by Robyn Bachar
“Yes. I assume something tech-related got in the way. I offered to help him. You’ll see. Shouldn’t take long. He seemed overwhelmed just by the flight here.”
“Very well.”
They parted ways, and Bryn suppressed a grimace as she fell in behind Jace and continued to watch for trouble. Sairyssa led them through silent corridors of the manor, which had been emptied for Sabine. The place was huge—though it was meant to be the home of the lord, his staff and high-ranking members of the family, it was easily larger than House Wintersend’s shadow sword training facility. Definitely nicer too. The air was fresh and crisp, scented with some sort of pleasant floral aroma instead of the damp stink of blood, sweat and unwashed shadow swords.
So much wealth and power, and as Jace’s mates she and Sabine had a share of it—though the size of the share apparently depended entirely on how many heirs they could breed. The money didn’t matter to Bryn. She’d never wanted to be wealthy—comfortable would be enough. She wanted room to breathe, instead of being crammed into the brothel or crowded within the hull of a ship. Bryn’s eyes widened when they arrived at their quarters. The outer sitting room was enormous, and six doors led to other rooms. It was going to be a bitch to guard—too much open space, nowhere to take cover during a firefight. What did one person do with all this space? Maybe he had a room just for his jackets.
Jace’s mother paused in the outer room and folded her hands. “We cleared this section of the manor for your use until your mate’s phase is over. If you need anything, all you need do is use the comm. to ask, but I would advise keeping your requests to a minimum to contain the pheromones as much as possible. I’ve done what I could to assemble an appropriate wardrobe for your mates on such short notice, and you’ll find it in the closet.”
Bryn bit her tongue to keep from blurting a question about what she considered appropriate attire. It would be nice to have more new clothes, though she was growing rather fond of Jace’s uniform jacket. She might keep it just to annoy him.
“Thank you, Mother. Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m certain Sabine is eager to be out of that suit.”
“And I am eager to see her before I leave. I’ll keep my distance,” she replied. “I merely wish to see if she is as lovely as Brynnaren.”
Bryn assumed that was a veiled insult, and ignored the barb. Bryn was too tall and too lean to fall within the traditional definition of Cy’ren beauty. She’d had more than one of her fellow shadow swords inform her that it was a good thing she was tough, because she’d never be pretty. Sabine and Jace were pretty enough for the three of them.
Jace sighed. “Of course.” He nodded to Bryn, who helped Sabine remove the helmet to her sterile suit.
Sabine gulped a deep breath of air once she was free. “Oh, that’s much better. This thing is stifling.”
“That’s one reason why I hate wearing full armor. Feels like you’re walking around with an aquarium on your head,” Bryn said.
“Do you wear full armor often?” Sairyssa asked.
“I prefer light armor,” she replied. “It’s easier to maneuver in.”
“Brynnaren is a shadow sword, previously of House Wintersend. She’s a skilled warrior,” Jace said. “I am quite fortunate to have her affection, and her protection as my shathlinn.”
Bryn was both impressed by his praise and amused by the sour look it earned from his mother. She stepped back as Sabine removed the rest of the suit. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the change in Jace as the phase pheromones hit him, as though someone flipped a switch that filled him with instant, hungry interest in his mates. Bryn shook her head in dry amusement.
Sairyssa’s brow furrowed as she eyed Sabine—it was difficult to tell if it was disappointment or concern that inspired her expression. “I see. Very lovely. I look forward to speaking with you ladies soon.”
She turned and swept from the room, and Bryn quirked a brow at Jace. “Is that good or bad?”
“I’m not sure. I was surprised that she met us. I wasn’t expecting to see her so soon.”
“She seems nice,” Sabine said.
“How much did you tell her?” Bryn asked.
“Very little. There will be plenty of time for you to get to know each other later,” Jace said. “I didn’t tell her about Sabine being an aleithir. I didn’t want that said over an unsecured channel.”
“Right,” Bryn replied. “Well, I’m sure you two are eager to break in the bed. I’ll sweep the rooms and order dinner.” Jace nodded, though he eyed her for a moment. “I’m not on the menu. Someone has to keep a lookout for trouble.”
“Later,” he said, the word a promise.
Heat pulsed through her, and Bryn cleared her throat. “No—”
“Yes,” Sabine insisted.
“Fine. Later. Go on.” Bryn sighed and held her hands up in defeat.
Bryn kept to the edge of the bedroom until she found the closet—Jace really did have a room for his clothes—and the wardrobe Jace’s mother had mentioned. Before her mates could pull her into bed, Bryn retreated to the outer suite with a new outfit and, more importantly, a suit of light armor. Strong enough to absorb the energy of a laser bolt, provided it wasn’t point-blank, but flexible enough to let her move in it. It had been sized for Jace, but the intellifabric molded to her body until it fit like a second skin. The adjustment made for ease of movement but showed off far more of her figure than she liked, so she donned Jace’s uniform jacket over it and belted her weapons at her waist.
During her sweep of the rooms Bryn found one obvious surveillance device, two hidden ones, and absolutely no fashion sense in the interior decorating. Everything was decorated in the dark blue and gold of House Morningstar, but there were no personal touches. While she knew that Jace spent most of his time on the Talon II, there were none in his quarters there, either. It was as though Jace were a ghost, leaving no sign of his passage.
Bryn smashed all three surveillance devices into small, sharp pieces, but she assumed there were more that she wouldn’t find without scanning for them. She didn’t begrudge the Morningstars their security, though she did poke her head into the bedroom and warn Jace and Sabine to be careful what they said. Not that they were saying much, doing more moaning than talking. She watched them from the doorway for a moment. Voyeurism had always been Sabine’s thing, but there was something to be said for it. Jace and Sabine were beautiful together, her soft violet curves complementing his hard granite lines.
There was only one detail left before she could completely settle into her role as Jace’s shathlinn—her hair. It was still entirely too long, so when she ordered a meal for the three of them, she also asked for a barber—a female one—to cut her hair to a more functional length. A few buzzes of the trimming shears later, and Bryn’s locks had been tamed into an efficient, military-appropriate style.
Jace eyed Bryn with immediate disapproval when she entered the bedroom with their dinner. Sabine was snuggled in his arms, and she frowned.
“You butchered your hair,” she accused Bryn.
“I did, a’gra, but it was for the best.”
“Why?” Sabine asked plaintively.
Bryn set the tray down, sauntered to the bed, knelt behind them and grabbed a handful of Jace’s flowing, lovely hair. He moaned and scrambled upright as she pulled, his disapproving scowl instantly replaced with searing lust.
“Because your opponent can do this when you have long hair,” Bryn said matter-of-factly.
Jace growled, and Bryn bared his throat and bit him. He sighed her name, and Bryn enjoyed a momentary sense of satisfaction at seeing his reaction. Her nipples hardened beneath her new armor and her sex throbbed with eager anticipation as she drank from her mate, but she forced the urge aside. Bryn playfully nipped at his earlobe before drawing away, but then she rose and left, headed for the bedroom door.
“Enjoy your m
eal.”
“Where are you going?” Sabine asked.
Bryn smirked. “Back to the main room to guard the door.”
“Stop.” Jace leapt to his feet, and she eyed him as he stalked toward her. Bryn swallowed a moan at the heat in his expression.
“That’s far enough, Second Son. Someone has to stay alert. If your brother truly feels threatened by you, by us, he’ll strike while you’re distracted by the phase. You asked me to be your bodyguard. Let me keep you safe.”
Jace paused, balancing on the balls of his feet as though pondering leaping at her and dragging Bryn to bed. He did look enticing, hard and hungry for her. Bryn glanced past him and spotted Sabine watching her with the same eager expression.
“One bite,” Jace demanded.
“One bite and one kiss, and then I go,” she agreed.
With a low growl he pounced, pressing her back against the wall as his teeth sank into her skin. Bryn whimpered as pleasure shuddered through her, and then he covered her mouth with a kiss that left her shaken and breathless. Thankfully no assassins appeared to take advantage of her moment of weakness, and she gently nudged him away.
Jace nuzzled her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “When this is over, I expect you back in our bed, a’mhain.”
Her brow rose at the endearment, and she impulsively brushed a kiss against his cheek. “I know. Make sure she eats something.”
“Other than me, right.”
Bryn smiled, and then crossed to kiss Sabine as well. Her heart fluttered as Bryn kissed her lover, and her eyes stung with sudden tears. They were finally free and in their new home, but even now they weren’t safe. She took a deep breath and managed a brave smile.
“You can pull his hair next,” she teased, and Sabine grinned.
Chapter Thirteen
After a few hours of quiet, Captain Hawke summoned Bryn to the Morningstar archive room, where the house’s collected knowledge was stored. Though Bryn was reluctant to leave Jace and Sabine unguarded, she comforted herself with the knowledge that whatever the captain wanted, it would likely be quick.
Bryn stepped into the archive and spotted Captain Hawke, Malcolm and Jace’s sister Andelynn across the room, along with two males she didn’t know. Judging by their resemblance, she assumed the older one was Jace’s father, and judging by his derision, she assumed the other male was Wylarric.
House Wintersend’s records took up one room, but the Morningstar archives were enormous, like the rest of the city. Data terminals were clustered in groups throughout the room, forming small, cozy reading areas, and the walls were lined with shelves containing ancient printed texts.
Captain Hawke nodded to her. “This is Lieutenant Brynnaren Viera.”
“Captain,” Bryn said, standing at attention.
“Lieutenant, this is Lord Najamek Harrow, and his heir, Wylarric Harrow.”
“My lords.” Bryn bowed politely as both males regarded her. Lord Najamek shared Jace’s lean build and charcoal skin, but he and Wylarric had deep green eyes and black hair. Wylarric was also shorter, stockier, and his thin nose gave him a pinched expression, as though he constantly smelled something sour.
“Too skinny,” Wylarric muttered. Lord Najamek shot his son a frosty glance. Bryn ignored him—she expected that he would disapprove of her, and preferred it to interest from him.
“Welcome to our house, and to our family, Brynnaren. I look forward to speaking with you more, but I’m afraid we have pressing matters at hand.” Lord Najamek turned his attention to Malcolm as the indexer poked at circuitry panels and pulled wires out of a data terminal.
“Thank you, my lord.” Bryn frowned at Malcolm. “Is he allowed to do that?”
“Technically, no,” Lord Najamek replied.
“I’ll stop him.”
Bryn hurried over to Malcolm before he yanked anything else out of the machine. He crouched and peered into an access port, muttering to himself as he made notes on a data pad. When he didn’t respond to her calling his name, Bryn knelt beside him and touched his shoulder.
Malcolm turned and blinked at her. “Oh. Bryn. You cut your hair. It’s very nice, like the captain’s.”
“Thanks. You know you were supposed to talk with her about your situation,” Bryn reminded.
“Yes. I forgot.” He dragged a hand through his dark hair, causing more chaos than order, and sat back on his heels. “I’ll need to build an uplink terminal. I assumed they’d have one, but they don’t.”
“Not a lot of indexers around here,” she replied.
“It’s not an indexer thing. Anyone hardwired with a data jack can use a direct access uplink to interface with an information network,” he explained.
“Okay,” Bryn said, despite having no idea what that meant.
“You’re a data miner,” Andelynn said. They both glanced up at her as she slowly approached. She bore a stronger resemblance to her father than she did to Jace, because her mother was one of Lord Najamek’s other mates.
“Yes.” Malcolm’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I need an uplink terminal to access the data stream to complete my search for the Eppes’ testing facility for the Lazarus project. I’ll also need a handler. Alexi was always my handler.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Bryn admitted.
“I can explain,” Andelynn said. “He needs a handler to observe his vital signs while he’s accessing the data stream.”
“It’s more than that.” Malcolm fidgeted with the frayed cuffs of his sleeves as he continued. “I mean, if it were just the vital signs, anyone with med tech training could do it. Handlers control a miner’s access to the data stream to keep us from being fried by too much input. And they monitor for outside attacks, like being detected by a security program. It’s sort of like being a miner’s bodyguard, assistant and medic all at once.”
“Fried how?” Bryn asked.
“Death by information overload. It can cause a seizure, aneurysm, system arrest. Stuff like that.” Malcolm shrugged.
Bryn blinked at his nonchalant attitude. “So this could kill you?”
“It will, eventually. That’s why the archivists make slaves do searches for them.”
“I know of someone with handler training,” Andelynn said.
“Oh?” Lord Najamek said.
She nodded. “Lord Degalen. He is very interested in data mining techniques, and has studied the subject extensively.”
Captain Hawke snorted. “That does sound like him. I can contact him.”
“Malcolm also wishes to claim asylum,” Bryn said. “And if the resistance wants his help they need to put him on their payroll.”
“Asylum?” Lord Najamek peered at Malcolm as the man blushed.
“Yes, well, the Collective owns me. Specifically my mentor owns me, Archivist de la Cruz. That’s how I got my last name—it’s his, not mine. I’m considered Collective property.” He tugged his shirt collar aside to display his slave mark. Bryn returned her attention to Lord Najamek and noticed that, like Jace, he had no slave marks. Neither did Wylarric, who scowled at the situation while standing behind his father.
Must be nice to be important.
“I’ll see that you are compensated for your time, and I’ll assign a tech team to assist you with constructing the uplink. Do you need anything else?” Lord Najamek asked.
“No,” Malcolm replied.
“Yes, he does. A hot meal, a change of clothes, and at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep,” Bryn said.
“Oh. Yes. Well, four hours would be sufficient,” he argued.
“Six,” she replied.
Malcolm frowned. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“Don’t we all?” Bryn rose and then helped him to his feet.
“I can see that the indexer receives everything he needs,” Andelynn offered.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Malcolm lowered his voice and peered at Bryn, “Is ma’am right? What’s the proper form of address?”
“In this case, ‘my lady’,” she replied.
Malcolm blushed again. “Thank you, my lady,” he corrected. Andelynn smiled.
“May I speak with you a moment, Lady Andelynn?” Bryn asked.
“Yes, of course. Please, call me Andee. We are family.”
Family. It had been a long time since she’d had any family aside from Sabine. They moved away from the others, and Bryn lowered her voice. “Thanks for looking after Malcolm. He’s not used to being on his own.”
“I can tell.”
“I wanted you to know that Sabine is an aleithir. She’s never had any training in how to control her abilities. Jace said you might be able to help her with that.”
Andee’s brow rose, and she nodded. “I can.”
Bryn breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. She’ll need it. She’s never lived in a place with so many people. It’ll be hard for her to keep the noise out.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you. Make sure Malcolm eats something.”
Andee chuckled, and then joined the indexer to discuss his list of supplies. Lord Najamek turned his attention to Bryn, and she stood at attention.
“I have never met a female shadow sword before.”
“House Wintersend does not have the luxury of turning away potential warriors based on their gender, my lord,” she replied.
“I’m surprised that House Wintersend can afford shadow swords at all,” Wylarric sneered. Typical. She doubted that he’d even met anyone from a lesser house before.
Bryn stood straighter as she swallowed her first reply and formed a second, polite one. “It is an honor to serve one’s house. I may be new to House Morningstar, but I am honored to be part of it.”
“And we are fortunate to have you,” Lord Najamek replied. “Please give my regards to Najacen. I would like to speak with him after he has recovered.”
“Of course.” Bryn bowed and retreated before Wylarric could add more snide commentary.