Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  Thinking about it caused a wrenching pain in her chest. Cianne knew a great deal more about life outside the House enclave’s walls than anyone else could imagine—even Lach—but she had no illusions about such a life being easy for her. Having grown up surrounded by privilege, she had few practical skills. The best she could hope for would be to one day hire herself out to a mercenary company, and despite that she chafed behind the walls of the enclave, she had no real wish to become a mercenary either.

  “I know, Father, and I know I must make my intentions clear, and soon. I promise to think on it.”

  “So you’ve promised me many times before,” he said, his voice taking on a sharp edge. “I’m beginning to doubt the sincerity of your promises, Cianne. It’s time for assurances.”

  “What kind of assurances?” she asked, fighting to maintain her deferential tone.

  “You have six weeks to make a final decision. Should you decide not to marry Lachlon, I will find a suitable position for you.”

  The finality in his voice brooked no argument, but she wasn’t about to start one. She knew better than to press her father and risk his keeping a closer eye on her. At any rate, she couldn’t vacillate forever, and she was aware that was what she had been doing. The time had come for her to declare her intentions once and for all.

  “Very well, Father,” she said, wiping her eyes and straightening her spine.

  They exchanged little conversation after that point. Cianne’s mind was whirling as she sorted through her options and tried to determine what course of action to take. She waited until a just barely civilized time to excuse herself and then fled to her quarters. Claiming exhaustion, she hid her impatience while Vivie laid out her night things, then she wished the maid good night.

  Alone and safe in her room at last, Cianne barred the door and leaned against it, rubbing her forehead. Tumultuous emotions swirled through her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be pulled into their current. Taking deep, slow breaths, she stilled her thoughts.

  Lach’s latest gift sat on her chest of drawers, and she picked it up, turning it delicately in her hands and examining it. She hadn’t noticed before, but the bird’s cage had a tiny latch, and with a fingernail she nudged it, surprised when it slid to the side and the door fell open. The bird inside was poised on its perch as though it were about to take flight, soaring up and away from its bonds forevermore, and she stared at it for a long moment.

  Cutting off a length of fishing line, Cianne wove it around the bars of the bird’s cage, tying a perfect knot with deft fingers. Every child in House Staerleigh grew up knowing how to tie knots; they could all make them in their sleep. Satisfied that the knot was secure, she looped the line around several of her fingers, the ornament dangling, and climbed on top of her bed frame, balancing on one foot on the narrow edge of her carved headboard. Tilting her head back, she gazed up at her ceiling.

  Her rooms were in the round tower at the southeast corner of the manor. Her sitting room was on the third floor, the uppermost floor of the manor, but her bedroom was at the top of the tower. The other three towers were used for various purposes, but none of them were bedrooms. They hadn’t been built with that intent, but she had begged and begged to move her room there after her mother’s death, until her father had finally relented. He had dismissed the eccentric request as the unfathomable whim of a grieving child and been done with it. The move seemed to ease Cianne’s pain, saving him from the necessity of attempting to deal with her grief.

  He hadn’t been unaffected by his wife’s death. More than once Cianne had heard him giving vent to his own grief while eavesdropping on him, but her father had never had much skill in dealing with other people’s emotions. He had enough trouble dealing with his own.

  The truth of the matter was that she had longed for the solitude of the space, but she had also chosen the tower room because of its ceiling. Beams and struts held up the pointed roof, like the spokes spiraling out from a nautilus’s shell. The effect was lovely, if somewhat dizzying, but that hadn’t been its main attraction for Cianne, who had recently begun a covert second life about which her father still knew nothing. Those struts and beams offered her a place to practice, away from prying eyes. When Lach had begun bringing the glass trinkets back for her, she had quickly determined that they made perfect additions to her practice regime, adding new challenges to familiar routines.

  Another thing all House Staerleigh children grew up with was a familiarity of ships. Boldly clambering up the masts and riggings, racing one another to the crow’s nest, was a favorite game of House Staerleigh children, a pastime their parents encouraged. After all, while some of the children would spend most of their lives on land, serving House Staerleigh in other ways, the majority of them would be at sea. Thus, it had struck no one as odd that Cianne had taken to climbing up into the rafters and dangling her many glass objects from them.

  What they didn’t know was that she darted, danced, and swung around those rafters, sometimes with a weapon and sometimes without, depending on which skills she was focused on practicing. The glass baubles presented her with a plethora of obstacles to dodge past and duck under, and the more she added the more challenging her practices became. Her skills had grown to such an extent that she rarely broke any of them anymore, even though the space she could navigate kept decreasing. Luckily for her, she was small, slight, and light on her feet, and her upbringing guaranteed her a certain amount of dexterity. But it was her dogged determination and her focused discipline that had led her to develop skills far beyond what any of the House Staerleigh trainers could have taught her. No one had any inkling of what she was capable of doing, and she intended to keep it that way.

  Skimming swiftly over a beam that was only a bit wider than her foot, Cianne found the perfect spot for her bird. She wound the line around the beam and took extra care with the knot, mindful of the value of the gift.

  She spent the next hour practicing her forms, flowing from one to the next. That finished, she drew her rapier and went through the forms again, the weight of the weapon forcing her to adjust her lines and balance. The blade flashed in the candlelight as she slashed right then left, darting her weapon in between the dangling lines and baubles, tumbling and ducking and rolling without brushing against a single one of them.

  When she finally shimmied down from the rafters, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her arm, the birdcage door still hung open.

  Chapter 4

  A mere four days passed before Kila was called to action. His new uniforms had arrived just that morning, and the cut of the high collar was different, chafing him. He might have looked the part of a Cearovan Enforcer, but he certainly didn’t feel it. He forced himself not to pry his strangling collar away from his throat as he hurried to answer the Chief’s summons.

  “Have a seat,” she said in a brisk voice, and he hastened to obey. She closed the door behind him before perching herself on her chair. Her rigid posture and tense face told him that something serious was happening.

  “How are you settling in?” she asked.

  “Well enough,” he said, nonplussed by the direction of the conversation.

  “Have you surveyed the lay of the land?”

  “I have,” he said, the purpose of the conversation beginning to dawn on him.

  Flim hadn’t assigned him a partner yet, instead instructing him to study their current open cases. He had also taken the opportunity to study his fellow Enforcement officers. Some showed such obvious signs of favoring the Houses that he was able to quickly pinpoint them. Others were cagey enough that he knew he’d best be wary around them. Each House had a formal Enforcement liaison, and it was a given that these men and women would be in the Houses’ pockets, or as good as. Even if they hadn’t begun their posts with the intent of acquiescing to the House’s every whim, it was a fair bet that the Houses had found a variety of ways to purchase their loyalty. For all he knew, it was entirely possible that some of them were of unim
peachable character, but for the time being he felt it more prudent to outright eliminate them as possible allies.

  The pensive look on his face made her nod. “Yes, I had a feeling that spending some time observing would prove very educational for you.”

  “I’ve come to some conclusions,” he said carefully. “But it might be more efficient if you were to give me some guidance.”

  Shaking her head with a sigh, she pinched the space between her brows, deepening the furrow there. “Trust me when I say it’s best at this point if you don’t know.”

  “Because you don’t trust me? Don’t take that as a criticism. You’d be wise not to trust me.”

  Giving him a crooked smile, she said, “That may be a factor, but it’s not the entire reason. The less you know the less anyone can extract from you, either by covert or overt means.”

  It made sense, but he didn’t like the idea of not having at least one ally in whom he could place his trust. He and the chief shared the same sense of urgency when it came to maintaining a deliberate distance between Enforcement and the Houses, but he couldn’t be seen in the chief’s office with any regularity. A close relationship between the two of them would raise eyebrows, and neither of them could afford that.

  “Very well,” he said, settling back in his chair with a frown.

  “I’m asking you to take a lot on faith,” she acknowledged. “This is a delicate dance we’re doing. I’ll help you as much as I’m able, but I’m afraid I’ll have to throw you into the middle of things with very little information. Take some time to familiarize yourself with the city over the next couple of days. I’ll tell you some spots where you and I can meet if necessary, and also secure locations where you can leave messages for me.”

  “Answer this for me at least: is someone fomenting rebellion against the Houses?”

  She looked disturbed but not shocked. “Not as such,” she said, choosy with her words. “In fact, I’m rather hoping it won’t come to that.”

  Scrutinizing her, he decided he’d pushed her far enough for the time being. He had spent years away from the city and still had a great deal to learn about the changes time had wrought. Asking someone to try to explain to him the complex organism that was Cearova wouldn’t get him very far. He would simply have to immerse himself in the city and learn as much as he could on his own.

  “Will you assign me a partner soon?” he asked instead.

  “That’s why I called you in here. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and decided you would work best with Ailena Burl.”

  “Burl?” he asked, brows rising. “House Staerleigh’s liaison?”

  “Yes,” Flim said, her eyes meeting his. “Burl’s partner recently left us, and though she’s been working with Hyden in the interim, I learned this morning that he’s about to be relocated.”

  Kila said nothing in response to this, though he had a sneaking suspicion the chief might have had something to do with Hyden’s reassignment.

  Pairing Kila with Burl made sense. Of all the Houses, he had dealt the least with Staerleigh during his prior term in the city, which made it the best one for him to keep his eye on. His lack of connections would ensure the House members had fewer preconceived notions about him. His ignorance as to how cooperation between the House and Enforcement worked would lead to his questioning everything, and his not knowing what to expect should make it easier for him to spot any untoward conduct between Burl and the members.

  “Have you spoken with Burl about this?” Kila asked.

  “I have,” the chief said, nodding, “and she’s none too pleased, but then Burl is abrasive on her best days.”

  “Charming,” he said in a dry tone. “I so appreciate you ensuring I sail in smooth waters as I adjust to this new posting.”

  The chief grinned. “Come now. I seem to remember you rather enjoy a bit of excitement.”

  “So much so that it landed me in the deepest, darkest forests of Astoran.”

  She sobered. “You might not thank me for rescuing you from that obscurity.”

  “Well, you know me. I’m a man of action. I’ve never been much of one for sitting back and watching while the world burns.”

  “Let’s hope you’re not the rare person who feels that way,” the chief said, her brow furrowing again. “At any rate, you should go talk to Burl. I believe there’s an assembly at the Staerleigh enclave tonight that she’s expected to attend.”

  “Which means I’m invited as well. How delightful.”

  “I’m doing my part to keep things from being too dull for you.”

  The chief rose from her seat and Kila followed suit. She escorted him to the door but hesitated before opening it.

  “Be careful,” she said at last. “I’m afraid I may be sending you straight into the fire by putting you in such close contact with the Houses.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  With a curt nod, she jerked open the door and he headed out into the chaos of the officers’ hall. While pleasing to the eye, the soaring vaulted ceiling and tall, grand mullioned windows ensured that the open space was quiet only later at night, when the skeleton crew remained behind to man the station. During the day the space buzzed with officers chattering about cases, citizens stopping in to lodge formal complaints, and the occasional ruckus caused by criminals.

  Heavy iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the guttering candles providing plenty of light. The officers’ area had been much smaller when he’d last been in the city, the desks hidden behind partitions, which had made the already dank space seem even darker and more forbidding, giving it all the charm of a dungeon. It had also been heated by a massive fireplace that had belched smoke out at the officers, guaranteeing that every last one of them developed deep, throaty coughs during the winter. The fireplace was gone, but the space was still warm, despite the early spring chill. When Kila had asked, one of the veterans had told him that the building had been gutted five years earlier, and the interior completely redesigned by some of the most gifted Adepts in the city’s Building Masters’ Guild. Their masons had developed an ingenuous form of construction that entailed spaces left between walls so that warm air from basement furnaces would rise up, heating the rooms above without the smoke troubling the inhabitants.

  “But the cost must have been exorbitant!” Kila had blurted in surprise.

  “The trade Houses funded the renovations as a public works project. They’ve been doing a lot to develop the city over the past five years,” the veteran had responded in a stout tone, a hint of reprimand lurking in his words.

  Kila had kept his opinion about that to himself.

  Now, though, he had to admit that the renovated station, while rather noisy, was a great deal more pleasant than it had been before. The lack of partitions also made it a much easier matter to determine which officers were in the station and which weren’t, and this provided him with plenty of opportunities for observation. He’d spent some time watching which officers each House liaison spent time with, so he had some inkling of who Burl’s cronies might be. One of them, the soon-to-depart Hyden, was leaning against Burl’s desk as Kila approached, and his heavy-lidded eyes flicked over Kila appraisingly.

  “Burl, it would appear you have a visitor,” Hyden drawled. The sour expression on his face made Kila doubt he was thrilled about his imminent departure.

  “What do you want?” Burl asked in a brusque tone, sifting through a sheaf of parchment.

  “To introduce myself,” Kila said in as deferential a tone as he could muster. “I’m Kila an Movis.”

  Abandoning the parchment, Burl crossed her arms over her chest and scanned him from head to foot, her lip curled. “My new partner,” she said, biting off the words.

  “Yes,” Kila said, deciding brevity would suffice. He didn’t know enough about Burl yet to determine how best to deal with her, but he felt—perhaps perversely—that her hostility was preferable to friendliness. The guise of friendliness could conceal many things, while ope
n hostility was meant to be repellent rather than invite confidences. He wondered if Burl had any idea how much of a tell this was. He wondered if she cared.

  “Fresh from the country,” Hyden added with a smirk.

  “I am,” Kila said, the comment rolling off him. What was the point of being offended by the intended slight? “Though I did spend some time in Cearova earlier in my career.”

  “Earlier in your career,” Hyden echoed, his tone heavy with disdain.

  “Green as the wood you just came from,” Burl said.

  “Eager to learn,” Kila said.

  Burl and Hyden exchanged a glance. They were welcome to think he was a bumbling dullard. It would simplify his task if Burl didn’t know enough to see him as a potential threat.

  “I’m between cases at the moment,” Burl said, her mouth tightening. Kila had a sneaking suspicion she was entertaining the thought of marching to the chief’s office to instigate an argument, but she restrained herself.

  “Chief Flim says we’re to attend an assembly at House Staerleigh tonight,” he replied, deciding to let her know exactly where she stood. He wasn’t about to allow her to attempt to shut him out.

  “Yes,” she said, her lips compressing even more. “At seven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there promptly. Do you have need of my assistance? If not, I shall look through the archives and learn all I can about House Staerleigh.”

  “You do that,” she said, staring at him as if he were an insect she would like to flick away.

  Hyden snorted and made a very flimsy attempt to cover it up with a cough. Kila offered them a bland smile. It would take a lot more than these two to make him lose his composure.

  Casting a significant gaze at the desk next to Burl’s, which was covered with what he assumed was Hyden’s detritus, Kila said, “I’ll also see about moving my desk today, shall I?”