by Leo Hull
“Almost,” Tristan smiled, wrapping his arms around her. “I told you we are tough.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Nessa whispered, pressing her lips against him. Her kiss seemed desperate, and Tristan tried to match her passion. He was ready, and she wiggled on his hardness until Annik interrupted.
“Here?” Annik asked, her voice low and breathy. She stood, her full pink lips parted, the satchel in one hand and their communication crystal in the other, but her full attention was on Tristan and the vixen in his lap.
“You found the crystal,” Tristan observed, surprised at his own indifference. It meant a way back home, but it put a clock on his time here with Nessa.
“That’s something to celebrate,” Nessa offered, but Tristan could feel a burst of anxiety along their bond. He clutched her tighter.
Annik looked at the two then down at the fist-sized gemstone that they’d sought. She slipped it back into the pack without further comment and looked away from Tristan and Nessa.
“Come on, let’s go back to the inn,” Annik said, walking off without waiting for Tristan or Nessa. She moved quickly, leaving Tristan behind with Nessa as the Spark slipped back into her dress.
“She’s upset,” Nessa whispered as they hurried after Annik. Tristan could see it too but didn’t understand why Annik wouldn’t be happy.
He knew why the crystal made his heart feel heavy. Going back to Aeol meant a return to a world he didn’t belong in, where he had a duty to his country above all else, and worst of all, a world where his adventure with Nessa and Annik came to an end. He felt like his own man for the first time—free from both duty to his family and nation. Going back would mean giving up at least a piece of that.
“When we get to the inn, let me go talk to her. Maybe try to get some food for us?” Tristan suggested, his stomach grumbling at the thought of food.
“Good idea!” Nessa agreed, giggling and poking Tristan’s noisy stomach.
The two didn’t catch Annik before she got to the inn, and Tristan’s stomach felt like it was doing flips as he climbed the stairs alone to their room—not that he was worried about her safety. Annik could handle herself better than he could, but something about finding the crystal and his reaction to seeing it weighed on Annik like an anchor. She’d saved him from himself and seeing her stalk away upset tugged at his heart.
He found her in their room, already changed from her wet dress back into the formless shirt and pants issued by the Aeolian Corp. She sat cross-legged on the bed, the crystal blinking away in front of her. He’d rather have found her waiting to slip the dress off and take him to bed, but that was wishful thinking on his part, and even he knew better than to interrupt a transmission. The timing of a coded message was critical, one of the things Tristan had never managed to master without writing it down.
He stood awkwardly until the crystal pulsed six steady times then dimmed.
“What did they say?” Tristan asked after Annik stared blankly without moving.
“They want us at the coast in three weeks.”
The news felt like a blow to Tristan, and he sat heavily on the bed. It was the worst message he could imagine other than harm coming to Nessa or Annik. “What about Nessa? We have obligations here.”
Annik flinched at the words but said nothing. She had her head down and a tear fell, breaking apart across the pale communicator’s facets. “I don’t know what to do.”
Tristan didn’t either but for some reason Annik’s uncertainty gave him hope that his feelings weren’t completely misguided. If it were just him here, he’d never have reached back out in the first place. Annik complicated things. She was Corp to the bones and had thrived in the structured environment that had nearly smothered Tristan. She’d taken a huge risk bringing him here and going back without him would be a stain on her career. Annik returning alone was out of the question.
“Nessa could come with us,” Annik finally said. “I’m sure we could take her with us.”
“She would hate it. Could you imagine her wearing those?” Tristan gestured at the functional clothes Annik wore.
“No, that would be a crime,” Annik giggled, then sighed heavily. “Fuck.”
“Fuck,” Tristan agreed seriously. “I’ll talk to her. What are you going to say?”
“Nothing, for now. I told them we had business to finish here, but they insisted we leave immediately to rendezvous.” Annik looked up, her eyes thin lines over trails of tear-streaked makeup. “They can wait.”
“Thank you.” Tristan’s heart swelled at Annik’s willingness to buck orders, even if only temporarily. She’d done more than he could ever repay already, but still she gave and gave.
“I owe you and I want to see you happy.”
“You owe me? For the thing with Gori? You’ve paid me back and then some.”
“Nessa makes you happy and you’re right, we made a bond and we’re going to see it through to the end,” Annik said forcefully. Tristan didn’t miss the ‘we’ in her statement but kept silent. She dried her eyes. “Don’t talk with her tonight? I could tell you were both nervous about the crystal, so for tonight, let’s just celebrate.” Annik blushed prettily. “I’ll even put the dress back on if you want.”
“The one covered in blood?” Tristan laughed, holding Annik’s gaze. “Better to take a knife to the clothes you have on. Here.”
Before he could offer his blade, a knock on the door announced Nessa and she entered carrying a surprisingly robust spread of food and drink for so late in the evening. The inn wasn’t exactly the sort he would expect to keep the kitchen going late. Not that Tristan minded. His stomach felt like it was ready to digest itself, and he tucked in eagerly.
The three ate in silence, Tristan glad for the chance to reflect. Annik’s offer to delay their return caught him off guard, and he couldn’t help but think of how Nessa viewed her as the unbound leader of his harem. Annik still held herself separate from them but she clearly considered her commitment to Nessa as important. She even brought up wearing the dress for tonight and he wondered if Annik had more in mind than shyly watching him and Nessa with a hand not so stealthily tucked between her legs.
He turned, hoping to catch Annik’s eye.
The room swirled around him.
The clatter of forks and bowls on the floor echoed through the room.
“Poison.”
Had Annik said that?
His vision was going back. He reached for his Gift and focused it on his blood as he slumped to the bed. He tried to call for help but his tongue felt thick and heavy.
Boots crashed through the hall and the door slammed open.
His back split open and the world went dark.
Chapter Twelve
Lydia’s body ached from hours spent crouched in the shadows. She didn’t dare move. Talek sat a few dozen feet away in a chair that looked to be constructed of wood thicker than her thin thighs, specially built for his weight and size, enjoying a spread that would feed her for days. It was the nearest she’d been and holding her statue-like posture was easy to accept with her goal so close.
It was her third attempt sneaking into his compound and hiding away on his balcony in hopes of just this opportunity. The first, the weather had been cool and the sliding panels between her current hiding spot and his expansive chambers were shut. The second, just days ago, he had gone to the Baths and never appeared in his expansive parlor. This time, he would be hers.
Grease dripped down the man’s fingers, glistening in the lamplight as he tore into his meal barehanded with savage gluttony. Servants had streamed in, piling food before him and relaying updates on Talek’s dizzying empire of trade, favors, and sleaze.
But he’d waved them away just minutes ago and now he was alone. Lydia’s body hummed with eagerness. A cool breeze off the sea raised goosebumps on her naked skin, but she had too much control to shiver. She needed to get to him unseen and have her blade to his neck before he could raise the alarm.
&nb
sp; Serana depended on her.
The thought of her kidnapped love ached, and she tried to focus on the task at hand and not on how she longed to cuddle against Serana’s soft body, safe in her arms once again.
Soon, Lydia promised herself. She’d tracked Serana across half the Albeder Sea, stealing, torturing, or buying leads and leaving a trail of mutilated and dead behind her. It was what she was trained to do, but never had she put her skills to a task that meant so much.
Lydia pulled the shadows tighter around her and palmed the small hiltless dagger favored by Shades everywhere. Keeping it hidden behind her hand, she darted forward, timing her movement with Talek lowering his head and ripping at meat on a bone. She darted across the short open area to the next patch of darkness.
Talek didn’t turn his head, but if he had he would only have seen a flicker of shadow, nothing uncommon in a room lit by torch and lamp. She paused as Talek chewed, waiting for the man to lower his head for another bite.
A door down the hall slammed open, and the scurry of footsteps drew closer.
Lydia cursed to herself, pushing back into the corner while swallowing a gasp at the cold stone on her bare skin. Being naked was the only way to fully vanish into the shadows and dealing with the cold was a small price to pay for near invisibility. Short and skinny, she needed the advantage of complete surprise and was used to the exposure. Anything less would mean her death or worse.
Feet clattered, and she could hear one of Talek’s attendants loudly insisting that they needed to wait. The door burst open anyways, a tall, thin man with black hair and a sharp goatee grinning as he stepped into the room. His hair was a mess and he had fresh bruise the shape of a hand visible through a tear in his sleeve.
“Talek, I return triumphant!” the man proclaimed, his arms wide. “Not just with Nessa. Both women alive, subdued, and the brutish invader dead by poison and blade. The plan worked perfectly. They tried to ambush us, but we drove them back and they thought themselves safe in the inn. Nessa was out, and a few kicks to the woman put her on her back.” He looked pleased with himself, though his smile and arms drooped as Talek just chewed and stared at him.
He started to squirm as Talek’s silence drew on. Lydia cringed at the awkwardness of the situation. The new man seemed to wither, his smile thinning like an icicle on a sunny day.
“Osred?” Talek finally spoke, the single name sending a chill to Lydia’s core that made the cold stone on her back and butt feel like a warm summer breeze.
It had to be a different Osred, right? It couldn’t be him.
But no, a small figure stepped into the room, his eyes as dead as they had been growing up, as uncaring as they were a year ago when she refused to bind a contract with him and opened a gash along his chest. She’d fled, sickened by her cowardice and sure even Osred wasn’t capable of such a despicable betrayal. She’d prayed to the Fallen that he was lying.
He hadn’t been, though, and she’d been chasing after Serana ever since. Osred had taken Serana, leverage for winning a contract from Lydia, and at her refusal he’d followed through and sold her friend and lover to a passing trader. Lydia had tracked the trader and left him with a new smile, but not before he’d sold Serana on again, a pattern that led Lydia to her present predicament.
“Perran tells the truth of it. We have them,” Lydia’s younger half-brother replied, his voice as emotionless as when he’d brought his vile offer to her: Serana’s life for a life-long contract as his Bound Shade.
Lydia had never paid much attention to Osred growing up. They lived in separate houses and his minor obsession with her was nothing more than something to laugh about until he ripped the love of her life away and demanded more than she could give him. Since then, even the thought of Osred’s impassive demeanor was enough to leave her sleepless for days.
Lydia cowered in her corner, breathing shallowly. She needed to escape, get away. A dash to the balcony was too risky. Osred couldn’t know she was here. He would warn Talek about her, and perhaps even wait to ambush her if she came back. He would drive away the darkness and leave her exposed.
So, she waited and listened, hopeful Talek or Osred would speak of something useful in locating Serana. Lydia knew she was here somewhere. Serana had run a small kitchen. Her skills as a cook had been discovered by her first captor and made her a far more valuable servant than merely cleaning, serving, or warming someone’s bed. Talek looked to be one that would appreciate her culinary expertise. Ever since Lydia had laid eyes on the Son of Saeli she had known Serana wouldn’t be far. Unfortunately, the man had as many kitchens as he did business interests and Lydia thought spying might be a faster way of finding Serana than trying to visit each establishment.
“Nessa is unharmed?” Talek asked.
“She got the best of a few guards, but she’s in good shape,” Osred answered, then shrugged and gestured behind him. Two bound women were dragged in, their heads lolling. There was no sign of blood or violence to the silver haired girl, but the taller, more muscular woman had angry bruises and her shirt and pants were torn nearly to shreds. “We had to get a big rough with the big one, and earlier, we lost five men during an ambush. She nearly had me then.”
Talek raised an eyebrow at that.
“So, Perry told the truth? Shackle her, she may prove valuable.”
“Of course, I did!” Perran insisted, struggling to contain indignant annoyance. Talek studied him, waiting until Perran stilled.
“We will wait for the Arbiter’s decision to be recorded in your favor before moving forward. I doubt Nessa will enter a new contract with you willingly, but I have ideas on how we can show her binding with you is still in her best interest.” Talek paused, a rueful expression on his face. “I am surprised to be saying this, but you’ve done well.”
“Osred saw those two fight, and with Nessa at their side I was the only one who could stop them,” Perran gloated. “I will bind her.”
“Eventually, yes.” Talek picked up some flatbread and scooped up a sizeable portion of saucy meat, shoving it into his mouth before continuing. “For now, she will remain here. I want to speak with her, so put her in the cage.”
Osred inclined his head. “Of course.”
Osred turned his back to leave and Lydia burst into motion, her bare feet inaudible over the boots of the men carrying the two captives.
“You’re sure the man is dead?” Talek asked as Lydia fled towards the balcony.
“I put the knife in his back myself. Five times and once I…” Perran’s voice was lost as Lydia slipped over the balcony and dropped into darkened courtyard. She ran, a dark blotch streaking across Talek’s grounds.
She slipped the knife back into the small sling around her forearm, cutting herself as her hands shook. The return of her half-brother had her off balance. He’d barely been an adult when he attempted to bind her, and she could only assume his presence here was to find her.
She didn’t plan on giving him the chance.
Chapter Thirteen
The world hurt. Tristan’s body felt dried out and the space between his shoulder blades ached liked he’d spent a week on harbor duty rowing out pilots and customs inspectors. Had the fight with Perran and his guards been that rough?
He remembered coming back, the serious conversation he’d had with Annik, and then celebrating with food and drink. Clearly too much on the drink side, something he was surprised Annik and Nessa let happen. They, with good reason, insisted he cleanse any alcohol that touched his lips and now it was almost an unconscious habit for him, so why had things gone differently last night?
“You put the cart outside the window?” a raspy voice asked, a key fumbling at the door. “Wurcon didn’t want us carrying this one through the common room. Said it’s bad for business.”
“I told you I did!” a boyish voice grumbled. “You think I want to carry that giant’s body down those stairs? Wurcon said he was a big fucker.”
Tristan’s eyes bolted open as he remembere
d the room swaying and Nessa collapsing beside him. His head pounded at the sudden light, but he ignored the pain. Someone had hit him in the back. Hard. He reached behind him to find his shirt torn to shreds and crusted with blood and his skin covered in thick scabs. He silently thanked Annik for forcing him to relearn the unconscious abilities to heal and cleanse, yet another way that she had saved his life.
The key rattled, and Tristan sat up. The name Wurcon seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. What he did know was two stooges on cleanup duty were about to enter the room.
“Why the hell didn’t he just give us the one key?” the raspy voice complained, the door shaking with frustration.
“Let me.”
Tristan pushed himself up, teetering as he sought to orient himself. He’d lost a lot of blood. The bed was soaked in it with a distinctly Tristan shaped outline where he had lain. He’d fallen on the communication crystal and a knife had been abandoned in the bloody mess.
The lock clicked and Tristan quickly grabbed the knife and collapsed on the bed as if dead.
“Well fuck me, that is a big boy. Think you’re up for hefting your half, old man?”
The older grumbled a reply, and the door shut behind him.
Tristan was weak, exhausted from healing wounds that should have killed him several times over, but he strained for his Gift. He’d pay for this later. On an empty stomach he fueled his recovery with his body, but that was better than dying. He could rebuild his strength if he survived.
“I’m not cleaning up the rest of this mess. Did they have to stab him so many times?”
“We’re paid to clean up, so that’s what we’ll do. Now stop complaining and go open the window. Is he even going to fit through it?”
“I can go get the saw if we need it.”
Boots walked around the bed and Tristan shuddered at the words. It wouldn’t come to that.
He felt a hand on his arm and twisted, his knife flashing out and opening a very surprised looking man’s throat. A torrent of blood gushed forth as the man struggled to hold his life in. Tristan shoved him away.