The Unraveling, Volume One of The Luminated Threads: A Steampunk Fantasy Romance

by Wanrow, Laurel

Waiting was killing Daeryn. Stuck in this bed, he had far too much time to think. About Annmar. About Rivley telling him no. About everything else that damn cluck had to bring up. About the gildan.

  So think. What else did the Elders throw at us during the Determination Trial?

  That night three years ago was a blur of misery and pain. The Elders had made it clear that losing Sylvan was only part of the reason they’d restricted Rivley and him in a gildan. Only the two of them, the alpha and the beta, not any of the other packmates.

  Of all the pronouncements, the line about leading stood out to Daeryn because he’d fumed over it. He’d been a good pack leader. His pack served their shifts on the Borderlands Protective Chain without fail. Over their two years running guard, his pack turned away many Outsiders from the OverEdge Gateway without the humans ever reaching the rim, let alone learning a hidden valley lay within those spell-protected ridges. Even through member changes, his team had performed their duties in harmony. So what problems did the Elders see that he couldn’t?

  Daeryn closed his eyes and let his head fall to the pillow. Everyone said Sylvan’s death had been an accident, so the problem had to be elsewhere. With him…Rivley…or things they had done. They needed to understand these lessons, otherwise the Elders’ limited directions would never be clear. He’d counted on Rivley to grasp their reasons. If he didn’t…

  Daeryn groaned. Hell. They could work on the lessons but if they ended up chasing their tails, they’d have to make a trip down to Rockbridge to see their enclave Elders. Between the harvest’s end and winter setting in, if they wanted to begin soon.

  And he wanted to begin, because Annmar’s scent had his head tangled in knots.

  Daeryn looked up as light footsteps sounded in the hall. The sickroom door opened and Rivley slipped in. “Finally,” Daeryn growled. “Decided to have a roll while I’m waiting with my teeth on edge here?”

  Rivley looked down his lean legs. “Avians don’t roll,” he muttered, but brushed off his trouser knees and ran a hand around his waistband, checking his shirttails. Only then did he flop into the wing chair closest to the bed.

  Daeryn rolled his eyes. “Mary Clare did notice then.”

  “Felt—er, saw you better so soon. I had to give over the whole story to ensure she’d help get the girl calmed and self-assured again. Her Knack won’t be worth anything if she hesitates to use it.”

  “So you left her persuaded she has the talent?”

  Rivley nodded. “And after we saw her to her room access, Mary Clare and I had a long talk—”

  Daeryn snickered.

  Rivley glared. “Shut up about it, would you? Mary Clare’s motivated to keep the secret. She likes the girl and wants her to stay.”

  “She likes you, you mean.”

  Rivley wrinkled his nose. “Parts of me. We’ve agreed—”

  “To remain friends. I know.” Daeryn clamped his jaws on his own opinion of how they kept each other from finding real suitors. “But keep her liking those parts.”

  “No need to worry about that.” He waved a hand to cut off the conversation, then crossed his arms. “We’ll go with the version of you being a fast healer. Just pray to the Creator the girl’s gift extends to the other Rockbridge resident if those weird vermin manage to take a swipe at me, not just the fellow she’s got her eye on.”

  Daeryn’s chest swelled with hope. “Really? You think she does?”

  Rivley snorted. “Glad to see you do have an ounce of humble about you.”

  “Ah, humble. It’s gotten you so far with the females. You could take a lesson from—”

  Scritch!

  Their gazes met. Rivley rolled his eyes, but Daeryn shrugged. “Let her in.”

  Rivley’s brow quirked.

  He shouldn’t order the avian. They were no longer pack, but old habits were hard to break. Daeryn added, “Please?”

  Rivley pushed himself out of the chair and leaned in. “It’s not your manners I’m protesting,” he hissed. “Maraquin comes in…it is Maraquin, isn’t it?”

  Daeryn raised his nose, sniffed and nodded.

  “Maraquin comes in here, and guaranteed she’s in your bed. Is that what you want? Who you want? The girl—”

  “Is off-limits until she tells me so.” Despite his quick retort, disappointment cut through Daeryn. Too bad it wasn’t Annmar coming to his door. But that might not be for some time, if ever. He clenched his abdominal muscles to quell the hopeless feeling and faced Rivley with a steady gaze. “We’re both injured. Maraquin is here because Jac is on duty. She’s lonely. For us mammals it’s a companionship thing, cuddling…” Uh, most of the time. “Assurance, that’s all.” That’s all it’d be tonight.

  Rivley crossed his arms, a superior look upon his face.

  “What? A male’s virility attracts a good mate.” But as soon as he said it, Daeryn’s gut squirmed.

  “In Basin terms. Not by city terms.”

  “And what makes you an expert?”

  “I know you hate her, but Mary Clare is closer to human than we are. She rants about your casual antics with that wolf. She’d never put up with it, so certainly that new girl won’t.”

  “What I do is no business of—” Daeryn bit his tongue. He didn’t need to get in a row with his best friend. Not because of what Mary Clare thought of him, but because Riv was defending Annmar, just like they were…pack. Great Creator. The fellow had a point. A number of them probably. Playing around with Maraquin wasn’t going anywhere. If he wanted Annmar, he had to resolve his gildan with Rivley first. Which would happen only if he acted like a leader. Daeryn rolled his head back. Easier said than done. But until he took the first step—

  “Fine. Kid yourself.” Rivley crossed the stone floor, almost in a stomp, and opened the door. His ire flooded the room, no hiding it. From Maraquin either.

  Two limping paces into the room, and the black-furred wolf stopped on three paws and swung her long head toward Rivley. Her pale yellow eyes flashed anger.

  Daeryn cringed. That lupine look wasn’t good, more Jac’s personality than Maraquin’s. She must have heard their conversation. Step back, he silently willed Rivley.

  Instead, Rivley clicked deep in his throat.

  Lips curled, Maraquin darted forward to nip.

  With lightning reflexes, Rivley leaped back and smacked her snout in the same movement. “Nice try.”

  “Cut it out,” Daeryn snapped, and promptly cringed. Rivley would surely bristle. Too authoritative. Not pack. Friends. “What’s with you two?”

  Maraquin had started at his yell. She shook herself, a bit awkwardly. Raw flesh showed through missing patches of fur on her shoulder. The full impact of her scent hit him. Angst and agitation. Why?

  She gave Rivley another look, one with no hint of apology, and limped toward the bed. Rivley never had been on personal terms with either of the wolves. Avian species aside, his personality was too reserved for them to handle. Definitely not the rough-and-tumble type. As Rivley said himself, avians didn’t roll.

  Daeryn needed to diffuse the mood. “Hey, Maraquin. How you feeling tonight?”

  Her head swung to him and sank low. Maraquin blinked, and when her eyes opened again, their look had changed to sorrow. Her shoulders shrugged up and dropped with a flinch. She turned her gaze on the end of the bed.

  He bent his knees and pulled his injured foot out of the way just before she jumped onto the white blanket. After circling twice, she lay down and lowered her head to her crossed paws. She kept Rivley directly in her line of sight, daring him to say anything.

  Daeryn looked from the wolf to his stony-faced friend. Mimicking Maraquin, he shrugged one shoulder. “It’s night. Time for us to be awake. Especially after sleeping all day.”

  Rivley cocked a superior brow. “Right. You don’t need me.” He stepped through the doorway, closed the door and stomped off.

  Maraquin raised her head and they listened as the outer door banged closed and Rivley’s feet drummed on
the paving stones, crunched over the gravel and faded.

  Then the wolf wiggled. Her body elongated, her fur coat dwindled to a short length, except over her head where her lowering ears disappeared into thick hair. She licked her lips and her tongue shrank back into a human mouth, a transformation he’d seen thousands of times when the team changed.

  “What’s got a bone in his craw?” she asked, the words slurred by her incomplete change.

  “Never mind. He can pass it by himself.”

  She raised enough to pull an extra blanket over herself, but not before he’d had a good view of her fur-covered chest.

  Daeryn swallowed and looked away. He’d seen this before, too. Luckily his foot hurt too much for anything to happen, even if Rivley had planted the idea, damn the buzzard.

  “Ah, poor pup.” He rubbed his knuckles over her forehead, but just the once before crossing his hands into his armpits. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Left shoulder and over my back. Mr. White flushed the punctures to clean them. It hurts to change completely to human,” she whined.

  “Then don’t.” That worked. He’d stay human, she’d stay wolf.

  Daeryn’s gaze traveled to the pack mark on her left shoulder. It looked fresh, like Jac had re-bitten Maraquin within the last day or so… Right, probably the night he’d been made lead. Surely Jac didn’t doubt Maraquin’s pack allegiance? Mar had been her beta for years, longer than Rivley had been his. Their packsense—a packmate’s ability to sense another’s intentions and moods far beyond usual ’cambire instinct—had to be at its fullest. Each time a mark was renewed, it became stronger, until the packsense was nearly like mind reading. He’d had that with Riv and with… Daeryn closed his eyes against the sadness.

  After a few moments, he was able to push it off. “Mar? What does Jac think of you being here now that I’m nocturnal team lead?”

  Maraquin snorted and tossed her curls, then winced at the sudden movement. “I’ll be in our room by dawn.” She scooted closer to his hip, but there wasn’t much space on the narrow bed.

  He listened to his gut, the instinct saying things had to change. Daeryn didn’t reach for her to cuddle them together.

  “It’s not a good idea, is it?” she whispered sadly.

  His lips crooked into a wry smile, and he shook his head. “It’s been fun and all, but…”

  “I’m not Sylvan.”

  Daeryn’s stomach sank and the smile slid off his face. “Uh…damn, I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “When I told you I’d never take a mate who wasn’t a wolf, I didn’t expect an excuse in return.”

  She’d known all along where he was coming from. I wish I had. “I’ve come to realize no one will ever be…” He sucked a breath and tried again. “When she…”

  Maraquin leaned forward and grasped his hand. “If you can’t say her name, you aren’t there yet.”

  He wasn’t. Daeryn leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Someday I will be.” I hope. And regardless of what happened, or didn’t, with Annmar, his future wasn’t with Maraquin. From the start, she’d made it clear her commitment was to Jac, pack and their wolf community. A polecat could never be a serious part of her life. Unlike Rockbridge’s practice of mixed packs, the wolf packs here accepted only wolf members. The segregation didn’t agree with the Creator Path ways, but so many of the lowland ’cambires stayed to their own, the divisions weren’t challenged. Especially the wolves’ choices.

  He dropped his chin so he wouldn’t miss Maraquin’s reaction to what he had to say next. “However, I’m never going to be a wolf. And honestly, right now I don’t need to give Jac anything else to raise her hackles over.”

  She nodded. “It’s still like you’re from the enemy camp.”

  His hackles rose—or rather his neck prickled—at that. “Seriously? After all I did today to support her with those ropens?”

  Maraquin shuffled back and pulled her blanket tighter around her. “Just telling you what I felt from her. She didn’t say that.”

  Still, he had to fix it. “I’m not anyone’s enemy. We all want this harvest safe. The pests are what stand in the way, not each other.” For a while, they each stayed to their corners of the bed, not speaking or looking at each other, until finally Daeryn had to say the difficult words. “You and I continuing this isn’t going to help my working relationship with Jac. Can we agree this is it?”

  “Yes. I’ll go.” Maraquin bit her lip. “We don’t have to mention me coming here tonight to her, right?”

  “I’d sooner bite my own tail.”

  “Rivley?”

  “As if Riv would say anything to anyone, let alone Jac.” Daeryn rolled his eyes. “But I’ll make sure. He’s been on my tail to get my head straight about…Sylvan.” There. One step closer. “So I will.”

  Maraquin smiled. “You will.” She scooted her feet off the edge of the bed, wincing with each move.

  Daeryn cringed in sympathy. He would be in similar pain, without Annmar’s Knack. Maybe she’d help the others—if her experiment on his foot worked. “Sorry you made the trip down from the bunkhouse when you feel like crap. But I’m glad we talked.”

  “Me, too.” Maraquin swiped a hand across her face before turning, her red eyes brimming.

  He clasped her hand again and squeezed it. “Hey. Sorry.”

  She hiccupped a laugh. “It’s not just this news, which I have been expecting ever since I told you my plans. I had a look at those hires when Jac left with them tonight. Do you think the team will be all right out there with those ruffians?”

  “With Jac in charge, they will.” But those watery eyes didn’t look convinced. “Look, stay a bit longer. Have a good cry if you need it. And if we hear anything, you can slip outside in ’cambire form and find out what’s going on for us.”

  Maraquin looked at the end of the bed and heaved a sigh. “All I’ve done is pace since they left. My shoulder is killing me.”

  Daeryn pointed a finger at her. “That’s not going to get you better. Lie down,” he half-ordered, half-joked.

  She gave him a faint smile. “In ’cambire form.” Her legs began shifting as she pulled them up onto the bed. “It is hours until dawn.”

  * * *

  Annmar lifted her pencil and scanned the drawing of Daeryn, biting her lip as she searched out the smaller details. The gaslight no longer gave the lines a blue cast, but neither did she have a conscious memory of executing them. It was as if her pencil had traced a picture or laid down the lines of its own accord, like those new machines the Mercury wrote about, the automatons. She shook her head. The drawing was done and, with it, any help she could give Daeryn. She put down her initials to finish it.

  Lord, he was beautiful. Half-turned away from the viewer, it hadn’t been necessary to clothe his muscular thighs to hide—a heat flooded her middle and sank. She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. The chair. She grabbed at the excuse. She’d been sitting too long.

  But that wasn’t it, not really. Who was she kidding? Thoughts of Daeryn made her body want…things. And the more she thought about those things, the more curious she became about the improper “kissing” and “stolen moments” Polly had read from her serials, to the giggles of the girls in the boarding house.

  The Basin folks showed less reserve between men and women. She could watch their behavior and maybe learn more, without obligations to the likes of Mr. Shearing. At least now with Mistress Gere’s approval of her first drawing, she could settle into her trial.

  She yawned. Tomorrow she’d see Daeryn and learn if the incredible was true. She closed her sketchbook and turned off the gas in the lamp. She drew back her quilts and was about to climb into bed when she remembered the tea warmer.

  A glance to the table froze her in place. In the darkened room, faint blue light flickered over the gears.

  What could it be?

  She tiptoed across the room and dropped to her knees to watch, eyes level with the luminated machine. Th
e flashing was a reflection off the moving clockwork brass. The light itself was cerulean blue and took the shape of threads. The delicate fibers wound themselves around the base, snaked over the cogs and up the rods, looping continuously. Streams of these ethereal filaments glided together in a complex crossing into and out of the heart of the machine behind the swinging weight. The fuzzy place inside glowed the brightest.

  Annmar traced the paths until she understood the circuitous route and how it fit with the drawing she’d done earlier, even concluding the internal glow must follow the spring in and then backtrack out. The light threads pulsed slightly, and every once in a while a spark flew off a gear. The sparks meant nothing, excess it had to rid itself of—

  Oh, my. The sparks are like sweat, from the work. How did she know this? She just did, understanding it in the depths of her Knack. How odd that behavior of the machine threads wasn’t a mystery.

  A slow smile curled over Annmar’s lips. It’s because I understand machines. She’d drawn so many of them over the last year, how could she not?

  Excitement thrilled through her. With the tip of one finger, she pressed the small brass lever into the off position. The gears stopped. The light threads wound their paths for a few seconds, then the end of a last filament appeared and traveled the length of its course before disappearing into the housing. The tea warmer fell dark, but a faint thrumming vibrated to her fingers through the tabletop. The threads waiting to be released. She flipped up the lever. Instantly, the gears whirred into action, the vibration stopped, and a second later, the first blue filament emerged and began its circuitous path again.

  What a wondrous machine. Annmar also understood how bodies were put together, so the healing of them should be…hmm. She couldn’t count on that, because Blighted Basin’s strange residents weren’t quite human. Their animal sides might make more of a difference than using her Knack with the plants.

  Dash it all, she’d just have to wait until morning to talk to Daeryn.

  chapter twenty-one

  Standing in the thin light at her window, Annmar brushed her hair and studied the faces in the farmyard. With their hats and work gloves, the growers walked toward the farmhouse and breakfast, chatting with easy smiles.