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

by Wanrow, Laurel

“Not exactly a lantern. A glowing device Master Brightwell invented. He said you could test it, but I don’t suppose you need it anymore.”

  “No. Thank the Creator.” Daeryn wiped a hand down his face. “Even with orders, I couldn’t have trusted Paet. Good thing Jac didn’t. I was lax within our boundaries. If Annmar hadn’t screamed—” He shuddered. “I’d been up all night and day, but that desperate cry woke me from a dead sleep. For all I tore into him, I couldn’t have overcome him alone. The team effort did it when the rest of you dove in.”

  Rivley shrugged and slipped the glow device back into his pocket. “Nothing else to do.”

  Daeryn waited a few beats for more. How could the fellow who knew what to say to everyone else have nothing to say to him? Because we are on fragile ground here. Judging by the avian’s temper lately, every day Daeryn held off trying to resolve the gildan was another day of tension. “I’ve been thinking. You should have taken the Elders’ offer of an alpha appointment.”

  “That’s not what I wanted.”

  “Well, you would be damned good at it. Look at what you’ve done while stuck with me. You hauled my ass in front of the Elders, then out of Rockbridge and set us on a track to get my head together with these jobs.”

  “Apparently it was for my head, too.”

  Daeryn ignored him. “You’ve been a good friend when I was down, and you deserve better than my procrastination.” Daeryn tightened his fists in his sheet, pressing one to the silver spiral at his navel. “I am ready to work together to resolve our gildan, but only if we approach it co-leading the effort, like Jac and I have agreed to for the nocturnal team.”

  Rivley tipped his head back, closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.

  At least he wasn’t laughing. “Say it, why don’t you?” Daeryn growled.

  “Thank the Creator,” Rivley breathed. He tossed Jac’s sheet down the hall and thrust out his hand, but just as quickly snatched it back. “No going back once we shake on it.”

  Daeryn swallowed. His gut was churning. He’d had no idea so much was riding on just the decision to start. But there was. Tension had built over two and a half years since they’d arrived at Wellspring. Three years since Sylvan had died that fall day.

  “I would never default on a promise to you,” Daeryn said. “That’s why I haven’t agreed to start before now. Er, and I’ve had a bit of trouble facing a future without Sylvan in it. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to tie you down with my grief.”

  The brow Rivley had raised upon hearing Daeryn say Sylvan’s name lowered with no comment, thank the Creator. Daeryn didn’t know how well he’d be able to continue if they had to discuss that. Rivley nodded. “You’re honorable not to make the commitment before you could follow through.”

  “I’ve taken my lessons in honor from you, plus you have my admiration for leading me to this point. I mean it about co-leading.” He narrowed his eyes. “It’s not how things are done in Rockbridge, but then again, how often do the Elders put two ’cambires in a blood binding spell?”

  Rivley slapped a hand to his forehead. “Leaders must let leaders lead.”

  “What?”

  “That gildan lesson we didn’t understand.” Rivley poked him in the chest. “Leaders must let leaders lead.” One side of his mouth curled in a wry smile. “Apparently, I was supposed to lead our pack, too, but in our Elders’ eyes, I failed.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Must have. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be the both of us bound up in this.”

  He had a point. “Before this,” Daeryn said, “I thought the leader lesson meant between packs, not within them. But you’re right, this is about us, and my experience with Jac proves it can be done. I had to learn to trust myself enough to trust her. Leading isn’t about size or toughness, it’s about people. Being in charge doesn’t always mean issuing orders. Sometimes it’s listening. With lots of creative thinking, really fast. She has skills that I don’t, ones we need. But so do you. I’d never have succeeded without your advice.”

  Rivley reached a hand out and lightly rapped his shoulder. “You ran with it, proving you could.”

  “Proving I’ve been in a cave for years.” Daeryn returned the rap. “So were you. Then you made me put aside old habits and fears to try something new, and refused to let me return to my old ways. I think you pushed yourself, to be a leader to me. Keep doing that by accepting you are a leader.”

  Rivley wiped a hand down his face. “You’d think we’d have figured this out by now. Fine, I’ll do it. Makes sense if you consider the second lesson: ‘Honestly work together to restore yourselves and your pack.’” He frowned. “Except how will we establish a pack if both of us claim the alpha position?”

  “I think the wording means before we go back to being pack. I’m willing, but can we agree to revisit becoming pack as we go along through all the lessons?”

  After a pause, Rivley nodded. “All right. As long as we each accept the other is willing to be pack and co-lead I bet the gildan binding will accept it as well.”

  “We have to hope. And trust.” Daeryn’s mouth twitched to a wry smile. “Because I have no idea how to decipher ‘Keep your community as your foundation.’ We’ll have to think more on it, which might have been the Elders’ point: Move on with our lives, so we can find work, life mates, or whatever we desire.”

  They both stood in silence for a moment before Rivley said, “We do understand the first lesson. Do you think that’s enough to get going with?”

  “I do. So, we’ll do it?” Daeryn stuck out his hand. Rivley gave a solemn nod and met his grasp—

  Fire shot up Daeryn’s arm. He yelped and freed his hand only in time to have the burning hit his gut and make him almost keel over. He grabbed at the stair banister at the same time Rivley canted to the wall, his face twisting in pain. Within seconds, the sharp pain dissolved to a dull throb. Daeryn straightened, still short of breath.

  “Damn.” Rivley gasped the curse, rare for him, his palm to his belly. “What happened?”

  His belly—their piercings? Daeryn dropped his gaze to the red glow shining through his sheet. He tore open the wrappings of material, uncovering the talisman from their blood binding. For the first time since the thin silver of the piercing perforated the skin around his navel, the bloodstone in the center sparkled with internal color.

  Rivley had pulled aside his shirt and trousers, revealing that his half of the crystal shone as well, and… “Is that a cut? Or a burn?” Daeryn dipped his head to check his own navel. A red mark lay beneath part of the silver, where the metal had once pierced a fold of skin. As he watched, the discolored streak faded and his skin returned to smooth brown.

  A laugh burst from Rivley. “We’ve not only awakened the bloodstone, but lost a piercing as well.”

  “You were meant to be a co-leader of our pack.” Daeryn smiled. “Never been done, but if any shire in the Basin would accept it, it’s Rockbridge with our cross-species packs.”

  A frown replaced Rivley’s elation and his arms crossed like armor over his chest. “Not everyone accepts change, even in Rockbridge. My father constantly reminded me no ’cambire who earns alpha status retreats to the beta position.”

  What? Rivley had never told him that. “You didn’t retreat,” Daeryn said softly. “You chose. Then after, pushing to have the Elders allow us to try a different arrangement became worth it. I was happy to have you by my side. You and Sylvan.”

  “You know we need to do this for her.”

  The tug at Daeryn’s heart forced his lips tight, but this time he could answer sooner. “She’d have wanted us to have each other to rely on, to see us running a pack together as alphas and changing the way things are done in Rockbridge. And not just Rockbridge. I suspect the time is coming when the Basin’s old, staid Elders will have to accept what some of the younger ones like Miz Gere are proving works: equality and acceptance among the species.”

  Rivley tightened his arms more. “How will that work when each shire�
��s Elders oversee their residents like it’s a little kingdom? They won’t want to give up that control.”

  “But they have managed to coordinate the Borderlands Protective Chain, the Gateways and the Proofs. They set up the trade system with Outside and the trains to do it.”

  “I’d hazard a guess most Basin dwellers see the Outside protections as only what’s due them. Maybe because of increased trade and jobs a few of the Farmlands’ collectives have the harmony the Creator calls for, but I dare say none exists in the Wildlands. And sometimes even Mistress Gere doesn’t succeed, like expecting a species of wilder beasts like the ropens to conform to her rules.”

  Daeryn rubbed his forehead. That was a bad slip on her part. “It’s hard for a human Knack to know ’cambire ways, much as Miz Gere tries. Placing Jac and I into conflict could have ended just as poorly as the ropen brawl. But we were already vested in Wellspring, so vested in upholding Miz Gere’s request.”

  Rivley grinned. “So what worked is you each had a stronger desire to help Wellspring than to outdo the other.”

  “Maybe that’s also the key to us succeeding.” Daeryn tapped his bloodstone. “We don’t back away from helping each other. Only one way to find out.”

  Rivley unfolded his arms and extended his hand. “Even with one lesson completed, I can’t imagine this’ll be easy, but I’m in.”

  “Like you say, ‘Nothing else to do.’”

  chapter thirty-eight

  Annmar startled when Mary Clare leaned over her and whispered, “The surgeon, Mr. White, is here.”

  Her eyes flew open, and the vision of an arm covered in crossed blue fibers dispersed. She’d had to work hard to hold this last image, though a strong limb, muscles bulging and tendons tight, graced the open page of her sketchbook. Who...? She glanced up. Wyatt stood across the room, his bandaged arm resting along the back of Henry’s chair.

  Miriam stood by the door, informing a robust bespectacled man in a dark suit about each patient. Daeryn wasn’t mentioned. Annmar tried to find him, but oh, her eyes hurt.

  Mary Clare pressed her sketchbook closed. “The vermin are arriving,” she whispered. “Daeryn went with Jac and James to hunt.”

  Already? Annmar slid the book off her lap.

  The surgeon started with Henry’s elbow and, after a cursory look, moved on to Maraquin. He dropped the sheet back in place and glanced at Miriam. “Cuts, not lacerations, both of them. Tight bandaging will do. A day’s rest to keep things healing. Any worse injuries?”

  While Mr. White unwrapped Wyatt’s arm, Miriam pressed her lips together and stared at Annmar.

  From nowhere, Rivley appeared. “I think it’s time Annmar left,” he whispered to Mary Clare.

  Annmar’s limbs hung heavy in the worst exhaustion she’d ever felt. She couldn’t seem to gather a thought, let alone herself. They picked up her sketchbook and helped her out of the chair. Her head spun into pain after the few steps to the hall, but she didn’t want to sleep in the library. “My room, please,” Annmar whispered to them. Her room, closed and locked, would feel safer after… Every terrible thought she’d held at bay swamped her. Oh, it was like a penny dreadful story come true: A wild animal had tried to carry her off. A cry hiccupped from her throat, setting off more throbbing in her head.

  Mary Clare hugged her closer. “Riv? She’ll sleep better there, away from this commotion.”

  They practically carried her across the farmyard. “Rest for a moment before climbing,” Mary Clare said at the base of her stairs. “I think you’d best give Rivley permission to enter your room so he can help. You’re already holding on to him, so all you have to do is invite him in.”

  She squeezed the arm tucked under hers. “Rivley, please come to my room.” The image formed in her head of the yellow walls and cozy bed. Her room. It had felt like hers from the first night, and safe, as Mistress Gere had promised.

  But she hadn’t been able to fulfill her promise to keep Annmar safe outside her room. Annmar shuddered. This wasn’t Mistress Gere’s fault. It was Paet’s fault. Women disappeared in Derby, too. It could have happened on the street outside her boarding house. She just had to increase her precautions, like she’d heard the others say Mistress Gere was doing for Wellspring.

  After all, Paet could be anywhere… Oh, Lord, he could be here. Though she wanted to search all around into the shadowy corners behind the machinery, her eyes wouldn’t obey. They barely opened. If Rivley and Mary Clare were this blurry, she’d never see Paet coming. He could be in my room.

  “Rivley?” She hated the squeak in her voice. “Would you check my room’s high rafter corners?”

  He glanced up her stairs. “Your room is just as you left it.”

  “Just check, Riv, please,” Mary Clare said. “We have no idea where that bastard is.”

  She shivered, and Mary Clare hugged her even tighter.

  “Shh, don’t say that,” said Rivley. “By now the constable is on his tail.”

  Yes, because Daeryn, Rivley and the others jumped in to help her. They helped…they must care. She’d known them four days, yet they risked themselves to help, putting up more of a fight than strangers in Derby would. “They were able to go hunt, you said?” she mumbled into Mary Clare’s shoulder.

  “I forgot,” Rivley said before she could answer. “Jac said to tell you thank you.”

  “There.” Mary Clare held her at arms’ length. “You’ve done good to get that from Jac.”

  Yes, so many positive things had happened over these few days. Why did she feel so terrible, as if all her energy had been sucked from her body? The spiraling stairs, or maybe just the effort of climbing, made her head pound more.

  “Put something in your stomach before drinking Miriam’s herbal mixture.” Mary Clare handed her a slice of bread with jam.

  Annmar ate it, and another. Some of her strength edged back, enough she didn’t protest when Mary Clare filled her tub, helped her in and out, then into a nightdress. Mary Clare had started up the tea warmer, and its engine hummed comfortingly, but its blue lights were missing.

  Washed away under the gaslight, Annmar told herself, and stumbled to her bed ready to collapse. Mary Clare made her sit up and placed a mug of not-too-hot tea to her lips.

  A minty fragrance steamed from it. When she sipped, her sinuses ignited. The sharp aroma watered her eyes. Annmar wiped her tears. “Where’s Rivley? Did he have a chance to look?”

  “He did.” Mary Clare lifted the mug to her lips again. “Even cleaned out a few spiders for you. Riv?” She looked upward.

  A faint fluttering sounded, and down from the rafters glided a bird, his wings arched. Over the mug rim, Annmar watched the blurry shape land on the back of a chair. She blinked to clear her vision. It didn’t work.

  She couldn’t see. With her eyes or the Knack she’d come to rely on. No, this couldn’t be. She had just been using her Knack to draw. She was tired, that was all. Her head hurt. She’d wake up tomorrow and she’d be fine.

  She’d have to be fine to stay at Wellspring. Annmar licked her lips. “It’s secure, right? Even though Mistress Gere is gone, the wards will hold?”

  The hawk clicked. It sounded like a yes. Mary Clare said, “They will.”

  Annmar closed her eyes and sipped the tea. Peppermint. A strange aftertaste followed, but the drink was warm and soothing. Her room was secure. Safe. Oh, she wanted to believe it, so much, but this…this attack. Her eyesight. Her eyes welled with tears. She squeezed them tight and drew a steadying breath. Yes, attacked, but also rescued. Then she helped her rescuers in return. She could be more than an Outsider. She’d never be a part of this kind of team in town. If Mary Clare believed in her against the odds of fitting in, Annmar had to honor that faith. She would do this.

  Mary Clare took the mug and pulled her close. “Would you like me to stay with you?”

  She sniffed and wiped at her face. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be good company. I’m developing a case of the weeps.”

/>   “Doesn’t matter.”

  Annmar buried her head in the friendly shoulder. “Then, please? I’m more than used to sharing.”

  Mary Clare laughed. “With six sisters, so am I.”

  * * *

  Her head throbbing, Annmar tottered to the bathroom. She still couldn’t see right, and the light—morning?—hurt her eyes. Mary Clare had gone. She made it back to the bed, barely, and rolled under the covers. As she faded off, the mattress jostled, and something warm touched her shoulders. She sighed and nestled her head against the water bottle, or whatever Mary Clare had brought to ease her headache.

  * * *

  She fought to escape him. A terrible pounding echoed through her head. “Let me go,” she cried. “Help!”

  “Annmar?” called Mary Clare. “Wake up.”

  She clutched Mary Clare’s hand and safety, shaking off the nightmare— “Oh, it hurts,” she cried.

  “Creator, you look awful,” Mary Clare squealed. “Bruises on your cheek and your eyes puffy. Why didn’t you do anything about healing yourself?”

  “Me?” Each word throbbed within her. “Can I?”

  Mary Clare tsked, sounding like Mrs. Betsy. She said something else, but her words weren’t making sense. Annmar tried to focus on her face, but it fuzzed to the side and made her eyes water, so she closed them and sank into black pain.

  All too soon, Mary Clare’s words broke through again. “You’ve got to leave.”

  Sputtering and hissing erupted. An argument—

  “Spit all you like, but you shouldn’t stay,” Mary Clare said. “You have no idea what she’ll do if she finds you here. I wash my hands of the responsibility.”

  “Who?” Annmar blinked her eyes and struggled to sit up. Her vision wouldn’t clear, and she succeeded only in rolling over. A blur of brown fell to the floor, and Mary Clare bent over her.

  “I have a poultice from Miriam to take down the swelling. First, eat a bite of bread, then drink the herbal she sent.” Mary Clare helped her sit and, after Annmar ate, held the mug to her lips.