The Sparks: Book I of the Feud Trilogy

by Kyle Prue

  Lilly whirled around. “Who’s him, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan tried to fight his tears. “Neil Vapros.”

  Lilly pulled her rapier from the ground. “Well, now they know.” She swung a few practice arcs through the air. “Stop crying, Jonathan. It’s all right. It won’t do them much good anyway. Unless we truly are at war.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE MARKETS

  MICHAEL TAURLUM

  Michael Taurlum had no trouble weaving his way through the crowded marketplace; people saw him coming and dove out of the way. He swaggered down the street, dressed in a tight red and gold shirt that clung to his skin and showcased his muscles. He kept his eyes peeled for women to occupy his time.

  A group of giggling girls caught his attention as they made their way into a shop. Grinning, he made his way across the street and fumbled with the doorknob for a moment before heaving his way into the store. His head swayed dangerously near the ceiling. “Hello, ladies,” he said casually. The storekeeper winced as Michael nearly tore the door off its hinges.

  The girls whispered to each other nervously. A girl with a red sash finally said, “I’ll do it,” and separated herself from the group. “Hello, Taurlum,” she said. “How are you today?”

  He ogled her. She was tiny, but everyone looked tiny to him. “I’m fine,” he answered. “And better, now that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman.”

  The other girls giggled, but this one wasn’t fazed. “I’m just surprised to see you here,” she said, the beginning of a laugh on her lips. “Considering this is a woman’s hat shop.”

  Michael froze. The other girls were laughing uproariously. “I know,” he said, trying desperately to save face. “I just owe the owner some coin.”

  “Why?” the girl asked, biting back laughter. “Did you buy a hat from him earlier and forget to pay the bill?”

  Michael slammed a few coins down on the counter. One of the girls let out a little scream, followed by an eruption from the others. “The hat was for my sister,” he invented. Michael turned away from the girls and leaned toward the storekeeper. “Play along,” he hissed, and the keeper nodded. “Anything these ladies want,” Michael said more loudly, “is on me.”

  The other girls squealed and began running up and down the aisles of hats. The girl with the red sash didn’t join them. “That was generous of you,” she said, offering him a smile. He stared at her for a moment, scrutinizing her features. He peered over her head at the other girls who were running around the store. She blushed. It was evident that he was trying to decide whether or not she was the prettiest girl among the bunch. Taurlum weren’t known for subtlety.

  He turned his attention back to her and she seemed to be visibly relieved. “I’m a generous man,” he replied, raising his arm in a stretch that showed off his bicep and his bracelets at the same time.

  The girl’s eyes widened as she saw his jewelry. “You have a lot of bracelets,” she said. “You must be very wealthy.”

  “Oh, these?” he said haughtily. He pulled off a bracelet and threw it to her. She caught it. “I have thousands at home,” he bragged. Then he looked at her thoughtfully and offered her a wink. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

  She slipped her wrist through the bracelet. It stood out radiantly against her shabby coat and worn shoes. “You want to take me home with you?” she asked.

  Michael flexed again. “Why not?” he said lazily. “I can give you a tour. We can see the private bathhouse … my bedroom … you know, all the best parts of the Taurlum mansion.”

  She bit her lip and gazed up at him from beneath her eyelashes, all while asking, “Won’t the other Taurlum mind?”

  Michael scoffed. “I’m allowed to bring poor people inside,” he said. “It’s my house.”

  The girl looked hurt for a moment, but she covered it up quickly. “Of course,” she said flirtatiously, touching the gold band on her wrist. “I bet no one in your family controls you, do they? You’re too strong for that.”

  Michael grinned widely. She didn’t know it but that was the perfect thing to say to get on Michael’s good side. “Come on,” he said, turning toward the exit. “Tell your friends you’re leaving. I really want you to see my room.”

  The girl touched her new bracelet again and waved to her friends before hurrying out of the shop and following in the Taurlum’s wake toward the mansion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IMPERIAL PRISON

  DARIUS TAURLUM

  Darius tried to move for the ten-thousandth time, but before they'd thrown him in the dungeon the Imperial Guards had fitted him with a wooden collar that bore down on his pressure points. With every shift in position, he could feel it dig into his skin and leech his strength. He had gone over every single member of his family, wondering which one was most likely to break him out. His father would be far too busy. His mother, only a Taurlum by marriage, was too frail. His sister Cassandra might show up, if she felt like it, but Darius eventually came to accept that his best chance was, unfortunately, Michael—the Nose, his idiotic, womanizing brother.

  Sweat began to drip down his face as he tried not to struggle. Each movement was painful. They’d anchored his hands to the floor, and he could easily have broken the shackles if they hadn’t been designed to hit him at the pressure points in his wrists. He was immobilized, powerless, and for a Taurlum, that meant he was nothing.

  He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and he hoped it was his dinner. Last night, the guards had served him some sort of pig slop, spoon-feeding him because he could not move his arms, and he’d held eye contact with the guard for the whole meal, a vengeful fury brewing in his expression. The guard seemed terrified. Darius loved it.

  The footsteps reached the door. Darius gurgled through his collar, “I think the chains are getting loose, buddy. Hopefully, I don’t break free while you’re feeding me.” The person behind the door didn’t answer. “Hello? I’m getting hungry,” he prompted.

  A tiny key shot through the crack at the bottom of the door and landed close to his hands. Darius grabbed at it clumsily and maneuvered it into the lock on his handcuffs. They sprung free. “Michael?” Darius asked. “Cassie? Is that you?” No answer. He felt at his collar, searching for the keyhole. To his surprise and relief, the same key unlocked the cuff around his neck. “Lazy bastards,” Darius muttered with satisfaction. He wrenched off the collar and let it clatter to the floor. “Look out, Imperial Guards,” he said a little louder, lumbering to the cell door and tearing it off its hinges. His strength was back. The abrasions on his neck and wrists were fading already. “The beast has escaped!”

  His triumphant smile disappeared as he realized the person waiting on the other side of the door was not one of his siblings. It wasn’t even his father. His savior was dressed in leather armor and camouflage green, jet-black hair pulled back out of her face, and a mouth set in fierce determination. She wielded a long chain with a single spike fixed to the end, and she had an unyielding expression on her face. “Who are you?” Darius asked.

  The girl blinked her dark, slanted eyes, but didn’t answer. He repeated his question more forcefully this time. She gave him a small smile and then hurled her spike straight into the vulnerable part of his stomach.

  He stumbled back, impressed at the skill of the throw, but also furious that the foreign girl was not here to free him. He pulled the spike out of his navel and gave it a strong pull; she lost her balance and stumbled toward him. He prepared to club her to death with his arm, but she anticipated the blow and abandoned her weapon to barrel roll underneath it and into the cell. Darius felt his stomach begin to bleed. “Listen, sweetheart,” he said, raising his giant fists into fighting position, “you’re thin as a stick. Give this up before I snap you like one.”

  She smiled. “Poor baby,” she cooed with a thin accent as she unsheathed a spare knife. “Scared and bleeding, so he has to make idle threats.”

  Darius replied, “
Idle threats? We’ll see.”

  She darted forward and carved a long cut into his arm. It began to bleed. Darius couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She was obviously well-trained. He knew better than to underestimate her based on appearance; he had learned that lesson from Jennifer Vapros. “You broke me out of prison to kill me?”

  She grabbed her spike on a chain from the ground and answered, “Couldn’t open the door. It was too thick and I couldn’t find that key. So I needed some help.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She hurled the spike at his neck, but he saw it coming and jumped out of range. She narrowed her peculiar eyes. “You’re quick. I was not told that you would be quick.”

  “What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” He swung his arm out, sending her flying into a wall. With a cry, she dropped her knife and chain. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her into the air with his remaining strength. “I ask again,” he said, loosening his grip enough so that she could speak. “Who are you?”

  She glared at him. “Anastasia,” she spat.

  “Anastasia.” Darius lowered her to the ground, but kept his grip on her neck. “You clearly don’t work for the Imperial Army.”

  “No,” she said carefully. “I’m not a soldier. I’m an assassin.”

  “Oh, really?” Darius said sarcastically. “Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” He examined her attire. “Where are you from?”

  Anastasia tried to scoff. The effect was ruined by the fear in her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “You look like a savage. I’d guess you have come from the outside.”

  “When did this become a casual conversation?” she growled.

  “Fine. Let’s get less casual.” He lifted her off her feet again. “Why did you come to kill me?”

  She laughed. “Because I was paid.”

  “Who paid you?” It came out as a snarl. He was getting impatient.

  “A good assassin never reveals her employer.”

  “A good assassin wouldn’t let me catch her.” Darius threw her against the wall again. She fell to the ground, harder this time, and when he picked her up he saw she’d been knocked unconscious. He thought about killing her, but he was running out of time to escape. He left her limp body on the ground and hurtled out of the dungeon. He was alive, but someone wanted him dead badly enough to hire an assassin from some unknown place.

  A pair of guards rounded the corner. One of them held a bowl of the slop they’d been feeding him for dinner. He dropped the bowl, stunned, when he saw the prisoner. Darius grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Who’s first?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  TAURLUM MANSION

  MICHAEL TAURLUM

  Michael Taurlum’s eyes flickered open. He recognized the ceiling of his bedroom and instantly noticed he was violating his sacred code: he was cuddling. There was some girl latched onto his arm, sleeping peacefully. Without thinking, he quickly brushed her off, then winced as his Taurlum strength sent her over the edge of his bed and onto the floor. She squealed as she fell. Michael tried to resist doing the same. “What the hell was that, Michael?” she groaned, stumbling to her feet and wiping the sleep from her tired eyes.

  Michael hopped out of bed and tied his red and gold pajama bottoms tighter with his ringed fingers. “You tell me,” he breathed, heart pounding. “Why were you in my bed?” He grabbed a glass from a side table and filled it with wine.

  The girl self-consciously adjusted her corset. “I fell asleep—so what?”

  Michael drained the glass and poured himself another. “I prefer to sleep alone.”

  “Oh, really?” the girl remarked and moved to sit on the bed, but she backed off when he turned to glare at her. “Michael Taurlum, afraid to share his bed? I find that hard to believe, given your reputation.”

  “I’m not afraid,” he insisted. “You’re the one who should be afraid. It’s dangerous to sleep near a Taurlum. If I rolled over, I could have crushed you.”

  “Like you care about what happens to me,” she muttered. “Do you even remember my name?”

  He turned away from her and began to pour another drink. The girl put a hand on his shoulder carefully. “Something tells me that isn’t the only reason you’re upset,” she said soothingly. “Was it something I did?”

  “It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Some other girl then?” she tried. “You can tell me. I’m a good listener.”

  “Leave it alone,” Michael warned. He pulled away from her hand and dropped back onto his bed, throwing his empty glass carelessly across the room. It shattered. The girl winced.

  “If you leave now, you can make it home by sundown. I think. I don’t know where you live.”

  She stood over him. “Come on, Michael. You can tell me. You’re strong on the outside, but I can tell there’s something making you weak on the inside.” She ran a hand down his bare shoulder. “Tell me. I’ll help make you big and strong again.”

  She was trying to appeal to his ego. He saw right through her game, and part of him wanted to toss her out into the street, but instead he rolled up on his side to look at her. “The last woman who shared my bed was my fiancée,” he said bluntly. The girl’s eyes widened, and Michael quickly added, “She’s gone now.”

  The girl didn’t seem to understand and asked, “Where did she go?”

  He laughed humorlessly. “Turns out, she was also sharing a bed with another man.”

  “Oh,” the girl said. Her eyes had strayed from Michael to the extravagant tapestries on the wall behind him. “So you kicked her out.” Her eyes fell to the intricately woven rug and the beautifully patterned blankets. Most commoners could only dream of seeing such luxuries.

  “Not exactly,” Michael replied, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes. “The other man was a Vapros.”

  The girl’s eyes snapped back to the Taurlum. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “those Vapros, so … immoral.” They were nearing dangerous territory. The feud was a sensitive topic among the families. One wrong word could set him off like a bomb. “Is she with him now?”

  Michael chuckled darkly, opened his eyes and answered, “You could say that.”

  The girl looked uncomfortable. “Maybe we should talk about something else?” she suggested, but Michael wasn’t paying attention to her anymore.

  Michael reminisced, “I confronted her, and she lied to my face. That was the first time I ever created an earthquake. It wasn’t intentional. And it wasn’t a very impressive one, compared to what I can do now. But it was enough.” He heaved himself out of bed. The girl stood, too, and backed away a little. “I’m not even sorry,” he said, “I was going to give up so much for her, and she couldn’t even be faithful. Look around you. I was about to leave all of this for her. She deserved what she got.”

  “Of course she did,” the girl soothed. “Of course she did …”

  “I tracked down her lover and killed him, too,” Michael continued. “It’s my favorite death to date.”

  The girl was trembling. She attempted a smile. “You’re a warrior,” she whispered, more to herself than to him, as if she were trying to justify something.

  Michael spoke with pointed sarcasm, “Thanks for bringing those memories to the surface. You’ve been very helpful.” She attempted to sit back down on the bed, but he pointed to the door. “Now get out.”

  “Are you sure, Michael?” she asked. “I can help you. If you just opened up to me a little more, I could—”

  Get out!” His volume shook the room.

  She let out a little scream and ran, pausing only long enough to snatch her dress off the floor. Michael settled back into his giant bed. At last, he was alone—just the way he liked it. A tear drifted from his eye and he wiped it away in confusion. Taurlum don’t cry, and neither did Michael. Weaklings cried. “Iron Flesh and Iron Will,” he whispered to himself harshly.

  He curled up in his blankets for another night alone. Mi
chael Taurlum was many things, but he was no weakling.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CELERIUS ESTATE

  LILLY CELERIUS

  Lilly paced around the Celerius training room, sizing up her adversary, and trying to shake the carriage fiasco from her mind. She lunged outwardly with her wooden sword and her brother blocked it easily. Thomas back-peddled a few paces and smiled. “You know you’ll never be able to land a hit, Lilly.” He teased, brown eyes twinkling. “I know what you’re going to do before you do it.”

  She mentally focused and swung her sword again, and once more he blocked it expertly. “I’ll hit you eventually,” she said with another swing.

  He parried and hit her hand. She winced and felt a cracked bone reset. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  She leapt forward and swung as quickly as she could, but he didn’t try and block this time. The wooden sword collided with the side of his head, but he didn’t even seem to register the blow. His eyes were closed in quiet concentration. “Thomas," Lilly said as she moved forward. "Are you trying to read my mind?"

  He held up a hand. “People are screaming inside their heads. They’re crying out in pain,” he whispered.

  “Knock it off,” she said. It wasn’t unlike her brother to pull stupid pranks with his powers.

  He opened his eyes and tears leaked out. “Anthony,” he whispered.

  A blood-curdling scream pierced the stillness. Lilly stared at Thomas for a moment and then she dropped her sword. She dashed through the hallways and made it to the front door faster than she had ever run anywhere. Her father stood at the door holding a small wooden box. Her mother was on the ground sobbing. There was an Imperial messenger on the ground bleeding from his throat. “What...” She couldn’t form any other words.

  Her father turned to face her and she noticed his face was as red as it had ever been. She took a step forward and opened the box hesitantly. It was filled with ashes. She looked up at her father with disbelieving eyes, “Is it...”