The Fractured Empire (The World Apart Series Book 1)

by Robin D. Mahle

  My father had known the name of every last person on his ship, no matter what their station. In the twelve years I had known him, I hadn't once watched him walk by a person without acknowledging them. He said it was because he hadn't been born into the higher class, only raised there by military rank, so he saw people differently. He had never quite fit with the socialite crowd. That's probably why they turned on him in the end.

  But tonight, their elitism worked in my favor. I might as well have been invisible in my black-and-white uniform. The guests blurred together in my mind, a sea of overly made-up ladies and pompous men trading in doublespeak and venomous smiles.

  I had done a little digging to find out the speakers usually arrived early and waited in the guest room, not mingling until after they gave their speech. Trauman should have arrived in the last few minutes. I had to be patient, give it enough time so that whoever escorted him left him in the guest room. Aegis had paid the exhibit room guards to find somewhere else to be in approximately fifteen minutes, so it was time to find Trauman.

  I headed down the hallway toward the guest rooms, passing the double doors to the kitchen. A wave of hot air blew out when the doors opened, and a frazzled man emerged. He saw me standing with no tray and promptly shoved a silver platter of champagne flutes into my empty hands.

  "Go, serve! No wonder tonight is a mess with our staff bumbling around like this." He continued grumbling while I walked back to the main room, biting back a sigh.

  Fortunately, the lushes around me emptied my champagne tray in record time. It was still too long. Once Trauman got up to give his speech, I would have to abandon this part of the plan and go straight for the necklace. I nearly threw the empty tray. I needed to talk to him. It was the whole reason I had taken this mission.

  Taking a deep breath, I stashed the tray behind a wall tapestry. I still have time. Stay calm. Stay focused.

  This time, I took a different route to the rooms, bypassing the kitchen. I had memorized the schematics after my mission briefing with Aegis yesterday. In less than a minute of navigating hallways, I found myself outside the small collection of sitting rooms. The door was closed.

  I knocked and got no answer. It was locked, but the mechanism was rudimentary, more for basic privacy than security. Looking both ways down the hallway to ensure I was alone, I picked it in seconds and entered the room, locking it again behind me. I prepared myself for a disgruntled Professor Trauman, and possibly a handful of other people. I had already prepared my initial cover story.

  But there was no one there.

  The windowless room held plush furniture and an unused tea set, but no sign of life. There was, however, blood on the carpet by the only other door in the room. My heart pounded. I opened it up to find a spacious private powder room, complete with a blue velvet chaise lounge. And two bodies. The sharp tang of copper warred with floral potpourri for dominance in my nostrils.

  I assumed the first was Professor Trauman by his black hair and deeply-tanned skin. He was lying face down in a pool of blood. The other was further away, wearing the uniform of a Red Son. The only noticeable wound was a scratch on his arm. That meant nothing, though. There were countless ways to kill a person without leaving a mark. I couldn't be sure either of them were dead yet, though.

  I knelt by what I presumed to be Trauman's body, first feeling for a pulse. Warm blood soaked into the fabric at my knees. The pulse was there but weak. Relief flooded through me. I flipped him over. It was definitely the professor, based on the pictures I had seen while researching him. His eyes were slow to settle on me, then closed.

  "Professor Trauman? Henry?" I tried to rouse him. I never thought I'd wish Xavier was on this mission with me, but he knew far more about injuries than I did. He would know what to do right now. Trauman forced one trembling arm over a spot in his vest.

  "Truth. Must…" Blood gurgled from his mouth, and his breathing stopped entirely.

  Damn it! I had seen more people die than I cared to remember, but it never got easier to watch the life leave someone's body. I forced myself to focus on my task.

  I patted down the vest, staining my white gloves red, and found a tiny cylinder about the size of the top section of my pinky finger, sewn into a hidden pocket. It was made of stone with strange etchings covering the entire surface area. It would have been easy to miss if he hadn't pointed it out.

  “Truth,” he had said.

  Did someone want this badly enough to kill him? Or was his murder to cover up what he knew?

  More questions without answers, and I was running out of time. They would come back here to retrieve him for his speech any minute, and I needed to be anywhere else. Besides, I still had a necklace to steal.

  The Heiress

  It was storming. Again. I hated Central Island. I had never slept easily, but thunder at all hours of the night made it nearly impossible. Add to that the oppressive heat and unfamiliar surroundings, and it was a recipe for perpetual grouchiness. Which is why when my Mama and Amelie asked me to go with them to work in the soup kitchen in Central's slums, I declined in a rather high-handed manner, citing concerns about my safety in that part of town.

  It turned out I was right to be concerned, but the joke was on me. I'd rather have died in that explosion than been stuck living without them.

  Chapter Nine

  Adelaide

  The cavernous room was a maze of exhibits, so my first thought was to try to lose him. In ten years of torture by physical training, I had never successfully managed to outrun anything; but it was dim in the room, and he was wearing a mask, which I hoped made it hard for him to see. Hiding was my only option until I could sneak out. I was worried for Nell, but I couldn't help anyone if I didn't get myself to safety first.

  Once I get to Locke, he’ll help Nell.

  I tried to find my inner stealth as I slipped behind one of the statues, quickly scouting out the best spot to dash to from here. With my eye on a fat pedestal displaying a huge vase, I tried to bolt from behind the statue too quickly. My heel caught on the grout of the floor tiles, and my ankle twisted. Searing pain shot through my tendon, and I tried to muffle my gasp. I eased myself to the floor, one hand over my mouth as I bit my lip to keep silent.

  My skirts didn't seem nearly so majestic now that they were poking out on either side of the statue. I could only hope the dark color would make them blend in.

  Stupid heels, I thought as I slipped them off. How am I supposed to run now? Not that running would have helped me much before. I had a long history of skipping out on gym class. Without the encumbrance of the shoes, though, at least I had the option to hobble away.

  The man didn't seem to be interested in following me, so perhaps he was looking for something else. Regardless, I doubted I was safe.

  The soft sound of footsteps slowed and stopped for a moment before an incredulous gasp sounded on the other side of the statue by the display case. Of course. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was looking for the necklace. I had now known of its existence for roughly five minutes, and I already hated this necklace.

  I frantically worked to get the damn thing off my neck while trying not to make any noise. If I slid the necklace across the floor near him, the distraction might be enough for me to make an escape.

  He wants the necklace, not me.

  My fingernails dug at where the clasp should have been, but it was as if the ends were soldered together. There was no connector or clasp at all.

  I was no stranger to jewelry, but this ancient piece must have had some now-forgotten clasp mechanism.

  How did Nell figure it out so quickly?

  There was no way I was going to manage to figure this out in the dark, so I returned to Plan A and tiptoed to my next spot behind the pedestal with the broad, squat vase, inching my way closer to the huge set of doors that served as the only exit I could see. It was also the direct route to the main room where Locke would be searching for me.

  Just as I was preparing to dar
t for the doors, the masked man materialized in the dim light in front of me. I scrambled back, hitting the vase hard with my shoulder, then lunged to the right. As usual, I wasn't fast enough, and the man seized my arm. With his other hand, he tore at the necklace, but age had apparently done nothing to weaken the cursed thing. It remained as tightly fastened as ever. I cried out in pain as he yanked again, and then in fear as he went for his sword, apparently opting for a more direct method of removing the necklace from my person.

  I had ShutEye, a nerve agent, in the small satchel secured around the wrist of the arm he had pinned down. But even if I could get into the bag, it needed direct contact with skin, and this man had left none open to the elements. My heart was racing. I tried to skitter backward, but his grip was too strong. My feet got caught up in my skirts, and putting weight on my ankle made me cry out in pain. My breath was coming in short puffs now.

  "Wait!" I breathed as I flailed in his grasp, trying to make myself a difficult target. "I didn’t even put this on. I can get it off. I won't tell anyone, I promise. You can have it. You don't have to do this!"

  But the man showed no signs of changing his mind, and his grip on my arm was like iron. He shoved me to the floor and put his foot on my chest, raising his sword high. He began swinging it down in an arc.

  My blood ran cold.

  For the last five years, some part of me had thought I wanted to join my mother and sister. It was a shame that I realized I was wrong just as the choice to continue living was removed from my hands.

  My struggles were futile, so I screamed. It would do no good; I already knew this room was soundproofed. I squeezed my eyes shut against the impending death headed my way.

  A heartbeat passed, stretching out interminably along with the sheer force of my terror. Rather than the feel of a blade cutting into my neck, I heard the sound of steel clashing against steel. The weight on my chest lessened, and I opened my eyes to see red-lined armor standing over me, familiar insignia emblazoned on the chest. Locke was protecting my body with his own, pushing back against the assailant. I nearly sobbed in relief. I had no idea what was going on outside of these doors, but in any given situation, the safest place was with Locke. I crawled then hobbled away to take shelter behind a squat bust of the Emperor near the window where I could keep an eye on the two men engaged in combat.

  Unsurprisingly, Locke had the upper hand, parrying the taller man's blows with a speed I had never witnessed. But then, I had never been under any real threat, not like this. The masked man fell back. Yet just when the whole ordeal was about to come to a swift end, another masked man appeared out of nowhere. Locke turned to face him, then alternated fending off each assailant in an impressive display of skill. He was, quite literally, the best of the best.

  The Red Sons were the most elite force in the world, and my father handpicked Locke not only for his loyalty but for his legendary skill. Two on one should present little problem, especially when the first was likely wounded.

  But what if there are more? How many men can Locke hold off?

  Another man dropped from the ceiling in the southwest corner of the room as if summoned by that very thought. Putting my weight on my good ankle, I jumped up with the intention of warning Locke. Then I realized I didn't dare distract him. I stayed standing, though, out of a pure but illogical desire to do something, anything to help the situation.

  Should I go for help? I looked toward the exit but faltered. What if there is an entire force of these men? What if everyone is under attack?

  Locke knocked both men off their feet. The third was still some distance away, so Locke turned toward me. He sheathed his sword, grabbed my arm, and made for the nearest window.

  I wondered why he had stopped fighting, then saw several more men rounding the far exhibits. Even Locke couldn’t take on so many. He grabbed a weighty artifact and shattered the window. Before I could see much more, he wrapped one muscled arm around my waist and yanked me through the hole. I barely had the breath to scream as we began to freefall from six stories up.

  At least, it felt like a freefall. In reality, we were slowed by a rope Locke had managed to secure with what I could only assume was a grappling hook.

  I furrowed my brow and looked up at Locke. What does he store in that armor. How does he keep it organized? Irrelevant thoughts for an irrational moment, but questions I intended to have answered, nonetheless. Those were better than the other thoughts swirling around in my head, like, How strong is this rope? And, Am I about to fall to my death?

  After what felt like several lifetimes but was likely fewer than thirty seconds, we safely landed. And then I stared up at what was left of the window and the eerie masked faces staring out of it.

  "No!" I screamed. "We have to go back! Nell!" But before I could finish, there was a rough, armored hand over my mouth. The other hand reached for my arm to tug me toward the nearby forest, but I resisted. I had no idea where Nell had gone or if she was safe. I couldn't just leave my best friend at the mercy of the men in that room. I stumbled on my tender ankle and had to fight to stay upright.

  Ignoring my struggle, he easily hoisted me over his shoulder and took off at a sprint. I couldn't have managed his speed, even without the weight of an additional human. Infuriated, I tried to escape his hold, but I didn't even slow him down. I screamed again, but the walls of the museum were a solid foot thick and the valets and ticket masters had long since gone inside. Though we had a short reprieve from the rain, it was still so unbearably humid that no one would stay outside longer than they strictly needed to.

  Outraged, I watched the museum grow smaller as Locke ran further toward the forest. I was unable to help the only real friend I had.

  Finally, Locke stopped to put me down. Even he was winded by this point. Seeing him there, gasping for breath, I felt a wave of sympathy for my stalwart protector. It was possible he didn't even know Nell was in there.

  Maybe if I explain, he’ll go back for her. Or radio back for help.

  "Locke, we have to go back. That's what I was trying to tell you. I know you're exhausted, but Nell was in that room with me. We at least have to call someone," I pleaded.

  He only shook his head, and I felt my fury rising again.

  "Come on, Locke!" Still nothing. "Fine. If you don't go, I will." I turned on my bare heel and started to limp back toward the museum. His hand on my arm pulled me firmly back around and pointed in the opposite direction. I gritted my teeth against the pain and glared at him.

  "I know your helmet isn't broken, Locke. I heard you panting through it. Why don't you hurry up and tell me what the hell your problem is so we can get back to making sure Nell is not hurt or worse right now." My voice broke slightly at the end, ruining the threatening demeanor I was trying to give off. Not that it would have worked on Locke, but I was out of options. I stared him down through the tears I refused to let fall from my eyes, and was shocked when, instead of answering, he went to remove his helmet.

  Along with a heavy dose of shock, my dismay intensified as the moonlight revealed a young man's face with sweeping dark hair and a square jaw.

  I stumbled back a step.

  "I don't know who Locke is, but my name is Clark. And you can't go back there."

  The Renegade

  The abandoned warehouse was a cliché place for a meeting, but that didn't surprise me. I looked at the small square of paper with this address and a time written on it. It was the latest in a slew of dramatic notes, and the only one without a threat. The handwriting on this one had been different, though, and it had promised answers if I came alone.

  My stomach churned. I wasn't worried. I could take care of myself. But I had promised my brothers after the threatening notes that I would let this go. I had had every intention of following through, but this opportunity was too good to pass up. I pushed the guilt aside and opened the metal door.

  I had been there only minutes before a man in a black mask with white slits over the eyes came in through a ba
ck door.

  "I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come alone."

  "I like to think of it as confident."

  "I think you'll find you overestimate yourself. We told you to drop this."

  "Who is we? I want answers."

  "That's not your concern. You won’t need answers where you're going anyway." He unsheathed his sword and lunged for me.

  I had my own sword in hand before I consciously registered the gesture. Right away, I knew something was wrong. I couldn't block the man's attacks fast enough to go on the offensive. He was gaining on me. I had trained against the best soldiers in the empire, including my father, and I had never been this outmatched before. The man had been right. I had been arrogant, and coming here was an act of sheer stupidity.

  I only hoped I lived long enough to regret it.

  The man gave a final sweeping motion of his sword, aiming for my neck. I couldn't bring my sword up in time to block it. I dodged but didn't get clear. The sword swept downward in an arc, cutting through the bottom of my jaw, slicing down through my neck to my collarbone. My last conscious thought was that my brothers would know I had broken my promise to them.

  Chapter Ten

  Clark

  Merde. That hadn't come out right. The girl's eyes widened in fear as she lost her footing and nearly went down. She appeared to be favoring her right leg. I wasn't surprised this encounter had gone badly. It just fell in line with the rest of this godforsaken mission.