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Authors: Laurel Wanrow

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BOOK: The Twisting
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“Michael, too?” Annmar asked. “Nothing about my father?”

“No one heard from either of them again.” She shrugged her bony shoulders.

That was it? A numbness crawled through Annmar. There had to be more. “You showed these to Mistress Gere when she was looking for an artist.”

“I did. I wanted to know what had happened with that girl and her baby. If anyone could find her, Constance would. She hired Mr. Fetcher, and he learned where to look.”

Mr. Fetcher. Annmar yawned again. Perhaps he discovered more…about Michael, or Bramble Corner. She just had to remember all these pieces of Mother’s mystery. “I-I’m falling asleep. Will you tell me this again? And may I study the paintings when I’m better?”

“Any time.” Miriam brushed her fingers over Annmar’s brow. “Do you forgive me for missing your injury?”

“I also hid it so I could help the others, but yes, I forgive you.” She sighed.

“Thank you,” Miriam whispered.

“I hope the farm is doing well.”

“Wellspring is doing as well as it can in the circumstances, but only because our guards rebounded from their injuries. You helped the others and Wellspring at the same time. I’ve kept my promise and not asked, but be assured I am always available if you’d like to talk.”

Annmar nodded. “That’s kind of you.” The fuzziness in her head forced Annmar to close her eyes. She’d come to Wellspring to escape Mr. Shearing, and to earn money for a shop. The unexpected thrill of opening her Knack and now seeing Mother’s artwork were surprises she’d never expected. Yet unraveling those mysteries had only twisted into more mysteries.

Who had beaten her father and scared him enough that he and Mother didn’t—perhaps couldn’t—stay together? Where had her father gone, and was he still there?

“When might I be allowed up?”

“Up?” Miriam sounded horrified. “Constance is delighted you’ve agreed to continue the trial, but I’ve warned her we must let your head fully heal. No close work for the next few days. Possibly a week. At the first twinge of pain, you must stop whatever you are doing, whether through your sight or Knack. Understand?”

Annmar’s eyes flew open. “But I’m here to work. I can’t expect her to pay—”

Miriam tapped a finger to Annmar’s lips. “You completed a week’s worth of label drawings in a few days
and
returned seven of Wellspring’s employees to work within an hour. Constance will continue to pay you. Your trial continues when you can return to drawing. No arguing.”

Annmar blinked back tears. She could stay. She had the freedom, at least for the length of the extended trial, to make plans toward learning more about herself.

 

Chapter FOUR

Daeryn fell into
a chair beside Rivley at the dining room table and stared at his breakfast. He didn’t feel like eating, but he should. Then he could see Annmar. And sleep.

“How’d it go?” Rivley asked quietly.

“Not bad,” he answered in a flat voice. “For a night working with a…stunner.”

“You did the killing, then.”

Daeryn met his gaze. “The easy part.”

Rivley clapped him on the shoulder.

His best friend understood, like no one else would. Daeryn nodded his thanks. He should say more after the progress they’d made on their gildan obligation a few days ago, but his head was too blurry to form the appropriate words. He’d had great hopes the second lesson would be an easy one to finish—
Honestly work together to restore yourselves and your pack
—but with Annmar still abed, Daeryn had lost the energy to even try. Maybe once she showed some sign of healing he’d have less on his mind and be able to turn his efforts to working with Riv to free them both from the blood binding.

Luckily, the burden was no longer Daeryn’s to bear alone. With the resolution of the first gildan lesson, he and Rivley had agreed to co-lead, to share the leadership of resolving the remaining two lessons. Just
how
they were to both be alphas was still a mystery.

Daeryn shook himself and managed to confide, “I couldn’t have done the shooting. I held the thing, but…” He shrugged. “Terrent’s a much better shot, so why even try?”

“Someday you will.”

No, he wouldn’t. Daeryn picked up his fork.

Miz Gere and Master Brightwell came into the dining room. She went to the head of the table, while the inventor got his coffee and took a seat at the back. Good, the morning meeting, which had been moved inside because of rain, would be done soon. Daeryn met Jac’s gaze across the table. Today he was here to give the count, but his heart wasn’t in it. He jerked his chin toward their employer and began eating.

“Reports?” Miz Gere asked.

“Better with the stunners, ma’am,” Jac said. “Our practice yesterday afternoon with the first device paid off. Zar and James got a hundred and fifty-two, Maraquin and I got a hundred and forty, and Terrent and Daeryn netted ninety-eight after their later start.”

Miz Gere nodded. “Excellent. What ways do you see to improve? Either the machines or your efforts?”

“Uh.” Jac shot a look to Daeryn. He ducked his head and kept eating. “The stunners operate just fine. All the teams had some time down, but we’re learning how to avoid the fungus.”

“So we can expect the vermin to be cleared soon?”

This time every fork stopped moving, and the room fell to dead silence. Every team member, including Jac, looked at Daeryn. He set down his fork and sat up straight. “Ma’am? Those are good numbers, but we’re hardly making headway. They just keep coming.”

“Oh.” Miz Gere gripped the back of the nearest chair. Her lips pressed tight into a firm line as she stared off into space. Finally, she swept her gaze over each of them. “I have an alternative plan to pursue. Yet at this point, we’ll continue using the stunners.” She shifted her gaze to the back of the room. “Any suggestions, Master Brightwell?”

He lowered his cup. “We have the components for three more stunners. Mr. Slipwing will assemble them today while I fetch more parts. I don’t have a suggestion for who could operate them.”

“I do,” Zar drawled. Every head turned to the man who never spoke up at meetings. His shoulders lifted in a shrug, but his voice rang strong across the quieted table. “Bet the diurnal predators can handle the stunners well enough in the moonlight. Maybe there’s a few others willing to try. That frees the six of us with night vision to locate the black creatures and dispense with them.”

“Hmm,” Miz Gere said. “Interesting suggestion. Any discussion?”

Glances shot around the table, most of them aimed at Rivley, the only diurnal predator in the room. Daeryn nudged him.

“I could do it. At least for the week the moon is waning. But I’ve never shot a…anything. I won’t have the aim of Terrent or James.”

“But you’ll do as well as I have,” Jac said. “And you’ll improve. In yesterday’s session behind the shed, I couldn’t hit the target rag at first.”

“Give me a couple of hours of sleep,” Terrent said, “and I’ll give yous and any others pointers. Right now, I’m too beat to have a stunner in my hands.”

Daeryn gave the Forestridge boy a nod of thanks. James had remarked that Terrent had more skill than any on Wellspring Collective. Though Daeryn’s gut still tightened at the thought of curling his finger around the trigger, he ought to attend the training.

“Do you think the others will agree as easily?” Maraquin asked.

“Who wouldn’t?” Rivley said. “This is our home.”

Maraquin and Jac exchanged glances. “Well,” Jac said, “they’d need to work with us, and in the past we haven’t exactly been the nicest beasts to be around.”

No, they hadn’t. There’d be some grumbling from Famil, the leader of the day guards. It would help if the golden eagle ’cambire knew Jac still answered to him. Privately. He couldn’t make Jac angry. Daeryn slid a glance to the wolf girl. “That can change, can’t it?” he asked.

Both wolves nodded.

“It’s settled then,” Miz Gere said. Her gaze lit on Jac and then on Daeryn.

He nodded to her. “I’ll talk to Famil about the day team joining us and extend Terrent’s offer of training.”

“Ma’am?” Terrent raised his hand. “What’s your other plan?”

“A long shot.” The lady waved her hand dismissively, but the tight line of her lips said she was counting on it. “One of the speakers at Saturday’s Market Day has several new engines his company is selling for improved agriculture. I didn’t bother to invite him for a visit here, since we have our system well established, but he mentioned a machine for eliminating agricultural pests. I’m riding out east to meet with him, and if it sounds feasible, I’ll invite him to see Wellspring’s problem firsthand.”

A machine to get rid of the pests? Seemed incredible some other Basin inventor might have done better than Master Brightwell in the last week. Would it really work?

 

* * *

 

A bell rang
somewhere. Annmar counted the rings. Five. Slowly, consciousness came, and this time her head was clear. The dinner bell rang five times. It must be evening. Her rumbling stomach confirmed it. She rubbed her protesting belly and smiled. Mary Clare had arrived with her breakfast at the end of Miriam’s visit, but she didn’t remember eating or Mary Clare leaving.

Best to take things slow. Annmar blinked her eyes open. Thank heavens the rafters were in focus. Hadn’t someone said something about clearing the cobwebs for her? That had been long ago. Or had it?

She stretched and straightened her legs. Something moved in her bed. A hazy memory returned, a memory of petting and holding a thin cat with rough fur. That’s right, one had been keeping her company. She rolled over and peered at the mound of chocolate-colored fur nestled against her orange bedcovers. Extracting her arm, she reached to her knees and stroked its side. The cat was longer than any she’d ever seen, with its face tucked under a shorter-than-normal tail. “Good afternoon, my kitty friend.”

The cat’s head lifted. Within a mask-like pattern, its eyes blinked open. The animal flinched, flipped to its feet and leaped down the bed, tail springing straight up.

Annmar scrunched back into her pillow. This wasn’t a cat. The face was too pointed, never mind the sleek body three times as long as it was tall. Yet when she looked into its face, the familiar eyes belonged to…

“Daeryn?”

Eyes squinting, the animal’s ears pressed flat. Its head sank, giving a little jerk up and down.

Had he…
nodded
? “That
is
you.” Daeryn. This was a polecat. Her drawings had been correct, but not the same as seeing one uninjured, acting normal. Or as normal as a polecat in someone’s bed would act.

She pressed her fingertips to her temples.
Oh, Lord, just stop thinking already.
But her head didn’t hurt, her vision wasn’t cloudy, and neither were her thoughts. She lowered her hands and looked around to confirm they were alone before fixing her gaze on…him. “What are you doing in my room?”

His shoulders lifted.

That was a shrug. He half-crouched and jumped to the foot of the bed, then to the floor, all before she knew that’s what he had in mind. He disappeared behind the end of her bedstead.

She half-sat up, and as she started swinging her legs around, a hand pulled down the extra quilt that hung on the end of her bed. Annmar gasped and scooted under her covers. A moment later, Daeryn’s tousled brown hair came into view. The quilt swung through the air, and he stood, the fabric draped over his shoulders and held closed in the front.

He squinted at her, his expression the same as the polecat’s, looking very sleepy. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

What was she supposed to say to that? He’d been in her room.
Sleeping
in her room. In her bed! Oh, Lord, what would Mother… Nothing. Mother wasn’t around to worry about anymore, as Mary Clare had pointed out. Annmar had no one to answer to, Blighted Basin society included. Their lack of rules completely befuddled her. How did these people function?

Still
. This was highly improper. She glared at him, and he seemed to shrink beneath the quilt, drawing it closer to his body. He was likely naked.

She heated, the blush running from her chest up over her face and…down. Thinking of it just brought on more heat. Mercy, in her bed. Had he been…

“You…uh, you haven’t been in…here as…” She swallowed.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently. “Only as a polecat.” He took a step back. “I wouldn’t do that… Not to you.” He turned and walked to the door. “I’ll leave.”

Yes, he most certainly was naked under there, and a part of her was curious. She
was
nineteen, a grown woman. Her first look at him had been brief—she swallowed—but good. “Hold on a minute,” she gasped.

He paused in the open doorway and half-turned to face her.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing in my room.”

“Sleeping here.”

“Why?”

His brows and shoulders lifted at the same time. He looked as confused as she felt when he stepped out and closed the door.

Annmar listened. Outside her room, Daeryn’s retreating footsteps echoed on the wooden floorboards, then paused for a second. She held her breath. Was he coming back? The footsteps shuffled, and because she was listening for it, the creak of a door sounded faintly. Then nothing.

She fell back onto her pillow. “Damn.” She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. Proper ladies never swore. Not even when they were as disappointed as she was now.

 

BOOK: The Twisting
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