain from the warmer settlements in the south owned horses, which meant they were far out of reach of the lesser nobility such as Sophie and Aunt Carol. The creatures didn’t fare well on the tough grasses that grew in the northern lands and required stabling year round to survive the frigid temperatures the nights brought.

The carriage rounded the corner and rumbled past. Sophie watched only long enough to determine whose carriage it was. It didn’t belong to the Guild, which mean it was some uppity acquaintance of Aunt Carol’s who was far too important to have introduced to Sophie.

Never mind. Sophie couldn’t be bothered with someone who thought themselves that high and mighty.

She turned to the boy to express her gratitude when she noticed the change in his soul manifestation. Instead of the defensive stance it had held earlier, his soul reached out hungrily toward the horses. The faintest shadow of a horse’s snout appeared just below the soul’s hand. It disappeared just as the soul’s hand made contact. 

Sophie studied the boy’s face. His eyes never left the horses. Only when the carriage passed out of sight did he return his gaze to her.

“Will that be all?” he asked, all business. He shifted from one foot to another as if anxious to return to work. His soul manifestation still reached in the direction the horses had gone, though its hand had closed. A lost hope or dream perhaps?

Interesting. Sophie would have to include that in her journal. “Yes, thank you.” She gave him a little wave as she turned and continued on her way. 

By the time she reached the royal stables where the steeds reserved for the Lady Regent were kept, her feet ached and the satchel weighed heavily on her shoulder despite the reduced weight from delivered messages. This was the last stop for the day. Once she handed the final missive in her bag, she could go home. A hot cup of tea and a good book as she curled up in her soft, warm bed sounded heavenly. After a bowl of cook’s venison stew and a piece of crusty bread, of course. Her stomach growled in anticipation.

The previously cool breeze had turned cold. It whipped through the heavy, ornate gates that kept the general public from the Guild’s private grounds and stables. She showed the guards her Guild token, then hurried toward the largest of the stables. To think, the Guild had enough horses to warrant more than one of the buildings! Not all were strong enough to pull a carriage or even carry a rider, but they were horses all the same.

She’d visited the stables once, back when she was first introduced to the grounds. The towering beasts had frightened her then, but she’d grown several inches. Still, she kept her distance from the stalls as she searched out the stablemaster. She found him in the central paddock, watching a stable hand lead a horse around the enclosure. 

“Let up on the lead, boy! Don’t pull on him so hard.” Mr. Hanson gave Sophie a nod of acknowledgement. He pointedly looked down at her bag. “Something for me in there, miss?”

Miss. Not Lady. Sophie smiled to herself. No one here she needed to impress. “Of course, Mr. Hanson.” She made a show of opening her satchel and digging through it to unearth the missive addressed to the stablemaster. The two apples she hadn’t eaten yet kept falling on top of it, so she pulled those out first.

“Hold up.” Mr. Hanson straightened and took a step toward her. “Are those apples?” His soul manifestation, which had been just as laid back and confident as he’d been, perked up as well. This was a man who was true to his soul. That always made Sophie smile. Well, almost always.

She held the apples up. “Yes, they are.” She tilted her head as she looked them over. “Though they’re a little bruised. They fell on the ground earlier.” She gave the stablemaster a cautious grin. “Would you like one?”

The manifestation whooped, though the man himself maintained a calm composure. Maybe not as true to his soul as she first thought. In this case, it was an endearing dichotomy that reminded her very much of her Uncle William, Soulmaker rest his soul. 

Mr. Hanson nodded. “Thank you, miss. I would greatly appreciate it.”

As Sophie handed the fruit over, the stable boy jerked the horse’s lead again, pulling the reluctant animal closer. “I’ll take that,” he said as he looked greedily at the remaining apple in Sophie’s hand, then to Sophie herself. His dark and foreboding manifestation wore a similar expression, though it looked solely at Sophie, not the apple. 

Oh, dear. Sophie shivered and tried to come up with a way to escape the stable boy’s leer.  “I, uh…” She dropped the remaining apple in her bag and gripped the strap so tightly, it dug into her hand. 

“Back to work, Francis,” Mr. Hanson barked. He held his apple out to the horse, who chomped the apple with a soft nicker, dropping the rest to the ground to enjoy at its leisure. Mr. Hanson’s eyes never left the outspoken boy. 

“But—” Francis glared first at the fallen apple, then to Sophie as if it had been her fault. His lip rose in a sneer. Truly? How dare he look at her like that? She was a member of the Guild!

Or, rather, a messenger for the Guild. Who held little sway over anyone or anything. And, working here, he likely knew that.

Oh, bother.

Sophie bit her lip and ducked her head, hiding behind the rim of her bonnet. Whatever should she do? She toyed with leaving, but she couldn’t stand the thought of him watching her go. 

“Go muck out the stalls, Francis. Now.” The tone of the stablemaster’s voice brooked no argument. He stared down the defiant stable boy. 

After a few tense moments, Francis huffed, then dropped the reins and stormed off.

“If he wasn’t my brother’s son, I would apprentice him off to a blacksmith or something,” the stablemaster muttered. “No feel for working with horseflesh, that one. Or with people, either.” He looked to Sophie as if suddenly realizing she was still there. “I shouldn’t have said that, miss. Pardon.” He reached out to the horse, who nuzzled his hand, then tossed its head.

Sophie gestured to the horse, eager to change the subject. “He seemed to have liked his treat.” She wished she was brave enough to touch its nose too. It looked soft. “What’s his name?”

“Thunder. Apples are one of his favorite things.” The stablemaster took hold of the horse’s reins from over the fence. “I’ve got to get him back to his stall before the storm hits. Thanks again for the apple, miss.” 

The beginnings of an idea began to form. Sophie opened her bag and pulled the last apple back out. She held the apple out to Thunder, who snatched it from her palm almost before she knew what had happened. She giggled. “I know where you could get more. Apples, I mean.” 

Oh. That came out faster and more desperate than she’d intended. It was a good thing no one here could see a Soulseer’s soul. Her manifestation would likely be on its knees begging right now. All she wanted was to repay the kind stablemaster for handling the uncomfortable situation with the stable boy. 

Perhaps help Alexander out as well. He’d been so kind to that orphan girl. He deserved a bit of luck and if she could nudge it his way, she would.

She just didn’t want to be so obvious. “They sell the bruised ones for cheap.” Well, Alexander tried, but she hadn’t let him. Considering the way he and his soul manifestation watched the horses earlier, he’d likely try to cut a deal for Mr. Hanson, though.

The stablemaster halted. He looked back over his shoulder. “Apples? For cheap, you say?” His manifestation faced her fully, stroking its chin and watching her intently.

Sophie smiled. 

She’d got him.

Sophie watched the apple stand from a distance, peeking from around the corner of one of the few brick buildings in town. The cobblestone in front of the tables was still wet from last night’s storm, but the morning sun was quickly drying the excess moisture away. At least it hadn’t frozen, like it would have done a few weeks ago.

Alexander was there again today, rearranging the apples and speaking with customers. No dropped apples, which seemed a shame. She’d promised Mr. Hanson there would be a few bruised ones he could buy. She’d have to do something about that. 

The clip-clop of horse’s hooves could barely be heard above the voices and sounds on the street. Sophie heard them loud and clear. She’d been listening for them, after all. When she gauged they were near enough, she dashed through the crowd and flicked the handle to her satchel in such a way that it snagged the corner of one of the apple bushels and knocked it over, sending apples tumbled across the street.

“Oh, dear!” she cried, hoping she sounded believable. “I’m so sorry!” She knelt down and began gathering the apples into her skirt.

Alexander grabbed an empty basket and knelt next to her. He shook his head in a rueful manner, though his manifestation grinned at her. “We’ve got to stop meeting this way.”

Heat flooded through her face. She tried not to smile, but failed miserably. “I rather think it’s nice.” 

Oh! Had she actually said that out loud? Based on how much wider his grin was, she had. 

Oh, dear.

“How much for those apples?” Mr. Hanson said from above.

Sophie startled. She stood so fast, her vision spun for a moment before settling back to rights. She dropped the apples she’d gathered into the basket and rubbed her hands against her skirts to dry them. She’d gotten so caught up in…whatever that was with Alexander, she’d nearly forgotten the stablemaster had been coming. 

He sat astride Thunder, the very same horse she’d seen yesterday, looking down on them. Two large sacks hung from either side of the saddle, both looking to be empty. He’d come prepared to make a deal, it appeared. Mr. Hanson tipped his head in her direction.

Alexander stood as well. He met the stablemaster’s gaze, but his manifestation stared at the horse. “Two for a penny, sir,” he said hoarsely. He cleared this throat and moved back toward the stand. “How many would you like?”

“What of the ones on the ground?” Mr. Hanson asked. The horse reached for one near its feet, but the stablemaster’s firm hand brought it back to heel. “I’ll take them all.” He said nothing of a deal for the damaged fruit, but his manifestation looked to be counting coins. 

Sophie melted back into the crowd, staying just close enough to continue to watch. If she’d read the boy right, this was his moment. 

Alexander looked to the horse, then back toward the stall where the fruitmonger watched, glaring at the exchange. The boy’s manifestation lifted its chin and straightened its shoulders. Alexander took the apple from near the horse’s hooves and offered it to the horse, who took it gently from his hand. Alexander’s manifestation jumped for joy and danced in place, then gazed adoringly at Thunder. 

Sophie stifled a giggle. She’d been right. Even if nothing else came of this exchange, at least she’d been able to give him this moment. Alexander would likely remember this day for the rest of his life.

She wasn’t the only one who took note of the offering, though.

“Alexander!” Mr. Perth marched toward them and smacked the boy’s head with an open hand, sending the boy scrambling to regain his balance. The fruitmonger’s soul remained precisely the same as yesterday, red-faced and greedy. Another man who was true to his soul, but in the darkest way possible. “You’d better pay for that, boy. Or so help me, you’ll find yourself on the streets!”

Did the man know any other threat? Sophie wanted to stomp her foot at him and say some things she would later regret, but it wasn’t her place. Not now.

Alexander stood his ground, jaw set. His eyes darted toward the horse before returning to meet the riled fruitmonger’s gaze. “Yes, sir,” he said as he pulled a coin from the pouch on his belt. From the limp way the pouch fell back into place, the coin was his last. 

Oh, dear. This wasn’t what Sophie had meant at all. She just wanted to give Alexander a chance to see a real horse up close. She wrung her hands and shifted in place. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!

She had to do something. Alexander shouldn’t have to pay for something she’d made happen. She dug into her reticule and pulled out several coins, searching for the right denomination.

But she wasn’t quick enough.

“You, boy,” Mr. Hanson said as he dismounted, gathering the reins to one hand. “Alexander, is it?”

Mr. Perth stepped into Mr. Hanson’s path and waved Alexander aside. “Ignore him, my good man.” He gestured toward the fruit stand and placed a hand on the stablemaster’s shoulder. “If you come with me, I’m sure we can make a deal you can’t refuse. Fresh apples, straight from the south lands. As many as you and your horses can eat. Anything for the Guild’s stablemaster.” His manifestation now rubbed its hands together and chuckled. “I’ll deal with the boy later,” the fruitmonger said. “He’ll not bother you again.”

No, no, no, no. This wasn’t going well at all! Sophie started to rush forward, coins in hand, but paused.

The stablemaster’s soul manifestation studied Alexander in very much the same way it had studied her when she suggested purchasing the apples.

Oh. 

She held back, but held her coins at the ready in case they were needed.

Mr. Hanson shrugged the fruitmonger’s hand off his shoulder and turned to face Alexander. “Do you like horses, Alexander?” He stroked Thunder’s nose as he spoke. The horse nuzzled the man’s jacket, as if searching for something. The stablemaster reached into a pocket and pulled out a carrot. Instead of handing it directly to the horse, he held it out to Alexander.

Alexander remained where he was, though he leaned forward. His manifestation watched Mr. Perth warily, cringing at each little movement the portly man made. But his manifestation, too, leaned toward the stablemaster and his horse.

“Take it,” Sophie whispered. “Take the carrot!”

Alexander’s hesitation lasted only a moment longer. He took the carrot and offered it to Thunder, who made quick work of it, just as he had the apple. The horse nudged Alexander’s hand, searching for more. 

“Boy!” The fruitmonger grabbed Alexander’s arm, spinning him around and startling the horse. “Back to the cart. Now!. Or back to the streets with you!” He glared at the Mr. Hanson, who now soothed the uneasy horse with a low voice. “And you,” he said to the stablemaster. “I don’t care who you work for. If you’re not buying, then leave space for paying customers.”

Alexander struggled to free his arm, but the fruitmonger held fast. Sophie pushed her way forward through the crowd who’d stopped to watch the spectacle. Her gaze met that of Mr. Hanson’s, who studied her carefully. She looked at Alexander’s soul manifestation. It cried out and reached toward the horse, away from his cruel master.

She looked again to the stablemaster. 

Then nodded.

He gave the barest of nods back.

“Alexander,” Mr. Hanson said in a calm voice that carried over the noise of the crowd. It was a voice that drew attention without needed to be loud. “I’m in need of a new stable boy. One who has a way with horses. And Thunder here has taken a liking to you.”

Mr. Perth’s jaw dropped. “You must be joking.” He shook Alexander. “This useless whelp? You’re asking him?” His manifestation screeched and stomped its foot, then threw itself on the ground and sobbed.

Mr. Hanson ignored the fruitmonger’s outburst. He looked again to Sophie, then to the boy. “Alexander? Are you interested?”

Alexander’s manifestation matched the shocked expression on his face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he swallowed and tried again. “Me, sir?”

Mr. Hanson held out his hand, the one holding Thunder’s reins. “The offer is only good once, boy.”

Take it, Sophie urged silently. She didn’t dare say the words out loud, for fear she would jinx what was happening. This was far more than she’d expected. More than she’d hoped. She bounced on her toes and clasped her hands to her heart. Oh, please!

Alexander didn’t seem to need time to consider the offer. He twisted out of the fruitmonger’s grasp, grabbed a bag from under the fruit cart, and stepped to Mr. Hanson’s side. “Let’s go.” Belatedly, he added, “Sir.”

The stablemaster nodded once, then handed the reins to Alexander. “Come on, then.” Then he led Alexander and Thunder away. Alexander walked gingerly next to the beast that towered over him, staring up at Thunder’s head. He reached a hand out to touch the horse’s neck and stroked it gently. His manifestation grinned widely.

Before they turned the corner, Mr. Hanson looked back to meet Sophie’s gaze. His manifestation held a hand over its heart and bowed its head in a show of reverence reserved for full-fledged Gifted. Then he, Alexander, and Thunder disappeared from sight.

Why would his soul do that? Unless…

Oh. Oh. 

Sophie’s heart fluttered anxiously. He knew. He knew. 

Somehow, the stablemaster knew Sophie’s gift was far stronger than she let on.

But would he keep her secret?

She bit her bottom lip, lost in thought. The people bustled about her, back to business now that the excitement had died down. Someone bumped into her, drawing her attention back to her surroundings. 

Mr. Perth stared down the street where the stablemaster and Alexander had gone. His manifestation reached a hand in their direction, then clenched it closed. The redness returned to its face and it snarled. 

The man himself looked in Sophie’s direction. “What do you want, girl?” he snapped. 

Sophie lifted her hand, still clutching the coins she’d retrieved. A moment’s thought was all it took. “I’d like some apples, please.”

Her reply seemed to appease the man. He took her coins and counted them, then began to fill a small sack with apples. His attention strayed back to the street as did that of his manifestation. Sadness resided there. Sadness and regret.

“Some have all the luck,” he said quietly, almost too soft for Sophie to hear. Her heart cracked a little for him. But only a little. He had been rather cruel both to Alexander and Mr. Hanson. If that was how he treated everyone, he’d created his own poor luck.

She took the sack from him with thanks, then continued on her way. Sophie had noticed the scruffy little girl down the street earlier. She now had far more apples than she could possibly eat herself. The girl would surely be happy to take one. Or several. 

Sophie hummed to herself as she walked, pleased with how her scheme had played out with only Mr. Hanson the wiser for it. Whether or not he kept her secret, only time would tell. If she’d read him right, though, she believed he would. 

Never mind. That worry was for another time.

For now, she had messages to deliver and smiles – and apples – to share.