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

by Wanrow, Laurel

  Again, she drank the warm, minty tea. The aftertaste still curled her tongue, but the throbbing eased. She wrapped her fingers over Mary Clare’s and took another long drink. And another, doing what she was told until she was let back onto the pillow and a blessed warmth covered her aching face.

  * * *

  “Annmar?”

  Some time later, Mary Clare’s voice came softly and from afar. Annmar turned her head. Pain sliced though her temples, and she cried out.

  Mary Clare groaned. And growled?

  No, the growl came from the cushion warming her shoulder. Growling cushions. She must be dreaming.

  “You poor thing,” Mary Clare said. “I have another of Miriam’s poultices for your bruises.”

  The warm cushion disappeared, and Mary Clare eased a warm, damp fabric onto her sore cheek. Strong herbal smells filled Annmar’s nostrils.

  “Go back to sleep,” Mary Clare whispered, then settled the other cushion along her side

  Annmar nestled into it and must have drowsed off, because the next thing she knew, Mary Clare was talking again.

  “This is a fine mess with Miz Gere gone and Miriam not able to get in. She needs to see Annmar. Something else is wrong. I know it. I just don’t know what.”

  A rumbling answered Mary Clare, nothing Annmar could make out. She blinked, but the movement set off a stab of pain. And the light…it hurt so much.

  Then a man’s deep voice whispered, “He hit her. Slapped her face as I ran up. Did she tell Miriam?”

  “She did, and we could still see the red marks. He must have done it more than once.”

  More than once. Yes, and worse. Her heart raced as the awful memory of her head rattling was dredged up. “He…” Annmar cleared her dry throat. “He shook me. My head…”

  Grr.

  “Oh, honey. No wonder you’re having a time of it.” Mary Clare smoothed a hand across her brow. “I’ll tell Miriam. She’ll know what to do.”

  Her footsteps across the room sounded as loud as a hammer pounding. Then the door closed with a thunk.

  Mary Clare would get something for the pain. From Miriam. Having a friend to count on, to take care of her, it was all so nice.

  A tear seeped from the corner of her eye and trickled into her hair. Something beside her shifted. A rough-edged wetness wiped the next tear away, and a soft body pressed itself to her neck with tender gentleness. Annmar clutched the animal and hugged it as her tears fell.

  * * *

  Mary Clare returned and propped her up with pillows. “You have to eat this.” She pushed a spoon to Annmar’s lips.

  Annmar blinked, but opening her eyes was too painful. Oh, Lord. How will I draw if I can’t see? The lump in her throat made swallowing hard and hurt her head worse. After one bite of the gruel, she turned aside.

  Mary Clare tutted. “Miz Gere is back from hunting down those ropens and let Miriam in. She’s making up your remedy, but says you need more substantial food in your stomach before taking the stronger herbs. Please eat.”

  Keeping her eyes closed, Annmar accepted spoonful after spoonful of the oat porridge.

  “You did right by healing everyone else,” Mary Clare said. “They’re all asking about you. Jac even slept the daylight hours in the sickroom to get reports and to catch Miz Gere. Though it’s all kept quiet. They’ve said naught, but they’ve romped around right as rain since that night.”

  Her healing had worked for everyone. Thank heavens. And they were asking about her, Jac included? That by itself made Annmar feel better.

  “It’s a good thing they can all work. We’re taking a bad hit from those gobblers, as Henry calls the vermin.”

  Her innards clenched. The crop-eating vermin, or— “Paet?”

  “No, that’s the other news. Miz Gere got the help of a tracker Knack. The constable and the tracker found Paet had taken a horse from the livery and chased him down. He’s torn up so bad he can’t fly, and now he’s locked up for theft, on top of trying to kidnap you. Maxillon gave the constable the slip, and no one in town saw the carriage they supposedly were taking you to.”

  “Carriage?”

  “Didn’t you know? Oh, dear. It lurked at the end of our road, carrying a man with a scarred hand.”

  There had been a carriage…Mr. Shearing has a scarred hand. No, he couldn’t… Or was it possible for him to be here? Blinking away tears, Annmar clenched Mary Clare’s wrist. “Outsiders cannot get in the Basin, can they?”

  “What? Creator, no. That would doom the lot of us. The Borderlands Protective Chain secures Blighted Basin, all around the mountains rimming our valley, with Gateways only at Breakthrough Gap and OverEdge. The ’cambires chosen for Protectors are better than those peelers down in London.”

  Mary Clare sounded positive it was impossible. Still, Annmar couldn’t dismiss the ill feeling that the powerful Mr. Shearing had somehow found her.

  “Daeryn and Rivley were Protectors. We’ve the best ’cambires on watch. Day and night.” Mary Clare clasped Annmar’s hand and stroked her hair. “Don’t fret about this. Miz Gere dismissed both ropens and has her whole agricultural consortium blocking their land access in our north part of the Basin. You’re safe.”

  Annmar closed her eyes. How could she not be safe? She squeezed Mary Clare’s hand and nodded.

  Mary Clare put the spoon to her lips again. “I mean, if you want to fret about something, pick the field pests. I tell you, if something doesn’t change…”

  By the time Annmar ate everything, she felt terrible again. Wellspring’s workers couldn’t keep up with the gobblers, though Mary Clare put a twist of hope on her tale—Master Brightwell’s new device was ready to use tonight.

  Miriam returned and cut off the conversation. “No need to upset a patient,” she told Mary Clare in a firm tone.

  In spite of her pain, Annmar peered at the healer, a blurry figure across the room. Yet Miriam remained out of focus even when she approached the bedside with a mug of a nasty-smelling herbal concoction mixed with mint.

  Annmar closed her eyes. No, I can’t lose my eyesight.

  “This will put you into a good long sleep and reduce the swelling in your head.”

  Annmar placed her hands over Miriam’s and swallowed every drop, praying the healer’s remedy would work. She had to have faith. After, they tucked the covers up around her, but the bed didn’t feel as snuggly as before. Empty somehow, not as warm. “Where’s my kitty?”

  “A cat?” Miriam sounded angry. “No animals should be jumping about the bed and disturbing the girl. She needs complete rest.”

  Mary Clare said, “No animals have been—”

  “A kitty was sleeping with me.” Annmar squinted at them. “He won’t wake me. Please let him in.”

  “Oh, that kitty.” Mary Clare laughed nervously. “We’ll find your kitty.” She pulled Miriam away and whispered something.

  Miriam threw up her hands. “Oh, Great Creator. Fine. But anything goes amiss, and I’ll prove there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  Whatever did she mean? A kitty in her bed was nothing compared to crop-eating pests, ropens kidnapping her, or the possibility Mr. Shearing had gotten into Blighted Basin.

  After they left, Annmar drifted in and out of sleep, the remedy fogging her thoughts. She should let the herbs do their work, for her eyesight’s sake. But she couldn’t yet…not until…

  Creak.

  Her door opened, then tapped closed. Annmar would have missed the sound if she hadn’t been waiting. The foot of her mattress jostled, and she released a sigh. Featherlight footsteps paced up the bed, circled, and a small weight sank against her belly.

  * * *

  Daeryn curled his polecat body to nuzzle Annmar’s swollen cheek when she snuggled him to her. The scent of turned soil engulfed him, and the pleasure of simply being with her wracked him with guilt. Letting her think it was just an animal she shared her bed with felt wrong, yet if in her confusion it comforted her to have him here, he’
d come every minute he wasn’t hunting. He listened for her breathing to quiet before he fell asleep himself.

  * * *

  The End of Volume One

  Annmar and Daeryn’s story continues in The Twisting, Volume Two of The Luminated Threads.

  THANK YOU!

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading The Unraveling. I hope you enjoyed the first installment in this serialized novel. If you did, please consider leaving a review. Reviews are very important to authors, not only to improve our craft, but also to guide other readers to a book they may also enjoy.

  I hope you’re as excited as I am to continue Annmar and Daeryn’s story in Volumes Two and Three of The Luminated Threads. To be notified of these and future releases, please sign up for my newsletter: Laurel's Newsletter

  If you have comments or questions, contact me through my website http://www.laurelwanrow.com or at laurelwanrow@me.com

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  I’m also at Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3710486-laurel-wanrow

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  May all your reading be magical!

  Laurel Wanrow

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My journey has been amazing and never could have advanced without the support of my husband and kids. Bill, Em and Theo, you’ve allowed me the space to be creative, listened and offered ideas, but most of all, you gave me time to follow the dream.

  Family support is only part of my author scaffolding; writer friends have built the rest. So many writers have encouraged me along the way, with tips in past manuscripts that I’ve applied to my recent writing. I honed this fantasy at CritiqueCircle.com where many critters have read for me, and I thank you. Those who have stuck by me week to week are Jason, Andy, Nooce, EK, and John. I can’t thank you enough for your critiques, support, laughter, outrageous suggestions that actually work and, most important, willingness to read multiple revisions!

  My IRL writing partners, Marta and Anna, thank you, thank you, thank you. And to my teen-neighbor adviser, Mary, thank you so much for brainstorming.

  My local chapters with Romance Writers of America are Washington Romance Writers, Maryland Romance Writers and the Maryland Romance Writers’ Self-Pub Group. We’ve got this!

  Thanks to my fabulous copy editor, Joyce, and talented cover artist, Craig. Both of you were delightful to work with.

  Any mistakes in historical accuracy are mine. I tried to avoid them, but sorry, Linda, though you advised me on period clothing—which I truly thank you for!—I just had to take liberties. Jessica, I hope I got the Dane parts right.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Laurel Wanrow loves misty mornings, the smell of freshly dug earth, petting long-haired guinea pigs and staring at the stars. She sees magic in nature and loves to photograph it.

  Before kids, she studied and worked as a naturalist—someone who leads wildflower and other nature walks. During a stint of homeschooling, she turned her writing skills to fiction to share her love of the land, magical characters and fantastical settings.

  When not living in her fantasy worlds, Laurel camps, hunts fossils and argues with her husband and two new adult kids over whose turn it is to clean house. Though they live on the East Coast, a cherished family cabin in the Colorado Rockies holds Laurel’s heart.

  Visit her online at www.laurelwanrow.com.