by Ines Johnson
Contents
Copyright
Front Matter
PART THREE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Clever Fox Excerpt
Cindermama series
Connectivity
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 by N. S. Seneb
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Edited by Dragonfly Editing
Cover design by Yocla Designs
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition May 2015
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Chapter One
They let Liam take his car. Everything that belonged to him from his years in the grand house was shoved into the trunk. The pile amounted to a few articles of clothing and his calculating tools. His tablet containing his mathematical notes was not amongst the pile. The ladies kept all his intellectual property. He'd signed away those rights when he'd signed the betrothal agreement.
Liam sat outside the gates of the property for an hour. He didn't know what to do with himself. His every waking thought for the past ten years had been about Merlyn. How to be noticed by her. How to be helpful to her. His father had told him to make himself necessary to her if he wanted a chance at her heart.
He'd done that for nearly half of his life. Before he'd met her, he'd striven to pass her family's tests to prove himself worthy. After their betrothal, he'd made himself indispensable as her assistant. Without him, she would have never made the female chromosome discovery. It was that discovery that allowed her family to cut his ties. They no longer needed him or his manhood to produce the female children they coveted.
Liam wanted to barge back up to the house and fight for her. He waited, hoping that she would come through those doors after him. He waited and waited. But she didn't come. Liam started the car and pulled away from the house.
He wandered around the city. He paused briefly at the gates to The Stallion. Memories of that previous night washed over him. The feel of being buried deep inside of Merlyn. The feel of Jaspir behind him. Jaspir's lips around him. It pulled Liam out of the car and to the front desk. The man at the desk was new, not the plastic looking older male Liam had come to expect.
"Jaspir no longer works here," the man said.
He was already gone. He'd barely waited a day before heading off to live out his own dream. Liam had heard all the words spoken between Jaspir and Merlyn this morning. Words of enduring love that would stand the test of time and space. Neither of them had shared any such words with him.
"Perhaps I could be of service?"
Liam looked the new concierge up and down. He felt no pull, no desire for the male.
Liam turned, walked out of the establishment, and climbed back in his car. He drove aimlessly for another hour, until he pulled up to another familiar house. He climbed out of the car and approached the front door. He hadn't been back here since he left ten years ago. On that day, his Mother had been away with her lover. It was his father who saw him off.
"Dedicate yourself to her, make yourself indispensable. Love is fickle, but being needed will earn you a place in her life."
Liam had taken those words to heart. Those first few years without his father had been hard. There was no one for him to talk to. Merlyn had her head in the books or up in the clouds thinking of Jaspir. Liam had been alone, but the last thing he wanted to do was return to his father a failure. So he sucked it up and stayed at the grand house, stayed behind Merlyn, in the shadows.
He'd given it his all. He'd taken a moment to step in the light. He'd made her see him. But still, it hadn't been enough. She didn't love him. She no longer needed him. He had failed. He only hoped his father would understand.
Liam knocked on the door.
It took a moment before he heard steps from inside. The door opened. A sallow looking older man peered down at him. Not quite at him, his hollow eyes peered at Liam's shoulder.
"Can I help you?" Not only were his face and eyes hollow, so was his voice. He must be new to not recognize Liam. It had been ten years since Liam had been home, after all.
"My name is Liam. I'm the first son of this household."
The man's eyes met Liam's briefly. There was no spark of recognition, but he must have believed him because he stepped aside and let Liam pass.
Liam entered his old home and looked around. Nothing looked the same. But things sounded the same.
He heard the sounds of lovemaking down the hall. A woman's high-pitched gasps, asking for more, harder. When Liam was a child he didn't truly understand what those words meant. Now he had firsthand knowledge. The accompanying male's deep groans sounded nothing like his father's voice.
So nothing had changed.
"Is my father in his study?" Liam took a step towards the room. He'd nearly passed the manservant, but halted at the confused look on the man's face.
"Your father?"
"Yes, my father" prompted Liam. "Lord Thomis." The servant must have been confused. Liam's surviving father was brown-skinned with dark hair and dark eyes to Liam's pale-skin, red hair, and green eyes. Liam didn't want to take the time to explain, but something in the manservant's eyes halted his departure.
"I'm sorry, my lord," the servant stuttered. "Lord Thomis went to the Goddess two years ago."
Ice went down Liam's back. That simply wasn't possible. Liam rushed to his father's study. The door opened without protest. Everything was covered in sheets, a layer of dust further confirming its disuse. Liam felt ill.
How could his father have died without him knowing? Everything was as it was when Liam still lived here. Unfinished calculations on the white board. Stacks of unopened financial documents detailing the royalties from his father's many inventions. A light green settee sat in the corner. Lord Thomis had placed the settee there years ago. For his Mother, he'd explained to Liam. The piece of furniture still looked untouched as the day Liam was born.
"He passed away in his study two years ago," the manservant confirmed from just outside the door. The older man looked into the room as though it held ghosts. "Your Mother was away with..." He didn't finish the sentence. "Lord Thomis often stayed inside here for days. I didn't know anything was wrong until I smelled..."
The silence dragged between them. From down the hall Liam heard his Mother climax. The manservant looked over his shoulder towards the sounds, a haunted look on his face. Liam looked up at the man and finally recognition dawned on him.
It was his Mother's lover. His hair had the beginnings of gray, his physique carried a few extra pounds, but it was unmistakably the same servant from his childhood.
His Mother had sworn undying love for this man, forsook her surviving husband for him. Neglected Liam and his two younger sisters for him. Yet, here he stood with Liam while she lay behind closed doors with another.
"It's you," said Liam.
The man didn't answer. He didn't meet Liam
's eyes. His eyes stayed on the closed door down the hall, a look of longing that Liam recognized. He'd seen it in his father's eyes. He'd seen it in the mirror himself. But it made no sense. His Mother had sworn her love to this man.
"I thought she loved you?"
Now the man's eyes turned to Liam. "She does," his voice was adamant with life at last. "We're just... going through a rough patch."
"For how long?"
"For... awhile. She's a passionate woman. She just needs a lot of attention."
Liam didn't want to know how much attention his Mother needed. He didn't want to know if this was her first lover after this man or her tenth. When he thought of his father, who claimed to have loved his Mother, he remembered that neither his father's eye nor hand had ever strayed. He thought of Jaspir, whose hands had strayed, but who'd never allowed another to touch his heart. He thought of Merlyn, who'd allowed Liam's kisses, Liam's touches, but her eyes had always sought Jaspir's.
Liam had been having a bad day before, but it went from bad to dismal at this new revelation. Even if Merlyn came back to him somehow, she would never love him. Lust for him, maybe, if he were lucky.
Liam looked once more at the manservant whose eyes locked onto the door where his Mother and her current lover must now lay exhausted in each other's arms. Liam backed away and out of the house. He began down the steps but stopped when he saw a man approaching him. The man had skin the color of bronze and light brown eyes. His face was grave.
"Lord Liam?"
"Yes?"
"My name is Emet. I've been searching for you all day. I'm a friend of Jaspir's. He needs you."
Chapter Two
They'd stripped him bare. Gone were Jaspir's fine silks and high quality cotton, which had covered his body for the last few years. In its place was polyester, the fabric of his youth when he was a discard with nothing of his own. The cloth humiliated Jaspir more than anything else.
Many familiar faces packed the gallery. Men from The Stallion looked on, partly with glee at his fall, partly from fear that it could've easily been them sitting before a Justice.
A small group of women sat apart from the men. Many of these faces were also familiar to Jaspir. They all surrounded Lady Myra, whose shoulders shook with the gravity of false accusations. Jaspir watched the women coo at her with wide eyes, and then sneak lascivious glances at him from beneath their lashes.
Jaspir looked away. His eyes caught the light. There to his right sat his brothers. It was the first time they'd all been together in the same place in over five years. Jian had a comforting hand on Adom's back as they both leaned forward to listen to Emet.
Emet and the man known as the Male Voice conferred in low voices. The two men turned, in time, to Jaspir with heavy expressions. The Male Voice's face sank with the gravity of the situation, Emet's hardened to steel.
Emet nodded once to Jian and Adom. Those two mirrored his look, as though they didn't see the insurmountable odds facing them. Moisture pricked the edges of Jaspir's eyes. His throat constricted at the sight of those three men. No matter what the outcome of today's events, this was a moment he'd hold dear for the rest of his days, wherever he might spend them.
Emet made his way over to the table where the Peace Officers had placed Jaspir.
"I have bad news," Emet said. "And I have worse news."
"Go on."
"We won't be able to recoup your funds."
"Is that the worse news?" Jaspir asked.
"Depends on your perspective." Emet inclined his head towards Lady Myra. "She's offered to drop the charges."
"If?"
Emet sighed. "You know what if."
Jaspir looked over and saw her. Lady Myra was surrounded by a number of mature women, some of whom Jaspir knew intimately. They cast him thunderous looks in unison, but as he looked at each one in turn their eyes softened. None of them believed her. Jaspir's eyes caught Lady Myra's, a smile of desire played at the edge of her lips. Jaspir looked away.
"I saw that," Emet said. "You could undo all of this with a few minutes alone with her behind closed doors."
"It would never be a few minutes," Jaspir said. "It would be the rest of my life. That's all that I have left. My free will." He'd lost his dream home. After this, Merlyn could ever come near him again. "I won't give it up without a fight. Let's get on with it."
Lady Myra's case was simple. She had been seduced away from her husbands by Jaspir. Then, once he got her out from under her mates' protection, he'd conned her and demanded more money and gifts from her. She'd gone to The Stallions that fateful night to break it off finally, when Jaspir became incensed. She'd tried to leave, but when she pulled away from him, he'd struck her down.
"I tried so many times before to break it off with him, but..." Here she broke down. The women in the peanut gallery murmured their pity. When finally Lady Myra composed herself, she continued. "I simply wanted to try and live a virtuous life in the name of the Goddess. But he would not let me leave."
"You were trying to leave?" her lawyer prompted.
"Yes, I was at the door. I pulled away from him." The waterworks started again.
Lady Myra's lawyer handed her a tissue. "I know this is difficult my lady, but your testimony will ensure this scoundrel never hurts another female again." The lawyer cut her eyes at Jaspir.
"I pulled away from him," Lady Myra lied. "But he reached out and struck my face."
"That's not possible."
The shout came from the audience behind them all. It was a male voice. Jaspir knew that voice. He turned and the first thing he saw was that mop of red hair. Liam's green eyes were narrowed, a frown on that strong face. His shoulders were drawn back, one arm raised, a finger pointing indignantly at Lady Myra.
"Order," the Justice intoned.
"But it's not mathematically possible," Liam insisted.
The Justice banged her gavel again. "We will not hear testimony from the audience."
"This is one of my experts, Madame Justice." Emet motioned for Liam to come forward.
Lady Myra stepped down with the help of one of the Peace Keepers.
Liam stood, slightly bewildered. His eyes met Jaspir's. He straightened his spine once more and marched forward. He took the seat and sat straight like the noble first son that he was.
"Your name, my lord?" Emet began.
"Liam of the House..." Here he stumbled over his words.
Jaspir assumed he hesitated to name Lady Regyn's house so that he kept the family out of the scandal.
Emet filled the silence. "What is your occupation?"
"I've studied the scientific arts, specifically physics, biology, and mathematics."
"Would you consider yourself an expert?"
"I am. I am the assistant to--" Liam coughed and began again. "I have assisted the works of Lady Angyla and her daughter Lady Merlyn, a well-known scientific family."
"Well-known because you defiled Lady Merlyn with the help of that scoundrel," Lady Myra called, venom in her voice. But then she looked around at the eyes upon her and her shoulders hunched once more into broken sobs.
The Justice banged her gavel for order.
"I was promised to Lady Merlyn at the age of twelve," Liam answered. "Jaspir worked the lands when he was a child," Liam continued. "I know him from the great work he did in Lady Regyn's gardens. I've seen him perform his duties with my own eyes and know the man to be right-handed."
Emet frowned. His expression asked what that had to do with anything. Instead voices his confusion, he said, "Go on."
"Lady Myra's injury is on the left side of her face. In a fight, assailants favor their dominant hand."
Emet blinked. He turned and looked for himself. Every eye went to Lady Myra's face. "You're right."
Lady Myra's lawyer stood. "Objection, your honor. The fiend could have struck from either side."
"That's true," Liam replied. "However, the strike is at an angle."
"And that means?" Emet prompted.
/> "The definition of a strike is the angle between a horizontal line on a plane and true north."
Liam demonstrated with his hands, holding one up and another flat, making the shape of an L. Jaspir noted that Liam got the same look in his eyes as Merlyn when she was about to explain a theory. It was the same adorable faraway look. Only Jaspir needed Liam here and now, making more sense.
"Lady Myra has already mentioned that she was fleeing Jaspir when he allegedly struck her," Liam continued.
"Correct," Emet said.
"A strike using a hand at a distance would require the arm to stretch outwards." Liam straightened his arm toward Emet. Emet in turn leaned in to Liam's outstretched hand. "Note the angle of the impact." The ridge of Liam's palm lined up with Emet's cheek.
"A strike from close quarters," Liam motioned Emet closer, "would require the arm to bend." Liam bent his arm and now the ridge of his hand ran parallel to Emet's ear. "Note how the angle has changed. If you look at Lady Myra's injury it is at an angle, indicating that the strike came from close quarters. Or," Liam aligned his own left hand to his own face. The ridge of his own hand ran parallel to his own ear. "Or the wound was self-inflicted."
A loud gasp sounded throughout the courtroom.
"It all happened so fast," cried Lady Myra. "I could've been mistaken. He pulled me to him as I tried to flee and that's when he struck."
The crowed settled down and all heads turned to Liam, awaiting his explanation of this new information.
"Well, that's easy enough to prove," he said. "I can see by the horrible striations on your face, my lady, that the assailant's nails dug into your skin."
"Yes," she nodded vigorously. "Yes, they did. He's scarred me for life."
"Not likely, my lady. The scars will heal with an aloe ointment," Liam said. "The skin from the attack will still be under the assailants fingernails, though. The cells remain even after you wash. We can simply check under each of their nails for a definitive answer."
