Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Novels from Top Fantasy and Science Fiction Authors

by Gwynn White

  Could she really be something other than human? The notion stood her whole sense of place in the world on its ear.

  Grayson tapped on the ticket window. “Hello?” he called.

  Briar left him to figure out where the attendant was, and pulled the silver watch from her pocket. Cradling it in her palm, she watched the light catch in the grooves that created the image of Lock on the cover’s surface. She really should give Lock back to Grayson. How could she even consider keeping him? Brushing her thumb across the warm metal, she blinked her suddenly blurry eyes.

  “Briar!” Grayson shouted.

  She lifted her head, but before she could turn toward him, a hand seized her wrist. Instinctively, she fisted her hand around Lock.

  “I see the drake survived,” a voice said from behind her. Briar had no trouble recognizing Liam’s familiar Scottish brogue. She had been so preoccupied that she hadn’t heard him walk up behind her.

  Grayson had started toward them, but stopped as Liam’s hand slid down to cover hers. A panicked surge of static electricity tingled across her palm.

  “Briar,” Grayson said, the same panicked tone in his voice.

  Heart in her throat, Briar lunged backward. The move seemed to take Liam by surprise, and she was able to land an elbow in his ribs.

  He grunted, and the hand holding hers loosened.

  Briar spun toward him and, trying not to think about what she did, brought her knee up. Liam moved a lot faster than she expected. His palm smacked against her knee, blocking her before she could connect. The blow knocked her off balance, and she stumbled back. Liam followed, reaching for her.

  “To me,” Grayson shouted.

  A burst of static, and Lock was now the little dragon. He twisted out of her hand and began winging his way toward Grayson.

  “No!” Briar shouted. “Stop!”

  Lock changed his course and landed on the bench instead.

  “No armor,” she said to the little dragon, though her eyes held Grayson’s. She turned to face Liam. “Both of you, stop this.”

  Lock snapped his jaws at Liam.

  “That goes for you, too,” she told the little dragon.

  Liam stared at her with wide eyes. “You can command a construct? Is that how you’re controlling the drake?”

  “His name is Grayson Martel. And I don’t make him do anything.”

  Liam’s eyes narrowed. “How is he up and about today? Judging by the look of him last night, I wouldn’t have expected him to survive his casting.”

  “She’s a soul singer,” Grayson answered before she could.

  Liam’s mouth dropped open.

  “What’s a soul singer?” she asked Grayson.

  “The violin thing.”

  “It has a name? You never mentioned that.” She frowned at him. Why did he constantly hold back information from her?

  Grayson gave her a shrug.

  Liam found his voice. “She’s a soul singer?”

  “Through the violin, of all things.” Grayson eyed Liam, though Briar would categorize it more a look of curiosity than animosity. She wondered if he’d ever come face to face with a member of the Scourge before.

  “That’s unusual?” she asked.

  “I’ve never heard of such a manifestation,” Grayson answered, “but it’s a ferra talent.”

  She turned back to find Liam’s brow wrinkled in something between concern and wonder. “You knew my parents,” she said to him. “By any chance, was my mother ferra? Am I my father’s natural daughter?”

  Liam seemed to recover himself and turned his frown on her. “Your mother was not ferra, and you are David Rose’s natural daughter.”

  She turned back to Grayson and spread her hands.

  Grayson studied her a moment before turning back to Liam. “She’s not Scourge; I would feel it. Yet you say she’s not ferra. How—”

  “None of this is any concern of yours, Drake.”

  “Not my concern?” Grayson demanded. “She took my construct, named him, and made him hers.”

  “Him?” Liam asked. Apparently, he was aware of the ferromancer aversion to using gender-specific pronouns with constructs.

  Grayson sighed, the fight seeming to go out of him.

  “If she had the ability, how would she even know how to use it?” Liam asked him.

  “I’ve wondered that myself. It could simply be because he loves her.”

  Liam frowned, studying Grayson. Abruptly, he sighed and his shoulders slumped, making him look so much older. “Maybe Aggie’s right.” He bowed his head.

  “Right? About what?” She took a step toward him.

  He sprang forward without warning, snatching Lock from the back of the bench. He’d moved so fast that Briar hadn’t even seen it coming. Had his momentary melancholy been a ruse to get her to lower her guard?

  Lock struggled, trying to get free from Liam’s fist.

  “No! Don’t!” She held out a hand.

  Lock shrieked, and Grayson dropped to his knees.

  Briar choked on a sob. “Please don’t hurt him.”

  Liam stood watching her, as if considering her words. “I’ll spare him,” he said, his tone soft, “on one condition.”

  “Name it,” Briar whispered.

  Liam held her gaze, his expression full of sorrow. “It breaks my heart to lay this on you, but I see no other recourse.”

  Briar frowned, not understanding.

  “The drake will be your responsibility,” Liam said.

  “Of course,” she quickly agreed.

  “No, it’s not that simple. All his misdeeds, the atrocities he will instigate, the horrors he will inflict—they will be yours.”

  “He wouldn’t—”

  “Silence!” Liam snapped. “This is my world. It is a world I wished to shield you from, but in keeping you ignorant, I left you vulnerable. The fault is mine, yet you will be the one to pay for my failure.”

  “Enough with the cryptic doom and gloom. Spell out what you want from me. I will do it. Then we will prove you wrong.” She lifted her chin daring him to say otherwise.

  The briefest of smiles touched Liam’s face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grayson lift his head to look at her. She wondered what he was thinking.

  “You will make the drake yours. Irrevocably. He will do nothing without your leave.”

  “What?” she whispered. Her gaze drifted back to Grayson where he knelt a few feet away. He had bowed his head, a white-knuckled grip on each thigh. Was he in pain or was he anticipating what was to come?

  “You make it sound as if I’ll be taking away his free will.” Her heart thumped in her ears.

  Liam held her gaze. “That is the only way it can be.”

  When she didn’t respond, Liam’s hand tightened and Lock shrieked again. Grayson groaned.

  “I’ll never forgive you for this,” she whispered to Liam.

  “You would hate me more if I had simply killed him. This way, you will understand why this must be done.”

  Lock moaned in Liam’s fist.

  She couldn’t stand to see Lock in pain—or perhaps it was simply fear, if he didn’t feel pain. “Tell me what to do,” she said.

  “You have not fully taken his construct. You must complete the binding.”

  She remembered Grayson’s comment when he carried her away from her failed fight with Hester. He had told her that he wasn’t hers to command yet. Was this what he was referring to?

  “How do I complete the binding?” she whispered.

  “With the ferromancer’s blood upon your tongue, you name the construct and claim it as your own.”

  “His blood? On my tongue?” The notion nauseated her.

  “The body houses the soul, collecting in the organs and the blood. You will be speaking to the construct with the soul that created it. It will obey.”

  “I already named him, and he does as I ask.”

  Liam held her gaze, and she knew that look. He would not relent. He reached i
n his pocket and pulled out a folding knife, then offered it to her.

  Taking the knife, she opened the blade. The snap as it locked in place echoed in the empty room.

  “Hold out your hand, Drake,” Liam commanded.

  Grayson wordlessly complied, though he kept his head bowed.

  Briar walked over to him and cupped the back of his offered hand with her unsteady one. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Grayson didn’t respond.

  She laid the blade against his fingertip and, gently as she could, nicked it. Bright red blood immediately welled along the minor wound.

  Swallowing her revulsion, Briar leaned over and touched her tongue to his bleeding finger. Holding her breath, she kept her tongue away from the roof of her mouth in an effort not to taste it. She turned to face Liam.

  He held out Lock to her. The little dragon had stopped struggling and now looked up at her with forlorn eyes. Was he just anxious over his capture or dreading what was to come?

  Briar took a deep breath through her nose and for the first time became aware of the metallic taste that filled her mouth. A knot rose in her throat, but she couldn’t swallow it back down.

  “Lock,” she whispered, the taste of blood now overwhelming her senses. “You are mine.”

  The little dragon looked up at her, his soulful eyes innocent, his coo questioning. He didn’t understand.

  She doubled over with a sob, then gripped her knees as she retched. It wasn’t so much the taste of blood that made her want to vomit. Though she swallowed repeatedly, nothing would eliminate the taste of betrayal in her mouth.

  A hand settled on her back. “Briar?” It was Grayson.

  She bit back a sob and straightened. She couldn’t face him, so she faced Liam instead.

  “Give him back,” she said between clenched teeth, lifting the open knife she still held.

  Liam held her gaze for one long moment, then opened his hand. Lock sprang across the space between them. He landed on Briar’s shoulder, then pressed against the side of her neck. A burst of static, and she felt him settle around her throat. She lifted her hand and felt a multi-strand choker encircling her neck. A small oval hung from the lowest chain. She could feel a carved image on its surface and knew it was the depiction of a dragon.

  “We’re leaving,” she told Liam, her fury made it hard to speak. “Are you going to try to stop us?”

  “No,” he answered, his tone subdued.

  Steeling her courage, she turned and looked up at Grayson. His gray-blue eyes met hers, but she couldn’t read what she saw reflected there. Sadness? Resignation? At least he didn’t appear angry—until he lifted his gaze to Liam. Then he frowned.

  “You know what she is,” Grayson said, his tone devoid of all human warmth.

  “There’s the ferromancer.” Liam looked smug.

  “Let’s go.” She pressed a hand to Grayson’s chest, fearing he might do something. Or that Liam would.

  Without speaking, he turned and picked up his trunk. She took a breath and started for the door.

  “Briar,” Liam called to her.

  She stopped and looked back.

  “I’ve loved you as my own. I would never lead you astray.”

  She held his gaze, deciding it was better not to speak.

  “Don’t forget about the gun I gave you,” Liam said. “He’ll devolve quickly.”

  “I have more faith in him than that.”

  “He’s a drake.”

  “He’s right,” Grayson said, his words soft.

  She turned to face him, annoyed by how easily he admitted defeat. “At some point, you need to stop listening to what other people say you are, and be the person you want to be.”

  A slight smile curled Grayson’s mouth. “Like a mouthy canal boat captain?”

  “Exactly.” Casting Liam once last glance, she led Grayson from the room.

  21

  Briar sat on the bow rail and watched the unfamiliar banks slide past her boat. A week ago, setting out on a journey on the northern stretch of the canal would have excited her. Now, it just made her feel more alone. It seemed she had lost everyone and everything that meant anything to her: her boat, at least legally; Liam and Agatha; and even if he was an ass, Andrew, who was her last blood relation.

  “Miss Briar?” Eli stepped up behind her.

  All right. She hadn’t lost everyone. She still had her crew.

  “Dinner’s ready. Shall we bring the boat in for the night?” he asked. Grayson had resumed to his duties as cook without any prompting from her. She hadn’t said a word to him since returning to the boat.

  She got to her feet. “Yes, let’s bring the boat in.”

  Eli nodded, but didn’t turn away. “Won’t you talk to me, Miss Briar? What happened with you and Mr. Martel back in Lockbourne? All he’ll say is that you had some kind of confrontation with your Mr. Adams.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But I can’t talk about that right now.”

  “Why not, Miss Briar? Whatever happened, I’m not going to judge you. I know these magical folks had your back to the wall.”

  “Please, Eli.” How could she ever tell him what she’d been forced to do? He would lose all respect for her. She pushed past him and retreated to her cabin.

  Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it. The windows were open, letting in the evening air, but it was still too warm with the lit stove. The scent of beans and Johnny cakes hung heavy in the air, reminding her that Grayson had been here, doing what was expected of him as a member of her crew even though he wasn’t.

  She walked to her alcove and dropped onto her bunk. Covering her face with her hands, she let the tears come. Everything she had done had been for naught. She had made herself and her crew into outlaws, she had stumbled into a war among the magical, and worst of all, she had taken away Grayson’s freedom, the very thing she had sworn she would never do.

  A questioning coo preceded the brush of a warm metal cheek against hers. She hadn’t felt Lock change from the necklace to the dragon.

  “Oh, Lock,” she whispered. “None of this worked out as it should.”

  Lock curled closer to her neck, his vocalizations—if she could call them that—sounding more concerned.

  She smiled through the tears. At least he seemed to hold none of it against her. She sniffed, trying to regain control enough to comfort him.

  “Briar?” Grayson stood in the opening to her little alcove.

  She gasped and came to her feet. Lock, still sitting on her shoulder, made a happy sound when he saw Grayson.

  Grayson glanced at Lock, dipping his head slightly before his eyes returned to hers.

  “He called you here,” she concluded.

  “Your distress alarmed him.”

  Her distress. “I’m fine.” She pushed past him to escape to the less confining main room.

  Lock gave her a questioning coo, then rubbed his cheek against hers. He knew she was lying. But really, what did he expect summoning Grayson would accomplish?

  “I’m not upset with you,” Grayson said.

  She rubbed at her cheeks, trying to scrub away the tears. “Well, you should be. I screwed up everything.”

  “Not through bad intentions.”

  So he agreed that she’d made a mess of everything. She faced him. “We can dock in Newark. You can catch a train there.”

  “And have your Lock crying out to me each time you feel melancholy? He can’t communicate in a way that I will know whether you stubbed your toe or if you were dying.”

  “Then I’ll tell him to leave you alone.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. He’s part of me.”

  She spread her hands. “I don’t know how to make this right.”

  “I have a solution.”

  “Go on.”

  “I have a…friend who can help. She lives in Cleveland.”

  “She?” Not a ferromancer than. “I assume you’re not friends with some Scourge lady.”


  “Esme is ferra.”

  Briar stared at him. “I thought you avoided them.”

  “She’s an exile. Actually, I helped her escape to this country.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Let’s just say she got a little over zealous in completing the task given her.”

  Briar lifted her brows, but he didn’t offer an explanation. “How can she help?”

  He took a breath and released it. “She can teach you how to separate Lock from me.”

  Briar straightened. “But you said he’s part of you. Part of your soul. How could—” She stopped, realizing she knew the answer. “You’d become soulless.”

  “It takes multiple amputations to achieve that.”

  She stared at him. “You would amputate part of yourself to be free of me?”

  “It’s nothing against you personally,” he said quickly. “I mean, I barely know you. How could I even judge?”

  Logically, she saw his point, but her heart didn’t operate on logic.

  “We’ve discussed this,” he continued. “You know what my freedom means to me. You were willing to return the plans. Why not do this?”

  “Because…” Because it sounded like something a monster like Solon would do? Because she didn’t want to be part of that monster’s world?

  Because she didn’t want him to leave?

  The last thought stopped her. No, that was silly.

  “Miss Rose?” Grayson cut into her musings.

  “Very well. I’ll meet with her.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

  She frowned, bothered by his clear relief.

  “I will, of course, cook for you and your crew. How soon will we be in Cleveland?”

  Cleveland, where Esme lived. Well, Briar was headed north. “I’m not running at night, but I don’t intend to pick up any cargo.” It was too risky now that she was wanted. “Three days.”

  Grayson nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll set up for dinner.”

  “I’ll be right up.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, then simply turned and left the cabin.

  Briar dropped onto the bench beside her table. A moment later, Lock hopped down from her shoulder, his tiny metal claws clicking against the tabletop. He stared up at her with those soulful eyes.