By a Thread

by Nyna Queen

  The girl finally nodded.

  “Good,” she muttered and looked at her hands. “Because I don’t want him to get hurt. He has been hurt enough already.”

  Alex stared at the girl’s back. Who would dare hurt a man like him?

  She didn’t mean to ask, but the words were out before she could stop them.

  The girl whipped around, almost ripping the brush out of Alex’s hand.

  “The Order, of course!” Angry tears pooled in her honey-brown eyes and her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “I’m not daft, you know! I know w-what he is. What they f-force him to do! It’s tearing him apart, but they don’t care.” A tear spilled over and rolled down her porcelain cheek.

  “He’s trying to hide it, but he c-can’t hide it. N-not from m-me. I can s-sense his p-p-pain.” She shuddered and bit her lip, so hard Alex feared the skin would break. “But when they hurt him, he fights b-back and if he does, he can’t … he might—”

  She choked and wiped at her face. When she looked back at Alex there was so much plea in her eyes it took Alex by surprise. “We fought too hard to have him. I-I just don’t want to lose him again!”

  Alex swallowed, her lips suddenly dry. “Why—why would you lose him?”

  In an instant Josy turned all shy again, picking at a flower in the vase, but after a moment the need to talk won over her wariness.

  Not looking at Alex, she said, “When I was little they wouldn’t allow him to see me. I know they think I don’t remember, but I do. The first couple of years I only saw him a handful of times, mostly at the Order. It was considered ‘a safe enough environment for a brief intercourse.’” She made quotation marks with her fingers, her voice brimming with anger.

  “They said he was too dangerous.” She glared at her hands. “They said a lot of horrible things. But Daddy wasn’t content with that and neither was Uncle Darken. Dad had a big row with one of the Order’s supervisors about it one time. And then Dad threatened him, and we had to leave before ‘things got out of hand.’ Mom took me home and I had to go to my room. Grandmother was furious. She wouldn’t speak to my Dad for three months in a row. There was a lot of talk in the media as well, shunning my parents for ‘putting me to that risk.’

  “But Dad wouldn’t budge.” An almost-smile tugged at her lips. “He can get like that when he has set his mind on something.” The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. “They gave in eventually. It was supervised visits at the Family Estate at first. Dad had to sign a form saying he and Mom were assuming full responsibility in case something went wrong. Later, after Max was born, the arrangement was gradually loosened up.

  “But they made it clear that this privilege can be revoked as easily as it was granted if he doesn’t perform to their satisfaction.” She shrugged and sharp fury distorted her features, giving her a sudden, eerie likeness to her uncle. Then the fury sloughed off and her lips quivered, another tear falling over the rim of her lids.

  “I d-don’t care w-what they s-say about him. I don’t care he is—” She sucked in a shaking breath. “He cares very much for me and Maxwell. He plays with us. Even when he is really tired or exhausted, he’ll go with us for a walk or work on the tree house or read us a story. He always makes time and he is never too busy for our needs. He even convinced Dad that I should be allowed to learn the art of riding. It is part of the common aristo-education, but Grandmother was against it. She says horses are smelly and dumb creatures and that sitting on their backs spreads a girl’s thighs too far.”

  Alex didn’t say anything to that. Her own relationship with horses was … ambivalent.

  “If I asked for lessons in self-defense Uncle Darken would support me,” Josy added, “even if it meant locking horns with Grandmother again.” She finally looked at Alex. “I love him very much. I don’t want them to forbid him to have contact with us.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Alex snorted. “How can they even forbid him to see you? I mean, what if he had children on his own? They can hardly forbid him to see his own children, could they?”

  Josy gave her an odd look. “He doesn’t have children.”

  “Well, maybe not now. But what about in the future? Will they supervise that as well? Bet his wife would have a thing or two to say about that.”

  Alex flinched involuntarily at her own careless words. Was that it? Did he have a lover or—Jester forbid—a wife waiting for him at home? She hadn’t seen a ring, but that didn’t mean anything.

  Was that why he had so insistently told her to go? He’d been bursting with need and she’d practically thrown herself at him until he couldn’t resist any longer. Was his reaction this morning borne by guilt? Was he resenting himself for it now—and her? The idea left a sour taste in her mouth.

  Josy’s frown deepened. “He’s not married.”

  That didn’t mean no one had dibs on him. “But surely he’s got a sweetheart.”

  Josy shook her head no.

  “What, a handsome guy like him? I bet the royal ladies are queuing up for a chance to have a shot at him.” And why wouldn’t they? He was everything a woman of a good home could ask for, and then some. And the thought didn’t disturb her at all.

  “He is forfeit,” Josy said, sounding confused, as if she’d missed a vital point in an argument.

  “I know he’s forfeit.” Wasn’t that the point of the whole conversation?

  Josy shook her head so hard her curls wobbled. “No, you don’t understand. He’s forfeit. One of Death’s Servants.”

  “So what?”

  A light blush dappled Josy’s white cheeks. “They may … enjoy women”—what a delicate way to phrase it—“but they don’t marry. Ever. And they never have children, either.”

  “What? Why not? What keeps them?”

  “The law,” Josy replied tartly.

  Alex felt a chill like frozen silk unfurling in her bones. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Uh-uh,” Josy shook her head, eyes wide. “They are not their own. Different laws apply to their caste than to the rest of us.”

  It sounded too much like what shaper-kind had to endure for Alex’s taste.

  “When they are claimed by the Order,” Josy went on, the words rushing out of her, “they are forced to forfeit everything: they are deleted from the genealogical table and have to give up the family name. They can’t inherit. They cannot own land or property. They become servants of the state. It’s a service they cannot leave. It binds them their whole life. And they are not allowed to have wives or children—to keep their genes from uncontrolled spreading.” There was such sudden malevolence in the girl’s voice, Alex shuddered.

  She felt sick. At least, she could consciously make the choice not to have children. To be legally prohibited … No wonder her puppet comment in the car had ticked him off so much. Unwittingly, she’d rubbed salt into an open wound. It wasn’t like she could have known, but still.

  The door rattled with another intrusion.

  Oh, for the love of—

  Couldn’t they just grant her a moment to catch her breath?

  Still, she jumped on the opportunity to get some space between her and the girl and the disturbing revelations she’d just shared with her.

  Alex crossed the room and yanked the door open, halfway expecting Max to be looking for his elder sister and was completely thrown off guard by the stranger standing in the hall. A stranger, she was sure didn’t belong to Blayde’s army of iron wolves.

  The spider rose from her core in a blink, poised to strike. In the last moment, she noted the stylized soaring hawk on the man’s rumpled tracksuit top and the sealed envelope he was holding in one hand.

  A courier?

  The man blinked and stared at her with a dumbfounded expression on his pockmarked face until she felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

  After a long pause, Alex raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

  “I-I’m sorry, Miss,” he muttered, feverishly fumbling with the envelope an
d squinting at the room’s number plate. “I, uhm, must have taken the wrong door.” There was a moment of short hesitation. “I was looking for Miss Josepha and Master Maxwell Dubois-Léclaire.”

  Alex stiffened. Looking for the kids, huh? Well, not on my watch!

  She shifted very subtly, allowing her true skin to rise just below the surface, aggregating what little of her venom had already been reproduced by her body. Wasn’t much. Would be enough for him.

  The stranger scratched the back of his head, peering at the door number again. “Could have sworn this was the room number I was told at the reception.”

  His words made her hesitate.

  “Blayde sent you up here?”

  The courier wiped his empty hand on his crinkled jacket, now looking slightly anxious. “Tall fellow. Black sunglasses. Looks like he doesn’t tolerate any shit, if you’ll excuse the crude language.”

  Yep, that sounded like Blayde. A little tension drained out of Alex.

  “Oh, that’s alright, then.” She managed a smile. “I’m Alex. We’re traveling together.”

  The courier blinked again and then all color drained from his face. He stumbled a step back.

  “You’re—you’re the—”

  The smile slid from Alex’s face. Cold traveled down her spine and the spider bared her teeth inside the darkness of her core when it finally clicked.

  Why, thanks Blayde! Knowing her secret was one thing, but did he have to go around advertising it to the whole world? Most people weren’t exactly thrilled to have to deal with a shaper—like this poor guy demonstrated quite vividly. His reaction was exactly the reason why she normally kept her true nature hidden.

  Locking her teeth together she swallowed the sudden bitterness. It was always the same. Once shaper, always shaper.

  “Yes,” she said, trying to keep the chill out of her voice, and failing. “I am.”

  He remained frozen in place, like a mouse in front of a cat.

  Alex let out a sigh. “I believe you have a message?”

  “I—what? Oh, uhm … yes.” Fighting for his professionalism, he straightened a little. “Indeed, M-m-miss.” He held out the envelope. The paper flapped visibly in his trembling fingers.

  “That’s Uncle Darken’s seal.” Josy had come up beside her and was peering at the letter.

  The courier’s eyes swiveled over the girl, then back to Alex and the way they stood so close beside each other, and they widened.

  Alex frowned. A message from Darken? Why would he send them a message? Why wasn’t he back yet, anyway? Had something happened? Where had he gone in the first place?

  Suspicion hooked its claws into the base of her stomach and she sent out her threads, probing the envelope with her shaper senses, searching for a sign of magic tampering, for … something. But she couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. Just a simple piece of paper.

  Alright then.

  Doing her best to ignore the tremble in his hand and the poignant smell of his fear that grated on her nerves, Alex accepted the envelope. “Thanks.”

  She reached to close the door, but to her surprise, the courier stepped forward and put a foot in, blocking her attempt. Alex snarled. The messenger flinched, sweat beading on his brow, but didn’t back away.

  “I-I’m s-s-sorry, M-miss,” he stuttered, holding himself with wobbly determination, although he looked like he was about to faint. “But I was s-specifically instructed t-to m-make s-sure the content was received and f-followed through upon.” His throat worked convulsively as he raised a shaking hand. “You’ll—you’ll understand when you r-read.”

  Alex gave him a sharp look that made him hunch his shoulders as if facing a snow storm, but he didn’t budge. Apparently, getting the wrath of a forfeit was even more intimidating than she was. Well, hooray for her!

  Still slightly suspicious, Alex turned the letter over in her hand and inspected the sigil. It was made of deep red wax stamped with a bloodraven in battle armor carrying a sword: fierce, beautiful, and strangely saddening at the same time.

  With a shrug, she broke it and unfolded the paper.

  Neat, strong, masculine handwriting. With that slight elegance that hinted at a royal upbringing and hours and hours of practice.

  Alex read it—twice—and frowned at the stiff formality of the words as much as the content.

  “What does it say?” Josy asked. She was standing on tiptoe, attempting in vain to get a glance at the letter over Alex’s shoulder.

  Alex lowered the paper until in dangled beside her thigh. “Apparently, your father changed his mind. Instead of attending tomorrow’s vote, they are on their way to the country mansion as we speak, and he wants us—that is, you—to be there preferably yesterday. Your uncle asked us to meet him at the Eastern Border Post in half an hour for takeoff.”

  Well, commanded was more like it! Something bugged her about this last-minute change of plan, but to her astonishment, Josy slapped her hand against her forehead and let out a distinctly juvenile groan.

  “That’s just so like Dad. He just can’t leave well alone.” She blushed a little and nibbled on her lower lip. “He probably changed his mind five times last night and sent the servants into an uproar.”

  Alex cocked an eyebrow and indicated the letter. “This is typical for him?”

  Josy gave her a very un-Josy-ish snort. “Don’t ask. I was actually surprised that he didn’t leave immediately. I mean, I know that the vote is important …” She broke. Looked away.

  But a girl always wants her daddy to put the world behind her? Alex completed in her mind. Only this girl felt embarrassed by this sentiment. Sweet Jester, a girl shouldn’t feel bad for wanting her father to take her more important than some stinking vote. Darken seemed right about what he’d told her about Josy’s issues last night.

  Freaking family, Alex thought. And she was just about to meet more of them. Well, wasn’t she lucky?

  At the door the courier coughed softly, giving her a distraught please-don’t-shoot-the-messenger look. “A coach to the meeting place has already b-been arranged and is w-waiting for you downstairs.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. Bloody trueborns with their puffed-up egos, thinking everybody was at their beck and call. She suppressed a sigh and pointed the letter at Josy.

  “Well. You heard what the man said. Get your stuff—and your brother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “ACADEMIA Scientiae Aviditas, Lord Forfeit.”

  Darken looked up when the cab coach pulled into the small visitor’s parking lot in front of a huge gray and beige limestone building imbued with the peachy glow of the bright midday sun. The sprawling structure, honeycombed with yards and terraces that had once started out with a modest main building had grown so much over the last decade that you could now, in good conscience, call it a campus.

  Located at the other side of the small town that made up the Pacified Zone, it was like the grounded counterpart to the lofty elegance of Blayde’s hotel, but despite its ancient appearing exterior, the Academia housed the most cutting-edge technology the realm had to offer.

  A temple of knowledge and science, of progress and passion. And, hopefully, a place of some answers.

  Darken paid the cab driver, exited the coach and approached the wide, gleaming flight of soapstone steps that led up to the heavy wooden entrance doors. Above the entrance the creed of the Academia hat been chiseled into a stone arch in huge block letters, using the ancient language of science that still made up so many of the magical and scientific terms:

  Scientia sine limitas. Science without limits.

  Already out here the air was crackling with the sharp voltage of unloaded magic the way it did before a heavy thunderstorm, raising every hair on Darken’s whole body.

  Was that how Alex felt whenever someone was using magic around her?

  Alex! Even the thought of her was like a punch into his gut. His fingers curled at his sides, as he tried not to grind his teeth.

 
; Last night was a smudged blur in his memory. Oh, he remembered some things. He remembered the feel of Alex beneath him, her taste, her scent, the way her soft skin had felt under his burning hands, but apart from that …

  He let out a long breath. He remembered that he had visited her room after his talk with Blayde and that he had, for some reason, entered without being invited in. He remembered her standing there, in that sheer robe that so delicately hinted at every feminine curve, remembered the startled look on her face …

  Seeing her like this, so deliciously exposed and taken off guard, something inside him had snapped. All that mounting pressure inside him had finally found a focus, had sharpened into a spear-point, cresting to a throbbing need that had swept him away before he could reach for safe ground.

  He had told her to leave, he was almost sure of it.

  Except she hadn’t.

  From there it was a whirl of impressions, of scents and jumbled images he couldn’t quite piece together: Alex pressed against the wall between his arms, looking defiant; her hand on his bare chest; Alex crying out his name.

  He thought he heard pleasure in that sound, but it might just be his imagination, distorted by the clouded mirror of his memory.

  Then, this morning he had woken up in her bed, with one arm curled around her, holding her close to his chest. For a while he had just stared at her, her sleeping face, the wave of her hair, unsure if he was still asleep or awake.

  He couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually slept beside a woman he’d mounted. Sex was a tool. A necessity. Used to control their unstable temper and the increasing pressure inside them. Most women were paid for by the Order and walked away after providing their service—if they could still walk, that was. There was always a risk when getting into bed with one of Death’s Servants because intense arousal could rip the chain on their magic as easily as slaughter and not seldom one carnal pleasure would turn into quite another kind of feast.

  And yet, there was the spider, sleeping in his arms as if it was the safest place in the world, when it was really one of the most dangerous.