The Gathering Storm

by Varna, Lucy

  She gifted him with a faint smile. “How did men ever survive without modern sports?”

  “Pillaging,” he said firmly, then lowered his voice and whispered against her ear, “Stop worrying so much. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  He pulled away before she could speak and leveled a stern stare on his mother. “Behave.”

  She tilted her chin to a regal angle. “I always do.”

  Troy coughed into his fist, barely hiding a laugh as Sigrid rose.

  “We shan’t be long,” she said, then led his mother out of the dining room toward her office.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Troy said, “So she’s the one, huh?”

  Will scowled down at the china he was stacking. “Who said that?”

  “You do, every time you look at her. I know that look, son. See it in the mirror every time I think about your mom.”

  Will glanced up. “Is it that obvious?”

  “To me, yeah. To your mom?” Troy shrugged and lifted a stack of dirty plates. “She’s blind where her beloved son is concerned.”

  “She needs to back off,” Will gritted out.

  “And let you decide on your own? When did a Daughter ever do that?”

  Some of his frustration bled away under his dad’s amusement. “You’ve got a point.”

  “She’ll come around. You’ll see.”

  That’s what he was worried about, that she’d come around after it was too late to do him any good. Sigrid was right. If he wasn’t careful, his relationship with her could drive a wedge between him and his mother, especially if Chana won and Will opted to pay the requisite fines rather than honor the challenge’s outcome.

  Chana seemed nice enough, but no way in Hell was he stupid enough to tie himself to a stranger. At least he knew Sigrid well enough to trust her.

  He stopped stock still in the middle of pushing open the kitchen door and his eyes slid closed. Fuck, how had that happened? Trust was only a tiny, fragile step away from love, and he wasn’t ready yet, wasn’t ready to tumble head over heels for a woman he wasn’t certain could ever love him. Ok, so she was getting there quicker than he would’ve thought, but there was no guarantee she wouldn’t turn tail and run. It wouldn’t be the first time a Daughter abandoned a man rather than succumb to her tender heart. Probably wouldn’t be the last either.

  He continued on into the kitchen and shooed his dad into the living room to find a game, then cleaned up while he tried to talk some sense into his own too tender heart.

  Sigrid closed her office door, shutting out the men’s voices echoing faintly through the house. She turned toward Will’s mother and gestured toward the sitting area occupying one corner of the room. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Wilhelmina perched on the edge of an overstuffed leather armchair the color of warm chocolate. “You’re sleeping with my son.”

  Sigrid refused to let the sharp remark rankle. She took the chair opposite her oldest friend’s daughter without a single hesitation in her actions. “He and I have a deepening relationship, yes.”

  “You’re fucking him,” Wilhelmina said bluntly. “Did you seduce him before or after approaching my mother for the right to court him?”

  Sigrid crossed one leg over the other, deliberately icy in the face of the heat underlying Wilhelmina’s words. “Your son approached me, but that isn’t the issue here.”

  “The issue is the despoilment of my son.”

  Sigrid threw her head back and laughed, genuinely amused in spite of the threat Will’s mother posed. “Will needed no despoiling, I assure you. He’s quite capable of handling whatever situation arises.”

  Pride flashed briefly across Wilhelmina’s expression, and was abruptly shuttered. “He’s worthy of any woman he seeks.”

  “Does it bother you more that he chose me, or that he failed to ask permission first?” Sigrid slashed her hand through the air. “Let’s cut to the chase. What remuneration do you want me to set aside for him?”

  “Should you win against Chana,” Wilhelmina said.

  “When I win,” Sigrid corrected. “And rest assured, Wilhelmina, I will win.”

  “Because you don’t want to tarnish your unbroken chain of victories, or because you love him?”

  Sigrid fixed her own expression into a cold, dispassionate mask. “Does it matter?”

  “Perhaps not,” Wilhelmina murmured. “Why did you challenge her?”

  “She had the temerity to touch my property.”

  “And by property, you mean my son.” Wilhelmina’s mouth curled into a mocking sneer. “This from the woman who discards lovers so frequently, she can’t remember their names.”

  “Will is the grandson of an old friend,” Sigrid said, and hated the stiffness in her voice. “If not for that, I would’ve called Chana out then and there.”

  “Over such a trifling?” Wilhelmina clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You’re getting soft in your old age, Sigrid, and over a mere mortal man.”

  “That man,” Sigrid said, her words deadly soft, “is your son. I will not have you speak of him in such a manner.”

  Wilhelmina’s eyebrows shot up. She sat back in the chair as a knowing smile tilted her lips. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Sigrid barely bit back a muttered curse. That was the second time in a week she’d been accused of loving Will. Was she so transparent that anyone could notice the softening of her heart? “He’s a good man and a credit to your family.”

  “Which doesn’t answer my question. Interesting.” Wilhelmina reclasped her hands in her lap and her gaze grew shrewd. “Half of your current holdings, one quarter upon a commitment, the other upon the birth of a healthy child, with a further penalty of twenty-five percent of the total should you forsake him.”

  Sigrid nodded once. “I’ll consider your request.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do more than consider it if you want him in your life.” Wilhelmina stood, triumph etched into her posture. “He may think he holds all the cards, but I assure you, he does not.”

  With that, Wilhelmina strode out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind herself. Sigrid slumped into her chair and closed her eyes, her heart a thin flutter in her chest. By the Lady Ki, that had not gone well. And now Will, sweet Will with his soft kisses and passionate touch, Will with his wide open heart…

  She was going to lose him.

  Her hands trembled in her lap and sorrow rose so swiftly, she had no chance to staunch the tears it drew from her. Will gone, because she’d mishandled the initial interview with his mother, one of the few obstacles in their path. Stupid. Why had she let a single, An-cursed emotion show? Why hadn’t she found a way to counter Wilhelmina’s certainty?

  Sigrid sucked in a ragged breath, snagged a tissue, and blotted her eyes, capturing the tears sliding down her cheeks before they could betray her emotions.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Early Monday morning, Sigrid walked across campus for her appointment with Rebecca Upton. Her team hadn’t yet located the box containing the remains stored erroneously in the one that should’ve contained Jaran’s skeleton, but they were making steady progress testing the many skeletal remains that had been stored at the IECS museum. The discovery of the correct box could occur at any moment, thus hopefully shedding light on the brittle bones of a possible Sister, possible being the operative word.

  Sigrid jogged up the marble stairs fronting the main IECS office building and pulled the door open. In spite of her instinct’s insistence and the test results she’d personally pored over for hours, too much uncertainty remained. Everything hinged on careful retesting and examining the label of the storage box the bones had originally been housed in. Patience, she cautioned herself, but her patience, usually in such abundant supply, was running perilously thin.

  She was going to lose Will.

  Sigrid swallowed the bleak thought as soon as it arose, just as she’d done the dozens of other times it had
popped into her mind since his mother walked out of their meeting on Saturday afternoon. Oh, Wilhelmina had been polite enough during the remainder of her and her husband’s visit, gracious even, but her smug triumph had cast a pall over the gathering.

  It should’ve been a happy time, one of celebration and triumph of a different sort all together, that of two families intermingling through the union of two of its most respected members.

  Sigrid shook disappointment away and marched into the director’s outer office with her head held high and her confidence firmly in place. There were more important events to consider now, ones with much larger ramifications on the People’s future than the trifling prospect of a lone Daughter losing a man’s affections.

  Director Upton’s receptionist buzzed Sigrid through, and Sigrid walked in and shut the door behind herself.

  Rebecca was sitting ramrod straight behind her desk, not a hair out of place. She glanced up as Sigrid approached and proffered a tired smile. “I hope you have good news.”

  “I wish I could say I did.” Sigrid perched on the edge of a chair in front of Rebecca’s desk, set her briefcase on the chair next to her, and opened it. “I have a report on our latest findings for you.”

  Rebecca waved a hand at her. “Summarize, please. I’m not sure I can decipher all the science behind your work this early on a Monday morning.”

  Sigrid tugged out a copy of the report and passed it across Rebecca’s desk. “We’ve been running a variety of tests on the known Bones of the Just and using those as a measuring stick for tests on other remains.”

  “And?”

  “We may have found the remains of two other Sisters.” Sigrid held up her hands, nipping Rebecca’s enthusiasm in the bud. “The tests we’re using are problematic. It’s not just about DNA. We know all the remains are of direct descendants of the Sisters, if not the Sisters themselves, thanks to the miracle of mitochondrial DNA.”

  Rebecca sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers together under her chin. “I thought testing mitochondrial DNA was a relatively simple and reliable procedure.”

  “It is. That’s not the problem we’re running into.” Briefly, Sigrid explained their shift to using ethnicity estimates and the problems inherent to the methodology. “George introduced the idea and discovered, as we would’ve expected, that the Sisters ethnicity was nearly one hundred percent Near Eastern, though there were slight variations as to the exact percentage from Sister to Sister.”

  “And the two sets of remains you believe may also be Sisters?”

  “The ethnicity is a match, and the mitochondrial DNA does support their being of the People, but as to certainty?” Sigrid rolled her shoulders under the ivory suit jacket she wore. “Perhaps with other documentation, we could be more certain, but the science isn’t there yet.”

  Rebecca dropped her hands and her gaze drifted away. “If it’s a matter of more staff or equipment…”

  “I wish it were that simple. We’re continuing our work, sifting through results as soon as they’re available, and George discovers a new angle almost every day, but this is what we have to work with for the moment.” Sigrid threaded her fingers together and rested them in her lap. “How’s Robert?”

  Rebecca’s gaze snapped back to Sigrid’s. “Fine,” she said evenly.

  “Will told me he was ill.” Sigrid held up a hand, forestalling Rebecca’s next comment. “He only told me that, nothing more, and I didn’t press.”

  “I’ve never known you to back down when you wanted to know something.”

  Unaccountably, heat rose in Sigrid’s cheeks. She coughed lightly into her fist, clearing her throat. “It seemed like a sensitive matter.”

  “Sensitive?” Rebecca huffed out a short laugh. “Moira told me you were dating Will, but I didn’t realize matters were so serious. Does Wilhelmina know?”

  Sigrid barely stifled a flinch. “Yes.”

  “That must not have gone well.”

  It hadn’t, but nothing could be done about it now. “We’ll deal with it in due time.”

  “We,” Rebecca murmured, then shook her head, a bemused expression gracing her delicate features.

  Sigrid interrupted, half afraid of Rebecca’s next words. “One more thing. We have the results back on the blood of the Woman with No Face.”

  Rebecca leaned forward, eyebrows arched. “And?”

  “She’s old, Director, very old, and probably born before the Sisters moved the People out of the Levant.” Sigrid allowed a small smile to curve her lips. “I can explain the science for you, if you like.”

  Rebecca’s laughter held genuine humor. “Thank you for the update, but I’ll pass on the science. Please let me know if I can aid your efforts in any way.”

  Sigrid rose and bowed, thanked Rebecca, and left, not certain whether the director had aimed her offer of help toward the problems surrounding identifying the Bones of the Just, or the problems surrounding Sigrid’s burgeoning relationship with Will.

  Will woke up alone in Sigrid’s bed a little before noon. After the dismal meeting with his mother, it hadn’t taken much persuading for him to stay with Sigrid beyond the weekend. Yeah, so he’d promised to give it time and not rush into anything, and he’d fully intended to.

  Until Sigrid slipped out of her office Saturday afternoon behind his mother, her nose a little too red for the room’s warmth.

  She’d been crying.

  He rolled over onto Sigrid’s side of the bed and bunched her pillow up under his head. The light, floral scent of her shampoo drifted to him and, predictably, his morning woody went from rock hard to rocketing to get off.

  Already, he was addicted to her.

  He huffed out a humorless laugh into her pillow. Meanwhile, she’d gone cold on him again. It had taken all his patience to coax her into cuddling with him Saturday night after he came to bed. Even half asleep, she’d resisted. Frustration had pushed him into settling the matter the old fashioned way, with a mind-numbing, heart-thumping, melt your bones inside and out kiss, and it had worked, thank Ki.

  She’d let him curl around her through the rest of the night without another objection, but last night, she’d reverted to Ice Queen and tried to push him away again. In between, during the hours he’d spent working on one project or another, she’d tagged along and helped out where she could, sure, but she was silent, always watching, like something evil was about to strike and only her constant vigilance kept it at bay.

  Damn it, he was getting tired of having to thaw her out.

  And the exhibition was Friday night, less than a week away. She needed to focus, needed to train. He’d help her how and where he could, but he needed something, too. Reciprocation, if nothing else. Mutual affection and support. Something. Was that too much to ask?

  He pushed his worry away and tried to relax, and dozed fitfully until his alarm went off, signaling the beginning of his day. Sigrid was in meetings all day, so he met Ethan for a weight lifting session at the IECS gym, then ordered a quick lunch from Tellowee’s only restaurant, a meat and three that doubled as a deli, and took it to Robert’s office for a couple of hours of work there.

  Will settled down in Robert’s chair, and while he ate, he listened to the voice messages that had accumulated since he’d checked the answering machine the day after Robert’s hospitalization. Some of it was personal. Will skipped those, leaving them for Robert to handle, and jotted notes for the ones he needed to return.

  One call was from a genealogist in Connecticut that Robert had asked to dig into James Terhune’s ancestry. Rhonda Bowman was the wife of a Son, and a respected colleague from Robert’s days as a professor of history. Her message was brief and to the point: Found something important. Please call asap.

  Will finished his lunch, cleared his trash, and took a quick trip to the men’s room to clean up. As soon as he sat down at Robert’s desk again, he picked up the phone’s handset and dialed Rhonda. She answered with a terse, “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Bow
man, this is Will Corbin. I’m an associate of Robert Upton’s at the Institute for Early Cultural Studies in Tellowee, Georgia.”

  A long pause followed. “I expected Robert to return my call.”

  “He’s out of the office for a while.” No need to say why. If Robert wanted her to know, he’d tell her. “I’m taking care of his current research projects until his return. You’re working on James Terhune’s ancestry?”

  “Yes.” Just when Will thought he was going to have to prompt her, she continued in her sharp, Yankee accent. “He’s of the People through his mother’s line, which confirms the DNA tests Robert sent me. My research indicates he’s descended from the line of Abragni.”

  Excitement skipped through Will. He’d gotten to know James pretty well since the archaic language expert’s arrival in Tellowee a few months back, and liked him. To learn the other man was a cousin, however distant? Amazing.

  “Do you know which line?” he asked.

  “Yes, I—” The line crackled and popped, and Rhonda sighed. “It’s storming here. I’ll mail copies of the research to Robert. If you have any questions, shoot me an email.”

  “Sure. Thanks for the help.”

  Will hung up and sat back in the chair. It creaked and bounced under his shifting weight, reminding him of the many hours he’d spent helping Robert in the decade and a half since his apprenticeship, and of his own obligations to the People.

  James Terhune was a cousin.

  Will grinned and logged into Robert’s desktop computer. An email to James wouldn’t take long, then Will could hunker down with the other research he’d planned to oversee today, much of it related to the tests Sigrid and George were running. He needed to track down the living descendants of a Daughter named Jaran, among others, but for now, he intended to connect with a newly found relative and share the good news.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sigrid trained harder than ever after the run in with Will’s mother, spurred by an icy fear flowing through her veins. Every moment not spent at work or with Will was bent to the singular task of defeating Chana Wolfbane in their upcoming match. Anything less was unthinkable.