The Unraveling, Volume One of The Luminated Threads: A Steampunk Fantasy Romance (19 page)

“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. The 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.

There hadn’t been another attack.

Good. She didn’t want to see anyone else hurt. However, if someone was, and last night’s experimental drawing proved she’d actually healed Daeryn, she’d disclose her additional Knack to Mistress Gere and offer her services.

But so far, Annmar was free to learn more in secret. She pinned her hair at the mirror and pinched her cheeks to bring them color. Belly aflutter at the thought of seeing Daeryn, she collected her sketchbook and pencils in her work apron, trotted lightly down the winding staircase and walked as quickly as her heels allowed across the now-empty yard. She looked neither left nor right, for if anyone was coming or going, she didn’t want to notice or be noticed. Her turmoil today was nothing like that from recent weeks, when her mornings started wondering if Mr. Shearing would call on the shop, or request a dreaded factory visit.

Blighted Basin might be strange, but this morning a more pressing question had a hold of her: Would Daeryn be as pleased to see her as she was to see him? She opened the back door and entered the hall, a broad smile gracing her face now that no one could see.

Clinking of dishware echoed down the hall, but otherwise the house was silent. She eyed the sickroom door. Daeryn might still be sleeping, but if she didn’t see him while alone, they couldn’t talk. She knocked.

“Come in,” Daeryn called, his voice groggy.

Annmar turned the knob. “Good morning. I came by to see…to see—” Her stomach dropped.

He wasn’t alone.

A wolf sprawled across the foot of the bed snored lightly, rows of sharp, white teeth showing in an open mouth.

“Annmar, you’ve come around early.” Daeryn scrubbed a fist across his face. “You did the, er, it? I haven’t been up yet to test it.” Smiling, he rose on an elbow and started to throw off the covers. His mouth fell open. “Great Creator. Maraquin!” He shoved the…

Did he say Maraquin?

Annmar’s grip on the doorknob fell away. She whirled and nearly ran into the back door swinging open.

Jac stepped in. “What’s wrong with you?” Her tone was soft, her tired face creased with concern. Yet Jac was the last person to whom Annmar could admit she’d made an error of this sort.

“Wait,” Daeryn called. “I can—”

His words were lost under the back door creaking open yet again and a
thunk
of paws hitting the floor in the sickroom. A moment later the wolf ran into the hall, the long muzzle of teeth rising as high as Annmar’s waist and coming at her. She toppled back, heart pounding. She had to get away—

Rivley caught her from behind and pulled her against his chest. The giant animal shoved past and ran out the open door.

“Mar!” Jac jumped to the doorway, her face contorting, pointed teeth extending over curled lips. “What the hell is going on, Dae? I thought your rolls with her had stopped.”

Annmar gulped air. Jac’s angry demand confirmed her guess. Just then, the fuming girl swung around, and their gazes met. Annmar’s cheeks heated.

Jac’s eyes narrowed, darting between Annmar and the sickroom. “Them being together
embarrasses
you? I was wrong. You won’t make it through Market Day.” She stomped into the sickroom and slammed the door.

Annmar stared after her. Jac’s barb stung as much as what she’d stumbled upon. These Basin dwellers didn’t follow common etiquette, but this…this…it was like she’d been punched in the belly.

“Annmar?” Rivley asked.

Mercy, she’d forgotten he was there. “Sorry.” She stepped from where he’d pulled her to safety, or rather, where she’d pinned him to the wall. Her knees wobbled. She grasped the door for support. Ohh, she needed to leave. Facing Daeryn’s best friend was worse than seeing him with—

“Don’t apologize,” Rivley said. “Daeryn’s the one who should be doing that. Or me. Sorry I was too late to intercept you.” He squeezed her elbow, his touch as gentle as the rhythmic inflection of his quiet words.

She stared up, transfixed by his amber eyes, and tried her hardest to keep her composure. Under Rivley’s concerned scrutiny, a flush of heat rose, bringing a stinging to her eyes.

“Let’s get you away from here.” He pivoted her by the shoulder and guided her outside.

* * *

Daeryn steeled his
gut when Jac blew like a storm into the sickroom, her eyes flashing, chest growling, lips pulled back to emit a roll of thunder.

He flipped up a hand. “Before you say a word, use your packsense. Or even your senses.”

“So I can…can…” She exhaled and stepped forward, inhaling again. Her fisted hands clenched and unclenched before sliding into crossed arms over her bib-and-brace. “Then what were you doing together?”

Still fully clothed from the evening before, Daeryn swung his feet from under his blankets, careful the bandaged one didn’t touch the floor. In front of Jac, there would be no testing his foot. “Mar was worried about you. We talked. Decided we each need to get serious about our jobs…and someone else.”

“About time.” Jac dropped her arms. “Look, I’m here to meet with Miz Gere. You seen her?”

He shook his head. “Just woke up, as you probably guessed. Can you hand me the crutches?”
He itched to put his foot down and test that the stiffness was just from non-use, but didn’t dare.

By the time he stood, a knock came at the door. One thing he knew for certain: This time it wasn’t Annmar.

* * *

Unshed tears blurring
her vision, Annmar sat on a bench against an outbuilding, unable to tell if this spot was as private as Rivley said, and half-wishing he’d just leave her instead of hovering.

He removed his leather apron and dropped beside her, leaning close to whisper, “The beast has no concept of modesty. Very typical of most animacambires. I don’t mean that as an excuse, but as an explanation.”

A proper girl would sit up straight, staunch her tears and rearrange her face into polite disapproval…

Oh, bother
.

The morning was fresh with the smell of windblown leaves and the earth, and the nice warmth of Rivley’s body made her want to fall into him and forget everything. He displayed the polite consideration she thought she’d get from Daeryn, the proper rat.

“Some of us aren’t housebroken, so to speak,” Rivley said. “Being raised Outside, you probably never walked in on ’cambires denning. The mammals are very physical. What you saw is”—he heaved a breath—“common.”

It took a second to comprehend, but denning was different wording for the animals sleeping together. Maybe just sleeping? She had to reserve judgment on how her co-workers acted, as she’d promised Mistress Gere. Jumping to conclusions never got anyone anywhere.

And yet something else bothered Annmar far more: A
man
was explaining this to her. He was practically a stranger, and initiating the conversation.

This was all just too much. The rural isolation of the Basin. Magic in her drawings. Wild animals.
People
who—Annmar sucked a breath. They were strange…and exciting. These feelings inside her were…absurd, foreign and possibly wild. Avoiding the improper conclusion was impossible. Daeryn had been in bed with a wolf. Maraquin.

Her usual stoic front crumbled. She raised a shaky hand and wiped her eyes.

Rivley pressed a soft cloth into her hands. “It’s all I have to offer, but it’s clean.”

She dabbed at her eyes, and then suddenly dabbing wasn’t enough. She pulled the cloth to cover her face, but it wouldn’t come loose.

“Give me a second, and you can have the whole shirt.”

What? His shirt? Lord forbid. “Forgive me,” she managed through quivering lips. “No.”

“It’s the least I can do when my best friend has returned your effort to heal him with no thought to your sensibilities.” He pushed it into her hands and swept his arm around her as if it were the most natural thing to place his body and its welcome warmth against her.

Oh…well. She turned into the planes of Rivley’s bare chest and buried her tears in the shirt’s softness between them. Hopefully the red of the shirt would offset her face’s color, because Annmar couldn’t stop the tears. Not when all the things she knew to be right, and normal, and proper, were unraveling.

* * *

Joining the morning
communication planted the idea he was healing, but Daeryn had to give in to Miz Gere’s insistence he sit on the bench. Jac, by way of apologizing, was overly helpful, bringing a crate for him to prop his foot on.
His decision with Maraquin had been the right one, and though they had both overslept, it looked like the beta wouldn’t receive much putting down.

Famil arrived, and
Jac announced, “We finally killed some of the vermin.”

She had no idea how many, or even how many remained, because the animals were so elusive. However, the lines in Miz Gere’s face cleared just knowing they’d caught some.

“With the first kill just after midnight,” Jac said, “the ropens settled into my request to stay in the fields along the northern border. Not that I knew what I was doing or anything.” She rolled her eyes, then gave Daeryn a side-glance. “To spread us out, we made a change on the paw.”

He nodded his approval, since it looked like she was asking.

“Because Zar has seen few pests in his southern section, I had him take over some of my middle fields so I could focus on the northern ones.” She looked around to Famil. “I think we stopped the vermin from advancing, but can you confirm that by carcass locations, and with what the growers say?”

Famil agreed, and talk turned to salvaging those crops early in the day before the plants withered and Miz Gere’s plans to inspect Wellspring’s fields and boundaries.

Daeryn’s attention wandered and his nose tilted to sample the breeze. The day inside had been one day too many. The scents around the farm had changed. Not just with autumn coming on…the worry of the growers setting out, and the tinge of the new hires mingled with another variety of apple ripening…and the scent of spring grass and freshly dug soil wafting across the farmyard. His breathing quickened at the wonderful sensation, but he cringed. That scent was Annmar’s.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Perhaps this is enough for you today?” Miz Gere asked kindly.

Daeryn jerked his gaze from the orchard. “I’m not tired. Just thinking how wonderful it is to be outside again.”

Jac snorted, and Famil laughed. “It’s clouding over already,” said the diurnal team lead. “Supposed to rain.”

Daeryn shrugged. “It’s a good thing I got out now.”

“Glad you could join us,” Jac said, and it sounded like she meant it. “I asked the others before coming in, and they think this north-middle-south division is a good system, at least while we’re still shorthanded.”

Her tone had lilted into a half question, so he nodded. “Good plan. It’s keeping the vermin in check. You have every right to change up the coverage as the situation changes.”

“I agree,” Mistress Gere said. “Communication over?”

Damn. He’d rather it go on if there was a chance he’d spot Annmar, but Daeryn took the crutches they handed him without comment and made his way inside, keeping his bandaged foot well above the ground. Oh, well. A conversation with her might go better after he checked if the healing worked, and they’d have something else to discuss.

* * *

The rhythm of
Rivley’s patting soothed Annmar’s nerves, along with a lulling
tsk
. Some minutes passed before she realized the clicking hummed from within his throat.

He was an animal, too.

However, animal or not, Annmar hadn’t received such nice attention since her mother died. A fresh wave of tears threatened to break loose at that thought. She immediately squelched the memory. Rivley’s good humor shouldn’t be pushed. She was grown. She could handle her emotions properly. Drawing a breath that shuddered only a bit, Annmar lowered the shirt, wiping her face for what she hoped would be the last time. She straightened, trying not to stare at his freckled chest.

Rivley gave her a crooked smile and dropped his arm. He took the offered shirt and pulled it over his head, though it was rumpled and damp.

Annmar composed herself, watching his quick movements tucking the shirt into striped trousers and sliding up the leather braces. By the time he replaced his work apron, the wind had cooled her face. “I don’t think Daeryn expected me to drop in this morning. After this I shall make an appointment.”

“An appointment.” Rivley rolled his amber eyes. “Girl, that is flat-out too sophisticated a concept for us Basin folk. You did nothing wrong. You knocked. He bid you enter. The beast was at fault for not thinking through who was at the door.”