Claimed: (The Land of Schism Book 1) Epic Fantasy Novel for Young and New Adults

by Nicole Adamz

  “At the Accolade of Blooms, you said we could help each other. I’ve been helping you, but it’s been an entire month. How can you help me?” I asked testily.

  Drakon shifted, putting distance between us, “How would you like me to help you?”

  The frustration I’d been holding at bay leaped forward and I snapped, “How would I like you to help me? What if I asked you to Bond with me? Can you do that?”

  Slowly blinking, Drakon’s solemn façade remained unruffled. “You’re already Bonded,” he said simply.

  I clenched my jaw, “There are more Bonds than a Life-bond. What if I asked you to Mate-Bond with me?”

  Drakon’s still form became stone, “How would that help you?”

  “Just answer the question,” I said shortly.

  “No, I wouldn’t Mate-Bond with you. You’re Life-Bonded to someone else and carrying a fledging. To create a Bond outside of a Life-Bond,” Drakon’s nostrils flared slightly in distaste, “would be wrong.”

  I sat, stunned. Not only had Drakon outright refused to mate with me, something that had hitherto not happened with any male, but he knew I was pregnant. Swallowing, I assessed my options. Without mating, as distasteful as it would be for any man to see me so swollen, I didn’t have anything else to offer Drakon to get the Blood-Bond.

  The hope I’d been carrying that Drakon could help me withered. “How do you know?” I said brokenly.

  Drakon’s brow creased, “How do I know what?”

  “That I’m pregnant.” I said flatly.

  “It’s obvious that you’re carrying,” he said, bafflement ripe in his voice, “Are there people who don’t know you’re pregnant?”

  At the dismayed, scared look I gave him, Drakon’s face registered surprise. It was the first real expression I’d seen on his face, and I would have laughed if the situation was different. I wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach, hunching defensively.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” I whispered.

  In my peripheral vision Drakon’s hand hovered over my shoulder before he dropped it. I was grateful. While I distantly yearned for his touch, I didn’t want his pity. I wanted his help.

  “How are you planning to hide the fledgling once it is born?” Drakon said, his voice hard.

  I flinched. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

  “You were…unwilling?” he said, his tone gentling.

  Resentment against everything leading to this moment, making me rely on a stranger for help, rose within me, “No…not exactly. Duped is more accurate. Careless, perhaps.”

  Leaning back, Drakon gazed at the sky, “The father?”

  “Doesn’t know,” I said quickly, “And I want it to stay that way.”

  Drakon nodded, his eyes narrowing, “I could help with that.”

  Puzzled, I turned toward him, “What do you mean?”

  “If you were to deliver in an…out of the way place, the father wouldn’t know about it. Ever.” Drakon clarified.

  I frowned, thinking it over. “And my fledgling? What would happen to it?”

  “A family can be found for it,” he said simply.

  Considering the information Drakon had revealed, things started to click. He’s not attracted to me because I’m pregnant. Makes sense. I wouldn’t be attracted to a bloated and puffy body either. He’s also offering to place my fledgling with another family. Perhaps a Warding family in the Outer Holding.

  No one would look twice at a fledgling placed in a home there. I bit my lip. But I wouldn’t get to see my fledgling either, unless…

  “Can I visit? To see how the fledgling is doing?” I said.

  Drakon shook his head, “No. That wouldn’t be possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “It would be…difficult,” Drakon quickly explained, “I don’t think you could explain your visits, do you?”

  Realizing he was right, I shook my head. If I wanted my fledgling to be safe from all the monsters currently filling my life, I wouldn’t be able to see it. Someone would find out about the visits, and if they did…I shuddered. No, better to leave the fledgling in the care of a good family.

  “How do I know the family would care for my fledgling? Love it like their own, and treat it well?”

  Drakon looked at me somberly, “You won’t.”

  The seriousness in his tone chilled me, and I placed a comforting hand on my stomach. Could I do it? Could I give my fledgling to a family I didn’t know? Would you rather your fledgling was raised by your family or, worse, Greerson? Whispered a small voice in my mind.

  I knew the answer. There was no way I would let my family or Greerson know about the existence of my fledgling or rear it. But can I give up the possibility of seeing it—even once? I didn’t know.

  “I’m not sure,” I said hesitantly, “I’ll have to think about it.”

  Drakon nodded, “You’ll have to make your decision soon, so preparations can be made for the birthing.”

  Relieved he didn’t push me for an immediate answer, I nodded. There were two more months before my fledgling would greet the world. Time was running out. Drakon had given me a lot to think about, and I was grateful. He’d presented me with a possibility I didn’t have before. At the same time, I also needed him to Blood-Bond with me. Which I didn’t think he would do.

  Hmmm, I contemplated while looking at Drakon. Waiting until after the fledgling was born was an option. Drakon might find my body a more appealing trade then, but it was a calculated risk and a long wait. I just need to convince Drakon to agree.

  Considering our previous topic closed, Drakon peered intently at me, “What do you do when you arrive at a Revue? Do you need an invitation, or are you expected?”

  Chapter 44

  Ari

  ASOFT CLICK WOKE ME, and muffled echoes of “Envoy” whispered in my mind. Reflexively, I grabbed a cloth from my nightstand and wiped the blood under my nose. Sitting up, I paused in the early morning stillness and listened. Straining my ears, I climbed out of bed when my skin prickled. Walking softly into the galley, I looked at Maewyn’s door. It was closed—a stark contrast to the revolving door it had been.

  Relieved, I changed and collected my class materials while the pale, pre-dawn light struggled through my small window. Tying a loose belt around my waist, I ran a hand through my shaggy curls and made a mental note to cut it again. Maybe I could go to Ash Path after class and see the merchant. I’m not stalking him, I thought defensively. Remembering the owl mask, lost during the Accolade of Blooms, I fidgeted and decided against going—again.

  I was still unsure of how I’d gotten back to my room that night, but waking up in my shift with no memories of putting it on hadn’t been pleasant. Embarrassment shot through me again. Who found me? I wondered but again put it out of my mind. It didn’t matter. No mention of it had been made by anyone I knew, so there was no point in divulging the awkward scene.

  Walking into the common room, I inhaled. The galley smelled heavily of the citrus pekoe Maewyn began offering me at dinner some nights. It was an abrupt shift from her previously indifferent attitude, and despite my lingering bitterness I never refused the tentative offer of friendship. Some sort of peace needed to exist between us, fragile or not. I still don’t trust her with my secret, but she hasn’t turned me in yet.

  Lately, Maewyn was sleeping into the afternoon and lumbered slowly around the suite. I paused outside her door, worried. Although my anger hadn’t faded, I didn’t want her to get sick. Nothing stirred on the other side of the door, and I sighed heavily before leaving.

  I wasn’t sure who Maewyn was anymore. Instead of her flashy attire, she now wore large, layered dresses and dark, lace gloves that she never removed. Aside from her sudden lack of fashion sense something else is wrong. I hadn’t helped her dress in months, but her petite body looked…bigger. Rounder.

  I wouldn’t worry if I thought she was getting fat, but Maewyn looked sick. Our relationship was still strained, but I was
Maewyn’s Tyro. It was my duty to make sure she was healthy and had everything she needed. It’s not just how she looks. It’s how she acts. There’s something off, I thought with consternation.

  Maewyn had reverted to a diminished version of her sunny, vivacious self. Maybe she hoped if she acted like nothing was wrong that nothing would be, but every smile was a lie. She tries to hide it, but I can see the secrets swirling in her emerald eyes. I frowned, absently moving toward my Illumination class in the base of Ascension.

  First year Illumination Tyro were recognizable because of the candles, tapers, and portable lamps they carried for practice. Second or third year Illumination Tyro no longer needed objects for practice. They had moved on to more advanced studies. I took my usual seat against the dank wall in the back of the room. The other Tyro immediately lit and colored the flames of the objects on their desks. Docent Trill gauged everyone’s progress at the beginning and end of class.

  I stared and stared at the blobby stub of melted wax I’d brought. Light! I thought in frustration. Nothing. Flame! Fire! Nothing. Docent Trill strode along each row, her keen eyes peering sternly over a sharp nose. Each step was deliberately pronounced as she marched around the room. She passed small, dancing colored lights with a brisk nod and examined sputtering lights with a disapproving frown.

  Docent Trill’s steady pace quickly brought her to my seat. Pretending to concentrate, I snapped my eyes closed. I waited, cracked them open, and quickly shut them again. Skies! Light! I thought anxiously. A flicker of light bloomed behind my eyelids, and I popped them open. An orange flame fluttered on my blobby candle. Excitement and awe bloomed in my chest. I did it! I lit the candle! I gaped at Docent Trill. The flame flashed through a series of colors before snuffing out, and a heavy stone dropped onto my chest at her cruel smirk.

  “Stop wasting my time, and the time of the other students, by pretending to care if you succeed or fail at Illumination. You will get results if you try to light the candle instead of taking a nap,” Docent Trill said snidely.

  Humiliated, I glared at my desk, but took a deep breath. Docent Trill was right. I wasn’t putting any effort into this class. If I had any Illuminary Talent it would have manifested by now, I grumbled.

  Concentrating, I tried connecting with the Talent inside. I know you’re in there. I wouldn’t have been Claimed otherwise. Mentally, I reached for the looming, mountainous sensation in my core. Heaviness filtered into my limbs, and when my teeth clenched, I released my minute grasp and lifted my sleeve to my nose. Docent Trill sniffed, walking away.

  Angrily, I pressed a finger into the still warm candle, leaving an indent. It’s been over a year since I passed the Abeyance, and I still don’t know my Talent. Squeezing my eyes closed I begged, Please, True One, please let my Talent manifest!

  By the end of the day I was ready to dig into the loaded platter of food I carried, and my stomach growled appreciatively at the scents wafting in the air. I was halfway inside our suite when I saw Maewyn sitting in the common area. Music sheets lay across the table, and her harp was in the corner while she twirled a stylus in frustration.

  I paused, preparing for the familiar pressure in my head that appeared when I was around her. Carefully, I set the tray in the galley and stared at her. Maewyn released an irritated sigh and met my eyes. Bright green gates slammed into place over a tired smile.

  “There was a specific request for me to perform at the Aerie in a few days,” she said tightly.

  My lips tightened, and I studied Maewyn’s face. I didn’t want to go back to the Aerie. During the Autumn Feyle Maewyn had gone into the Aerie as one person and come back as another. She’d morphed into a stranger. I grimaced and set a kettle to boil. Maewyn slowly hoisted off the couch, placing a hand against her back. Concerned, I watched her. Maewyn looks…pregnant.

  I stilled at the thought. She’s never worn Rascette Cuffs, and she’s had more strange men in her bedchamber than I care to remember. It didn’t seem feasible that Maewyn was pregnant and hadn’t mentioned it. Still, she was moving oddly. Pressing my hands against my temples, I stared at my plate. Maewyn hefted into her chair, stifling a small groan.

  The pressure in my head thickened, squeezing like a vice. I concentrated hard to keep my nose from bleeding. When Maewyn finished eating she placed a thin cotton sachet of herbs in a cup and poured steaming water over it. Something is wrong, sang in my mind and I pressed my fingers into my temples, feeling the taught stretch of my ruined hand. The dark bitterness burrowed in my heart slid deeper.

  Citrus scented steam wafted in my face when Maewyn set the cup in front of me. Breathing deeply, I sighed when the pain dulled. I’d denied the frequency of my nosebleeds, so Maewyn thought they’d disappeared. Zora’s voice rang in my mind, Cowardice delivers all lies equally. I looked at Maewyn’s fraudulent grin and took a sip of pekoe. Summit is full of cowards—and now I’m one of them, I thought sadly.

  Chapter 45

  Maewyn

  LOTION SMEARED ACROSS my protruding stomach, and I scratched a few places before rubbing it in. Thank Aeolus I’m not big or puffy like Castia was, I thought. The cream helped the itching abate, but my body ached all the time. Which wasn’t helpful.

  Irritation simmered beneath my skin. Greerson’s letter commanding me to attend the party at the Aerie was ill-timed. I had to go, or he would be livid and suspicious. I hadn’t seen him since the Accolade of Blooms, and I didn’t want to push him into making a personal visit to Ascension. He hasn’t come here yet, but who knows how long that will last?

  I mentally rehearsed the composition Greerson had demanded I play while getting ready. Wrapping a waist-cincher around my belly, I sucked in and tied the strings. The device was a layer of safety for my rotund middle. I’d chosen a Caelum gown with dark violet embroidery around the waist for last minute adjustments. The dress was loosened, and the garden of dusky violets covered every inch of my torso, minimizing my expanded stomach.

  It had cost a small fortune, but I couldn’t risk someone figuring out my secret. Like Drakon did. Anxiety zinged through me. I couldn’t meet him tonight but didn’t have a way to contact him. He never gave me any contact information. Absently, I buckled and tied the dress, touching the different colored strings of energy floating inside me for calm.

  While Ari was in class, I’d been testing my theories about Blood-Bonding. I was correct. Being Claimed wasn’t required. Why Greerson hadn’t tested it I didn’t know, but I’d pressed four kitchen Anomalies into creating a Blood-Bond with me. I no longer had the body to offer men, but I could force the servants to give me their blood without much effort. They’d been frightened and suspicious, but they’d done as they were told—including keeping their mouths shut.

  When I needed to fly or needed comfort when a growing darkness inside tried to strangle me, I tugged on a few of the strings. The Blood-Bonds kept me going daily. I mentally caressed the vivid strings of energy they’d added to my collection. Needing a boost, I tugged on two of them. Energy and joy immediately flooded me. Feeling steadier, I rehearsed the last section of the score in my head.

  Greerson wanted me to craft another story from the Obel family history, like I had at the Autumn Feyle. He’d chosen the story and music, and it irritated me, but I was also relieved. I didn’t have the energy to create something on that scale with short notice. Tying my hair into a low chignon, I picked up a cap drooping with small amethysts.

  Draping it over my head, I looked in the mirror. Getting ready would be easier if I let Ari perform her full duties as Tyro, but I couldn’t let her know my secret. I’d wanted to tell her. Many, many times. But I couldn’t. She was too much like Niles, too good to understand the choices I’d made. The choices I’d had to make. So, I drugged her on the nights I met Drakon.

  The decision was easy when Ari started getting headaches. I’d scratched a letter to the Sanatorium for chamomile tincture on her behalf, another to a local herb shop, and mixed the two together when they arrived. Dried c
itrus shavings cut the scent and bitterness of the feverfew, and both masked the sweet smell of the chamomile.

  The pekoe mixture worked like a charm, but I worried Ari doubted me. She watches me closely these days. I frowned at my pale features. Adding some rouge to my face, I straightened an amethyst on the jeweled cap until it sat in the middle of my forehead and smiled. If only Drakon could see me tonight, I thought wistfully. After tonight’s Revue, it was imperative I contact Drakon to reschedule our meeting.

  Pulling on elbow-length violet gloves, I walked into the common area where Ari waited. I didn’t comment on her bland uniform. The party was an intimate function, but I doubted she would be noticed.

  “Let’s go!” I said, forcing a brightness to my tone.

  Ari’s gaze was measuring before she walked toward the door. Unease fizzled through me at her assessing look toward my mid-section. She knows, I thought with alarm. Studying her face carefully, I closed and locked the door. No, she doesn’t know. There’s no anger or contempt on her face. Just curiosity. As though the entire world still has answers it hasn’t given her.

  The thought troubled me, and I wanted to shake Ari awake from the illusion she wrapped herself in. She’ll learn soon enough about the darkness that blankets this city. I’d told her so months ago, but it hadn’t gotten through. I glanced at her again, looking away when our eyes met.

  Our friendship was broken, but Ari still looked at me with concern…and something else. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge. Hope. Blasted skies, Aeolus, the girl looks at me with hope. Like the world offers something better. Like I can be better.

  Bitterness marched through me while I stalked toward the large black doors of Ascension. Well, I can’t. I can’t be better, and the world isn’t better, and most of the people in this city aren’t worth the blasted hope in her eyes. There’s no escaping the darkness…or them.