by Ryan Muree
Big Brother Kernie was their father’s brother and a head taller than any of their family.
Emeryss giggled and headed down the path toward the town. “Where are the others?”
“San and Gill are back at the eastern cliff, jumping off.”
The almost-twins, Mother had called them, were exactly one year apart and should have been about fourteen.
“They keep trying to get me to do it,” Del continued, “but I won’t. They’ll lose their minds when they see you.”
“And what about Ben?”
“Ben’s with dad most of the time. He just turned eighteen, you know, so he thinks he knows everything. He doesn’t. If he’s not with dad, he’s chasing that neighbor girl around trying to get her to marry him—”
She couldn’t recall the girl’s name, but Ben’s plight hadn’t changed apparently. “Still?”
“That’s what I said!” Del’s eyes went wide. “Oh! You don’t know about Issolia!”
Emeryss stopped and turned to her. “What’s wrong with Issolia?”
“She got married!” Del pulled her along faster. “She got married to that cube-head—”
Emeryss smiled. Issolia was the oldest of them. Del hated all of Issolia’s boyfriends, but cube-head was the one she’d dated the longest and was set to marry.
“—And she’s pregnant! I’m going to be an aunt!” she shrilled. “Let’s go see her first.”
They hurried down the path, past rows of homes and people working at their drying and weaving racks.
Del announced her everywhere they went. Some of the townspeople smiled at her. Some greeted and shook her hand, probably trying to remember her face.
She’d left Neeria five years prior in the dead of night. It was what Avrist thought best, so she wasn’t sure her people would remember her at all.
They wound through a final street to a home on the edge of the lane. There weren’t any real lanes in Neeria, more like walkways between homes. And there were no carriages like in Ingini, only carts drawn by holldas and their wide horns.
“This is Issolia’s,” Del said as they approached.
Issolia’s place was a small white house about the size of her suite in Stadhold. There was a smokestack at the top with dark smoke coming from it.
Someone had built her an oven inside.
It wasn’t exactly rare, but not entirely the most common either. Then again, Father and Ben probably did it; Issolia was always the favorite.
The little square windows were open with bright green shutters on the sides. Their names had been hung over the door with the goddess’s swirl on it—a blessing of the home and their union.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it? I helped her plant the flowers because her belly was too big. Mom thinks the baby will have a huge head. I think it’ll probably be cube-shaped.” Del burst through the little green door. “I’m here! And guess who I brought?”
Emeryss stepped up behind Del into the warm, cozy home.
Issolia was bent over a wash basin with a few dishes in her hand. Her pregnant stomach hung over the edge and was wet from water being splashed on it. “Del, don’t just barge in like that! You scared—” A dish slipped from her hands and shattered in the basin. “Emmy!”
Her older sister tossed the wash rag and waddled quickly up to her, embracing her around the neck. She had the same wavy black hair, the same golden eyes, if a little more tired than Emeryss had remembered, but she smelled like sweet autumn seagrass and sunfruit.
Emeryss held on, tears in her eyes. “I missed you so much!”
“I can’t believe you’re here! I missed you so much, too. I’m so glad to see you.” Issolia pulled away, pressing her forehead against hers. “My baby sister is here.”
Emeryss giggled. “You’re very pregnant.”
Issolia laughed and pulled her in for another hug. Del joined in, too. “Due any day. And I’m so glad you’re here to be with me. This is the best day ever.”
It was then Emeryss saw their mother sitting at the table behind them.
Emeryss pulled away and swallowed. “Hi, Mother.”
Her mother looked every bit as she remembered. Matching features to Emeryss’s but a head taller. Strong. Thick. Intense. Her glare was neither mad nor happy.
She knew her mother loved her and would have probably preferred her home, but her mother also saw through everything. She had a way of reading Emeryss’s heart better than anyone.
“Mom, aren’t you happy Emmy is home?” Issolia asked, and then turned back to Emeryss. “She was just visiting me because it’s getting close, and we were discussing arrangements for after the baby is here.”
Emeryss pulled away from Issolia and stood on her own.
“Are you in trouble?” Her mother asked, eyes trained hard on hers. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Mom,” Issolia scolded.
Emeryss lifted her chin. “No. I’ve left the library, and I’ve come to stay here.”
Del squealed in excitement. “You’re staying? Oh yeah, this is the best day ever. I’m going to get San and Gill! Wait ‘til dad hears about this!” She ran out the door, slamming it behind her.
Issolia jumped a little and held her stomach. “Every time Del does that, I think I’m going to pee my pants.”
Their mother stood and held her arms out. “Then welcome home, Emeryss.”
Never one for nicknames, her mother hugged her. Emeryss embraced her in return, taking in the familiar curves of her body and the scent of ridgeback fat on her skin.
Home.
She was home.
And Grier would be coming, too.
Chapter 42
Master Ednor & Lady Cecillius’s manor — Revel
Cayn slid open the antique roll-top desk and checked over his shoulder.
Master Ednor and his wife, Lady Cecillius, would be on the hunt for him any second if he didn’t hurry.
He sifted through stacks of parchment. Never regular, gritty paper, but fancy, veiny paper that smelled like it’d been steeped in wine at some point in its creation.
All he needed was a blank one. He’d counted last week. There had been two left, so where were they now?
He’d be faster if he could use both hands, but his left arm had been crushed in the crash, only to be cut off by the assholes in Halunder.
They’d said it was to save his life, but it wasn’t out of good faith they did it. They made it slow, without anything to curb the pain, and left him that way so they could torture him for information.
Thankfully, Ednor and Cecillius arrived and took notice, brought him home, and ordered he be given a fake arm of pulleys and levers. Revelian healers were amazing—the skin almost felt real—but it still hurt like a bitch while it healed and left him relying on his right hand and arm for most everything.
It also left him in debt to Master Ednor and Cecillius as their sexual attendant, amongst other things.
“Ten… nine…” Lady Cecillius counted aloud playfully down the hall. “I’m coming for you!”
One blank piece of parchment with the master’s seal on it was crumpled to the side. He had no idea what the seal meant or said, but it didn’t matter. It would be good enough.
He pulled open the drawer, grabbed a ridiculous quill with an elongated bright-blue feather on the end of it, and slid the roll-top back down gently.
Checking over his shoulder one more time, he didn’t see either one of them enter the hallway.
He darted around a corner into the library with specially-treated wooden shelving filled to the brim with books. A couple of deep earthen-looking tables and chairs covered in lush, thick fabrics were spaced around for reading in the evenings.
Thankfully, Ednor and Cecillius hadn’t required him to attend that, though some of the other house staff were and it was apparently mind-numbing.
No, he’d been relegated to stay in the Lady’s chambers, managing to sleep in his own bed some of the nights in one of her extra rooms.
The stiff rugs cushioned his bare footfalls as he ran to the side staircase and up to the second level. The polished skystone railing was cold to the touch. Through the richly lacquered door, he moved through the wall-papered corridors into the storage loft of the kitchen.
He bent over the side to peer down at the cooks and serving staff preparing for supper. “Julian!” he whispered loudly. “Julian!”
Finally, a portly cook with a lop-sided mustache and a bum knee looked up at him and waved him on with a ladle.
Cayn ran down the stairs to meet him at the back door.
“Why don’t you just run?” Julian asked. “The door is right there.”
Julian had known he was Ingini from the moment they’d met, but he was part of some secret organization in communication between the two sides, apparently working strings underneath Revel-Ingini politics.
“Have you been to Halunder?” he asked.
Julian shook his head.
“I’ll get caught, and I do not want to go back there.” He looked over his shoulder again. “Did you find out if my sister’s there?”
Julian nodded and leaned in. “My guy said she was never registered at Halunder.”
“You’re sure?”
Julian smacked him on his good arm. “My guy isn’t an idiot. Don’t worry. I got the whole REV looking for her. If she’s in Revel, they’ll find her.”
Clove wasn’t in Halunder. That was promising. Maybe she made it out, then. Maybe she didn’t…
He shook his head and offered the piece of paper to Julian.
Cayn would know if she’d died. They were twins, and things like that were funny between them. He’d be able to sense if she’d been killed, something spiritual probably, and since he believed she hadn’t, he’d find her.
At least that’s what he told himself.
Julian took the paper from him and held it up against the wall for Cayn to write on.
Clove. I’m alive in Revel and doing as well as expected. Wait for me in Ingini. I’m getting out soon.
- Cayn.
“This one needs to get to Ingini. Scuffle in Barren Ranch or to Mack in Dimmur.” Cayn folded it a couple of times and handed it back to him.
Julian took the pretentious quill in his sweaty grip and wrote some language on the outside of the paper. Probably code.
The REV, he’d been learning, had an entire underground network against the Revelian king and all the advisors, working in kitchens, gardens, even the palace grounds for information and organization. They also didn’t hate the Ingini.
Rumors mentioned something about a revolution, and Master Ednor was a target. Apparently, he was an advisor to the king in all matters related to the grimoire shortage, and since the recent battles, grimoires were so scarce that things were getting too tight for the Casters.
On bad days, he liked to imagine the Revelians stuck in Dimmur, trying to make ends meet in metal shipping crates for homes instead of elaborate manors.
“My guys will get this over there in a week or so.” Julian stuck Clove’s note in his pocket and leaned in. “The REV wants to hit this place in a few weeks, tear the whole thing down. Maybe less,” he whispered.
“Really?” Cayn whispered back.
Julian nodded. “You might be free sooner than you think.” His eyes traveled up and down Cayn’s bare body save for a thin loincloth covering his ass and his front bits.
Cayn knew that look. “Judge all you want, but at least I don’t have to cook for ‘em and clean shitters all day.”
Julian laughed, his stomach bouncing as he did. “No, you just have to fuck their geriatric asses instead.”
Cayn smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting this to her.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s why we do this.” Julian waved him off and went back to his pot and ladle, while Cayn made for the far door across the kitchen. Other cooks whistled as he ran through.
He opened the kitchen door to a hallway. If he didn’t hurry—
Lady Cecillius, hands forward and wearing only a silken blindfold, bumped into him and squealed a little.
“Cayn!” She pushed the fabric from her eyes over her graying hair with dyed streaks of auburn running through it. “I found you, you handsome young man!”
He smiled. “You did. Well done, Lady Cecillius.”
She took his hand and pulled him back toward her chambers. “I thought you might go to the kitchen. If you needed a snack, my dear, you just had to ask.” She shook her very naked and round bottom at him as she led him.
For being over sixty, her body was in fantastic shape. Then again, a life of luxury with the best foods and baths, and never having to lift a single finger for work, would do that.
“Mister Feddy!” she called ahead.
Cayn hated that pet name for her husband, but it was their decision, their sex games, their rules.
“I found Cayn!” she called out in a sing-song voice.
“Oh good!” Ednor shouted back, standing in a random sitting room. He, too, wore only a blindfold, but his body had been less forgiving with age. “Now, the fun can begin!”
Yes, fun for them and work for him.
Whatever kept him alive a little longer.
Whatever got him back to Clove.
I’m coming home, Clove. I promise.
Thank you so much for reading Architects of Ether! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review! It helps me prioritize which series to focus on.
Ready for more from the Kingdoms of Ether series? Paragons of Ether (Book 3) will be available Summer 2019, but you can get a sneak peek now by turning a few pages!
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my 1st grade teacher (Mr. Rosen) for making me sing every day before class.
Thank you to my 7th grade science teacher (Mr. LaMonica) for laughing at my sex joke when you held up a flatworm.
Thank you to my 8th grade english teacher (Ms. Restum) for threatening to call my mom over how much make-up I was wearing after I’d had it done by a professional for my birthday (paid for by my mother).
Thank you to my high school English teachers for setting me aside and saying, “I’m sorry if I call on you too often. You tend to give answers that are outside of the box, and I want the other kids to hear it. ”
Thank you to my high school French teacher (Madame McKee). I still love French, and I still remember most of it. Even though, now as an adult, I think you were in a cult and I’m worried for you, you were the coolest teacher I had.
Thank you to my family. You rock.
Thank you, Katie. You’re the bomb-diggity.
Thank you readers, because really… what’s a book without readers? It’s like… does a tree make a sound when it does the thing? And yes… it’s still a book, but it serves no damn purpose without you. It’s just a weird imaginary diary without readers, and that’s just weird. So, again, thank you. <3
About the Author
I grew up a military brat, lived in several states, visited parts of Asia, and even lived in Okinawa. When people ask me where I’m from, I just say Earth. Honestly, it’s easier. I was a middle school teacher for nine years—no, really—but now I write, and love doing that even more. It’s usually fantasy. Mostly epic. Always magical. I like determined heroines who answer the call for wild adventures across crazy worlds. And I especially love to write young women who face hardships and consequences with grit and smarts. When I’m not inventing worlds for my characters, I game with my husband and daughter, draw, paint, use too many exclamation points!!!, and sometimes say funny things. Sometimes.
I’m always happy to chat with readers!
<3 Ryan
www.ryanmuree.com | Email
Paragons of Ether Preview
Kingdoms of Ether Book 3
Chapter 1
Neeria — Revel
Emeryss watched the sea oracle, Callo, comb the beach below her cliffside perch.
The old woman with frizzy black hair decorated with co
lored stormstones had been at it all morning, mumbling to herself and scaring the sea spiders away.
Better them than Emeryss.
Callo had been trying to catch up to her for weeks, but Emeryss had successfully dodged her questions and nudges to speak with her. She wasn’t sure if Callo knew she wasn’t a Scribe anymore, if it was a thing that could be sensed, but she wasn’t willing to test it and tempt the wrath of her parents questioning her motives for being home.
Maybe it was cowardice, but the longer her parents and her people went without knowing the truth, the better. They couldn’t help a war the size of Ingini and Revel. They couldn’t face what she’d already seen.
The chilly morning sea whispered with soft lapping waves and crisp gusts. Small low clouds cast violet and blue shadows across the pale green surface of the water. With autumn nearly over, it was about time to ditch the gauzy, short linens for fur and feather long-wear and boots.
Other than a few birds cawing overhead and picking off the straggling sea spiders Callo hadn’t shooed away, it was quiet, and she was alone.
Perfect time as any to practice.
She held a small pile of sand in her right palm and closed her eyes again to center herself. She wasn’t on those waves or in the sky. She wasn’t leaping off this cliff. She was the observer of a beautiful world of ether.
When she opened her eyes, the veil of the ethereal plane lay over her own—bright blue-green in the ocean, bright white, gold in the sky, deep greens and coppers in the sand and soil and plants. Ether was everywhere and in everything.
She dragged her index finger over the sand in her palm into the shape of a simple sigil.
Bronze-colored ether danced between the grains. It twisted and writhed, and as she pulled her fingers upward as if tugging on a string, the grains began to stack on top of each other. First into a mound, then into a cylinder, and finally as a tiny humanoid-shaped… thing.
