Ingredients List

If anyone knows me, I’m quite long winded, but here is where I attempt clean, bite sized serials. They will be much shorter than the 20-30 minute reads I generally post, and can fall into either smart, sweet or speculative romance. Hmm. Maybe I should change the section name to Triple S Mini Serial Bar.

Nah. Too long already.

Bon Appétit!

EB

The Bioquantum Hypothesis - Part I

In 2127, the world is just coming to grips with the global pandemic that genetically altered a small percentage of the global population seven years earlier. As a result, the minority of ‘other-abled’ citizens are tagged and monitored, as they navigate an increasingly intolerant society.

Ayla Barrow, a Thought Reader who’s already juggling two jobs and her last semester, is hired as the teaching assistant to her charismatic professor and award winning author, Dr. Gideon Wilder. Aside from a growing attraction to the one man whose thoughts she can’t access, an unseen threat and an invisible countdown forces the two of them into a fight for each other—and their freedom.

Cobalt & Electrum

Ellora’s hunt for her brother’s killer draws her back home to Sunderland—and into a marriage of convenience with the one man she should never fall in love with, the Duke of Wrexham. Yet, if she survives the dangerous cat and mouse game she’s being drawn into, she intends to leave the moment the mystery behind her brother’s death is solved. Her only mistake? Thinking the Duke would ever let her go after losing her the first time…

Beginning 1 June, Cobalt & Electrum will update every 2nd/4th Wednesday of the month.

Interested in more immersive serials?

Visit the Serial Index!

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Previously

⬅️ 1.11: That Starless Night

As Ellora eats her last meal in Sunderland, another plot is afoot…

Ellora idly wandered from room to room, touching a book here, a sculpture there. At last, something she couldn’t account for compelled her towards the library.

She stood glued to the entrance, thinking of the many times she’d knelt by the arm chair as her father put the Leash on her; the torture as he lectured her about whatever supposed infraction she made, all while holding the remote in his hands.

How her stomach would churn in dreadful anticipation of the pain that was to come in those three blasts of electricity.

At that moment, the Earl sailed past her into the room, the smell of his good liquor trailing behind him.

“What do you do here, girl? I should think you’ve enough of the men for one evening,” he muttered, shuffling through some files on the CHIP pad he carried.

Ellora should have offered an excuse, and bid him goodnight. Yet, in that last moment she realized, if she were successful, she would never see this man again.

Some part of her, perhaps the young girl who still held out hope that there would be some piece of solace to take with her, caused her to follow him into the anteroom.

“Father…” she ventured. “Have you ever…loved me?”

The Earl didn’t spare her a single glance as he continued typing on the screen in front of him.

“What’s love to do with anything, you silly girl,” he chided, before seemingly forgetting she was in the room.

Ellora’s rational brain pleaded with her to cut her losses and leave, unfortunately, a new desperation clawed at her. She needed to know how he truly felt, so she pressed the issue.

“Shouldn’t love have everything to do with our relationship, Father? I’m your daughter…”

Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her doubts, but, if the Earl noticed, he gave no indication as he slowly nodded.

“Yes…”

Ellora shifted from one gold slippered foot to the next.

“Well, as your daughter, don’t I deserve your love?”

The Earl glanced up then, squinting at her as if seeing her for the first time. “What? Deserve my lo—don’t be ridiculous!”

“Yes, father. Your..love.”

Indignant, he placed a meaty fist on his hip. “My only duty is to keep you alive, and ensure you are cared for in the future.”

It was as she always suspected, but hearing the Earl say it hurt more than Ellora would ever admit aloud, as it struck the most vulnerable part of her young heart.

A bitter laugh bubbled out of her, causing the Earl to closely look at her in the dim light. “Are you drunk, Ellora?”

Ellora shook her head, as she stepped into the library. “It’s illegal for me to drink until after midnight tonight, Father. Actually, I’m thinking more clearly than I ever have before…now that I know where I stand in your eyes.”

The Earl narrowed his eyes at her. “Careful, girl. You may be on your way out of this house, but you aren’t gone yet.”

Ellora froze, her breaths growing shallow as her mind raced to figure out how he learned of her plans. Yet, his next words, while reassuring her that her plans to flee had not been discovered, were just as chilling.

Straightening, the Earl came around to lean against the front of his desk, his eyes threatening. “Heed my words, Ellora. Since there will be someone else paying close attention to your appearance, I may no longer use the Leash after today. However, there are still other forms of discipline.

Things that leave no physical mark, but will be far less pleasant than a little shock collar.”

Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes, as Ellora swallowed her outrage. Her voice shaking, she asked, “Am I to understand that you’ve found someone you wish me to marry?”

The Earl leaned back, the surprise in his eyes quickly replaced by indifference, as he folded his arms across his muscular chest. “It’s not a wish Ellora. The match has been made, and you will be married before the first Whimsytide ball.”

He stated it so matter of factly, that Ellora brought her chin up a shade defiantly. “And, if I refuse? Is there room in your heart to allow me that kindness?”

The Earl threw his head back in a gravelly roar of laughter that sent a chill down her spine.

“Kindness?” He spat. “I’ve kindly made you a match, and you will surely obey me. Otherwise, you’ll be sent to prison for a lack of filial piety. If there’s any choice on your part, Ellora, it’s only in the shape of your wedding gown, and how you will behave so as to not dishonor this family.”

And there it was. The reason why she had no choice but to take her life in her own hands. To be convicted on the charge of a lack of filial piety would make her life far worse than anything she’s ever known.

It would mean being imprisoned, with the only possibility of being pardoned coming if the offended party forgave the offender. With the Earl holding the key to her cell, she would never see the light of day again.

To leave of her own volition would mean being exiled from Sunderland, away from its lush green, farm dotted hills, its surrounding grand mountains, and the sweeping ocean views.

It would mean never being able to return, while struggling to survive in places that Ellora only ever heard being spoken of as dirty, criminal, and dangerous.

Yet…to marry some old duke, who may have the same idea of discipline as her father…

Ellora died a little inside at the thought. A lifetime of being zapped, or worse, with no end in sight? It was just another sort of prison.

Ellora steeled her heart. She would rather die trying to escape than be consigned to a life of anguished misery.

The Earl, having done with the entire matter, stormed back around his desk as he continued muttering to himself.

“…this chit imagines she has a choice…there’s right enough for you…if you were born earlier in the year as I indicated to your mother, you would be married off to Kirton already, and we wouldn’t be having this conver—”

“Kirton?” she sharply interjected, anger rising so swiftly, she spoke without thinking. “You would send me off to a man you know to be cruel? Did the lives of his first two wives mean so little to the men of this land?”

Despite being nearer to her father’s age than her own, with his rapidly greying wolf cut, well coiffed beard and handlebar mustache, Lord Bergson Madeira, Duke of Kirton certainly had a striking appearance.

Yet, Ellora would never forget that man’s oily gaze as he watched her dance with those her age at the Hightime ball.

And, when he approached to offer his congratulation on her being so close to adulthood, his every inflection insinuated a familiarity with her that she’d never been less inspired to be acquainted with. Instantly, Ellora made up her mind to keep his name off her dance cards at all costs.

That, coupled with the sparse knowledge she gathered from Henley of how his first two wives, both in their early thirties, mysteriously died under scandalous circumstances, was enough to leave her staring indignantly at her father, chest heaving as she tried to control a flood of emotion.

The Earl’s brows shot up as he came back around his desk at light speed. “Now just minute! You forget yourself, girl. His Grace may be known to be a man of certain…peculiarities, but his province is only third to Wrexham and Carlisle. If you expected a finer match, then let me tell you, if it weren’t—”

Ellora began pacing, shaking her head in disbelief. “Am I to understand that you would sell your daughter off to a man who has no business nor connection to you, save for being a member of the same Council?”

The Earl stepped closer. “By Guilder if you don’t shut up, you will feel something worse than what any collar could do to you! Now, that may have been the way of it, but as of today, I have a freshly signed marital alliance between you and—”

But Ellora, to her shame, began to cry fat, wet drops born of desperation and anger. Desperate to understand what goes on in the man’s mind, she cried out, “Can’t you see how earnestly I try? Yet, no matter what I do, it’s never enough. And now, off I go to the highest bidder to fit your demands!”

“You’ll pay for that outburst this evening,” he sneered coldly. “Be prepared after everyone leaves to come back to the library. Like as anything, discipline is the only thing you seem to understand.”

Ellora clasped her arms around herself, yet even as she began to violently shake, she drew herself up to her full height, and looked her father in the eye.

“Is this what you did to my mother? When she didn’t listen to you? Did you also treat her like an animal?”

The Earl looked at Ellora for a long moment before he shook his head and laughed mirthlessly.

“I will never forgive your mother for electing to keep your sex while I was away. You would have made a brilliant man, but your intelligence is wasted as a woman.”

Ellora closed her eyes as the familiar words sliced through her. She’d known that he would have chosen to change her sex to male if he had been there when his wife learned of her pregnancy.

Yet, with the Earl’s confirmation that her mother too was abused before dying, allegedly giving birth to her, Ellora disconnected. She no longer cared what the Earl’s feelings were. From that moment on, she was no longer his daughter.

“Did it ever occur to you that I turned out this way because you didn’t have that chance,” she quietly asked.

The thunderous crack and tremendous pressure that lifted Ellora off her feet came as unexpectedly as it had silently. She stumbled backwards several steps before catching herself, bracing a palm against the side of her face that exploded with pain.

The Earl straightened his waistcoat, snarling, “Do you imagine adding another year to your life gives you leave to say what you want? Do you dare to dream that once married you are relieved of your responsibility to me?

By Guilder, I’m your father. Don’t you ever forget that. Even when you belong to your husband, you will show me the sufficient respect due me, and meet my demands when I request them. Am I making myself clear?”

Ellora’s cheek was already swelling as she slowly lifted her gaze to his, her back straight as a rod. And, when she looked at him, the Earl was surprised by the pity he saw reflected there.

“My Lord.” Ellora then curtsied deeply, deliberately, before turning to leave the room.

The Earl opened his mouth, and closed it again. Despite being bred in one of the upper classes of society, he was a hard man. No doubt, were it anger, contempt, or any emotion one would expect to see after taming a subordinate, he would have dealt with it. Swiftly. Brutally. As was his way.

Pity was not an emotion he was equipped to deal with. Somehow it fell into the other barrel of emotions which he didn’t understand and had no need for, such as love, compassion or kindness.

So, as Ellora walked away, she imagines he said exactly what he felt must match the situation..which was nothing at all.

Calmly shutting the door behind her, she slowly climbed the stairs. Despite the fog of recent battle, her mind was ever clear now. It was time to execute her plan.

“Ellora, is everything alright?” Aurelian’s voice softly called up to her from the bottom of the stairs.

“We heard raised voices, and—what in Guilder!” he hissed as she turned to face him, revealing her swollen cheek.

With a swift glance to ensure the door to the library remained closed, Ellora shook her head with a painful smile, and hurried down the steps to stay Aurelian, who looked as if he might storm the library.

However, she no longer needed him to be her champion. Not when she’d be gone within a few hours. Yet, that briefest moment of alliance, knowing someone saw her, and wanted to help, warmed and bolstered her.

His jaw ticking in barely controlled anger, his gaze remained fiercely trained on the bruise on her cheek, even as she braced herself on his shoulder and stood on tip toe.

Perhaps anticipating she was to spill the truth of what took place, he leaned close as she rose up to offer what she would have never otherwise dared. He seemed nearly as surprised as she when her rosy lips gently pressed against his clean shaven jaw.

Aurelian straightened abruptly—they both did—as electricity zinged, snapped and pulled between them.

Ellora regained her composure first, and as she stared into the turbulent eyes of one of her closest friends and confidants, she whispered. “I am unwell tonight, dearest Aurelian. Please pass on my regards to the others.”

“If there’s some way I can assist..” he pressed, his voice strained.

But, overwhelmed with the sudden grief of leaving her brother and dear friends, and with them the only love she’d ever known, she only hesitated a moment. “I have always loved you, and that will never change, my friend.”

Aurelian, stiffly nodded. “And, you well know my—our affection for you, Ellora. That shall never change between us.”

“Never,” she whispered, with a watery smile.

Then, spinning on her heel, she fled up the stairs, leaving behind a man, newly perplexed.

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.13: Broken Hearts, New Promises

The conclusion of the funeral leads to more questions than answers…will Ellora make it through without being discovered?

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Beginning 1 June, Cobalt & Electrum will update every 2nd/4th Wednesday of the month. Subscribe for alerts.

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⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Previously

⬅️ 1.10: Shades of Grief

Ellora’s secret quest brings back old memories as she gets underway. What clues will she uncover in her past?

Ten years ago…

Even the gemstones and beading glittering on the fitted bodice of her deep rose evening gown did nothing to soothe Ellora’s fraying nerves.

She was surprised when the sleeveless satin gown, with its rosette ruching at the hips, appeared in her wardrobe mid-June, in preparation for Bramfolly. It was a shade too sophisticated for a woman not yet 18, but it was the first of its kind in her wardrobe, and the most beautiful she’d ever seen.

Ellora had dressed on that occasion with excitement for the new fun to be found at the Hightime ball.

After her 18th birthday, as a woman in the Administration class, she’ll be required to wear the colors of her father’s estate. And when married, it changes to the colors of her husband’s estate.

The Hightime ball was therefore held for those in the Administration and Agriculture class moving into adulthood that year. The idea was, your last steps in childhood should emulate your first steps into adulthood.

Often the adult members of those classes also attend to supervise the gathering of youths who weren’t quite trusted to behave themselves. The adults would certainly know…after all, 17 years old today and 18 years old tomorrow does not an adult make.

Had Ellora known when she first put the gown on five months before, that she was up for sale and bringing herself to market, she would have destroyed the dress then and there.

She now knew, that initial foray into the realm of sophistication, was the first window into her father’s greed. But, at the time, oh, how she had preened before her brother and his friends, feeling every inch the adult.

All the while, other eyes were also paying keen attention to her, and those like her. Preparing to make a bid on those of dewy skin and, as yet, unkissed lips.

The world was made up of connections and commodity, and nowhere in Sunderland did the two collide quite so well, as in the matter of marriage.

So, despite it being gauche to wear a ball gown to dinner, not to mention a summer weight in the middle of Novem, it was fitting it would be the last dress Ellora wore before leaving Sunderland for good.

She plotted the whole night before, and the sun was up before she collapsed in a fitful sleep. By mid-morning, the Earl sent a maid to wake and inform her that despite it being her first day without an assessment to complete, she still had duties to attend.

Yes, as the woman of the house, she was to prepare to receive her brother’s friends that evening. The Earl considered it good practice for her future hostessing duties, so she was to pull out all the stops.

Despite the formality of the request, just the morning before, that news would have thrilled her. It was a month since she’d last seen Aurelian and Alaric, and only briefly, as they were riding out with Henley to hunt game.

Yet, on the very day she was to leave, they were to come as her guests? In addition, she would be permitted to chat and entertain them without fear that her father would catch and punish her for some previously unknown rule?

It was a sweet torture. Yes, it was too, cruel. Still, she was thankful she would be afforded the opportunity to say goodbye in her own way. She immediately set about making the preparations.

After Ellora’s shoulder length ringlets were elegantly gathered into a high, soft bun, her makeup done to accentuate the gold luster in her brown eyes, it was time to dress.

Nervously, she watched as yet another new maid helped her into the cool, satin gown. Oh, she certainly looked a bit forlornly at the stately hunter green velvet off the shoulder dress, with its black lace embellishments.

She was expected to wear it to the assessment ball the next evening after all. Yet, with a firm purpose of mind, she picked up her lacy rose stole, wrapped it around her shoulders, and proceeded downstairs, just as the guests were set to arrive.

When she reached the bottom of the polished staircase, the Earl turned to Ellora in his smart, green and black embroidered waistcoat, and caught her eye. Yet, instead of a compliment on her bearing, her appearance, or anything tender, he resorted to his usual biting remarks.

“You’re already pushing it, girl,” he muttered. You know where you’re to be before your guests arrive. You can’t make this mistake when you’re married.”

He didn’t bother to await her response as the front door opened, and the dance began of hats, walking sticks, and gloves being delivered into the waiting hands of footmen.

Alaric stepped in first, dashing in his formal black tails and waistcoat, his brown hair slicked away from his face. He was shortly followed by Aurelian, similarly dressed in his own debonair manner, black hair styled in a fashionable cut.

Yet, after the round of greetings, Ellora caught herself staring at the man who sired her, searching for some hint of any familial love beyond the duty that he was so eager to throw away at the first opportunity.

Notwithstanding her dark eyes, and height, Ellora bore no other resemblance to the Earl. Her chocolate curls were more silken ringlets, like her mother’s golden crown of hair, and her curves seemed to match her mother’s physique as well. At least according to a picture Henley showed her once.

Thankfully, she and her brother bore a more apparent resemblance, otherwise, she would doubt the Earl to be her natural father.

Even so, Henley was nearly a half meter shorter than Aurelian and Alaric’s towering heights of more than two meters, and Ellora had long passed him by a full head. And, while they shared the same pointed chin, he inherited their mother’s corn blue eyes and smaller stature.

While the four men stood around the Earl’s study conversing over their negronis and martinis, Ellora stood at the entrance, so distracted in a fog of collecting details, she barely noticed the dinner announcement.

“Ah,” her father called jovially, although his eyes held none of the warmth. “Wonderful!”

Ellora and Henley briefly made eye contact and shared a smile, but it was immediately noticed by their father.

Scowling, the Earl chided her. “Well, don’t stand there gaping! Hurry over so that we may start dinner. I should think you’ll be paired with Lord Aurelian for dinner tonight. Try to remember how to behave with a man of his status. He is the son of a Duke after all.”

Ellora did her best to hide her frustration with her father’s lack of manners, but she couldn’t help but smile when Alaric took the Earl’s arm with a carefree wink tossed over his shoulder. She was still smiling when Aurelian walked over, and with a slight bow, extended his elbow to her.

“I’m sure you’re just thrilled to be paired with a gentleman of my caliber before your first formal dinner,” Aurelian murmured, his green eyes sparkling despite his perfect mask of mock politeness.

Ellora pasted on her own serene smile. “I’ve always thought it best to resolve any bugs on the test run, so, you’ll do nicely.”

Aurelian coughed to cover his laughter, and nodded politely towards the attentive Earl as he pulled out Ellora’s seat.

“For the beautiful young lady to my right.”

Ellora flushed as she thanked him, wondering at the pretty manners he was pulling out when it was just her. As she placed her crisp white napkin in her lap, she also puzzled over the seating arrangement, which was different from what she submitted to the butler earlier.

Usually she was seated between Henley and the Earl, with Aurelian and Alaric across from her. Tonight, she found herself across from Alaric, while Henley had taken her usual place on the other side of the Earl. Before she could decipher the meaning, the soup was served.

“What a lovely floral arrangement,” Aurelian loudly began. “I’ve always enjoyed chrysanthemums, but it’s rare to see a white and yellow combination, especially at dinner. It’s quite cheery.”

“Er, yes. Quite cheery. What are some of your other favorites?” Ellora skirted the subject, as her father nodded in approval and gave his attention to Alaric.

Aurelian looked at her askance as he leaned in, murmuring. “If we are truly to have an evening of such mundane chatter, then at least permit me to get to my second glass of wine.”

They chuckled in mirth before falling into easy conversation. What followed of the meal itself was forgettable, but Ellora would never forget Aurelian’s attentiveness, nor their laughter as they discussed everything from horse saddles, to farming cycles, to law.

It was so diverting, that on several occasions, she nearly forgot it was to be her last evening in Sunderland. Nearly.

Despite these being their usual topics of discussion, they were subjects she rarely held at dinner with her family, and on more than one occasion, she looked up to find the Earl scowling at her. Yet, for once, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

At one point during the meal, the Earl called out to the two of them. “What do you go on about over there?”

Ellora glanced at the Earl. “The medicinal properties of dandelions, Father.”

He nodded approvingly, as Alaric, ever the rogue held up his hands in front of the two of them as if he were fitting them in a camera. The telltale click from somewhere on his person, let everyone know he’d actually taken the picture, and when the Earl uneasily started, Alaric laughed.

“Don’t worry, Lord Chiswick, I’ll be sure to send you the photo of my dear cousins. Now, isn’t this mousse delightful! I must ask Mother to make some soon.”

The meal concluded not long after, and it was a sad moment when Ellora had to bid good evening to the men. She first said goodnight to the Earl, who brushed her off as he stepped in the drawing room, heading right for his snifter of brandy.

Next, Henley followed. He looked at her a bit strangely when she kissed his cheek, and told him she loved him, but he nodded, thoughtfully eyeing her, and offered to have a talk soon. Ellora smiled brightly as he turned to leave, although her eyes shone with tears.

“Ah, it was a delightful dinner, but I wouldn’t say it’s worth your tears, my dear,” Alaric jested, his pale blue eyes full of mischief.

Ellora fought the urge to give him a hug, extending a hand to him instead. As he took it, she smiled up at him. “One of these days, Alaric, some dear woman is going to tame you, and I will rejoice in your downfall.”

I’m only sorry I won’t be around to see it myself, she thought.

Alaric put a hand to his heart. “You wound me!”

“Good night, old friend,” Ellora smiled as he stepped away. Then it was only she and Aurelian left in the hallway.

He stepped closer, a lock of black hair falling over his forehead as it reflected the soft white lights of the wall sconces.

“Well, I thoroughly enjoyed that meal, Lady Ellora.”

Since she planned the meal, Ellora served the favorites of her brother and two friends. She was, therefore, well pleased by the compliment and genuinely responded. “It was my pleasure, my Lord.”

It was the appropriate response in this situation, however, she couldn’t bring herself to smile as she looked into his eyes.

Aurelian’s eyes, usually either full of mischief, or completely serious when he pondered something, had struck a soft balance she couldn’t recall seeing before. He tilted his head as he considered her.

“Are you…” he paused, before looking away with a shake of his head.

“Am I what?”

For a moment, Ellora thought he was about to ask the question no one had ever dared. She looked up at him, silently willing him to ask if she was alright. She’d pour out everything to him, if he’d only ask.

Yet, after another moment, he shook his head, uncertainty filling his eyes. “I’m sorry, I lost my train of thought. I would like to speak to you tomorrow afternoon, before the ball. Perhaps afterward we may take a walk to the wicker statue and see about throwing arrows.”

Although arrows was her favorite game, Ellora looked at him blankly, disappointed that he had backed away from the moment.

She pursed her lips, ready to bring it up again, when Alaric dryly interjected, “Really, you two. There’s always tomorrow.”

Both Ellora and Aurelian scowled at him so fiercely, he threw up his hands as he leaned against the wall. “Alright! Who am I, after all? Take your time…”

Ellora took a steadying breath, but unusually, Aurelian took her hand in his.

“Thank you for a lovely evening.”

At that, he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and with a playful wink, he and Alaric proceeded into the Earl’s study and closed the door.

As laughter broke out from the room, Ellora, stood alone in the foyer. She glanced around at the empty, high polished, wood paneled walls, and with that, the last weight that tethered her to this place, came undone. She had reached the end.

The next time she passed through that hall, she would be leaving the only home she’d known her whole life. Not as a bride, but as little more than a thief. A daughter who would be stealing the piety due to her parent.

A crime in Sunderland.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.12: When You Bury Your Heart…

The past brings its own revelations...

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Beginning 1 June, Cobalt & Electrum will update every 2nd/4th Wednesday of the month. Subscribe for alerts.

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Previously

⬅️ 1.9: The Seeds of Unease

The services are likely to be held on the back lawn, before the body is escorted to the pyre on the beach. Just as it happened with her mother and the Earl, as she later learned.

Barrow clamps his mouth shut as Ellora tips her hat low over her eyes to avoid the cameras, and silently starts towards the front door, as a stranger would. However, before they clear the first wide wooden step, a holographic footman, complete with green and black uniform, appears in front of them.

‘THANK YOU FOR ATTENDING THE SERVICES FOR LORD HENLEY DOWNS, EARL OF CHISWICK. ALL GUESTS MAY PROCEED DIRECTLY BEHIND THE HOUSE, USING THE PATHWAY TO YOUR LEFT.’

Why isn’t there a guest register? Ellora’s lips purse, and as they proceed on the paved brick path that would take them around the large house, she allows herself to have a good look at the place.

The rolling green lawn in front of the house aren’t much changed. The naked fields in the distance lay in wait for the planting season to begin in a few short weeks, but the smoke from the mills in the distance indicate work is still going on as usual.

That in itself is unusual, and seeing it draws a full frown from her. Upon the death of the Earl or close member of his family, all work should come to a halt as every member of the county attends the services.

As they come around the side of the house, they’re met with a sea of people dressed in various colors. A prayer is being offered by a man on a black dais, so with a roll of her shoulders and a grim set of her mouth, Ellora joins with everyone else in bowing her head.

Near immediately, she recognizes the man offering the prayer as one of the Administration’s Agents. Cedric? No…Henric.

Her father smelted copper, silver and electrum near his mines at the foothills of the Cers Mountains. It often meant he needed to transfer large amounts of the processed material to town before it could be shipped off to the highest bidder.

Having an Administration escort would scare off the less desperate bandits, and Henric Brown along with several other Agents, was usually assigned to escort him to the port at Chiswick Admin. Now the older gentleman wears the hunter green and black badge of the Chiswick Chief Agent.

From her vantage point at the rear, she can’t see those who are seated towards the front of the crowd, but there is still plenty to see. For besides the members of the smaller Administration class, there are also many from Agriculture, and several other classes.

Keeping her head down, Ellora surreptitiously scans the crowd, easily identifying several others who have grown older and more grey.

Like old Mrs. Farnes, the baker from Geraldines, or the pet shop owner, Mr. Eberheart, from the Cat’s Meow. There’s also the Jessup’s son, Thomas from the alfalfa farm, and Mr. and Mrs. Norman from the Sippy Pub on 4th.

Seeing the older couple immediately takes Ellora back to the times when the Earl would be at the capital of Bristal for a Council meeting, and Henley would take her out for a ‘ride.’ Occasionally, they would end up in Chiswick Admin for a bite to eat, and after enjoying a meal with Alaric and Aurelian in a corner booth at the Sippy Pub, he’d whisk her home, their father never the wiser.

Ellora gasps from the stab of pain that runs through her at the memory. As she looks towards the dais and the hunter green casket that sits just below it, she can’t hold back the anguish that fills her.

Oh, Henley. Did you really fall off that balcony?

As Chief Agent Brown concludes, an announcement follows that a receiving line will be set up for those who are interested in viewing the body before the program commences at the pyre on the beach.

At that, voices swell around Ellora and Barrow as a line quickly forms, with several others forming groups to discuss the service or what ever suited a person’s fancy apparently.

As the line inches forward, the view to the front becoming clearer, Ellora glimpses those standing beside the casket to accept condolences. The first is a little balding man, not particularly tall or short, and dressed in a black tailcoat jacket, with the hunter green and black striped waistcoat of the house steward.

Judging from the freshness of the uniform and his vacant, almost sullen expression. Is it because he needs to find a new position, or something else? Either way, he must not have worked for Henley long.

The line moves, Ellora and Barrow included, and that’s when she gets her first view of a familiar face. The old land steward, Carl Hammond, stands near the casket, his usually erect posture crumpled in on itself as his white hair waves in the wind.

“Poor man,” someone whispers nearby. “He was the one to find the body. He’s so broke up about it.”

“Such a shame…the Earl was so young..and to think there’s not a single heir..”

Ellora’s heart aches as she watches Carl weep beside the casket. If only she could hug him.

Glancing away, she immediately dismisses the thought. Any break in character could betray her identity and, even now, there are sure to be eyes searching the crowd for her. Until she knows what their motives are, she plans to stay well hidden.

The line again moves, and for a moment, her eyes catch on a pair of pale green eyes—eyes she would know anywhere. The laugh lines are new, but they sit under the same thick, straight brows, in a sun kissed face both familiar and strange.

His black hair, still longer on top, is cut much closer on the sides, and the formerly straight nose has a slight bend to the left that speaks of a break suffered in the last ten years.

The gently rounded cheeks of a young man just coming out of youth are now the chiseled lines and jaw of a man in his mid thirties. His full lips, still impossible to sketch, remain unchanged, except…now they faintly turn down as those sea glass eyes narrow on her.

The line shifts, and the green eyes disappear behind a mob of mourners. Ellora takes a gasping breath, giving Barrow an almost imperceptible shake of her head when he presses towards her.

Swallowing around the emotion that steals over her as she recalls the last time she saw him, the hazel contact lenses do double duty to stem the flow of tears that threaten to break free…

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.11: That Starless Night…

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Previously

⬅️ 1.8: Ah. The Smell of Nostalgia

“You lookin’ for that other lot? ‘Cause you won’t be findin’ ‘em ‘ere.”

The barkeep’s rusty wheeze of laughter, breaks through the din of raised voices and masculine laughter.

Ellora studies the round, curly haired barkeep as Barrow responds. “Sorry?”

It’s a lively Saturday afternoon at the Tipple Toddle pub, or Tito’s as it’s more affectionately known by the locals.

After catching the train into the town of Cillian and storing their baggage in the upstairs rooms Brennen secured for the ‘gentleman’ he worked for, Ellora and Barrow set up at the end of the deliberately darkened bar.

Nursing their pints of Apple Soda beers, they idly watch the comings and goings, as miners sit, scarfing down their meals, and day drinkers balance their mugs of ale so as not to lose a precious drop to the aged wood floors.

Back and forth, they shuffle between the bar and their nearby posts against a banquette. At least, that’s what they appear to be doing to the undiscerning eye.

However, Elden Curtis, the barkeep, hustles down the bar, serving drinks, chatting with patrons and shining glasses, while his narrowed gaze appears to miss nothing. He could be of use to them.

Elden no doubt noticing the surreptitious glances they tossed his way, glides to their end of the bar, looking between Barrow and Ellora with an expectant air.

With a shake of his dirty blond head, he flicks a towel over his shoulder and leans across the bar, leather suspenders straining to contain his bulk.

“That other lot from Guilder. They was in ‘ere an hour ago. Gone off to ‘ave a look they say. I asked ‘em if they meant at the funeral, but I reckon you lot are after somethin’ else ain’t it?” He looks at Barrow and Ellora suspiciously.

Barrow lazily rests a cheek on his fist as he yawns in an easygoing Guilderene accent. “That don’t matter to us. We ain’t from Guilder.”

“Anyway, ain’t none of my business,” Elden shrugs.

Ellora, raises a brow, considering the man. Dressing as a pair of idle Guilderenes, but denying it when asked, was always the plan. Due to the natural mistrust Derlish people have of their neighbors to the north, most people would leave them alone, figuring they were up to no good.

The fact the barkeep connected them to another party of Guilderenes he’d seen earlier wasn’t a surprise. Yet, something else he said unsettles her.

“Eh, what funeral’s s’posed to be going on today?”

Elden’s gaze shifts between Barrow and Ellora with renewed suspicion.

“Aye, you chaps must be fair new to town. The young Lord of Chiswick from the next county over. The saddest thing—‘im ‘aving died recently. Done a lot for ‘is community, that one. Funeral should be just starting by now.”

Ellora’s heart thuds as the barkeep speaks. Upon reaching the pub, Brennen hadn’t received a message from the second agent as expected and went to scout around. Now to find out the funeral was taking place without her…

A finger of unease crawls through her scalp. Still, she nods, maintaining an even expression, as she roughly calculates the distance to Chiswick Estate. It would be an hour by train, but even a carriage hire would take about half an hour.

After Barrow swipes his palm over the scanner to settle the bill, tipping Elden handsomely, Ellora can feel the barkeep’s watchful gaze on their backs as they dodge through tables and exit the establishment.

Barrow is hailing the carriage hire through his CHIP cuff before they silently step into the cool air on the quaint streets of Cillian Town. Dozens of afternoon shoppers scurry along both sides of the Main Street between the short rows of shops, with their dark blue signs lit in gold LED lettering.

Yet, Ellora, mind spinning with details, sees none of it as the carriage arrives and she steps up into the blue interior. Almost immediately, the carriage jolts off at it’s top speed. She can only hope she isn’t too, late.

Quickly dashing off a message to Brennen, she informs him of their change of plans. He’ll continue waiting for word from the agent, if there’s any to be had. If he doesn’t hear anything within the next hour, he’ll meet up with them in Chiswick.

“I’ve got a bad feeling—“

“Not now,” she sharply shakes her head, as she sends off a flurry of messages.

When he draws his narrow eyebrows over his gunmetal gray eyes, pursing his lips, she glances up, catching his eye with a nod.

He’s known her long enough to guess she already has a plan. She’ll make it clear at the right time. The best thing he can do now, is rest. He’s never been good at waiting.Uneasily shifting in his seat with a sigh, he gazes out of the window. “Well, since we have at least a half hour before our arrival, you may as well answer some questions.”

Raising a fluffy black brow, Ellora gently rubs at her jaw. Although they work stupendously, prosthetic facial hair is always so itchy. Yet, even that isn’t quite as uncomfortable as the hazel contact lenses. She frowns, turning her attention to Barrow.

Even as he stares out of the window, nervously drumming his fingers on the blue leather bench across from her, she already knows he’s searching for something mundane to keep her mind off of the matter at hand.

Barrow turns, pinning her with a curious stare. “What’s going on with the clothes? Why do so many wear the same colors? And, what do the other colors mean?”

“That’s easy enough,” she murmurs, letting her eyes drift closed. “Every part of the country is overseen by either a duke, an earl or a baron. Dukes govern the larger provinces they own, earls the smaller counties they own, and barons their own small municipalities. Still with me?”

“Yes,” comes Barrow’s quick reply, “but I fail to see..”

“Patience, good sir,” she smiles. However, in the back of her mind, she resolves to message Marona later about securing a jewelry copyist.

“The titled landowners administer the affairs of the entire State of Sunderland through the Administration Council. Each have varying degrees of responsibility and authority equal to the size of land, and therefore wealth of their domains.

A duke, earl, or baron, may be titled, but may have lost rights to his land through sale, debt, or other criminal deeds. As such, they would no longer be qualified to sit on the Administration Council. That being the case, there are 65 title holders, however only, 52 are also landowners.”

A faint breeze blows through the carriage, carrying the sweet, earthy notes of purple crocus blooms, and Ellora knows they must be crossing into the Aelon Forest, through which Wrexham shares a border with Chiswick.

“The titled landowners have a coat of arms that belong only to them. While only the Lord and his family may display the crest on their clothing, vehicles and the uniforms of their personal staff, the colors of the crest are also worn by the residents of their jurisdiction. The degree to which people will wear the main color depends on the person, but it must be displayed outwardly.”

Barrow hums. “The color of Chiswick must be burgundy correct? Burgundy and gold?”

“Ah, no.” Ellora opens her eyes as the carriage leaves the forest and they enter Chiswick. Just a few more kilometers and they’ll arrive at Chiswick Estate.

Barrow frowns, so Ellora answers his unasked question.

“The colors you saw me in the day we were first acquainted were borrowed, to help further my escape. Chiswick’s colors are hunter green for the color of the crops when ripe for harvesting, and black.

An earl’s coat of arms contains their color with black or silver embellishments. A baron’s, their color and any embellishments that don’t include black, silver, or gold.”

“Well, who decided to make it so bally complicated?”

“I wonder,” Ellora snorts.

As the carriage turns down the coast road that will take them to Chiswick Estate, her eyes drink in their surroundings. This side of Chiswick has more of the tiny row houses that occupy the farms, than the larger stone manors nearer to the towns.

Barrow narrows his eyes. “And what of the dukes?”

Ellora hastily shoves her hands into a pair of leather gloves, resting a hand on her walking stick as the carriage slows on the final curve before Chiswick Estate.

“The color of their crest and gold embellishments.”

His brows go up as he eyes her suspiciously. “So, what Duke’s colors were you wear—”

“Anyway, that explains the colors. The nice thing about them, is that it doesn’t matter which class a person is in, they all have a place, and can feel that they belong somewhere.”

Barrow frowns. “Classes? Sunderland has those, too?”

Ellora shrugs. “It comes with the territory, I’m afraid. It’s an agricultural society, so those of the Agriculture class and those of the Administration class sit at the top, while everyone else is sorted based on how closely their jobs are tied to those classes. For example, in most societies, the Merchant class would likely sit next to the most elite class.

Yet, here in Sunderland, the Artisan class is the second wealthiest class, with the types of jobs that deal directly with converting raw goods into a consumer good.”

“Where’s Brennen when you need him,” Barrow mutters with a roll of his eyes.

Ellora smirks. “So, a wheat farmer in Agriculture class, would make more than the wheat miller in Artisan class, who would make more than the bakers in Merchant and Tech class.”

“But the cost of food wasn’t that expensive at Tito’s.”

“Because the Council sets the cost of everything sold in Sunderland to keep a perfect balance. Every job is tied to a specific salary, so no one goes without the means to provide for their necessities. It’s why the placement assessment is so important. Besides marriage, or promotion, it’s the only way people can move to a different class of work.”

“Must be why it’s so hard to relocate here,” Barrow snorts without a hint of malice.

“The vetting that’s done for residency applicants is certainly very aggressive. The task is even more tedious if a person desires to become a citizen as well.”

Barrow suddenly frowns. “But what of the servants, or entertainers? Isn’t there a place for them here?”

Ellora nods as their carriage nears the driveway lined with the colorful carriages of the Council members.

“There’s no such thing as a servant here. A house may have staff, such as a house steward, or a maid, but those jobs are all salaried. Those workers fall under the Merchant and Tech class, since it covers services. As for entertainers…well..let’s just say some don’t view them as highly as those of other classes.”

Barrow’s eyes flash in mischief. “They think authors are the bottom of the barrel, I’m assuming.”

Ellora double taps her nose with a gloved finger as the carriage comes to a stop at the entrance to Chiswick Estate. “Let’s walk the rest of the way,” Ellora decides, stepping down from the carriage.

“We’re already late, Boss...”

Barrows voice fades away as she idly notes which council members are on hand as they pass the waiting carriages. Taking in the long driveway lined with dogwood trees that gently slope up to the sand stone and dark wood façade of the main house, Ellora blinks in wonderment.

In a month or so these trees will begin blooming, signaling the arrival of Whimsytide and the beginning of planting season.

I’m finally here, but why does this feel so unreal?

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.10: Shades of Grief

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Previously

⬅️ 1.7: Ah. The Smell of Nostalgia

Ellora’s life is shaken up once again with terrible news from Sunderland.

As the ship rounds the snow capped peaks of the imposing Cers Mountains, Ellora watches the grey foam of Netheraven’s waters melt into the cerulean Sunderland Sea.

Even in Havich’s upper city limits, the pollution from the commercial factories outside of the city, coupled with the pollution of the city itself, meant a haze sat over her adopted land most of the year. Occasionally a weather system would produce enough wind and rain to blow the haze out to sea for a day at most, before it would just as surely return.

While it’s been many years since she last set foot in her home country, she had many occasions to see Sunderland at this distance. Her first job on a merchant ship often sailed by when their journey took them West, away from Netheraven, or upon their return.

So now, mixed with the dread of the task ahead and the unknown factors impossible to account for, a small thrill passes through her at the thought she’ll be setting foot in familiar territory once again.

Ellora closes her eyes, inhaling a breath of salty air as she tilts her head, letting the late Janem sun warm her. It’s been too long since she last left Havich. Febrem in Sunderland is sure to bring welcome warmth and new buds.

Yet, the glad feeling of familiarity, is tinged with sadness. The irony isn’t lost on her that meeting with Sunderland soil again will be just as heart rending as the parting.

Her hands momentarily tighten on the polished wood railings, the memory of sneaking away from Chiswick Estate as the rest of the house slept, blurring together with the saga of making her way to Carlisle to pay someone to smuggle her through the Cers Mountains, before finally catching a ship in Morpeth bound for Havich.

It’s not a memory she cares to entertain, not with what lays ahead. No. Once everything is settled in Sunderland and she’s safely returned to Havich, then she’ll unpack all the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

When the Marianne sails closer to land near the Cape of Wrexham, Ellora can make out the Earl’s house on Chiswick Estate. Yards of black crepe are draped from the the old peaks and parapet, indicating a death in the family. The land steward, Carl, must have hung it.

Throughout Ellora’s childhood, the maids, footmen and stable boy frequently changed, often without notice. Whether it was due to the Earl’s violence or by design, Ellora never knew.

However, the one constant was the Earl’s faithful land steward and good friend. Carl was always kind to Henley and Ellora, sometimes giving them candy when their father wasn’t around. She still can’t taste cinnamon without fondly remembering him, as he was a welcome respite from the Earl’s constant correction.

Whatever their issues with the Earl, Ellora didn’t imagine Henley would have fired Carl upon the Earl’s death several years ago. He not only had a wealth of knowledge of Chiswick, but also several surrounding municipalities and counties. He would be an asset in anyone’s hand.

With a sigh, she makes a mental note to meet with Carl to see what can be gleaned about the recent goings on.

Ellora knew this wouldn’t be an easy trip, but seeing the house again hurt in new ways. Besides the history of it all, she had truly lost her dear Henley.

He only would have been 36 in August, yet, he’ll never again walk those halls, or ride to the bluff to see a ship like this one pass by.

Henley may have been quiet compared to his friends, but he laughed often. A true feat considering their hard taskmaster of a father.

As the Earl’s progeny, nothing less than the best would suffice. If Ellora had a hard childhood, then Henley’s had been downright torturous as the Earl tried to mold the young boy in his image. Not an easy task when the youth literally failed to live up to the Earl’s stature.

Still, Henley worked hard, overcoming many of the ‘failings’ the Earl labeled him with, so that he was no less educated or physically adept than any of the Dukes’ sons.

If he failed to saddle his horse in a timely manner, he would often be seen in the stables every morning before the sun rose, speed running the process on his horse, Bobsy.

If he failed to ace an astronomy exam, the night watchmen, would often see him stretched out on the back lawn all night, with a notebook and pen. And, he did it while silently taking anything the Earl threw at him for his ‘betterment.’

Unfortunately, that same stoicism was the reason why Ellora continued to be abused. The first time the Earl punished her with the Leash, Ellora had gone straight to Henley.

At the time, his fourteen years seemed so much older. She just knew he could help her. As she lay in bed recuperating, she grasped his hand, begging him to help her.

When Henley sadly shook his head, telling her to just listen to their father, little Ellora burst into tears. She did her best to listen, but there were always new rules that she didn’t know existed until they were broken. What could she do?

Henley had no other answer for her, although he did sneak a bowl of ice cream to her later that night. Unfortunately, he led by example and followed that same advice—to be obedient and hope it was enough. It was the only protection he could provide to her.

Thus, Ellora learned not to tell anyone about her punishments, to hide the bruises, and pretend as if everything was normal, until it eventually became her normal.

What she realized much later on, was that Henley was a child himself, doing his best to navigate a world of violence. Neither of them deserved the abuse they suffered over all those years.

And now, Henley’s gone after barely having a chance to live a life all his own.

When the ship is about 30 minutes from docking, Ellora turns away from the rail. She doesn’t know what awaits her in Chiswick, but she owes it to Henley to figure it out.

As the door swings open when Ellora enters the cabin to change, the fresh scent of the sea still clings to her.

With Barrow fast asleep on the sofa, Brennen is entertaining himself with a holographic cooking competition projected from his CHIP wrist cuff. He merely grunts in acknowledgement before his eyes slide back to the action.

Ellora proceeds to the bedroom, hurriedly changing into her clothes and applying her facial prosthetics. The First Officer is just announcing debarkation will begin shortly, when Ellora steps from the bedroom, tossing her valise on the now empty sofa.

Brennen is no longer in the room, and Barrow eyes her from where he stands at the sink, drinking deeply from his flask.

Ellora’s chest is so tightly bound under the white cotton work shirt, no one could assume she was anything other than what she presents as—a man.

Yet, if that weren’t enough to throw a skeptic off track, then surely the long, brown leather frock coat, square toed, knee high bucket boots, and shaggy black beard also tell the story. She tugs on the long black wig, trying to evenly set it on her head.

“How does it look?” She asks, her voice pitched as deeply as she can muster beneath the voice masking tape at her throat.

Barrow shrugs, giving the cap to his flask an extra twist. “That’s an awful lot of pouches on your boots, and I’d prefer the blonde wig, but this will do…Sir.”

Ellora rolls her eyes, crossing to the small wardrobe near the door to retrieve her leather waist pouch and low top hat. Picking up the black walking stick, a critical piece of outer wear when in Sunderland, Ellora flippantly doffs her hat at Barrow before slapping it on her head with a smile.

“Let’s be on our way then.”

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.9: The Seeds of Unease

Ellora’s secret quest brings back old memories as she gets underway. What clues will she uncover in her past?

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Previously

⬅️ 1.6: In The Room Where It Happened

Ellora’s life is shaken up once again with terrible news from Sunderland.

2238, 31 Janem

When sunrise quietly steals over the smoggy Port Town of Morpeth the next morning, Ellora, Barrow and Brennen are already ensconced in their cabin on the Marianne, waiting to set sail.

“I still don’t like it, Harley,” Barrow grumbles yet again.

He pushes his chin length chestnut hair away from his face, as his brother Brennen grunts in response. “What if you’ve underestimated everyone, or your memory is failing you? You’re getting old you know. That’s bound to happen.”

Before Ellora can respond, the First Officer makes an announcement that all CHIPs, regardless of size or material, should be sealed in the Faraday cages in everyone’s cabins, or lockers to ensure the massive electromagnetic field the ship is about to generate doesn’t fry anything.

As he concludes that they’ll be pulling away from port within the next five minutes, Ellora pours a cup of tea from the pot when a low hum begins in the MHD propulsion room below.

“Barry darling, you’re older than me, so now who’s old?”

“Only by six months,” Barrow scowls, as Brennen shakes his head in response.

Ellora smiles at Barrow. “Do you see this? Even your brother agrees with me for once!”

Brennen arches an eyebrow combatively, raising a muscular arm to tap on the table twice.

She smiles in concession. “Ok, ok! Brennen mostly agrees me. That has to count for something.”

Brennen nods, satisfied with Ellora’s answer as Barrow growls in frustration.

“I just don’t like this idea of you being in such close proximity of these men, even if they are family friends. You haven’t known them in 10 years. People can change, and let’s not forget we’re flying blind. We don’t know who to trust at the moment. There’s only so much Bren and I can do if you get yourself into a bind.”

Brennen grunts in agreement.

“Et tu, Brennen,” Ellora sighs.

A smirk fills his face as he shrugs with a grunt. Barrow doesn’t seem to notice any of this as he continues.

“What if you and I get married, Harley? We could solve the problem and then take off to Gypsum for a honeymoon. I make a mean Margarita.”

Even Brennen’s eyebrows stretch towards the sky as they look at Barrow askance.

Barrow’s gaze skates between them with a dismissive shrug. “What? I’m just tossing out ideas here.”

Ellora sits her tea down, arching a brow. “I’m going above deck to watch the sail away. I’ll return before we dock to get changed.”

With that she leaves the room in a swirl of white and grey skirts, slamming the door behind her.

Barrow glances at Brennen and startles at seeing his brother’s scowl. “What?”

Brennen sighs, shaking his head as he swallows Ellora’s untouched cup of tea in one gulp. “You, dear brother are an idiot.”

Throwing up his hands in frustration, Barrow jumps to his feet, his cuffed boots tapping on the wood floor planks as he crosses to the large window overlooking the grey waters of Morpeth Harbor.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood. You know as I do what the heart can do. I just want to protect her.”

Brennen steeples his fingers together, shrugging his oversized shoulders. “At all costs apparently.”

Barrow snorts. “She’s our sister, Bren. I haven’t taken complete leave of my senses. I just don’t know what’s gotten into her lately. Her risks have always been, well, a bit on the wacky side, but this…she can’t go in there without a backup plan.”

Brennen sighs. “You do know she’s hurting emotionally. Henley was her brother.”

As the ship begins moving, leaving a trail of foam in its wake, Barrow turns away from the window. “Whom she hadn’t seen in over 10 years. How close could they have been?”

Brennen shoots him a hard stare hard.

“Why are you so chatty today?” Barrow asks irritably.

“Because you’re obviously missing the point. Have you ever known Harley to take risks when they didn’t involve things or people that were important to her?”

Barrow opens his mouth to speak, then thinking better of it, he slams it shut.

“Besides. 10 years is nothing,” Brennen says thoughtfully. “If we stopped speaking today, and I needed your help 10 years from now, who wouldn’t you kill to get to me?”

Heaving a sigh, Barrow throws himself over the small sofa, all wiry arms and legs. “Their bones would never be found.”

Brennen nods. “It’s also obvious their separation had a severe reason. You remember the state of her when we first met. She was a wreck. It was obvious someone had knocked her about, and not that deckhand, for the wound on her face had already bruised.”

“Aye,” Barrow acknowledges with a sneer. “I recall.”

They fall silent, remembering the moment they first clapped eyes on the formidable beauty slinking around the seaport terminal until it was time to embark. A woman nearly as tall as they, tends to leave a mighty impression.

Brennen had been the one to nudge Barrow, who immediately decided he would be acquainted with the young woman.

Yet, in the press of people at boarding time, he lost sight of her. It was pure happenstance they were in the same line, which thinned considerably when a new line opened nearby.

As Brennen and Barrow waited, papers in hand, they were only separated from her by two people. Barrow nudged Brennen when he once again caught sight of her burgundy cloak just ahead.

The trip from Morpeth Harbor around to Havich Harbor would take about eight hours, and Barrow fully intended to spend the time getting better acquainted with the lass—with her permission, of course.

When the people ahead of them went to another crew member for processing, Brennen and Barrow stepped up just as Ellora reached the crew member.

It quickly became apparent she had no identification, and the red haired crew member began looking at her suspiciously. He asked increasingly pointed questions, agitating the girl further.

They watched as she slipped the man a small velvet satchel, and when he slid a few jewels out of the bag and stealthily looked around, Barrow and Brennen pretended to be engrossed in the ship’s rigging.

Still they noticed when the scruffy red head leaned in with a leer. “Is it just you, Miss?”

With a sharp shake of her head, she thankfully responded, “No. My traveling companion is already onboard.”

The crew member didn’t look convinced, but he waved her through. “Alright, Miss. Welcome aboard then.”

Brennen and Barrow were next, and they no sooner settled their matters before they looked up and noticed she had again disappeared.

After walking around the ship for a couple of hours, Brennen and Barrow had nearly given up searching when a flash of burgundy descending to a lower deck caught their attention.

As they descended the stairs, the sounds of a scuffle could be heard, and they happened upon the girl and the crew member just as her cry of desperation rang out.

The crew member had managed to get her off her feet, but if the cut above his eye were any indication, she had surely given him a fight. Brennen and Barrow had surprised the man before he could get any farther in his evil plan, and they made quick work of him.

Leaving him tied up in his quiet corner, and being thrice assured that the beauty, named Ellora, was unharmed, the three of them reached above decks as a dart tourney was beginning.

The two being expert darts men, Brennen and Barrow volunteered themselves, expecting the extra coin from the prize money would come in handy in this new part of the world. Several rounds later, darkness had fully descended, and they left the ship without another sighting of Ellora.

It was years later before they met again. At the time, Brennen and Barrow were being chased through the streets of Indulgence by the King’s Agents.

They had just made a delivery to one of the wealthier households in the area, when they were misidentified as a pair of escaped criminals. Seeing a large crowd gathering in front of a tall, fancy building, they slipped inside themselves to disappear.

They found the marble and gold lobby teeming with women, whom they stood head and shoulders above, making it easy for the King’s Agents to identify them through the large windows.

They were being put in electromagnetic cuffs when Ellora pushed through the crowd to see what was going on. Taking a look at each of them, she told the two Agents that she had just hired Brennen and Barrow as personal security.

The Agents had laughed in her face and said it proved nothing, and they would still be arrested.

Ellora amazed them all when she proved the two men couldn’t have been in prison until the night before, because their hands were a deep purple from boxing Aubersase a few days before.

“As everyone knows, it takes several days for the color to disappear from the skin. Now unless you would have us believe our benevolent King has turned to feeding one of the most expensive fruits of the land to common criminals, you will release these men and go find the real culprits.”

The Agents had looked at her unsure of what to do until she authoritatively looked at the two of them and shook her hands. “Well, what are you waiting for! As you dawdle here, all of our lives grow more endangered by the moment!”

Brennen and Barrow were swiftly released, and with a sharp look from Ellora at a red headed woman watching the proceedings from her position at the top of a grand staircase, the music resumed and the crowd went about their business.

The two brothers were grateful to Ellora and Marona, and with their innocence established, planned to see themselves out. Yet, when Ellora pulled them into a little office nearby, she told them she meant every word she had said.

If they were willing, their jobs as personal security at that Ladies Social would be permanent. It would mean taking on some risky assignments that may skate the boundaries of legality, but none were law breaking.

The two men immediately agreed, and got to work. They quickly learned just how intelligent Ellora could be, although it was many months before she eventually told them how she knew they had indeed been boxing Aubersase.

Truly, they found in Ellora’s company, not only work they could be proud of, but a home, and a lifelong friend. Which is why they would do anything to protect her.

“Knowing Ellora, the only thing that would keep her away from her brother is love,” Barrow acknowledges as the ship sways beneath them.

Brennen, confident his brother has gotten the right perspective, merely nods, dropping the subject.

As Barrow settles into the sofa, he pulls out the tiny silver compass he wears on a leather band around his neck, he opens it. The old heirloom was a gift from their father, and usually brings the memory of the painful loss back to mind. Still, as he worries his lip, he can’t help feeling if Ellora feels even a fraction of how he felt the day he buried his father, then she’s in a great deal of pain.

“If worrying what the future holds for Ellora in Sunderland will protect her, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Brennen raps on the table twice in agreement.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.8: Ah. The Smell of Nostalgia

Ellora’s secret quest brings back old memories as she gets underway. What clues will she uncover in her past?

⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

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⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Previously

⬅️ 1.5: In The Room Where It Happened

Ellora’s life is set to be shaken up once again.

“I’m so hungry, darling! What are you having for dinner?” Ellora asks, hoping Marona isn’t in a nostalgic mood and the answer is sandwiches or something as equally unappetizing.

“Curry chicken, spiced potatoes with cauliflower, and pickled veg.”

Ellora’s dusky eyes sparkle in delight. “Looks like I came on the right night! Yes, please! Oh, and ask Cookie for an extra large slice of chocolate mousse cake. Lots of whip!”

Her dear friend chuckles as she waves a hand over her CHIP pad, swiping through a few menus.

An hour later, the plates are being cleared from the dining table, when Ellora steps through the French doors to the outdoor terrace. She’s lounging on the cream sofa, gazing at the looping river reflecting the winking lights of the city 16 floors below when Marona joins her. The soft gold lights throw Ellora’s face into relief, and Marona smiles as she perches on a round chair.

“You know, you look so different now compared to the day we met.”

Ellora smiles faintly, the corners of her mouth forming laugh lines. “Well, I reckon so, darling. You do remember the grueling schedule of ship life. And, I don’t think either of us kept an ounce of fat in the face of the mountains Havich sprawls over.

We climbed these hills for at least a year before we moved to Severton, and could afford to spend money on public transport. I still have fat cells too terrified to look my way after those grueling treks.”

They laugh, remembering the early days. After working nearly every job there was to work on a ship and finally getting their residency, they returned to Havich only to realize there was still a long way to go.

“I still can’t believe that first dump required a whole year’s rent upfront,” Marona grimaces.

Ellora’s smile fades as she shakes her head. “We did the best we could with what we had at the time. We still do.”

Marona studies her a long moment. “We received a message from Mrs. Hollingsworth. She’s grateful you were there to help, and she’d like to stop in and express her thanks one of these days.”

Ellora nods, but says nothing. The fact Marona is outside with her and not off reading or tinkering with something is proof her friend knows something is going on, and is treading lightly.

“How’d you know that Tyne wouldn’t take the car service Mrs. Hollingsworth sent for her?”

With a soft shake of her head, Ellora rests her head against the cushions. “Too rebellious. It was obvious from the length of Tyne’s visit, and the fact it falls over no festivals or special occasions, that the girl was being sent here as a form of punishment. After all, a five month stay is a long time to be away from family, especially after completing her schooling.

It was likely for behavior her parents would have considered unmanageable. If it were substance abuse, they would have personally escorted her to check into a rehab facility, not sent her here in her own Sky-V. Meaning whatever it was, remains in Guilder. Either she fell in with the wrong crowd…or the wrong man.”

Ellora rolls her neck around, hoping Marona is satisfied with the explanation, but Marona’s brows rise in anticipation.

“Fine. After seeing the girl in her flapper dress, I immediately knew the answer. A look at her ankles, her fatigue at walking through the streets, and quick check of her pulse when I helped her into the carriage hire proved what I suspected. The girl is pregnant.”

Marona gasps, sitting forward. “No!”

Ellora grimaces in confirmation. “Judging from the looseness of the dress…she’s likely four or five months along already. Her father must want to avoid a scandal at home. If anyone can keep a secret, it’s another court official.”

Marona anxiously drums her fingers as they fall into a contemplative silence, the sounds of the city rising from far below them. Long after the sun has disappeared over the distant mountains, and the stars have begun twinkling overhead, she finally clears her throat.

“So,” she begins, shooting Ellora a meaningful look.

Ellora shakes her head. “Save it for the War Room.”

Marona sits up abruptly. “What’s going on?”

Ellora unpins the black crocheted hair net for her bun, releasing her waist length brown coils as she massages her scalp.

“Aren’t you going home?”

Ellora takes a shaky breath. “You know it’s too stuffy in that part of the city. I’ll stay here tonight, if that’s alright?”

Marona shrugs nonchalantly. “Who am I? I just live here.”

Ellora chuckles, half heartedly tossing a pillow at her friend.

Marona scoffs in mock outrage as she catches it, and crossing to the sofa, she sits beside Ellora. “No, really. You come here and interrupt my perfectly edifying book, disturbing my plans for this evening, then you won’t even tell me why.”

Ellora arches a slender brow. “Edifying? Am I to truly believe you were lounging here, a bowl of Netheraven’s finest clementines at hand, blushing over a book titled, My Pet Goat? Stop with the holographic book cover filters already. They don’t work. You could come up with better titles yourself!”

Marona scoffs. “Well! You try to help a friend out, and this is the thanks you get!”

Ellora quietly eyes Marona for a moment, before slowly folding until her head is in the lap of Marona’s wool joggers. She rests, completely still until Marona gently runs a hand over her hair.

“Henley died, Ro.”

Marona gasps, wrapping her arms around her much taller friend, as Ellora shudders, her tears coming hot and fast.

“Oh no! Oh, I’m so sorry, Harley! When? What happened?”

Ellora can’t speak for a few minutes as her anguish is poured into Marona’s lap. After several false starts, Ellora blows her nose in the hanky Marona pulled from the sleeve of her hoodie.

“Evening, two days ago.” Ellora’s voice, hoarse from tears, strains with emotion as she dabs at her eyes. “I received notice from one of my people that Henley fell from his balcony and suffered an accidental death.”

Marona’s hands still on her back as she sucks in a breath. “Oh, that’s horrible! I’m so sorry.”

Ellora nods in acknowledgement, trying to staunch a new wave of tears. “Yes….and not wanting anyone already embedded in Sunderland to expose themselves, I immediately sent an agent to act in my behalf and make the arrangements for Henley’s services.”

“That’s good. Good thinking, Har.”

Ellora shakes her head, red eyes earnestly fastened to Marona’s face. “I thought things were quiet when I hadn’t heard back from my agent by yesterday afternoon. He left from the Port Town of Morpeth.

Even if he couldn’t get passage directly to Chiswick Admin, and had to sail past it to the Port Town of Hexham in Wrexham, he should have long arrived by that point.

Around nine o’clock last night, I got word from one of my people that he’d sent an urgent message to Levitt.”

Marona closes her eyes, expelling a long breath. “Meaning it was an in person register.”

Her eyes fly open, their hazel depths distraught as she looks at her friend. “And, that means the situation was so dire, the information couldn’t be trusted electronically.”

Ellora gives a brief nod. “It’s why I practically flew to Levitt this morning, to wait for the register to arrive with the intel. It’s worse than I feared, Ro. The agent has gone missing, and at least one of my people feels they’ve also been compromised.”

“You fear Henley’s death may not have been accidental…”

Ellora nods once, her eyes narrowing on the lights of the building across the boulevard.

“Then..it’s likely a trap,” Marona grimaces, coming to the same conclusion Ellora had hours earlier.

“I’ve made arrangements to travel with Brennen and Barrow tonight. We’ll sail from PT Morpeth at sun rise and should make PT Hexham by midmorning, if there are no weather delays.”

“Where will you stay?”

“We’ll stay in the Town of Cillian in Wrexham. If that fails, we’ll move to the Town of Harlow in Carlisle. Less convenient than staying anywhere in Chiswick, yet necessity and my gut dictate caution.”

Marona’s lips thin in displeasure. “Alright. Well, I can put someone in charge until—”

“No, you’re needed here, Ro,” Ellora firmly shakes her head. “We have to play this close to our chest. Besides our little team, no one else can know I’m in Sunderland. And, this…could take longer than any of us are prepared for…”

As a cool breeze pushes them together, Marona nods. “You have a plan. What’s the pain point?” It’s spoken as fact, born of years of seeing how Ellora operates.

“I had more time at that CHIP café than usual while I waited this morning. I was able to get my research done, and I’m pretty sure I have an in…but,” she sighs. “You’re not going to like it.”

Being right brings Marona no satisfaction, and she hikes a brow to respond, when their CHIPs simultaneously alert them to someone at the front door.

Ellora stands to greet their guest as Marona groans.

“You invited Ani? You know she’s over the top. She’ll have you dive bombing the place for information.”

Ellora smiles as they proceed through the kitchen. “She is pretty consistent, isn’t she? Trust me, we need Ani for something like this, but if you want to go on a dive bombing mission just say the word.”

Marona shakes her head, smiling wistfully. “If I go in, who’ll be here to call the King’s Agents? Someone has to go on NewsFeed and weep for you.”

Ellora chuckles despite her melancholic mood. “There won’t be a need for national weeping…as long as everyone plays their part as usual. War room?”

Marona nods grimly. “I’ll grab the boys and meet you there.”

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.7 Ah. The Smell of Nostalgia

Ellora’s secret quest brings back old memories as she gets underway. What clues will she uncover in her past?

⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Cobalt & Electrum is periodically updated every 3rd/4th Friday of the month. Subscribe for alerts.

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⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Previously

⬅️ 1.4 No Damsels in Distress

While on a grave errand to the seedy part of Havich, Ellora comes across a young woman visiting from the neighboring State of Guilder. Is it an innocent meeting, or is this a trap in the making?

The Edification of Local Ladies Society Headquarters, Netheraven

“You barely made the connection at Luxe,” Marona chides, as Ellora steps off the lift in the white marble entry way.

Ellora peels off her gloves, placing them in her hat as she hands them to the maid Marona insists on keeping.

“Yet, here I am, safely returned, with not a scratch on me.”

Marona shakes her copper bangs out of her eyes as she glances up from her perch on the ivory sofa. Ever perceptive, her gaze skims the curls Ellora set in fine coils and rolled into a tidy bun at the nape of her neck, instead narrowing on her friend’s drawn face.

Something’s wrong, but trying to pry anything out of Ellora before she’s ready to share is a pointless exercise.

“If you had missed Tyne at the station, it would have been weeks before we had another chance to secure the Education Minister’s support.”

Ellora shrugs off her black tail coat, revealing the white lace of her shirt waist blouse and black string tie.

“There’s plenty of time for that.”

“At least tell me you blew her away with your brilliance.”

“I’d hardly call it brilliance,” Ellora snorts. “Let’s just say she was sufficiently impressed. Barrow was even spared the need to attempt stealing her luggage. Pity. I could use the exercise.”

Walking around the rotunda which houses a grand staircase to the rest of the flat below, Ellora asks, “Where are the illustrious pair anyway?”

Ellora’s two personal security guards, Brennen and Barrow, were her first acquaintances after leaving her father’s house. Having saved her from grave harm, the moment she was able to repay the favor, she had them hired on at the Ladies Social, where she and Marona still toil their days away.

“They arrived just before you. They’re downstairs watching a cricket match.”

Glancing downstairs, but not seeing anyone, Ellora crosses to the sofa. However, before she can set foot on the cream and grey rug, Marona cries out, “Ah-ah! Shoes!”

“You Guilderenes and your strange home rules,” Ellora huffs.

“Dirt! Germs!” Marona points at each boot emphatically.

Chuckling, Ellora drops onto a nearby bench, which she suspects was deliberately placed for this exact purpose, and begins unlacing her knee high black and gold boots.

Marona eyes her through the holographic book she was reading. “You truly refuse to use Casper’s help.”

Ellora steps out of her boots and stretches her stockinged feet.

“A footmen touching my foot? I think not! As long as I have hands, I’ll do it myself.”

Marona waves a hand over her CHIP pad, closing the book as Ellora launches herself at the much slighter woman for a hug. As she straightens to sit crosswise on the sofa, Marona eyes her, guessing such a mood could only be brought only by something happening back in Sunderland.

Both Ellora and Marona were on the run from terrible situations at home, when they met each other by chance in a squalid little inn off the main boulevard in Levitt. Neither were familiar with the area, but Marona, having come from a poor family of Sky-V greasers in a moderate city in Guilder, was quite a bit more street savvy than Ellora.

Having watched the innkeeper attempt to flirt with an oblivious Ellora before attempting to lure her into ‘seeing’ a room, Marona approached with the intention of offering some service. Yet, one look at the masked terror in Ellora’s eyes, and Marona knew she was wrong.

Ellora knew precisely what was happening, and she needed help. Thankfully, Marona has never been above a bit of acting.

“How did you lose your way, girl! I told you the inn across the street! Now come on, we’ll be late—” she managed to take hold of the girl’s arm, before they were brought to an abrupt halt.

“Just a minute!” The large balding innkeeper with a thick accent cut in, a meaty hand wrapping around Ellora’s other arm. “I already have business with this woman. If you’re trying to recruit her, do it elsewhere.”

Despite being considerably shorter than the girl in need, Marona rose up to her full 160 centimeters, and summoning all of her pent up outrage from years of abuse, she screamed.

“Help! This man is accosting my sister! Help us! Help!”

“Stop! Wait!” The man nervously cried, looking around at the eyes that were now pinned on them in the dimly lit lobby.

“Wait a minute! We can discuss this…maybe come to some agreement!”

Marona pushed back her green pageboy cap, and put her fists on her hips. “What kind of agreement would I possibly come to with someone like you? Now sir, will you unhand my sister, or will I have to relieve you of your hand?”

Both he and Ellora looked at her in wide eyed amazement as he immediately dropped Ellora’s arm, and Marona escorted her out, still yelling about the crooks in that town.

When they got outside, Marona whispered, “Run!”

After they fled several streets over, dodging carriages and passersby alike, they collapsed against a building, sucking in great gulps of air.

“What—what—means do you have?” Ellora huffed. “What means do you have to sever a hand?”

Marona stood up as her own chest heaved. “To sever what? A hand?”

Then as realization dawned, she laughed. “None! Sometimes you have to bluff.

They exchanged names and, quickly taking a liking to one another, they agreed to share a room for the night.

Marona told her it could only be for one night, however, since she would be leaving for a merchant ship in the morning. A distant cousin had mentioned the ship was in desperate need of hands as they would be traveling to far away Samuz.

“However, the pay is more than any other ship, since it’s a one year contract.”

“A whole year?” Ellora sat up dismayed. “That means I won’t see you again in a long while. If I’m still here. The process for asylum seekers is quite long, and I’m not sure what kind of work I’ll be able to do to support myself until I’m approved.”

Marona scratched a foot with her heel as they lay in the small bed, their white cotton nightgowns reflecting the light from the advertisements playing on the holographic video panels across the street. “What kind of work did you do back home?”

Ellora nervously shifted under the thin wool blanket. “I don’t have a work history yet, but I know a little of everything. I can do anything if someone is willing to give me a chance.”

Marona scowled in the dark, knowing the likelihood of stumbling across some kindly benefactor is generally nil. But not wanting to discourage her new friend, she hummed.

“Is there anything you want to do in particular?”

Ellora hesitated before blurting out, “I’ve always wanted to be a writer.”

She waited for Marona to laugh at her as Henley did, or scoff as her father often did. Marona did neither.

Instead, she half sat up. “You’re a writer? Tell me a story. Anything that you’ve written.”

Ellora slowly started off telling her about the formidable Captain Adair, one of the first pirate stories she’d made up as a young girl. Still, as the story built, she was so enthusiastically involved in the telling, that Marona sat up, leaning towards her in absolute suspense until the very end.

As the story concluded, Marona flopped onto her back expelling a large sigh. “Now, that is a story! You have to write it! It’s so good!”

Ellora laughed giddily as Marona went on. “Truly! The dashing captain, the faithful steward Edwards, and the alluring Janine! This should be a film!”

“If only it were that simple, dearest Marona.” Ellora collapsed back into the flat pillow she had folded over, pondering what tomorrow would actually bring. “The reality however is quite bleak. Tomorrow you’ll be gone on your own high seas adventure, and I’ll be…here.”

Marona dejectedly collapsed against her own pillow. “It’s awfully dangerous here. Don’t you know anybody?”

“No. The two young men who helped me on the journey over disappeared before I could thank them. You’re the first nice person I’ve met since stepping off the ship I came on today.”

“Ugh. It’s so unfair. You’re going to be spinning tales here, while I’m going to be trapped on a ship, unable to hear more stories until I return in a year. If that…”

Ellora froze. “‘If that’? Do you mean it could be longer?”

“Well my cousin who runs the galley on the ship says if I stay on for three contracts in a row, the shipping company will sponsor my residency. I’ve been thinking, if this year goes smoothly, I might stay on the whole three years.”

“Oh.” Ellora swallowed thickly. Despite their brief acquaintance, they had truly bonded over their experiences that day.

“I’m happy for you,” Ellora managed to sincerely express.

“Then, what’s wrong?” Marona asked intuitively.

“It’s nothing. I finally made my first real friend, and now we’ll be separated so cruelly. But, I’m genuinely happy for you. At least you’ve found a way.”

However, in that moment, Marona was also working the problem, trying to help the girl who seemed to have less money than herself, if that was even possible. And, when the solution occurred to her like a thunderbolt, she abruptly flung herself to Ellora’s side of the bed, her eyes bright.

“Why don’t you come with me?” She blurted.

Ellora frowned at her friend. “Wh-hat?”

Marona leaned over Ellora to turn on the bedside lamp. The small circle of light barely illuminated the tiny threadbare room that could only be called a bedroom, for a bed was all that fit in it.

“You can write in your downtime while on the ship, and sell your stories in ports. By the time we finish three runs, we’ll have residency and can settle down here.”

Ellora sat up in excitement, her face ponderous. “That’s not a bad idea! However, I don’t want to use my real name. If I start publishing books under my real name, I could be found by my father. I can’t allow that to happen.”

Marona shrugged. “Then, use a pen name. You can even go by that name when you register to work on the ship. That way, there won’t be a problem with your residency and taxes. Just think! A whole identity change. A fresh start!”

Ellora thought for a moment. “I hadn’t considered changing my identity. If I do..my books would truly be mine, and my father’s name wouldn’t be on them. I rather like the idea of their success or failure being all my own.”

“Makes you feel independent, doesn’t it?” Marona smiled.

“Stone,” Ellora whispered, a stillness overtaking her. “It’s my mother’s maiden name. That’s the name I’ll use.”

Marona nodded, her copper hair bouncing in the ponytail atop her head. “Ok…that’s a good last name. What will your first name be?”

Ellora’s face fell, as she seemed to be overcome with sadness. “I have a brother— Henley..his name means High Meadow…”

Marona rested a hand on her friend’s arm. “You—you want to go by Meadow Stone?”

The question seemed to snap Ellora out of her nostalgia, for she playfully gagged.

“There’s no way! But…I always thought my parents missed an opportunity not naming me Harley. It means Hare’s Meadow.” She nodded decisively. “Harley will be my name.”

“Harley Stone.” Marona slowly nodded approvingly. “I like it! Watch out world. Here comes Harley Stone and Marona Soren!”

“Indeed!” Ellora flashed a white grin before leaning over to turn the light off. “Now to sleep! Our adventure awaits!”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.6: In The Room Where It Happened

Ellora’s life is set to be shaken up once again.

⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Cobalt & Electrum is periodically updated every 3rd/4th Friday of the month. Subscribe for alerts.

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⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Previously

⬅️ 1.3: No Damsels in Distress

While on a grave errand to the seedy part of Havich, Ellora comes across a young woman visiting from the neighboring State of Guilder. Is it an innocent meeting, or is this a trap in the making?

Ellora smiles as she gently shakes her head. The girl’s naïveté reminds her so much of her own when she first arrived to Havich.

“I’m Tyne, by the way. I don’t know why the skyport is so far away from the central part of the city. Wouldn’t they want to make it more convenient for everyone?”

Tyne may not know it, but she’s treading terribly close to questioning the King’s decisions. If she were overheard by the wrong sort, it could land her in a heap of trouble.

So, instead of delving into the socioeconomic considerations of supplying a skyport for those wealthy enough to use it, without it polluting their neighborhoods or causing them to travel to the seediest part of the city, Ellora hums, turning to look out the window.

Sunlight floods their car, a flowery scent permeating the air as they cross the official border into Indulgence.

The tall, yet elegant stone buildings reminiscent of the Neo-Renaissance and Haussmann eras of architecture, aren’t nearly as tall as the skyscrapers they left behind in Severton. As a result, parks dot the landscape between buildings, where the abundance of sunshine allows trees and flowers to thrive.

Unlike middle class Severton, which hosts the business and financial districts, Indulgence is top-tier. It’s the only place a person goes for luxury goods, gourmet dinners at five diamond restaurants, and sumptuous spa experiences.

The tell-tale shimmy of the car as the funicular crosses the bridge over Valiant River indicates to Ellora that they’re approaching the glass cocoon of Luxe station.

Readjusting her hat, Ellora stands, watching the blur of faces on the platform as the cars slow in the station. Glancing at Tyne with a smile, she bids her farewell. “Have a happy holiday here in Havich, and remain vigilant, young miss.”

Tyne’s brows rise as her eyes widen in response.

A series of loud beeps indicate their arrival as the announcement is made: Now entering Luxe Station. Mind your step as you depart!

When the doors open, Ellora takes a few steps into the crowd, only to be stopped by a hand on her elbow. Reflexively gripping the hand, she spins, twisting the wrist.

Tyne cries out in surprise, and Ellora immediately releases her, raising a brow.

“You startled me, Tyne. Are you alright?”

“I-I’m alright. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, rubbing at her wrist. “I only want to ask how to get to the green line? I don’t see any signs.”

Taking the girl by the arm, Ellora shuffles them out of the main flow of traffic.

“You wish to go to Peerless?” She quietly asks.

Tyne nods. “Yes, it’s where my aunt lives.”

Peerless, a gated community for the upper echelons of society, sits at the top of the city. If Tyne’s aunt lives there, she’s certainly related to one of the King’s ministers.

Ellora glances around to ensure they weren’t overheard, before nodding. “Follow me.”

Climbing the steps to exit the funicular station, they cross a short bridge and take a lift three floors down to the ground level. It’s a warm day for late Janem, but as the afternoon sun begins to set, the chill in the air promises a cold evening.

Tyne does her best to match her steps to the much taller woman, and as they round a gusty corner finally manages to catch her breath. “Where are we—”

“The only place higher than Peerless is the Palace, where the King lives behind its well guarded walls. If a person attempts riding the green funicular without prior clearance to enter either place, after paying a hefty fine, they would swiftly find themselves being escorted down the mountain by the King’s Agent.”

Dodging the self driving stagecoach buses, and the various sized self driving carriages and imported hovercars rolling by, they briskly cross the street. Continuing past several fancy shops, Ellora finally stops in front of a grand white stone building and greets the doorman.

“Would you mind hailing a carriage hire? Blue,” she adds.

The uniformed doorman doesn’t bat an eyelash, although he gives Tyne a curious once over before he pulls up the holographic menu on his CHIP tablet. Swiping through the menu only he can see through the octacle lens that glows red over the pupil of his eye, he makes his selection.

“It will be three minutes, Miss.”

Ellora thanks the man and turns to face the broad street as Tyne sidles up to her. “Why an SDC? Why not an HV?”

“Because, carriages are what people use in that part of the city,” Ellora responds, casting a wary eye around them. “If you want to seem suspicious, try showing up in anything else.”

“You seem on edge,” Tyne whispers as she looks around at the clusters of shoppers ambling around them. “Is this also a sketchy neighborhood?”

With her mouth tightening in pity, Ellora steps closer to her, speaking in earnest.

“You seem like a darling girl, so let me offer you some free advice. It’s never about the neighborhood, dear Tyne, as it’s never buildings that do horrid things to people. It’s the people you must keep an eye on. So, do be mindful of what you share, and who you decide to take into your confidence.”

Tyne beams as she proudly informs her, “I knew enough to turn down the offers of a carriage hire at the skyport that weren’t in the designated stands. And, I made it to the funicular alright. I just needed a bit of help getting to—”

“Is that so?” Ellora narrows her eyes on the young woman. Leaning in, she whispers in her ear.

“Then, why do I know your name is Tyne Reader, you live at A50 Hocking Rd, Stetson, Guilder, and you’ve just arrived in your Sky-V to stay with your aunt who lives in Peerless, meaning she must be related to one of the King’s ministers?”

Tyne steps back with a gasp, as she loudly exclaims, “Why that’s incredible! She’s married to—”

Ellora interrupts before she can finish her sentence. “Don’t be absurd. Those are the most obvious things you communicated to me yourself. Even your address and name, Miss T. Reader, is stitched into your valise. I didn’t get to your pet cat, or your father’s relationship to his sister, your aunt. The point is, I know so much about you, but you know nothing about me.”

As the Blue self driving carriage arrives, the only type of carriage hire permitted to go between Indulgence and Peerless, Ellora opens the door for an open mouthed Tyne.

Tossing the young woman’s leather valise on the opposite seat and swiping her hand over the scanner, she pulls out her gold CHIP pocket watch. After scanning her palm over it and adding a few inputs, Ellora looks up.

“Now, this carriage will take you straight to your aunt’s house, but it stops at the East gate for identity verification. The AirServ will scan the carriage and your face, but you’ll also need to swipe your palm over the gate scanner. You should be fine since your aunt will have added you to their guest list.”

Ellora moves to close the door when Tyne calls out, “Wait! How do you know where I’m going?”

Ellora pauses with a sigh as she glances at the passersby. “Look, Tyne. This is not the place to trust people easily. There are more who would be interested in accosting, or ransoming you for large sums of money than you would be comfortable knowing about. There are also other, far worse outcomes for a young lady such as yourself—like being sold into slavery.”

Tyne gasps, drawing a hand to her mouth as Ellora continues.

“Remember, unless you know someone personally, and they know the name of your cat, keep identifying information to yourself at all times.”

Closing the door, she gestures to have Tyne lower the window. “It’s a white long hair right? Probably goes by Fluffy, or Snowball?”

Tyne laughs, “How did—”

“Never mind,” Ellora grimaces. Will the girl never learn? “Please stay safe, and give my kind regards to Minister and Mrs. Hollingsworth.”

She lifts her watch to send the carriage off when Tyne calls out. “Whom shall I say is sending their regards?”

Ellora smiles. “Harley Stone.”

Executing a perfect bow, Ellora waves a hand over her watch, sending the Blue away. The smile quickly dissolves from her face as she straightens to watch it go.

“EllsBells,” she softly commands.

Her watch vibrates as her CHIP activates the audio patch.

“HOW MAY I ASSIST, MISS STONE?”

“Send this message to Ro. ‘Girl intercepted and en route.’”

Then, with one final look around, she melts into the crowd and disappears from sight.

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.5: In The Room Where It Happened

Ellora’s life is set to be shaken up once again.

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⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Previously

⬅️ 1.2: When All Else Fails

While hiding from her father, Ellora overhears him reveal a terrifying secret—one that involves her very future. What will she do?

2238, 30 Janem

Havich, Netheraven

“Quit yer gumming before I give you somethin’ to cry about,” an unkempt blonde woman in a purple frock shouts into the face of a foul smelling fellow.

People rush by in the cold, musty gloom created by the surrounding skyscrapers, seemingly unbothered by the quarreling pair in front of a squalid ale house and barbers.

The man’s threadbare coat falls open, revealing the stained, baggy work trousers only held up by a tired pair of red suspenders. These are further strained when he drops to a knee in the rarely swept street.

“I ain’t meant nuffin’ by it, love. Was just wantin’ me a bit o’ fun,” the man slurs with the winking swagger of a man who knows the script well.

“I’s had enough of yer drinkin’! The only thing you’ll be gettin’ round here is a kick in the trousers! Now take yer junk and go!”

Through the audio patch behind Ellora’s ear, the soothing voice of her CHIP (Communication Holo Intelligence Processor) pings: MISS STONE, RAISED VOICES HAVE BEEN DETECTED IN YOUR AREA. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO PLOT AN ESCAPE ROUTE?

Ellora shakes her head once, her long, black leather, steampunk tailcoat swirling around her trousers as she sidesteps the pair in the bustling street. Behind the veil of her black riding hat, she skillfully avoids eye contact with either one, but she knows better than to completely disregard them.

Her CHIP pocket watch acknowledges her unspoken command by buzzing twice from her hip, as she keeps the couple in her peripheral vision.

Tilting the brim of her hat lower over her eyes, she abruptly crosses the street to the shabby stone funicular station. As soon as an empty car becomes available, she scans her palm twice over the scanner to indicate she’s taking the car alone.

Through the audio patch, her CHIP announces: ∞2,000 NA COINS SPENT @ KLINKO FUNI STATION.

The door slides shut behind her as a man groans aloud in disappointment that he’ll be late for his shift.

“Miss, do ye think I’s could ride wit ye?” he ventures pitifully.

It’s been a long time since Ellora has been that particular shade of fool. She silently takes a seat on the cracked, yellowed bench, places a gloved hand over the leather cuff at her wrist, and turns to stare out the window at the building across the sloping street.

With two beeps, the red funicular signals it will be leaving the station in two minutes. The man hisses a curse before scuttling off to find another victim.

The long sustained beep that follows two minutes later, signals the ten cars are leaving the station. With a few loud pops and hisses, the magnets on the undercarriage activate, levitating the cars as they begin moving up the side of the mountain.

As building after building and street after street whizzes by, Ellora exhales, grateful for an opportunity to close her eyes for the eight minute ride.

Despite the fact Levitt was the first place she lived when she arrived ten years ago, it remains one of her least favorite neighborhoods within the city of Havich. Without a passport, it was nearly impossible to receive permission to stay in the State of Netheraven.

One could either throw themselves on the mercy of the King and seek asylum, or work on a merchant ship for a few years to pay off a sponsored resident portfolio.

Both options meant staying out of sight of the King’s Agents until your figurative or literal ship came in. Unfortunately, there’s only one place in all of Havich that grants that kind of anonymity.

The people of Levitt may be lovely when you get to know them, but the King’s Agents’ constant raids on the criminal element that love to burrow there made it a dangerous place to live. Naturally, those with no other choice but to live there became more guarded, constantly on alert for trouble.

The time Ellora spent there was certainly formative, and the lessons she learned in those early years made it possible for her to move about this new world.

Still, only the most serious errand would carry Ellora back to the dark and grotty underbelly of the city. And, since the errand was in regard to her former identity, which remains known only by her two best friends and her two loyal personal security guards, she couldn’t very well send a servant to carry out the deed.

A gentle, earthy smell wafts into her car through the ventilation system, indicating the funicular is close to the next station. Ellora slowly opens her eyes.

The last weak traces of sunlight are breaking through the tops of the smog covered, lower level buildings being left behind in the swift ascent. At this level of the city, any amount of sun that reaches the otherwise darkened concrete walks and promenades is a gift.

The gaps between the densely packed mid-level structures allow a few trees to sprout in the sparse patches of sun that manage to stretch through the glass and chrome. The few winking green plants already make a difference in the feel of the neighborhood.

Ellora stands as the train of cars pull into the next station in Severton with a series of loud beeps to indicate their arrival.

Now entering Carrine Station. Mind your step as you depart!

The chipper announcement is drowned out by the din of people shuffling onto the funicular as it prepares to return to Levitt.

Two gentlemen dressed in the black sleeveless coats and purple sashes of the King’s Agent, idly watch Ellora as her gaze sweeps the yellow funicular across the busy platform. Quickly crossing over, she scans her palm on a scanner and steps into an already occupied car.

As two beeps fill the train platform, Ellora sits down across from her coal haired companion with a nod. The young woman, not more than 18 or 19 years old, eyes her nervously as she smiles in return before looking out the window.

Dressed in an ill-fitting, pastel pink and yellow flapper dress with a matching valise, she has the air of someone who’s likely just landed at the nearby skyport from the State of Guilder, or another state farther north.

Because the World Forum hasn’t done much to regulate skyports and personal air vehicle travel, it’s a sensitive topic, no matter which state you’re in.

Member states like, Dugan, Aven, and Sunderland are keen to protect their people and agriculture from as much pollution and danger as possible. These have statewide no fly bans enacted in their airspace.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Member States like Merica, Nippon, and Guilder fully embraced personal light air vehicle technology, or Sky-Vs, over two hundred years ago. Since then, Guilder has made great strides in the industry as it sought to promote sky travel.

Despite the numerous traffic incidents and environmental reports indicating the health concerns associated with Sky-Vs, Netheraven opened their first skyport here in Havich five years ago. Now a second, more luxurious one is due to open next year, in the Indulgence neighborhood.

As a long, sustained beep indicates their exit from the station, the magnets activate under the carriage. The young woman’s eyes widen when the car levitates and begins ascending the mountain through the skyscrapers.

“This is incredible!” The woman’s excited exclamation fills the car, her guard slipping as a bright smile spreads across her face. “We should get this in Guilder!”

The corners of Ellora’s mouth tip up, not quite smiling. “Did you just land at the skyport?”

“Yeah. I’m here visiting my aunt.”

Ellora nods in response, but it’s hardly noticed by the young woman, enamored as she is, watching the glass sky scrapers of the middle class neighborhood gradually fade into the beautiful large white stone buildings in the wealthy part of town.

Feeling an unusual surge of protectiveness towards this wide eyed young woman, Ellora asks, “Why didn’t your aunt send someone to pick you up?”

The young woman giggles. “Well, she did, but I thought it would be fun to get to her house on my own. Like I told her before I left, if I can fly all the way here, I can find her house by myself. So, when I landed at the skyport and saw my CHIP being pinged for a location by a chauffeur, I got so mad that I just left! We have to have our own adventures, am I right?”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.4: No Damsels in Distress

Will Ellora assist this young stranger, or is there another game afoot?

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⬅️ Previous Chapter /|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Previously

⬅️ 1.1: When All Else Fails

While hiding from her father, Ellora overhears him reveal a terrifying secret…

Ellora carefully leans towards the banister, peeking through the spindles.

Henley stands near the large window, wide shoulders slouching dejectedly as the light of the setting sun catches in his dark brown curls. Although he doesn’t share the Earl’s height, his diamond checked, hunter green waistcoat fits his muscular figure identically.

The Earl hitches a hip on the arm of a leather armchair as he faces his son, wide nostrils flaring in his sun-darkened face. If it weren’t for the sharply tied white cravat pinned at his throat, and the expensive silk of his green paisley waistcoat, his casual bearing wouldn’t suggest he was born to be a member of the Administration Council.

It would be a perfectly accurate estimation.

Born in the wealthy Agriculture class to a loyal farmer who worked heirless Baron Cromwell’s land, the old Baron had taken an interest in young John.

The teen was a quick study, so he taught the young man the skills necessary for running a property. As a result, when John passed his assessment after completing his studies, Baron Cromwell gave young John the prized role of Land Steward. A role that would have gone to his own son if he had one, or a more experienced farmer.

John, being a keen fellow, squandered neither knowledge nor opportunity, using both to ensure the Baron’s small municipality thrived. So, much so, that when the Baron died, he willed his title and property to the young man.

John’s elevation to the Administration class thus secured a marriage match for him with the only daughter of the Earl of Chiswick. Unfortunately, a title doesn’t imbue it’s holder with pretty manners, as Ellora and Henley well know.

The Earl often remains in breach of some social sensibility, and must be reminded by his peers to be less boisterous in his advocations at Council House, where the Administration Council meets for their monthly sessions. He still has the violation letters to prove it.

“Ah,” Henley points towards a book tucked into an arm chair with a sheet of paper peeking out. “Is that the invoice you’re looking for?”

The Earl slides the sheet of paper out with a toothy smile. “So it is!”

Ellora leans away from the bannister, silently thanking Henley as the Earl questions him while they stroll from the library.

“I heard you managed to secure Baron Sedgwick’s land at the eastern border? That’s wonderful my boy! I shall make it part of your sister’s dowry…”

As the voices fade into silence, Ellora remains still until she is reasonably certain her father won’t return. Then, moving carefully to keep her dress free of her heeled, white lace up boots, Ellora shoves the book of herbal medicine that she’d been reading back on the shelf.

Jumping to her feet, she flies down the stairs and out of the library. She only slows to give the appearance of decorum, thus avoiding the unnecessary gossip of the maids reaching her father’s ears.

As the large door of her cream and gold bedroom shuts behind her, Ellora collapses against it, her heart still thudding in her chest. Despite the airy atmosphere of the high ceilings and golden light streaming through the tall windows, she struggles to catch her breath.

I’m to be married in a few months?

Her stomach begins churning as the horror of what she’s heard crashes through her mind once again.

When did her father plan to tell her? Why hadn’t he already?

The chime on her pocket watch goes off as the announcement for dinner rings throughout the large house.

Reaching down, Ellora flips open the flower engraved, gold watch to swipe the palm of her hand over the screen. The messenger unlocks, and after scrolling through her preselected messages to find the right one, she sends it to Henley and her father.

Apologies. I am unwell, and unable to join you for dinner.

Seconds later, her watch pings with Henley’s response.

Feel better soon.

As usual, the Earl doesn’t respond at all.

Crossing to her wardrobe, Ellora steps into the large space, the white lights automatically turning on to cast a warm glow over her chocolate brown shoulder length curls.

The Earl had been adding to her wardrobe over the past few months so that, as an eligible female in her first Whimsytide season, Ellora would be able to attract the eye of one of the councilmen’s sons.

Her heels click on the rich brown cedar tile as she slowly spins, taking in the colorful ball gowns on display.

If the first and last harvest festivals, Bramfolly in June and Brewersfolly in Novem, are for the children, then Whimsytide is like a ten night carnival for the adults.

Hosted in the two weeks between the end of the Administration Council’s planning season and the beginning of planting season, the annual March event is the premier event of the year.

Each of the Council’s ten Dukes host a ball at their respective estates for those of the Agriculture class in their province, and any of the Administration class who would like to attend. Members of other classes may attend, but only by invitation.

Ellora runs a hand down a white and gold satin gown—the colors of the Duke of Kirton. Every Administration Council member has a coat of arms, or family crest with a unique set of colors that identify who they are, and their rank in society.

As a member of that Council, the Earl knows which other members have sons that he deems eligible for marriage. As a result, there’s now a gown to match each of their family crests.

Ellora freezes upon realizing a gown has been added in each of Aurelian and Alaric’s family colors. The Earl’s hubris apparently has no boundary. A bitter laugh escapes, surprising her as it rings out in the large room.

Were she not teetering on the brink of a cliff, she may have spent time pondering the fact that her dearest friends were likely meant to be swept up in her father’s games. Perhaps, she may have even examined the new and complicated emotions the idea stirs in her.

Am I expected to be married before my first Whimsytide? Her stomach heaves in protest.

From the moment Henley and his two best friends came of age and began attending, Ellora had dreamed of joining them.

Every year there were new tales of beautiful women and finely dressed men sipping on bubbly Cham as they danced in their finest attire. How the thought of attracting the attention of a debonair young suitor had thrilled her over the last few years!

Now, those dreams are dissolving around her as fine dust.

In a moment of crystal clear clarity, a heavy stillness descends over Ellora. Usually, there would be anger, the injustice hot in her chest as the need to right the wrong burned within her. Usually she would ride into the storm and wrestle the beast until she could no longer hold out, and suffered the consequences.

Usually she would lose. Not today.

Despite her father’s cruel stance towards her love of learning and writing, Ellora had done her best to be a model daughter. And while she hasn’t been perfect, she has been dutiful and respectable.

Even without the benefit of additional online tutoring, due to the Earl’s rule banning her from the internet until she turns 18, she still managed to complete all of her at home studies a year early.

As a result, at the age of 16, she had nearly a year to study for the placement assessment that every Derlish youth must take, despite her father’s protestations.

Were it not a law of Sunderland, she had no doubt she would have been prevented from taking the year long exam. During that year, the assessment tests every 17 year old student’s knowledge in all disciplines.

Thus all young members of society are given the opportunity to place in a class not their own, and can then work in a field that would be otherwise closed to them.

Therefore, the assessment results, which are announced upon every Derlish person’s 18th birthday, are always a momentous occasion. In nearly every case, a person’s class may only change based on the results of this assessment, a rare promotion at work, or via marriage.

Ellora knew what she hoped for, yet it was too much to dream that she would be permitted to be a writer; a job belonging to the Arts class—the least useful class of society according to her father and many others.

Two days from now, she’ll find out the results of her assessment, but her father’s decision makes it clear. None of it matters, because she won’t be allowed to be a writer, or anything else for that matter. Bitterness coats her tongue as she sees the path laid before her.

She’s to be a wife and she imagines, if this Duke has the ability, she’ll be a mother within a short time.

The very thought sends her running to the commode where she unleashes her luncheon. A few minutes later, weakly easing back on the white marble floor, a body numbing chill rattles her bones as she swipes a hand across her mouth.

I have to get out.

The thought hits her like a punch to the gut. However, it’s a foolish thought, for it always begs the same question: Where would she go?

She has no female companions, and as close as they are, Aurelian and Alaric wouldn’t be able to help her. Propriety dictates they promptly return her to her father, where she may not survive the punishment.

It’s the same problem she always had in the face of abuse. Even if someone believes her, there’s nowhere to go.

Yet, even as Ellora staggers to the sink, the thought grows more persistent with the bold plan forming in her mind. Peering at her ashen reflection in the mirror, she takes stock of her situation.

Whether she stays or not, a dangerous unknown looms. For better or worse, her life is bound to change. If she doesn’t act now, there may never be another chance.

One way leads to a lifetime in a prison of her father’s making. The other could mean actual imprisonment for breaking the filial piety laws if she’s caught, but if she isn’t…

She may not know what a life of true freedom would look like for her, but she’s certain her life means something, even if its value isn’t immediately apparent. She owes it to herself to figure it out.

She firmly nods, as conviction swiftly fills her with courage.

She’s just one girl, and maybe she’ll fail, living out the rest of her life chained up in a loveless marriage, or an actual prison.

But, this bright eyed girl—the one staring back at her in the mirror—is a girl worth rescuing. And, if no one else can be her rescuer, then it’s high time she steps into that role…

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.3: No Damsels in Distress

What happens when news goes from bad to worse?

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/|\ Next Chapter ➡️

Copyright © 2026 by Ever Blue

All rights reserved.

This book or parts thereof may not be used for AI training, nor be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law and fair use.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Illustration Copyright © 2026 by Ever Blue

Editing by: A Brave New World

This novel may portray themes that could be triggering for some readers. Contains themes of past child abuse and cruelty. Please exercise self care.

Thank you for reading!

2227, 30 Octem

Chiswick Estate, Sunderland

Her father’s heavy footstep striking the polished, red oak floor is Ellora’s only warning that she’s no longer alone in the library.

Guilder! He’s supposed to be in the drawing room having his nightly whiskey indulgence!

Quietly, she scuttles away from the banister, her heart lurching to her throat as she peeks through the black balusters to the floor below.

The anteroom is nearer to the drawing room. If he goes in, he’ll likely leave from there. I could then make a run for it…

When the Earl’s large frame swings into view, Ellora silently kicks herself as she crouches at the base board of a heavy book case.

Lord John Downs, Earl of Chiswick, rubs a beefy hand through his greying dark brown curls, stumbling around the library as he tosses multiple books aside in his search for what his mutterings indicate is a carriage invoice.

As it’s nearly dinner time, he has already delved into his cups, and will be in no mood for a discussion on the merits of a woman improving her mind. Not with his peculiar opinion that women are like flowers: Pretty adornments whose existence only serve to propagate the species.

Just wonderful, Ellora cringes. If she’s again caught on the second floor of the sprawling library, she will surely be put on The Leash. That is, if a replacement has been found. If so, it would be her third time this week in the shock collar.

Ellora’s hand flies to her throat over the high necked cream lace of her lilac day dress, her lip curling in disgust. Although the bruises are fading, her neck is still raw from the last use of the illegal training device.

Swallowing the accompanying nausea as the Earl’s dark gaze passes over the top floor, she flattens herself against the scratchy green carpet. However, the resulting rustle of her petticoats draws his attention to a spot just above her head.

It would be far better to show herself than to be found; yet, the idea of another zap session keeps her firmly in place.

Pressing her round face into the prickly fibers of the carpet, she holds her breath, not releasing it until she once again hears the tell-tale rustling of papers.

‘Ellora strikes again,’ is what Aurelian would say with a toss of his raven curls, if he could see her now.

Alaric, Aurelian’s cousin, would laugh as he continued to sketch caricatures. His pale blue eyes dancing, he’d respond that Ellora’s a genetic anomaly in the fabric of the space time continuum.

“Ellora, it should be statistically impossible for lightning to strike the same place twice, yet you’ve managed it more times than humanely possible. Are you sure you want to keep tempting the laws of biology and physics this way?”

Surely, Aurelian would then hum in response, his own sea glass green eyes sparkling as he pointed out that genetics has nothing to do with the space time continuum. At that point, it would devolve into silly banter where one would try to outdo the other with more and more outrageous claims.

Aurelian would then end the argument by teasing that it was all Ellora the Glitch’s fault, before suggesting she head back to the factory for a reset.

Her brother, Henley, would no doubt stop skipping stones in their pond to laugh at their teasing. This would inevitably cause Ellora to chase the three of them, attempting to kick them in their shins.

After which, the four friends would all collapse in laughter before they either listened to Aurelian play his pocket violin, settle in the grass for a game, or take the horses out for a ride.

Of course, that was before everything changed a year ago, when the Earl insisted she behave as a lady instead of chasing her brother and his friends around. Besides the year the three men had taken off on a world tour after completing their placement assessment, Ellora had always been their shadow.

This new separation was one of the hardest things she’s had to go through. Now, it’s a rarity if she sees them at all. She would give anything to be with them right now.

Despite the seven year difference between her, Henley, and his friends, the three of them had been her closest companions through childhood. They were a true blessing considering her mother died giving birth to her, and there were no female companions nearby to whom she could grow close.

Even with the surrounding counties and provinces, Chiswick county sits in the lonely southwest corner of the State, where nearly all the other nearby members of the Administration Council seem to only want male children.

Based on her mother’s diary, which Ellora once accidentally found in an old chest, she gleaned her mother similarly suffered a childhood devoid of female companionship. Unfortunately, that was all Ellora learned.

When the Earl happened upon Ellora reading the diary, he confiscated it before punishing her with the Leash. She was horrified when she learned he’d burned the diary to keep her from filling her mind with what he called, ’the same fanciful notions’ her mother had entertained.

Likely, when the Duke of Wrexham and the Duke of Carlisle die, with Aurelian and Alaric filling their roles respectively, there will be more children born to that little corner of the world.

Ellora could only hope that all of their children would be able to play together one day. Hopefully, they will be more forward thinking than the Earl, and choose not to elect the sex of the child at four weeks post conception, as so many others had.

Guilder knows, that if the Earl had the chance to do so with her…

Just as Ellora begins worrying the pocket watch at her hip will chime to make the announcement for dinner before she can escape, she hears the tell tale clip of Henley’s boots entering the library below her.

“Father—” Henley starts.

“Enough!” the Earl barks, his booming voice setting Ellora on edge.

“Marriage is what has been decided on, and it will take place in a few months, according to schedule, or I’ll see her imprisoned in violation of filial piety!”

Whose marriage? Ellora scowls in disbelief.

Silence descends as the Earl throws his hands up, carrying on to no one in particular.

“All the girl does is sit around reading books she need not concern herself with. What good does it do her to fill her head with knowledge of administration and law or medicine? Why should she learn how to build violins, or ships for that matter? It’s a waste! And, if she isn’t doing that, then she’s filling pages with endless pretty prose about nonsense!

Twice this week alone, the maids have brought me sheets of hers they found crammed in odd corners of the house. Guilder knows, I’ve tried to bring that child to heel, but, perhaps what I haven’t been able to teach her she will better learn under her husband.”

Ellora sits up in alarm, but catches herself before she can be spotted.

Henley’s voice becomes calm and earnest as he begins what, she imagines, must be another plea. “I agree Father, that Ellora can be quite, er, determined. However, she’s only 18. She’s but a child. Perhaps in a few years the significant age difference won’t be so—”

“Nonsense!” The Earl cuts in crisply. “That’s the exact age your Mam was when I married her, and when Ellora marries the Duke in a few months, she will also learn to be the woman she’s meant to be. After dinner, at the assessment ball we’ll hold for her in two days, the Duke will propose as planned. She’s not to hear a word of this a moment before.”

I’m to be married? To a Duke?

Ellora’s face turns ashen as a sharp chill skates down her spine. She shudders as she considers her father’s words.

But…they’re all old men!

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

➡️ 1.2: When All Else Fails

How will Ellora handle this new bombshell?

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Map Key

Pink= Official Port Towns

Pale Blue= All other towns (Including Admin Towns and the Capital of Bristal)

Brown lines= Rail lines/roads

Dark Green= Forests or reserves

Dark Green over upside down Vs= Mountains

Dark Blue= Bodies of water

Clearly, I need to work on my cartography skills, which currently sit at 0, thanks for asking.

This crude sketch shows how Sunderland is divided up, and that most of Netheraven is in fact the city of Havich, which spread like gangrene, leaving very little in the way of farmland in the rest of the State.

Hm. I wonder if that’s important?

One day, when I’ve increased my cartography skills, I may redo the map. Until then, this will do.

You’re welcome.

EB

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← Previous: Ch 16: AWARE /|\

“Prove it!” Barnes sneers, crossing his arms.

Reaching into my shirt, I pull out what I suddenly know is Gideon’s metal ID tag. He knew it would come to this, and he armed me as best he could.

The lights flicker as my stomach burns with anger. I don’t want to believe it, but, pushing down every feeling that knowledge stirs, I lean forward so that Answorth can read the embossed print.

Barnes whistles as they both lean forward examining it. “Is that why Emeric arbitrarily resigned from BS—”

He abruptly swallows his words as Answorth shoots him a sharp look.

I silently store that information for later as Answorth’s focus shifts back to me. “Are you invoking your right to have your fiancé speak in your behalf?”

It’s the last thing I want to do, but I sharply nod. Right now, the only thing I can do is trust Gideon, or Emeric…whoever he is. I suppress a snort as I pick up the tag and look at it before dropping it inside my shirt once more. The cold metal quickly warms against the flush burning its way up my chest.

Emeric Gideon Wilder. Special Agent Wilder.

Answorth lifts a hand, and moments later there’s a knock on the door before it opens.

Gideon steps into the room, and immediately I feel the calm, with a thread of anxiety laced through it. His hair hair is no longer mussed, his dark sweater and navy slacks are no longer askew. Physically he’s fine, but the set of his shoulders, the grim set of his mouth..it all feels so different, and once again I’m faced with a new Gideon.

Keeping my mind carefully blank, I raise my eyes to meet his own blank look.

“Have a seat, Agent Wilder.”

Gideon’s eyes flash to mine, but I look away before my thoughts burst forth in a rushing torrent of anger, fear and disbelief. Resting a hand on the empty chair beside Agent Answorth, he suddenly switches gears, walking around to my side of the table to drop into the chair beside me.

Even though I don’t acknowledge him, the hairs on my arm stand up at his proximity and his familiar bergamot and vanilla scent.

Agent Answorth raises a single brow. “Agent Wilder, as you’re aware, your fiancée has waived her right of self-determination to you. Do you understand the duty that entails, and that any decision you make shall be binding upon you both?”

“I do, Sir,” Gideon intones beside me.

“As you’re aware, lying in the course of a criminal investigation, aiding a suspected criminal, and falsifying marital status to avoid prosecution is punishable by law. If you’re found to be lying you’ll both face charges. Do you understand that?” Answorth looks between the two of us as Barnes smirks.

Frustrated, I purse my lips as Gideon nods sharply. “We do.”

“It’s my understanding Agent Wilder that you had Miss Barrow under surveillance. Is that true or not?”

A pause, then. “My assignment at BSU was to keep tabs on Other Abled students in my department and report any abnormal findings.”

Answorth nods, pulling up another hologram and scrolling through a series of documents before landing on mine. “Am I to understand, Agent Wilder, that you did not submit all of your findings on Miss Barrow?”

“I did, Sir.”

“You wrote on 27 January that she is confirmed to still be Other Abled, as a Telepathist. How did you confirm this?”

Keeping my feelings out of it, I listen dispassionately as Gideon recounts the moment with the earbuds and the discussion in his office.

“Then, why did you hire her as your Teaching Assistant?”

Gideon doesn’t flinch. “Because she needed the money to continue making it to class. If her car wasn’t fixed, she wouldn’t be able to stay in the program.”

“I see,” Answorth nods before leveling Gideon with his dark gaze. “So, how did we go from that, to getting married, Agent Wilder?”

Gideon looks at me, and despite his masking, I can feel the warmth as he looks at me. “It’s because she’s wonderful. I dare anyone to spend the amount of time with her that I did and not fall in love with her.”

Answorth looks at me. “Were you aware that Agent Wilder had fallen in love with you prior to this moment?”

“Yes.”

“And, how do you feel about Agent Wilder?”

I raise a brow, when I feel Gideon’s leg pressing against the side of mine. Right. I may be angry with him, but to my own chagrin, it doesn’t change my feelings towards him. Still, my voice is quiet when I murmur, “I love Agent—I love Gideon.”

Answorth returns his attention to Gideon. “Were you aware of Miss Barrow’s affections before this meeting?”

Gideon drops his head, but responds truthfully. “Yes, I was, Sir.”

“Why didn’t you report it before today?”

“She wasn’t ready to admit it, Sir.”

“Who proposed marriage?”

“I did, Sir.”

“Were you aware of our recruitment intentions towards Miss Barrow?”

Gideon looks up sharply, “No. Sir.”

Answorth scowls heavily. “That’s wonderful. I’d hate to prosecute you for a violation of procedure.”

“Does this mean the criminal elements of our case have been dropped, Sir?”

“Depends. When do you plan to be married?”

Gideon’s gaze momentarily flicks to mine, before he resoundingly declares, “As soon as possible, Sir.”

My mouth dries and I lick my lips, fighting not to stay in control of my thoughts.

“Ah,” Answorth’s eyes flick to mine. “Perhaps Miss Barrow doesn’t agree?”

“Whatever my fiancé says,” I croak, offering a weak smile.

Narrowing his eyes on the both of us, Answorth sharply nods. “Good. We certainly won’t throw a fellow agent’s spouse in a detention center while we carry out an investigation. However, as Agent Wilder is aware, in cases of this nature, where the nature of the marriage may be questioned due to the obvious benefits involved, there are certain stipulations that must be met. Are you willing to meet them unequivocally.”

Gideon hesitates, looking over at me. Uncertainty laps at the edge of his consciousness.

I may have only just learned his whole name, but I’ve been inside his mind. Even without knowing what he’s thinking now, even without the same amount of time he’s had in my mind, I know him.

So, even if I don’t know what the stipulations are, I offer a little nod. I trust him.

Smiling, he looks up at Agent Answorth and firmly nods. “Yes, sir.”

“And, you, Miss Barrow? Do you unequivocally agree to meet the stipulations required under these circumstances?”

Raising my brows I offer a tight smile. Didn’t I already say that? “Yes, I do.”

Answorth nods, pulls up a document on the CHIP pad and flips it around towards Gideon. “Sign and date the affirmation.”

Gideon doesn’t hesitate to pick up the CHIP pen, and in his large looping signature, signs the document.

After a few pages, it’s my turn. And, after signing the affirmation himself and having Barnes do so, Answorth exits the room with the tablet.

“Think he’ll get you Limoges dishes like he got Bernie last year?” Barnes snorts.

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you,” Gideon says, his eyes narrowed on Barnes’ face.

I didn’t ride with either of them in the LAV on the way over, so I don’t know what the exchange was like, but I’m sure it was just as tense as it is now.

“Relax, Wilder. No one wants your wife.”

I raise a brow, but Gideon doesn’t bat a lash. “I guess you get to live then.”

Barnes doesn’t hesitate to throw his head back in laughter, although I notice Gideon’s face is still a blank mask.

Answorth swings back into the room, resuming his seat as Barnes takes his leave, shutting the door behind him.

“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order,” Answorth smirks. “Do you know where you plan to honeymoon?”

Gideon glances at me with a boyish smile, “I would think that’s all up to the Mrs.”

I freeze. Wha-what?

Answorth’s shark-like grin turns to me. “Surely, you know that’s what usually takes place after a wedding?”

“Right,” I say weakly. “When it happens..I’m sure we’ll discuss it then.”

Gideon slowly turns towards me, but I don’t have time to process the stunned look on his face, because Answorth’s narrowed gaze takes over my vision.

“Surely, you knew the ceremony had to be performed quickly to avoid issue with the department? Otherwise, it could be weeks with you being stranded in a detention center before we got an appointment with Council House.”

My stomach drops to the floor. I..we’re…

I glance up at Gideon who offers me a smile, but there’s a warning behind his eyes.

My breathing becomes shallow as panic begins to build in my chest, each tick of the clock sounding around the room like a crack of thunder.

“Really,” Answorth continues steadily, “it’s a good thing Gideon had already proposed, since we aren’t able to sign off on a marriage if the proposal hadn’t been made prior to arrest.” He offers a sarcastic smile that makes me twitchy, yet Gideon thanks him.

“Does that mean we’re free to go, Sir?”

Answorth nods, but as we stand, something shifts in his eyes. “Of course, you’ll be required to submit proof of consummation within the week. Otherwise, new charges will be reinstated, along with a set of obstruction charges you’ll have no wish to be acquainted with.”

At that the dam of emotion bursts in my chest, and I feel Gideon’s hand on my arm as I whirl towards Answorth, wide eyed.

“What do you mean consummation?” I exclaim, as the lights go out, and the earth tilts. I shut my eyes, fear pulsing through me as I gasp for air.

Gideon pulls me into his arms, and I’m flooded with emotions too numerous to count. But, what feels like seconds later, a still calm settles over us, and I can sense the lights are back on.

“Are you alright, Lolli?” Gideon whispers, his chest heaving against mine. “We haven’t had a quake that strong in a few months.”

I nod, basking in the warmth and calm until I realize I’m hugging Gideon…my lying, secret agent husband whom I’m expected to…

My eyes flash open as I leap backwards, overwhelmed with what just happened. The backs of my knees collide with something, and I tumble backwards, but before I hit the ground, Gideon’s arms firmly lock around me.

“It’s ok, Lolli, I’ve got you.”

As he pulls me up, my heart stops as I blinkingly take in a cream sofa, and several tall potted plants. And, there, on a cocktail table, sits the photo book Gideon’s last wife made for him.

Slowly, I look up into his stunned face as he also looks around, my whole body trembling. “Gideon…what are we doing in your house?”

← Previous: Ch 16: AWARE /|\

This concludes Part I of The Bioquantum Hypothesis. Thank you for reading!

What will Ayla discover when she goes in search of Grey and Quake? Was the vaccine the reason the genetic mutation affected Other Abled people, or was something else to blame? And, what happens when a new declaration is issued at the World Forum Summit that details a diabolical plan to deal with Other Abled people..permanently?

Find out in Part II!

Check out this series update if you want to know what’s happening with TBH!

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← Previous: Ch 15: 53 Minutes Ago /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 17: Seconds Ago

“There was an energy surge last night and today.”

“That sounds like an issue for the solar power company. What’s that got to do with us?” I calmly ask, my eyes bouncing between Barnes and Answorth.

In the 20 minutes we’ve been trapped in this sterile white room, with only a single, one way mirror to break up the monotony, Answorth, strawberry blond hair neatly parted, his dark eyes unrelenting as he silently sits opposite me, has been completely still.

But, Barnes? I think he’s walked across the ceiling at this point. The man can’t stay still.

Yet, now, he pauses, eyeing me suspiciously as the sound of the large clock on the wall ticks away. I didn’t know they still made those.

I stare back. “Well? You’re telling me six federal agents flew out to the rurals to pick me and Dr. Wilder up, and fly us back to Portland, just to check on an energy surge? For what exactly?”

“What were you doing at the time of the surges?” Barnes grits out.

“How am I supposed to know what time the surge was?” I ask, genuinely perplexed.

“1:13 this morning, and again at 12:43 today.”

I raise a brow. Do you normally have an idea of the time at every moment of your day? Because unless there’s something special happening, I can tell you I don’t.

“There must have been something unusual,” he leans on the table.

I narrow my eyes. “Like what? A power surge? I don’t know what it is that I’m supposed to have seen? And, are you questioning everyone in our vicinity, or just the two of us?”

Once again, Barnes begins pacing.

So, I fall silent, carefully blanking my mind as Gideon told me to do. Until Answorth pulls up two pictures on the CHIP Pad, and throws the holograph up to hover between us.

“What were you doing here?” He smoothly asks.

My breath steals away when notice one is a photo of Gideon and I holding hands as we stare at each other. In the other, we’re smiling. The pictures are clear…and looks like it was shot from outside of my window.

I scowl up at the agent. “Are you spying on us?”

Barnes scowls. “The AWARE Act allows us to monitor all suspicious activity by any means necessary.”

My brows rise.

The AWARE Act was signed into law by a special meeting of the World Forum within six months after the first vaccine anomalies began popping up all over the world. As a result, the World Forum Law Enforcement agency was specially created to police…well, the world.

With the backing of the World Forum, there isn’t a single law enforcement agency that operates at a higher capacity. Allegedly, the point was to detect and neutralize the dangers to society who would use their ‘other abilities,’ to bring harm to individuals, Member States or the World Forum as a whole. However, it’s clear that isn’t all it does.

My gaze bounces between Answorth and Barnes. “Since when does that monitoring extend to two people in the privacy of their own home?”

Answorth tilts his head as he considers me. “So, you two have something going on, hm?”

I tilt my head in the other direction. “And, what piece of law entitles you to ask a question about my personal life?”

Barnes slams a fist on the table as he roars, “You think this is a joke? Lives are at stake. Now talk!”

“About what?” I ask calmly. “You cuffed me, scanned my palm, carted me through a building full of armed agents to sit me down and ask about power surges at odd hours. How and why I’m supposed to know about it, you haven’t disclosed. I’ve been sitting here without the benefit of an advocate, although I’ve asked for one, and without a single clue as to what this ‘credible’ threat is that had you haul me in here against my wishes. You talk!”

When Barnes rears back, his face twisting in fury as he draws up his hand to slap me, Answorth holds up a hand, stopping Barnes in his tracks.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my attention switches to Answorth, who stares at me steadily, while Barnes abruptly turns around, grumbling to himself.

I see. Barnes is a decoy. This man, Answorth, is really the one in charge. When I note his lips quirk up, I button up as a cold finger of dread slices through me. He’s the real threat.

“I’m here to help you, Miss Barrow,” he says, almost pleasantly.

I smile sweetly. “With what, Agent Answorth?”

He studies me with a faint smile. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“Why would that be in question?”

“It helps no one if you’re uncooperative. Especially your precious professor.”

I stare at him silently, as he slowly drums a finger on the table in time with the ticking clock.

“Don’t you want to know where he is? If he’s alright? I can have Barnes check on him.”

I smile, but when I don’t respond his face turns cold, calculating. “If you remain uncooperative, you will end up in federal detention indefinitely without a trial. Is that what you want?”

Folding my arms, I close my eyes. My time would be better spent taking a nap.

“You must be tired. Should I get you a blanket?”

I crack an eye to scowl at him. No, but you can get you and your friend a lobotomy.

Answorth presses his lips together, confirming what I guessed. Which means this is a performance. So, what do they want? Why go through all of this?

“According to your file, Miss Barrow, you are Other Abled. What is your ability?”

I cast an innocent look at him. “I don’t have access to my school file. How would I know?”

“Don’t play coy with us, Miss Barrow,” Answorth narrows his eyes. “What is your ability?”

“I’m sure no one ever told me. Beyond my affinity for writing, and giving a back massage that several people have described as life changing, I haven’t developed any other skills.”

Answorth taps out a few prompts on the CHIP Pad before another holograph appears before me.

My mouth snaps shut as I note my ID picture and all of the information listed under my name.

“Ayla Simone Barrow, born 18 May 2094. Height: 1.83 meters, weight: 72kgs…hm. Mother, Sarah Ann Barrow, waitress, Father unknown. Siblings none.”

“Can you skip to the part that tells you why I’m here?” I deadpan.

“Oh, look at that,” Answorth continues scrolling. “Looks like someone has had a run in with law enforcement in the past.”

I raise a brow. “That officer ran over his own foot. I was cleared by dash cam and Skye cam footage.”

He quirks a brow. “So, it would seem. You haven’t had a romantic partner in several years. Is that by choice?”

“That’s personal,” I grit out.

“Ah. Like whatever it is you and your professor do late at night and on the weekends?”

Both men’s eyes burn into me as I tilt my head. “I know pornography has been banned, but if you guys are into voyeurism, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

“Enough!” Barnes interjects acidly. “Do you realize every moment you waste here is a moment that we could be out doing our jobs?”

“Which is what exactly? Also, why am I the one wasting time, when I was enjoying a perfectly good Saturday on my couch?”

“Did you use your ability?” Barnes barks.

I raise a brow. “Is that how you speak to people?”

Answorth smiles. “So, did you and the professor get a little too into your time together? Did you use telepathy, or energy manipulation?”

“I’m sorry…what?” I look between them in confusion. “What’s energy manipulation?”

Answorth patiently nods. “You’re not in trouble. We just need to know what you did.”

“I’m a private citizen,” I sit back, pursing my lips. “What I do in my home is none of your business.”

“Permission to treat as hostile, Sir?” Barnes looks down at Answorth, confirming my earlier suspicion about who’s in charge.

I glance at him dubiously. “You mean you have another level of hostile? Is there like a sub-basement of hostility in there?”

Answorth narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, Miss Barrow. One word from me, and you’ll find yourself in a camp for At Risk Other Abled.”

My eyes widen in disbelief. “Like..a concentration camp?”

“Like a detention facility. One where you will talk, whether or not that’s your desire. And, make no mistake, once you’re in there, you can say goodbye to your precious professor. Your mother too, for that matter.”

They disappear people.

The confirmation causes a chill to race down my spine as I stare into his dark eyes. They aren’t malicious, but sure. He isn’t lying.

“So, you’re threatening to put me in one of these camps..but why?” I ask, my mouth drying at the prospect. “I haven’t done anything.”

Answorth nods. “We suspect you’re withholding information that could put the world in danger.”

“In danger of what?” I exclaim. “I already said I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

For once, Barnes is perfectly still as they both watch me, the sound of the ticking clock the only measure of the silence.

Pulling my sweater tighter around me, I lift my chin. “I need to use the ladies room.”

“The sooner you tell us what we want to know, the sooner you’ll be able to leave this room,” Answorth says, his words clipped. I’ll be able to leave..but, he didn’t say I’ll be able to go home..

My heart begins drumming. “I need to speak to Dr. Wilder.”

Barnes laughs as he slaps Answorth in the arm and hikes a thumb in my direction. “She thinks she has rights.”

Answorth continues his dead eyed stare.

Taking a deep breath, I press on. “Present him, now, or I’m suing your whole department. It’s illegal to detain a citizen without cause.”

“Why should we?” Barnes sneers. “You have no business with him. You have no business with anyone from what we understand. Too busy working to afford your degree to keep up with friends.”

When I raise a brow, he continues. “Ohh, I have no doubt your mother will miss you, but you haven’t been calling much, have you? Doubt she’ll even notice at first. Funny thing is, you won’t need a degree, where you’re going. I can just imagine the experiments they’ll love running on you.”

As his eyes scan me suggestively, I feel the prickle of disgust under my skin, at the same time a wave of hot anger overwhelms me. I automatically look up at the one way mirror behind Answorth, and purse my lips.

The anger was not mine. Gideon’s here.

Cracking my neck, I take a deep breath, as I ignore Barnes in favor of Answorth. “You’re the Special Agent in Charge, correct?”

He nods, the bright overhead lights reflecting in his slicked hair. “I am. So, why should we accommodate that request?”

Without hesitation, I look him in the eye. “Because Gideon Wilder is my fiancé.”

← Previous: Ch 15: 53 Minutes Ago /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 17: Seconds Ago

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← Previous: Ch 14: Down the Rabbit Hole /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 16: AWARE

Have you lost your mind?

Gideon solemnly shakes his head. ‘No’.

It’s adamant, firm. It leaves no room for doubt, yet Gideon’s brow wrinkles as he turns towards me. ‘Hear me out.’

No. I should be panicking. We barely know each other!

Well, I barely know him. Ok, I’ve spent time with him, and I know enough to like him, his personality. But, marriage?

We haven’t gone on a single date. No! It’s worse! He’s my professor!

‘Please, Lolli.’

I scrub a hand down my face. Who would believe this, even if I told them?

When I glance at him, he’s gazing at me tenderly, a thousand thoughts spinning through his head at once. Yet, he carefully avoids shoving his reasoning at me.

I can feel him playing hot potato with the thoughts in the back of his mind, as they bounce around without landing anywhere concrete. Fascinating.

“Fine,” I sigh, before holding up a finger in warning. “But, we are not touching.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgement. “Only with your permission, Lolli. Always.”

My brows rise as I faintly recall him offering his hand, but never touching me inappropriately. “Thank you.”

He rubs the back of his neck as he organizes his thoughts. One by one they slot into place, but I wait for him to tell me. And frankly, I need a moment, because it’s heavy.

“When I lost Debbie six years ago, I really believed that was it for me. I felt like I lost my world. Then, for years, I was locked away, alone with my grief since the world came to a stand still.”

He shakes his head, as he gestures around us. “I had more space than most people, and I still taught classes online. Keeping mentally and physically active helped, but the grief management took time.

I can’t tell you the number of times my parents, my brother and sister in-law, even well meaning friends pushed me to do something. Enter a dating pool, join a support group, anything. Yet, the fact remained, I wasn’t ready to put myself out there.”

I nod understandingly as I feel the conflict playing out in him. The old grief and anger, swiftly followed by frustration and irritation, spills off of him in waves.

“So, I did what anyone would do in that circumstance,” he shrugs. “I went on a few dates, and when they didn’t pan out, because I wasn’t ready to invest, I said I would die a widower.”

My brows rise, but I remain silent as he swipes a hand through the curls over his ears in frustration.

“Your written voice is unique, Lolli, but, you know that. I found your newsletter when I was searching for anything that would help Debbie with the pain during her last two months. Your techniques provided a measure of relief, and your words seemed to leap off the page. So much so, that long after she died, I continued reading your newsletter, because it was a warm space.”

I’m carefully considering what he’s saying, but I fail to see why he’s telling me all of this…

“With others, it didn’t feel right. It was like trying to fit into a shoe that was too small. But, you, this..for me, it fits like a glove, but that isn’t why I asked, Lolli. I know you don’t need me, and I’m not a hero. There’s just..we’re tethered to each other. You know we are, and it goes beyond a genetic mutation. I want the chance to explore it with you.”

“You’re asking me to marry you, so that you can date me?” I frown in disbelief.

He frowns, shaking his head. “No. Somehow, what we have already goes deeper than any other connection.”

‘This is a connection that’s mental, emotional, physical..there’s an intimacy with this, with you that I’ve only experienced in marriage. Yet already, it’s so much more than that. I can’t go forward without that commitment, but I also can’t walk away. I’m just…’

He purses his lips, at a loss it seems, to convey what I already know. He loves me..he believes I love him, so to him, marriage is the next logical step.

Yet, even if I spent the same amount of time in his head that he’s spent in mine, and loved every minute of it, he knows we can’t go there. Not yet.

I rub my eyes, feeling tired. “Gideon, even if I said yes, are you forgetting that you’re my professor and I work for you?”

As appealing as that might be, I’m not delusional. Dating, no less marrying my professor would call my whole degree into question, not to mention his ethical integrity.

“I know,” he says, startling me out of my thoughts. This is really going to take some getting used to.

He shifts in his seat as he looks at me earnestly. “I’m working on that. And, I’m not asking you to marry me right away. If you don’t want this, I’ll accept that. I’ll learn to accept it. But, if it’s something you want too, then I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure you have everything you want.”

“So, the other times I said, ‘no,’ don’t count, huh?”

He smiles mischievously. “The third time is the charm.”

When I smirk in response, he gets serious as he looks at me intently. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave it. Tell me you’ll think about it, and I’ll wait for you. Tell me you’ll have me, Lolli, and see if there’s anything I won’t do for you.”

His eyes blaze with promise and I slowly look away as the heat sweeps through me. “You don’t play fair, Gideon.”

“I only agreed not to touch you. I never said I would control how I feel.”

Oh brother.

I prefer, oh honey.

No one asked you.

He looks at me knowingly as I sigh. “You understand I’ll have to drop your classes. Possibly change Universities?”

He lifts the corner of his mouth. “Say it, Lolli.”

I glance away. “I’d have to go back to Portland to finish my degree. I never wanted to move back there. I’m certainly not going back to California.”

He hasn’t moved, but it feels like I’m surrounded by the warmth that thrums between us. “Say it,” he whispers.

I stand up, taking a breath to clear my mind. The thick socks on my feet are the only padding between me and the cold linoleum, and I’m grateful for their warmth. Doesn’t mean I want to marry them. Does it?

Gideon doesn’t respond. I turn around to see he’s put his glasses back on.

“What are you doing?” I frown.

He lifts a shoulder. “You once said being able to think without other people’s thoughts intruding on your own was a right. I’m just honoring that.”

“How convenient,” I mutter. “You’re still eavesdropping though.”

“Um, no. You know the truth, so now, I’m overhearing. You’re harder to tune out than most.”

Smarty pants.

When he doesn’t respond, I take a deep breath, finally getting the space to think without intrusion. But, oddly, although it’s only been an hour or so of going back and forth, I already miss his voice, his presence in my head. Is this what it would feel like if I refused his proposal and never saw him again?

The reaction is swift, as a sick feeling pools in my stomach at the thought. Ok, we really don’t like that idea.

How did I get in so deep, so fast?

I pause my musings, spinning to look at him. “How far is the connection? At what point don’t you hear me anymore?”

He hikes a brow. “I heard you at the back of the lecture hall, so it’s safe to say it has a good range.”

Ok, so there’s nowhere I can go for privacy. This is what it would be like if we were married. Would I have to go into the woods to be alone?

“Lend me your earbuds.”

I spin around, momentarily stunned that I didn’t think of that. “Ohh. Give me a second.”

Before I can take a step, the roar of two black, government LAVs setting down one behind the other in the lane outside of my trailer can be heard. Four armed men with black and grey weapons proof vests jump out before the blades have stopped whirring, and quickly approach, weapons drawn.

What is this? Is this because of Quake? Is this what Grey and King were afraid of? My heart rate kicks up in fear as Gideon approaches me.

‘Ayla, you need to listen. No matter what happens, you have to keep your mind blank. Don’t think anything you don’t want anyone to know, and don’t read anyone’s mind. No matter what it takes. Promise me.’

What?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“World Forum Marshal service, open up!”

‘Promise me!’

Ok, I promise! My confusion deepens when he pulls a chain from around his neck and drops it over my head. Wrapping my curls around his hand, he tugs them out of the chain as his amber eyes anxiously sweep my face.

‘Don’t take this off. Keep it with you at all times. If you need me. Just shout. I’ll come to you.’

“World Forum Marshal service!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The trailer shakes with the force of the knocking.

“Don’t make us come in there!”

With one last lingering look, Gideon adjusts his glasses, crossing to the door as I tuck the chain into my shirt. When he unlocks it, the door is pushed open and he’s thrown against the closet by an agent as two more come swarming into the room.

“Get off of me,” Gideon growls as the agent slams him into the wall again.

The dark haired one approaches me, holding up a holographic warrant as another checks the bathroom.

I take a deep breath. Whatever happens, we can’t disappear. We have to get out of this in one piece.

← Previous: Ch 14: Down the Rabbit Hole /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 16: AWARE

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← Previous: Ch 13: A Peek Behind the Curtain /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 15: 53 Minutes Ago

As soon as our hands meet, I’m immediately transported like I was when I touched him earlier. But, instead of it being back to that room of pain, anger and sadness from before, I’m back in the lecture hall. Watching things play out from his eyes, from his memory.

When he first heard me speak to myself, he looked around at all of the students, and just started walking.

‘I was drawn to you, Lolli, like some invisible line pulling me closer, until I was standing in front of you. I just didn’t know why.’

As I watch, he asks why I was late to class, but I appear to ignore him, as I didn’t realize he was there until he rapped on the desk.

‘When I saw you were also a telepathist, I realized we had the potential to communicate together, although I had to keep you out.’

He needed to know more. And, after seeing my ID and realizing I was the author of a newsletter he’d subscribed to for years, he was more intrigued. When he learned I needed the money to fix my car, he offered me the TA job.

But, since you were blocking my ability to hear your thoughts, why did you continue spying on me, Gideon? Did you plan to come clean?

Although he hasn’t moved, warmth steals over me. Several scenes flash around us of him reacting to things I’ve said aloud and internally, him evaluating my work, and working together in his office. On and on they continue, each one increasingly filled with curiosity, light, and longing.

That’s when I realize this undercurrent of loneliness that seemed to pervade the earlier memories, disappears entirely as our times together countdown to now. This moment. He’s enjoying the feel of my hand in his.

I immediately let go, the warm flush heating my face and neck. Yet, his eyes are fixed on me as we each take a minute to understand what just happened. This is new to him too. And, as confused as he is, there’s something there that he never said aloud.

And if I’m right, he’s surprised to discover it too.

He slowly nods, all of the tension leaving him. “It’s true, Lolli.”

I take a deep breath trying to calm my racing heart. “You can’t love me. We barely know each other!”

His eyes are apologetic, but sure. “You saw it yourself. I’m usually an honest person, but whatever this is doesn’t permit me to hide my feelings, even if I want to.”

I close my eyes as I try to gather my wits about me. I know it’s true, but how is it possible?

“I think it’s all of the time we’ve spent with each other the last three months.”

I open my eyes to look at him. Of course. Every hour that I was paid, was an hour that I spent in his presence. And, for every one of those hours… “You were in my head.”

Gideon dips his chin, light curls falling over his forehead. “Yes.”

My eyes widen. The unfiltered, crazy version of me. The real me. Oh no. I’m doomed.

“You’re beautiful, sweet, crazy, funny, honest and I…I’m hopelessly in love with you.” Gideon looks dazed, but his voice is firm, sure.

Feeling as if I’m bursting out of my skin, I sit forward, elbows on my knees as I cover my face with my hands. I’m losing my mind. As wonderful as it is, it’s time to wake up from this dream. Because there’s no way Gideon Wilder just confessed to me.

‘Except, I did.’

I jump a mile high as I turn to look at him. “Really? You couldn’t let me have a moment?”

His gorgeous white smile is my only response. Sweet cow feet, I’m in for it now.

“If I’m not mistaken,” he says carefully. “I think that means you feel something, too. If you didn’t, I don’t think we’d be able to feel each other’s emotions the way we do. That happened before I removed my glasses, and now..well..I don’t have to say it. You feel it don’t you? This buzz that runs beneath our skin.”

I slowly nod. “This…energy.”

He smiles. “I think it’s you. I think as your feelings changed, your energy changed. Which is why we began experiencing this emotional exchange.”

I smile weakly. “Are you telling me I’m in love with you? Because I don’t have the benefit of hours spent running through your unedited mind. There’s no way that’s what this is.”

He smiles in response. “I would never tell you how you feel, Ayla. And, you’re more than welcome to spend as much time as you want in my mind, but it’s almost boring. Nearly everything has a drawer, a shelf, a room. There’s nothing to see here.”

“Ha,” I snort, sitting back once more, taking a shaky breath. “As organized as your house is, your office was not.”

He chuckles. “Well, I did say almost boring. I guess there might be a thing or two to discover.”

I’m feeling warm again, so I begin shrugging out of my oversized sweater, which he reaches over to help me with. “I’ll tell you one thing,” I chuckle. “With you around, I never have to worry about being cold.”

We laugh, enjoying the moment, but the second his thoughts shift, I feel it. When he looks around my one room trailer, I don’t flinch, but glance around objectively.

The only spots of color is the purple sofa, and the floral throw rug, where I like to stretch in the morning. Even my comforter is a plain white, turned drab grey color from years of washing and hanging outside to dry.

Yet, when I look at Gideon’s profile, I don’t feel pity, or disgust coming from him, only curiosity and concern. My brow wrinkles as I try to process where the concern is coming from. “It isn’t much, but I’m alright. Really.”

‘But, I’m not. You’re so far, you don’t know anyone..I..’

When he frowns at me, there’s only an abrupt pulse of anxiety before his words and thoughts simultaneously spill out. “Will you marry me, Lolli?”

← Previous: Ch 13: A Peek Behind the Curtain /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 15: 53 Minutes Ago

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← Previous: Ch 12: Two Hours Ago /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 14: Down the Rabbit Hole

I stare, unblinking, at the man in front of me, his face pleading that I understand.

The voice is Gideon’s, but the affect…it’s all wrong.

He rises, kneeling on one knee. ‘It’s me, Gideon.’

My breaths come fast and heavy. Ugh, no! I’m sorry. This is not Gideon. Please hang up and dial again.

His face lights up as he tries to control a smile. ‘I have no reason to lie to you, Lala.’

Stop calling me that! His voice is too..near. I rub both of my arms as I shiver. It’s creeping me out! And, apparently you have more reasons to lie than tell the truth, because you kind of omitted a pretty big one! Being a Thought Reader is a big deal, especially to me.

Gideon frowns. ‘Why do you call it, thought reading?’

Because that’s what the TR stands for in my ID…doesn’t it?

‘No. The T is telepathy. The R is for something else.’

I frown. That’s impossible! And, please get off your knees before you hurt yourself.

He slowly stands. ‘Um, if it’s impossible, what is this?’

Aren’t we just reading each other’s minds?

He raises his brows. ‘If that’s the case, why would I hear you responding in my mind, and why would you hear me responding in yours?’

Because mind reading!

‘That’s eavesdropping, and it’s one way. This is a two way, baby girl.’

Don’t call me that, either!

He pauses, his eyes steady on me before nodding. ‘For now, but we will be circling back to it.’

My stomach dips, and a grin spreads across his face.

I rub an eye, my brows shooting up in annoyance. Are you trying to tell me you heard that?

‘No Lolli. It’s telepathy. I not only heard you, I felt it.’

Hold on. I hold up both hands as I pace the floor. You felt my butterflies?

‘I’ve been wondering why you call them that. It’s more like molten lava.’

Whatever! I scowl. You felt it?

He nods. ‘And, you felt mine too. Yesterday..this morning…’

That’s what that was? I hiss. I thought I was losing my mind.

‘How do you think I’ve been feeling?’

I eye him, fascinated, angry, but mostly perplexed. But why? Why do you and I have this? I’ve been reading thoughts for years..you’re the only person to ever…respond.

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know, Lolli. When I first went for my assessment they were reluctant to call it telepathy. I happened to overhear one of the examiners thoughts.’

My legs feel weak.

As they give out and I melt to the floor, Gideon rushes to catch me, guiding me onto the sofa. Handing my glass of water to me, he folds his hands as I slowly sip it. “I’m sorry. I should have realized it would be tiring for you.”

“How could you have known?” I ask, feeling a bone deep weariness. “Have you done this before?”

Gideon places an arm behind me on the sofa as he sits back. “No. I’m not able to hear everyone’s thoughts, only Other Abled individuals. You’re the first person I’ve shared this connection with. Now, do you remember when you first got the ability, how tired you’d feel?”

I think back for a moment, slowly nodding. “It was exhausting, taking in all of that feedback. I was actually glad when I received my earbuds after the first assessment…wait.”

I sit up, looking at him. “Why don’t you have earbuds?”

“I was given these glasses, instead. It was better than walking around with polarized sunglasses.”

I take a look at the chunky black frames hanging from his shirt collar, and hold out a hand. “May I?”

Wordlessly, he slides them from his shirt and hands them over. They appear normal in every respect, except the lenses are unusually thin. “So, you don’t need these to see?”

“My vision is perfect. Always has been.”

I slide them on my face and look at him. Sure enough, they do nothing for my vision, but they seem to distort the color of everything around me, making it flatter somehow. I look at him. “Think something.”

I love the way you look in glasses, his voice comes in as smooth as an Irish cream whiskey. Your beautiful eyes seem even bigger.

My brain stutters to a stop as a wave of giddiness washes over me. I clear my throat, hoping that will jump start it.

Ah. Um, I see the glasses don’t block the constant stream of thoughts.

He frowns. “Is that the way you experience it? Like you’re hearing everyone’s every thought? That would be so overwhelming.”

“It is,” I nod. “It was the first thing I complained about during my assessment. Maybe that’s why I received earbuds to block it out. But, what are the glasses for?”

He strokes his jaw thoughtfully. “I have another ability, which the glasses help regulate. When we met, I kept you from knowing what I was thinking, by dampening my thoughts—”

“Wait.” I hold up a hand, confusion swirling in me. Another ability? There’s a way to keep people from reading my thoughts? I don’t know what to ask about first, but thankfully, Gideon senses that and plunges ahead.

“We can block our thoughts, by compartmentalizing them. If you visualize yourself leaving thoughts in a box or a room that you’ve closed, you can temporarily keep prying sensors away from them. It works the other way, too, to keep yourself from reading other’s thoughts. You just have to suspend your ability to sense.”

“That’s…” my voice dies off as I try it.

You can do it, Lolli. All you have to do is…

It takes a couple of tries, but slowly, his voice fades as I imagine him locked in an empty room. I can still hear the steady slow drip from the kitchen faucet, and the soft thrum of the fridge, but there’s nothing from Gideon, and I’m doing my best to observe, but not put any thoughts out.

His warm smile wraps around me like a hug, so I guess it doesn’t trap feelings. Maybe that takes time to develop. Still, I return his smile. I will definitely put this skill to use.

I raise a brow. “You were blocking me from hearing your thoughts. No wonder.”

“It was a great idea since I was your professor and didn’t need you in my head.”

His ears redden, and I feel it’s the truth, but it’s mixed with the slight warmth of embarrassment. “It’s because of that, I didn’t realize it was a true telepathic connection until a few weeks ago, in my office, when my thoughts weren’t as locked up as..”

I stare at him a long moment, and he dips his chin before I can say a word. “I’m sorry.”

“So,” I clear my throat, ignoring my warming cheeks as I recall the moment before Erica popped in the office to ask ‘questions.’ “Now I wonder if maybe I’m a mind reader and a telepathist. Maybe the R stands for reader?”

His tilts his head. “It’s certainly possible. Although it’s not like with anyone else. It’s like occupying a space.”

“And, the whole time, you’ve been listening to me. Just hanging out in my mind…”

He starts to say something, then with a shake of his head, he holds out his hand. “Maybe you’d like to see for yourself?”

“See what?” I ask, raising a brow.

The answer, Lolli. Come see it for yourself.

Heaving a sigh, I look at his hand suspiciously. “If this is a plan to drain me of my ability so you can have it all for yourself, I’m not going without a fight.”

He offers a half smile that would probably melt me if I weren’t so anxious. “I could never hurt you, Lolli.”

After studying him a moment longer, I stretch a hand towards him, hesitating just above his hand, and look up uncertainly.

He nods reassuringly. Never.

My heart rapidly beats against my breastbone, as my pulse races with each passing moment. With a deep breath, I drop my hand into his…

← Previous: Ch 12: Two Hours Ago /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 14: Down the Rabbit Hole

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← Previous: Ch 11: Trust No One /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 13: A Peek Behind the Curtain

“Pass the lo mein, please.”

Swapping takeout boxes with Gideon, I begin eating the beef chow fun, noticing it’s practically empty. “I knew you would like it,” I murmur, as I edit one of the bulletins for next class.

When he doesn’t respond, I smile. “You know I’m right. There’s hardly any beef left.”

With only three weeks until finals and graduation, I’m so close to the finish line, I can almost taste it, and victory is sweet. Then, I’ll work on the idea for a novel that’s been kicking around in the back of my mind this semester, and…I’m going to ask Gideon out.

It will be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and if he tells me he doesn’t feel the something going on between us, then it confirms it. But, the not knowing is why I lay awake most nights, reviewing every interaction, every look, every vocal inflection. No, I have to try.

The pungent smell of Chinese fills every corner of my small trailer, as we sit on the floral throw rug, its threads softened under the strokes of a thousand cleanings, and lean against the sofa for support. The sound of us singlehandedly tapping away on the keyboards we’ve propped on our laps is coupled with the intermittent hum of the rusted, stainless steel refrigerator.

It’s a symphony that would be oddly comforting, if I could relax. Not an easy task with the knowledge of what I’m supposed to do tomorrow.

After weeks of running into dead ends, getting King to agree to help me try to find Quake was a last resort. Of course, I couldn’t tell him about the suspicious reports of the dozens of people scattered across the country, who have disappeared without a trace, or he likely would have refused.

Not that I know that’s what happened to Quake, but l did manage to find a newspaper clipping for a woman named Cosima Ash in Vancouver, whose pet snake, Oscar, died six months ago. She was the only one left to mourn his passing. That stood out to me for some reason.

I’d never read an obituary for a snake before, but the picture of the strawberry blonde woman’s large, hazel eyes staring back at me as she held up a yellow and orange patterned snake stirred something protective in me. If that was Quake, I have to find her.

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to cyber stalk someone if you don’t have certain skills. Yet, I can assume that if I’m on the right track, Grey already made it this far…and, now he’s missing, too.

A frisson of unease wends through me as I set the empty takeout carton next to my CHIP pad on the coffee table. I still haven’t quite worked out the alarm that rose in me upon seeing the anonymous message on my phone last week.

Of course, it disappeared without a trace. It could have been a mistake, yet the feeling of danger continues to linger. Hm. Maybe Gideon would be willing to go with me tomorrow to meet King. Just in case.

Realizing he’s gone a long time without commentary, I finally glance over, bracing myself for what I’ll see, but instead of practicing his smolder, like he’s done most of this morning, he’s looking at his phone. A perplexed expression coats his face as he slowly shakes his head.

“What’s wrong, Gideon?”

He silently holds up his phone, and after skimming the article he shows me, I sharply inhale when I get to the point. “They’ve put the vaccine manufacturers above the law. They can’t be held liable for the harm inflicted in the course of expediently seeking a cure.”

His hand tightly balls into a fist, anger and frustration mingling on his face. “They ‘couldn’t have known’? They should have known. There’s no such thing as one size fits all, yet they forced it down our throats, regardless of personal health history, even ignoring the science they knew…

They essentially created a second pandemic within the first, and now they don’t want to be held liable for the harm? Harm, Ayla. People died, but they ball those lives up and toss them away again by ignoring it. I’m so sick of it.”

He closes his eyes, his voice shaking. “Debbie was one of those whose cells duplicated so quickly, she died before their ‘abnormality’ could be figured out. The doctors knew she was already battling cancer, yet, everyone was forced to take the vaccine. She died on a gurney in a hallway, with no one by her side, and they wouldn’t let me take her, Lala. They..”

He lifts his glasses to swipe a hand down his face as I take his other hand, and immediately drop it. It’s as if every vestige of pain, anger, and frustration were forced into a bubble, and I was pushed in there to experience it.

Except he was there, too. I didn’t just feel it. I saw it.

“Um, Gideon.”

He looks up at me, his glasses falling back into place. “Hey, I’m sorry. I just needed a minute.”

His eyes. Fear races down my spine as I scramble away from him, uncertain of what I saw. “Gideon!”

He really looks at me this time, and I feel the moment he realizes something’s wrong.

Oh. OH, OH.

All of the moments with Gideon begin to snap into clear focus. Every time he seemed to respond to something I didn’t say aloud, every time he was near and I felt feelings more keenly. Something else tickles the back of my mind, but I don’t have time to sort it out.

Because judging from the look of horror on Gideon’s face, which matches the horror I feel, I’m completely right. I ball up my fists, and glare down at him.

HOW DARE YOU!!!???

The lights flicker briefly as Gideon sighs heavily, and without another word, he slides off his glasses. And, for the first time I’m really seeing him. It’s as if his amber eyes are reflecting two pinpoints of light.

I’m sorry, baby girl, I wanted to tell you—

I gasp. WHAT IN THE NAME OF PUCK, FESTE, AND AUTOLYCUS! WHO IS THIS?

← Previous: Ch 11: Trust No One /|\ Next Chapter → Ch 13: A Peek Behind the Curtain

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