Morningstar (13 page)

“One bite,” Jace demanded.

“One bite and one kiss, and then I go,” she agreed.

With a low growl he pounced, pressing her back against the wall as his teeth sank into her skin. Bryn whimpered as pleasure shuddered through her, and then he covered her mouth with a kiss that left her shaken and breathless. Thankfully no assassins appeared to take advantage of her moment of weakness, and she gently nudged him away.

Jace nuzzled her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “When this is over, I expect you back in our bed,
a’mhain
.”

Her brow rose at the endearment, and she impulsively brushed a kiss against his cheek. “I know. Make sure she eats something.”

“Other than me, right.”

Bryn smiled, and then crossed to kiss Sabine as well. Her heart fluttered as Bryn kissed her lover, and her eyes stung with sudden tears. They were finally free and in their new home, but even now they weren’t safe. She took a deep breath and managed a brave smile.

“You can pull his hair next,” she teased, and Sabine grinned.

Chapter Thirteen

After a few hours of quiet, Captain Hawke summoned Bryn to the Morningstar archive room, where the house’s collected knowledge was stored. Though Bryn was reluctant to leave Jace and Sabine unguarded, she comforted herself with the knowledge that whatever the captain wanted, it would likely be quick.

Bryn stepped into the archive and spotted Captain Hawke, Malcolm and Jace’s sister Andelynn across the room, along with two males she didn’t know. Judging by their resemblance, she assumed the older one was Jace’s father, and judging by his derision, she assumed the other male was Wylarric.

House Wintersend’s records took up one room, but the Morningstar archives were enormous, like the rest of the city. Data terminals were clustered in groups throughout the room, forming small, cozy reading areas, and the walls were lined with shelves containing ancient printed texts.

Captain Hawke nodded to her. “This is Lieutenant Brynnaren Viera.”

“Captain,” Bryn said, standing at attention.

“Lieutenant, this is Lord Najamek Harrow, and his heir, Wylarric Harrow.”

“My lords.” Bryn bowed politely as both males regarded her. Lord Najamek shared Jace’s lean build and charcoal skin, but he and Wylarric had deep green eyes and black hair. Wylarric was also shorter, stockier, and his thin nose gave him a pinched expression, as though he constantly smelled something sour.

“Too skinny,” Wylarric muttered. Lord Najamek shot his son a frosty glance. Bryn ignored him—she expected that he would disapprove of her, and preferred it to interest from him.

“Welcome to our house, and to our family, Brynnaren. I look forward to speaking with you more, but I’m afraid we have pressing matters at hand.” Lord Najamek turned his attention to Malcolm as the indexer poked at circuitry panels and pulled wires out of a data terminal.

“Thank you, my lord.” Bryn frowned at Malcolm. “Is he allowed to do that?”

“Technically, no,” Lord Najamek replied.

“I’ll stop him.”

Bryn hurried over to Malcolm before he yanked anything else out of the machine. He crouched and peered into an access port, muttering to himself as he made notes on a data pad. When he didn’t respond to her calling his name, Bryn knelt beside him and touched his shoulder.

Malcolm turned and blinked at her. “Oh. Bryn. You cut your hair. It’s very nice, like the captain’s.”

“Thanks. You know you were supposed to talk with her about your situation,” Bryn reminded.

“Yes. I forgot.” He dragged a hand through his dark hair, causing more chaos than order, and sat back on his heels. “I’ll need to build an uplink terminal. I assumed they’d have one, but they don’t.”

“Not a lot of indexers around here,” she replied.

“It’s not an indexer thing. Anyone hardwired with a data jack can use a direct access uplink to interface with an information network,” he explained.

“Okay,” Bryn said, despite having no idea what that meant.

“You’re a data miner,” Andelynn said. They both glanced up at her as she slowly approached. She bore a stronger resemblance to her father than she did to Jace, because her mother was one of Lord Najamek’s other mates.

“Yes.” Malcolm’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I need an uplink terminal to access the data stream to complete my search for the Eppes’ testing facility for the Lazarus project. I’ll also need a handler. Alexi was always my handler.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Bryn admitted.

“I can explain,” Andelynn said. “He needs a handler to observe his vital signs while he’s accessing the data stream.”

“It’s more than that.” Malcolm fidgeted with the frayed cuffs of his sleeves as he continued. “I mean, if it were just the vital signs, anyone with med tech training could do it. Handlers control a miner’s access to the data stream to keep us from being fried by too much input. And they monitor for outside attacks, like being detected by a security program. It’s sort of like being a miner’s bodyguard, assistant and medic all at once.”

“Fried how?” Bryn asked.

“Death by information overload. It can cause a seizure, aneurysm, system arrest. Stuff like that.” Malcolm shrugged.

Bryn blinked at his nonchalant attitude. “So this could kill you?”

“It will, eventually. That’s why the archivists make slaves do searches for them.”

“I know of someone with handler training,” Andelynn said.

“Oh?” Lord Najamek said.

She nodded. “Lord Degalen. He is very interested in data mining techniques, and has studied the subject extensively.”

Captain Hawke snorted. “That does sound like him. I can contact him.”

“Malcolm also wishes to claim asylum,” Bryn said. “And if the resistance wants his help they need to put him on their payroll.”

“Asylum?” Lord Najamek peered at Malcolm as the man blushed.

“Yes, well, the Collective owns me. Specifically my mentor owns me, Archivist de la Cruz. That’s how I got my last name—it’s his, not mine. I’m considered Collective property.” He tugged his shirt collar aside to display his slave mark. Bryn returned her attention to Lord Najamek and noticed that, like Jace, he had no slave marks. Neither did Wylarric, who scowled at the situation while standing behind his father.

Must be nice to be important.

“I’ll see that you are compensated for your time, and I’ll assign a tech team to assist you with constructing the uplink. Do you need anything else?” Lord Najamek asked.

“No,” Malcolm replied.

“Yes, he does. A hot meal, a change of clothes, and at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep,” Bryn said.

“Oh. Yes. Well, four hours would be sufficient,” he argued.

“Six,” she replied.

Malcolm frowned. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“Don’t we all?” Bryn rose and then helped him to his feet.

“I can see that the indexer receives everything he needs,” Andelynn offered.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Malcolm lowered his voice and peered at Bryn, “Is
ma’am
right? What’s the proper form of address?”

“In this case, ‘my lady’,” she replied.

Malcolm blushed again. “Thank you, my lady,” he corrected. Andelynn smiled.

“May I speak with you a moment, Lady Andelynn?” Bryn asked.

“Yes, of course. Please, call me Andee. We are family.”

Family
. It had been a long time since she’d had any family aside from Sabine. They moved away from the others, and Bryn lowered her voice. “Thanks for looking after Malcolm. He’s not used to being on his own.”

“I can tell.”

“I wanted you to know that Sabine is an
aleithir
. She’s never had any training in how to control her abilities. Jace said you might be able to help her with that.”

Andee’s brow rose, and she nodded. “I can.”

Bryn breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. She’ll need it. She’s never lived in a place with so many people. It’ll be hard for her to keep the noise out.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. Make sure Malcolm eats something.”

Andee chuckled, and then joined the indexer to discuss his list of supplies. Lord Najamek turned his attention to Bryn, and she stood at attention.

“I have never met a female shadow sword before.”

“House Wintersend does not have the luxury of turning away potential warriors based on their gender, my lord,” she replied.

“I’m surprised that House Wintersend can afford shadow swords at all,” Wylarric sneered. Typical. She doubted that he’d even met anyone from a lesser house before.

Bryn stood straighter as she swallowed her first reply and formed a second, polite one. “It is an honor to serve one’s house. I may be new to House Morningstar, but I am honored to be part of it.”

“And we are fortunate to have you,” Lord Najamek replied. “Please give my regards to Najacen. I would like to speak with him after he has recovered.”

“Of course.” Bryn bowed and retreated before Wylarric could add more snide commentary.

Recovered.
That was one way to put it. Jace might be under the sway of the phase, but he hadn’t suffered from it as Sabine had. Nor would he have to experience the joys of pregnancy and childbirth.

When she returned to Jace’s quarters—their quarters, she corrected silently—Sabine and Jace had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Bryn looked down at them, her chest tight with emotion. Sabine was curled in Jace’s arms, and he held her close, protective even in his sleep. For a moment she was tempted to crawl into the bed and join them, but she needed to remain vigilant and keep guard after having witnessed Wylarric’s derision firsthand. It was a long way from scowls to assassins, but considering the enormity of House Morningstar and its wealth, Bryn could see how it might pit brother against brother. All Jace had to do was produce a son, and Wylarric would lose his position as pampered heir.

Bryn closed the bedroom door and returned to the outer room. There wasn’t much to do, so she picked a spot in the middle of the floor, folded her legs beneath her and calmed her mind into meditation. Shadow swords used meditation to maintain their focus on long missions, and it had been a godsend during her time as a slave.

Time passed in calm quiet, with only the measured whisper of her breath and the familiar hiss of ventilation systems. Then a new noise interrupted from the direction of the entrance, and Bryn’s brow furrowed as she strained to identify it. It was high-pitched, almost whining, with irregular clicks and whirrs—someone was hacking the lock on the door. She drew her pistol and fired into the door lock, and the bolt melted the device shut. Whoever was outside would have to manually bypass it and force it open.

Retreating into the bedroom, she brought the lights up and locked the door.

“What’s going on?” Jace asked, no doubt roused by the gunfire.

“Someone’s hacking the main entrance. Get in the closet, both of you.” Bryn glanced at the furniture in the room, and decided to relocate a chair and footstool in front of the doors. It wouldn’t work as a barricade or cover, but it might slow their attackers down for a moment. Long enough for Bryn to get an extra shot in.

“Give me your pistol,” Jace said.

Bryn shook her head. “No. Get yours, and get in the closet. Now.” He scowled, and she glared at him as she moved furniture. “Jace. I need you to protect her, so I can protect you. Trust me.”

With a growl he scooped Sabine into his arms and carried her off. She murmured a question, still half-asleep—not surprising, considering how enthusiastically the pair had been going at it earlier. Bryn locked them in, found herself a place with cover and a clear shot at the bedroom door, and crouched behind the desk.

The lights died, plunging the room into darkness as the doors slid open. Like any Cy’ren, Bryn could see perfectly well in the dark, and she frowned at the empty doorway. The assassins must be using either side of the door for cover, waiting for her to take the first shot and reveal her position. Her heart thudded in her chest as she waited for them to make their move—they needed to enter the room to pursue their target and eliminate him as quickly and quietly as possible. Bryn, on the other hand, had all the time in the world to defend her mates.

A small metal object sailed through the doorway and bounced onto the mattress, and Bryn ducked and covered. The stun grenade rattled her for a few moments, but her cover and armor blocked most of its effect, saving her from falling unconscious. For once, Bryn found herself wishing she had a helmet as her vision blurred and her ears filled with an irritating high-pitched ringing.

Two shadows darted forward, and Bryn fired a spray of bolts across the room. She didn’t hit the assassins, but as they dove out of the way one directly entered her line of fire. Bryn dropped him, but then her pistol whined and red warning lights blinked on the grip. Overheated.
Damn
. She set the weapon down, drew her sword and charged.

The barrel of the assassin’s gun swerved in her direction, and Bryn slapped it aside with her blade with a clang of metal-on-metal. He reached for his blade—a shadow sword? Seemed ballsy of Wylarric to send the house’s own men against his brother. Bryn cut the male down, but then shrieked as a laser bolt burned through her light armor and struck her in the side, beneath her right arm. She stumbled and fell, spotting a third assassin just outside the room.

Stupid.
Missing the attacker’s presence was a raw recruit’s mistake. Grimacing, Bryn used the bed for cover and hugged the floor. The pistol of the assassin she’d just run through was just within reach, and she lunged for it. She rolled to her knees and fired a volley of bolts, and the final assassin shuddered and fell.

All was ominously silent, and when no further targets appeared, Bryn rose and checked for more. Once she was certain the rooms were secure, she pounded on the closet door with her good hand. Pain throbbed in time with the rapid beat of her heart, distracting but manageable.

“It’s clear, Jace.”

The doors opened, revealing a now-dressed Jace and Sabine. “You’re hurt,” Sabine exclaimed.

Bryn forced a smile through gritted teeth. “It’s not bad,
a’gra
. I’ve been hurt worse than this. I need you to get into your isolation suit. Jace, get your armor. We’re going to have to move to another location. Pick a female you trust, preferably unmated.”

“Andelynn,” he replied without hesitation. “But you need a medic first.”

“No. I need to see you safe first. I’m your
shathlinn
. Do you trust me?” she asked, and though Jace glared he nodded in reply. “Then do this for me.”

As they donned their suits, Bryn checked the fallen assassins for any clues to their identities. Each bore a Nightfall heritage mark, and no slave marks—not just shadow swords, but important ones. Not mercenaries or hired thugs. Why would House Nightfall go after Jace? Did they think he knew something about the Lazarus project? There were no alarms, no sounds of other attacks, so this wasn’t an invasion. She shook the thoughts away. Someone else could worry about that. Bryn needed to get her mates to safety.