Morningstar

by Robyn Bachar

  “Aye, Captain.” Bryn nodded.

  “Oh, and Lieutenant?”

  “Yes?” Bryn quirked a brow.

  “Nice shooting.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A high-pitched ringing harassed Jace’s hearing, but he couldn’t determine the source. It felt as though a stun grenade had gone off, and though that could account for his racing pulse and the spots hovering at the edge of his vision, he couldn’t blame a grenade for the effects. Instead, it was helplessness that attacked him as he watched his father struggling for life.

  He was a fighter, Jace gave him that, and savvy enough to have gone to the meeting with armor under his civilian clothes. Though armor hadn’t saved Wylarric’s life… If Father died, Jace would be the Morningstar heir—no, the lord. The thought twisted his stomach into exponentially tighter knots. He didn’t want this, had never wanted this. Now all he could do was stand aside while Dr. Morgan fought to save his father.

  The door to the med bay opened, and Lord Degalen and Malcolm entered.

  “How is he?” Degalen asked.

  Jace swallowed hard. “The doctor is trying to stabilize him. The shot collapsed his lung and damaged his heart.”

  “I’m sorry,” he replied.

  “You’ll need to decide on which of my sisters to take as your mate,” Jace said, desperate to discuss any other subject. “An alliance between our houses is more important than ever now.”

  “Pick Andee,” Malcolm said. Both Cy’ren looked at him in surprise, and he blushed. “She likes you. She’d be good for you, even though she’s not the eldest.”

  “Did she say something to you?” Lord Degalen asked, his tone skeptical.

  “No, but I notice these things. People tend to talk around me when I work. They think I’m not listening.”

  The corners of Jace’s mouth twitched, but Dr. Morgan called him over before he could reply. Her expression was grim, and the world tilted beneath Jace’s feet—he steadied himself on the edge of a nearby empty diagnostic bed.

  “I’m sorry, Jace,” Dr. Morgan said softly. “I’ve made him comfortable, but he doesn’t have much time. He would have died instantly if not for his armor.”

  “Thank you. I…” The words vanished as his throat tightened shut. The doctor squeezed Jace’s shoulder, and he shuffled to his father’s side. Jace gripped his hand as his father peered up at him.

  “I didn’t know.”

  “No one could have seen this coming,” Jace assured him, but his father shook his head.

  “No. I didn’t know Wylarric tried to kill you. I would have stopped him. I never wanted you to leave. I’d never have let him hurt you.”

  Jace’s eyes burned, and he swallowed hard. “It’s all right. It’s not important now.”

  “You’ll make a good lord. You were always the better leader.” Lord Najamek smiled weakly, his labored breath catching. “Be good to your sisters. Take care of your mother and my mates.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “You’ll make a good lord,” he repeated.

  A final breath rattled in his chest, and then Lord Najamek’s eyes unfocused. Jace clutched his father’s hand and cried bitter tears.

  The Talon II touched down at the Morningstar landing pad, and the ramp lowered to expel the living and the dead. House Morningstar was just beginning to mourn the loss of Lord Najamek and Wylarric. Most of the ruling houses would be in mourning. Of the six houses that opposed House Nightfall, only two lords remained—House Morningstar and House Sunsinger. Waves of the city’s sorrow threatened to drown Sabine as she waited for her mates, but her joy at seeing them unharmed lifted her spirits.

  Sabine raced toward Jace and Bryn and tackled them in a fierce hug, closing her eyes as she breathed in the familiar scent of her mates. “I was so worried.”

  “I told you we would always come home to you, a’gra,” Bryn said.

  “Yes. Always,” Jace agreed, his voice tight with emotion. “I love you both so much. You’re my heart and my strength.”

  “We love you too,” Sabine assured him. She caressed his cheek and held his face in her hands. His emotions swirled like a maelstrom despite his stoic mask. “We’re here for you, however you need us.”

  “I…” Jace swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m not sure what to do next.”

  “First, you hug your mother and your sisters,” Sabine instructed, “then we’ll go from there.”

  Bryn nodded. “We’ve got your six, Jace.”

  Jace smiled and kissed them. “And I am very grateful for that. Let’s go. We have a lot of work to do.”

  About the Author

  Robyn Bachar was born and raised in Berwyn, Illinois, and loves all things related to Chicago, from the Cubs to the pizza. It seemed only natural to combine it with her love of fantasy, and tell stories of witches and vampires in the Chicagoland area. As a gamer, Robyn has spent many hours rolling dice, playing rock-paper-scissors and slaying creatures in MMPORGs.

  You can learn more about her at www.robynbachar.com. Robyn can also be found on Twitter at @RobynBachar.

  Look for these titles by Robyn Bachar

  Now Available:

  Bad Witch: The Emily Chronicles

  The Importance of Being Emily

  Poison in the Blood

  Bad Witch

  Blood, Smoke and Mirrors

  Bewitched, Blooded and Bewildered

  Fire in the Blood

  Cy’ren Rising

  Nightfall

  Coming Soon:

  Sunsinger

  Bite Me

  Her desire unites them. Her secret could destroy them all.

  Sunsinger

  © 2014 Robyn Bachar

  Cy’ren Rising, Book 3

  The lord.

  The sole survivor of the Sunsinger massacre, Lord Degalen Fairren spends his days reading tales of the family he never knew. When a rival house threatens to enslave Cyprena, Galen is forced to pull his nose out of his books and enter into an alliance with House Morningstar, and a dangerous mission to save his world.

  The assassin.

  Lady Andelynn Harrow isn’t House Morningstar’s eldest or prettiest daughter, but she is the deadliest. After her father’s murder, Andee must defend her new house and mate—the shy, reluctant Galen—but every battle risks revealing her terrible secret.

  The slave.

  Malcolm gets his first taste of freedom when the Cy’ren recruit him to locate the cure to a deadly virus—and feels the burn of desire for Galen, the lord he can never have, and for Andee, who awakens memories of a long-lost first love.

  The danger they face fuels the heat between them, but with Cyprena’s fate hanging in the balance, the race to find the cure could come with devastating costs.

  Warning: Contains a blushing, virgin lord, a sexy geek, and an empathic assassin who always brings lube on a mission.

  Enjoy the following unedited excerpt for Sunsinger:

  There. An icy chill skittered down Andee’s spine as she touched the tight cluster of focused, lethal efficiency that had caught Sabine’s attention. Assassins—a pack of predators stalking prey. Andee swallowed hard; apparently the meeting must not be going well after all. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled her fear, embracing her own deadly calm.

  “I see them.” Andee leapt to her feet and activated the comm. on her desk. “Commander Maysen, this is Lady Andelynn. We have a security breach inside the manor. Six hostiles, moving up from sublevel one. I’m locking down ladies Talena and Sabine.”

  “Acknowledged, my lady,” Commander Maysen replied.

  “I’ll meet the team in corridor ten.”

  A disapproving growl crackled over the comm. “You should enter lockdown as well, Lady Andelynn.”

  “Not today. That’s an order,
” she added for emphasis.

  “Acknowledged.”

  Andee rose and motioned for the females to follow her. “This way. I have a panic room. You’ll be safe in there.”

  “A panic room?” Sabine repeated.

  “It’s a small, secure room, meant to withstand an armed assault,” Andee explained. She led them into her bedroom and cracked open a hidden control panel in the wall next to her bed. After punching a command code in, a section of the wall swung open and revealed the cramped panic room. “Get in, both of you.”

  “Aren’t you joining us?” Talena asked.

  “No. I’m going to aid the security team.”

  Talena gripped her arm. “Wait! Do you have a pistol?”

  “You have weapons training?” Andee asked, quirking a brow. It wasn’t the protest she had expected to hear. Talena was an artist—a sculptor who built gardens from the forgotten bits and pieces of junked machinery, her work proudly displayed in the Sunsinger manor—and hardly seemed the militant type. Then again that same assumption of harmlessness often protected Andee.

  “Of course. My father is an Alliance captain. Adopted father,” Talena corrected.

  Good enough. Nodding, Andee pulled a laser pistol from the weapons cache in her wardrobe and handed it to Talena. “I’ll be back soon.”

  The door to the panic room swung shut, securing the females inside. Andee shed her gown—after the attack on Jace’s quarters, Andee had taken to wearing her light armor beneath her clothes. The black intellifabric fit her like a second skin and left little to the imagination, but it protected her from blades and most laser bolts. She strapped on her favorite pistol and her two curved short swords, and hurried off to meet Commander Maysen. Alarms began blaring the moment she stepped into the hallway, warning of the security breach. Andee scowled as the alarms triggered a wave of panic in the manor’s civilians, their fear battering her psychic shields like a barrage of cannon fire, and she reinforced her mental defenses before moving on.

  Commander Maysen led a squad of shadow swords in corridor ten, a servants’ accessway that connected the family’s quarters to the essential facilities beneath the manor. Half of the men frowned at her in confusion—they wore the colors of House Sunsinger. Andee cursed inwardly. She assumed the visiting swords had gone to the meeting with Lord Degalen, but these must be part of Talena’s security detail. The Morningstar swords were used to seeing Andee in her armor—a few of them out of it as well. She trusted her men, but the Sunsingers were an unknown element who could be as dangerous to Andee as the intruders.

  “Status of the hostiles?” Maysen asked, returning her focus to the matter at hand.

  Andee closed her eyes and motioned for him to wait as she concentrated. “They’ve split into two groups,” she replied. “Two of them are in corridor four, and the other four are in corridor seven.”

  “How does she know—” one of the Sunsingers began, but Maysen shushed him.

  “Cut the chatter, Rolens. Lieutenant Myler, take three swords to deal with the intruders in corridor four. Lady Andelynn will accompany the rest of us to corridor seven.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The group split, and Andee followed a step behind the commander, slowed as she split her attention between moving and tracking the assassins.

  “They’re after the females,” Commander Maysen commented, pitching his voice too low for the others to hear. “Not just Lady Sunsinger, but our ladies as well.”

  “Seems like.” Andee shivered. If the assassins had been sent after the women and children, Lord Bildanen must mean to destroy both the Morningstars and Sunsingers. The people who had gone to the high council meeting—her father, her brothers—might already be dead.

  Maysen grunted, scowling. “Lord Najamek will skin me if you get hurt.”

  “Then it’s fortunate that I had a good swordsmanship teacher.” Andee grinned, and he chuckled. Commander Chendraven Maysen was head of manor security, and next in line for command of the Morningstar shadow swords. Maysen had been an instructor when Andee had begun her combat training, and they had grown close over the years.

  “I do love to watch you dance,” he said.

  Andee blushed as a line of heat singed her. She would’ve been happy to have become Maysen’s mate, but her father had too many other plans for her. Andelynn was one of the most useful tools in Lord Najamek’s arsenal—too valuable to waste on a shadow sword, even one as influential as Maysen.

  Andee raised a fist and motioned for the group to slow as she sensed the assassins ahead of them. The hostiles were worried—not afraid, but likely uncertain of what mistake had revealed their presence. Andee almost felt sorry for them, for they had no way of knowing that an aleithir—now two of them, with the addition of Sabine—resided in House Morningstar.

  Empaths were rare among the Cy’ren, and Andee was even more so. She signaled for her team to break into two and take cover on either side of the hallway just before the intruders rounded the corner and entered firing range. Crouched low, Andee drew her blades as her team raised their rifles and fired a volley of laser bolts.

  “Go,” Maysen said.

  Andee darted forward and engaged the nearest enemy. Shadow swords fought with a single sabre, but she wielded two curved blades that were longer than daggers but shorter than sabres. As a fighter she was quick and agile, her style meant to disable and disarm. With her small frame she’d never have the brute strength of a male to hack at her enemies, but she made up for that in blinding speed.

  Andee dropped and rolled as her opponent’s blade whistled through the air where her head had just been, and jabbed her swords up into his torso. The assassin’s expression was hidden behind the tinted faceplate of his armor, but she felt a burst of surprise as he fell, likely not expecting to be gutted by a female. As the life bled from him the blast of his final emotions distracted Andee, and she was a second too slow in getting to her feet. The breath whooshed from her lungs as a hostile kicked her in the gut, and she stumbled, off-balanced.

  With a snarl she struck back. Andee’s teeth rattled and her bones were jarred as their blades clashed—he was a strong son of a bitch. He pressed her, using his strength as an advantage, but Andee’s speed won out. She drove one sword into the seam where the armor of his torso and right leg met, and then swung her other sword around to slash his throat. As the assassin collapsed, Andee flicked the blood from her blades and staggered, intoxicated by the rush of death around her. The last moments of life created a unique and powerful flood of emotion—an empathic high that was seconded only by sensing good sex.

  Andee’s legs were watery beneath her as the energy faded. Rolens stared at her, eyes wide with horror behind the visor of his helmet.

  “Liathlinn,” he whispered, hissing the word like a curse. Andee flinched, struck by his terror and revulsion as if they were physical blows.

  Commander Maysen stepped forward. “Apologize to Lady Andelynn.”

  “Liathlinn are evil,” Rolens snapped. “Monsters! She’ll devour us all!”

  Andee shook her head and panic iced her veins. She should have been more careful around strangers. “That’s not true,” she assured him. “Those are just stories told to frighten children.”

  “I saw you eat that Cy’ren’s soul,” he accused.

  “I would never—” Andee’s protest ended as Maysen loomed in front of her, placing himself between her and Rolens.

  “I don’t know how things work in House Sunsinger, but in this house we don’t accuse a good soldier of being a bogeyman. House Morningstar has no room for superstitious fools in our ranks.” Righteous anger filled the commander’s aura. He would kill to protect Andee and her secret if need be, and she was grateful for that loyalty. In the end, the Sunsinger sword’s pride overwhelmed his suspicion, as Andee hoped it would. Few people believed in liathlinn anymore—she hadn’t, until the day she’d
met her mentor.

  Rolens bowed in sheepish apology. “Please forgive me, Lady Andelynn. I misspoke.”

  She tilted her chin up an imperious inch as she sheathed her blades. “I’ll endeavor not to mention your misconduct to Lord Degalen when I speak with him next.”

  At least her secret was still safe. Andee had only herself to blame for putting it at risk. She should have relayed the information to Maysen over the comm., or stayed back, out of the fighting. But the Sunsinger sword was right and wrong, because while she used her empathic abilities in battle, she didn’t steal souls. Over time, liathlinn could become addicted to the powerful rush of pain and terror and go mad, but no souls were consumed.

  Perhaps Andee had been doing this for too long, rushing into battle instead and risking revealing that she was a liathlinn. Aleithir were rare and their empathic abilities were tolerated, even valued by some, but liathlinn were feared and hunted. Even a lord’s daughter wouldn’t be safe from persecution if her secret was discovered.

  Commander Maysen knelt beside one of the fallen assassins, tugged down the flexible collar of his armor and revealed Nightfall markings inked at the male’s throat. “More Nightfall mercenaries. They must mean open war. We need to warn Lord Najamek.”

  The pitch of the alarms shifted from the wail warning of a security breach to the high-pitched shriek telling of a city-wide lockdown.

  Andee swallowed hard, heavy with dire foreboding. “I think he already knows.”

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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