Sunsinger

  Sunsinger

  Robyn Bachar

  The reluctant lord.

  The sole survivor of the Sunsinger massacre, Lord Degalen Fairren spends his days reading tales of the family he never knew. When a rival house threatens to enslave Cyprena, Galen is forced to pull his nose out of his books and enter into an alliance with House Morningstar, and a dangerous mission to save his world.

  The covert assassin.

  Lady Andelynn Harrow isn’t House Morningstar’s eldest or prettiest daughter, but she is the deadliest. After her father’s murder, Andee must defend her new house and mate—the shy, reluctant Galen—but every battle risks revealing her terrible secret.

  The escaped slave.

  Malcolm gets his first taste of freedom when the Cy’ren recruit him to locate the cure to a deadly virus—and feels the burn of desire for Galen, the lord he can never have, and for Andee, who awakens memories of a long-lost first love.

  The danger they face fuels the heat between them, but with Cyprena’s fate hanging in the balance, the race to find the cure could come with devastating costs.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Titles

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  “It’s addictive,” Andelynn warned. “There is power in sensing the emotions of others. You’re privy to their secrets, their unspoken desires. That power can be tempting to abuse, and one can easily get lost in it.”

  She sipped her tea, inhaling the delicate floral aroma of the blend as she watched the reactions of her two guests over the rim of the teacup. The sisters shared a strong resemblance—stronger than Andee’s resemblance to her own sisters—but they weren’t both empaths. Andee had never trained another aleithir before, and two students at once would have been difficult to handle.

  A shadow crossed Sabine’s face, and she shivered as though chilled. “I understand addiction.”

  Andee studied her as she counted the slave marks that trailed down the side of Sabine’s throat. A born slave could have any number of dark secrets in her past, though Andee was a lord’s daughter and was no stranger to dark secrets. She wondered if Jace had bothered to learn anything about Sabine’s past before taking her as his mate. Males in phase seldom made wise choices.

  “You’re doing very well thus far.” She favored Sabine with an encouraging smile, and the younger female blushed and ducked her head in reply.

  “Thank you,” Sabine said. “I’m able to keep most of the noise out, but it’s so loud here.”

  “Morningstars do love to talk,” Talena teased. She grinned as she sipped her tea, and Sabine giggled as her mood lifted.

  “It isn’t any quieter elsewhere on Cyprena. Any area with a large population can be overwhelming,” Andee warned. “Some people are louder than others, broadcasting their emotions like a planet-wide data blast.”

  “And others are quiet, like Jace,” Sabine said.

  “Jace? I doubt he was quiet while you were in phase.” Talena set her tea down and smoothed a hand over her pregnant belly. “I know Dack wasn’t.”

  “Emotionally quiet,” Andee said. “Jace wears mental armor as easily as he does physical armor. It’s rare. Few people develop such careful self-control.”

  “You’re like that, though.” Sabine peered at Andee, her golden gaze curious. “Is it a family thing? A Morningstar trait?”

  “A survival trait,” Andee explained. “We had different reasons to keep the world out. An aleithir needs strong shields and self-control to avoid going mad from the constant sensory input.”

  “It can really drive you crazy?” Talena asked.

  “The noise can. It can be relentless.”

  Sabine snorted. “Well, if being in phase for over a year didn’t drive me mad, nothing will. But I understand. Though now I feel like I should apologize that we took over your spare room.”

  Andee laughed. “I have good shields, thankfully, so I didn’t overhear you.”

  “Do you think Jace is all right?” Sabine asked, and then winced. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t. We agreed not to speak of the others while they’re gone.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Though Andee wished that the high council had agreed to meet in friendlier territory instead of in the home of one of the allies of their enemy, House Nightfall. She’d wanted to go with the group, but Andee didn’t have the standing to attend a council meeting. Not officially, at least.

  “I hate it when Dack and Carmen go off without me, but she’ll keep Dack out of trouble,” Talena said. Andee didn’t doubt that—Carmen Hawke was a former Alliance officer who captained a ship for the resistance, and was certainly capable of keeping her shadow sword mate in line.

  “And Bryn, too,” Sabine added. “She’ll keep Jace safe. I think Bryn’s been a good influence on him. She always…” She trailed off, her violet brow furrowed as her golden eyes unfocused. It was an expression Andee wore often when struck by a sudden strong emotion.

  “You sense something?” Andee prompted gently.

  “Yes. Something’s wrong.” Sabine’s voice was tight, and her hands clenched into fists atop her lap, tangled in the golden material of her skirt.

  With a deep breath, Andee lowered her shields and stretched her senses, and the familiar buzz of the manor’s emotions surrounded her with white noise. Most of the staff went about their business, ignorant of the terrible news their lord was currently delivering to the Cy’ren high council. Andee sensed the comforting brush of her mother’s placid calm, the bright flutters of her sisters, and the relief of Wylarric’s mates and children, who were doubtless glad to be momentarily free of his tyranny.

  There. An icy chill skittered down Andee’s spine as she touched the tight cluster of focused, lethal efficiency that had caught Sabine’s attention. Assassins—a pack of predators stalking prey. Andee swallowed hard; apparently the meeting must not be going well after all. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled her fear, embracing her own deadly calm.

  “I see them.” Andee leapt to her feet and activated the comm. on her desk. “Commander Maysen, this is Lady Andelynn. We have a security breach inside the manor. Six hostiles, moving up from sublevel one. I’m locking down ladies Talena and Sabine.”

  “Acknowledged, my lady,” Commander Maysen replied.

  “I’ll meet the team in corridor ten.”

  A disapproving growl crackled over the comm. “You should enter lockdown as well, Lady Andelynn.”

  “Not today. That’s an order,” she added for emphasis.

  “Acknowledged.”

  Andee rose and motioned for the females to follow her. “This way. I have a panic room. You’ll be safe in there.”

  “A panic room?” Sabine repeated.

  “It’s a small, secure room, meant to withstand an armed assault,” Andee explained. She led them into her bedroom and cracked open a hidden control panel in the wall next to her bed. Andee punched in a command code, and a section of the wall swung open, revealing the cramped panic room. “Get in, both of you.”

  “Aren’t you joining us?” Talena asked.

  “No. I’m going to aid the security team.”

  Talena gripped her arm. “Wait! Do you have a pistol?”

&
nbsp; “You have weapons training?” Andee asked, quirking a brow. It wasn’t the protest she had expected to hear. Talena was an artist—a sculptor who built gardens from the forgotten bits and pieces of junked machinery, her work proudly displayed in the Sunsinger manor—and hardly seemed the militant type. Then again that same assumption of harmlessness often protected Andee.

  “Of course. My father is an Alliance captain. Adoptive father,” Talena corrected.

  Good enough. Nodding, Andee pulled a laser pistol from the weapons cache in her wardrobe and handed it to Talena. “I’ll be back soon.”

  The door to the panic room swung shut, securing the females inside. Andee shed her gown—after the attack on Jace’s quarters, Andee had taken to wearing her light armor beneath her clothes. The black intellifabric fit her like a second skin and left little to the imagination, but it protected her from blades and most laser bolts. She strapped on her favorite pistol and her two curved short swords, and hurried off to meet Commander Maysen. Alarms began blaring the moment she stepped into the hallway, warning of the security breach. Andee scowled as the alarms triggered a wave of panic in the manor’s civilians, their fear battering her psychic shields like a barrage of cannon fire, and she reinforced her mental defenses before moving on.

  Commander Maysen led a squad of shadow swords in corridor ten, a servants’ accessway that connected the family’s quarters to the essential facilities beneath the manor. Half of the men frowned at her in confusion—they wore the colors of House Sunsinger. Andee cursed inwardly. She assumed the visiting swords had gone to the meeting with Lord Degalen, but these must be part of Talena’s security detail. The Morningstar swords were used to seeing Andee in her armor—a few of them out of it as well. She trusted her men, but the Sunsingers were an unknown element who could be as dangerous to Andee as the intruders.

  “Status of the hostiles?” Maysen asked, returning her focus to the matter at hand.

  Andee closed her eyes and motioned for him to wait as she concentrated. “They’ve split into two groups,” she replied. “Two of them are in corridor four, and the other four are in corridor seven.”

  “How does she know—” one of the Sunsingers began, but Maysen shushed him.

  “Cut the chatter, Rolens. Lieutenant Myler, take three swords to deal with the intruders in corridor four. Lady Andelynn will accompany the rest of us to corridor seven.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The group split, and Andee followed a step behind the commander, slowed as she divided her attention between moving and tracking the assassins.

  “They’re after the females,” Commander Maysen commented, pitching his voice too low for the others to hear. “Not just Lady Sunsinger, but our ladies as well.”

  “Seems like.” Andee shivered. If the assassins had been sent after the women and children, Lord Bildanen must mean to destroy both the Morningstars and Sunsingers. The people who had gone to the high council meeting—her father, her brothers—might already be dead.

  Maysen grunted, scowling. “Lord Najamek will skin me if you get hurt.”

  “Then it’s fortunate that I had a good swordsmanship teacher.” Andee grinned, and he chuckled. Commander Chendraven Maysen was head of manor security, and next in line for command of the Morningstar shadow swords. Maysen had been an instructor when Andee had begun her combat training, and they had grown close over the years.

  “I do love to watch you dance,” he said.

  Andee blushed as a line of heat singed her. She would’ve been happy to have become Maysen’s mate, but her father had too many other plans for her. Andelynn was one of the most useful tools in Lord Najamek’s arsenal—too valuable to waste on a shadow sword, even one as influential as Maysen.

  Andee raised a fist and motioned for the group to slow as she sensed the assassins ahead of them. The hostiles were worried—not afraid, but likely uncertain of what mistake had revealed their presence. Andee almost felt sorry for them, for they had no way of knowing that an aleithir—now two of them, with the addition of Sabine—resided in House Morningstar. Empaths were rare among the Cy’ren, and Andee was even more so. She signaled for her team to break into two and take cover on either side of the hallway just before the intruders rounded the corner and entered firing range. Crouched low, Andee drew her blades as her team raised their rifles and fired a volley of laser bolts.

  “Go,” Maysen said.

  Andee darted forward and engaged the nearest enemy. Shadow swords fought with a single sabre, but she wielded two curved blades that were longer than daggers but shorter than sabres. As a fighter she was quick and agile, her style meant to disable and disarm. With her small frame she’d never have the brute strength of a male to hack at her enemies, but she made up for that in blinding speed.

  Andee dropped and rolled as her opponent’s blade whistled through the air where her head had just been, and jabbed her swords up into his torso. The assassin’s expression was hidden behind the tinted faceplate of his armor, but she felt a burst of surprise as he fell, likely not expecting to be gutted by a female. As the life bled from him, the blast of his final emotions distracted Andee, and she was a second too slow in getting to her feet. The breath whooshed from her lungs as a hostile kicked her in the gut, and she stumbled, off-balance.

  With a snarl she struck back. Andee’s teeth rattled and her bones were jarred as their blades clashed—he was a strong son of a bitch. He pressed her, using his strength as an advantage, but Andee’s speed won out. She drove one sword into the seam where the armor of his torso and right leg met, and then swung her other sword around to slash his throat. As the assassin collapsed, Andee flicked the blood from her blades and staggered, intoxicated by the rush of death around her. The last moments of life created a unique and powerful flood of emotion—an empathic high that was seconded only by sensing good sex.

  Andee’s legs were watery beneath her as the energy faded. Rolens stared at her, eyes wide with horror behind the visor of his helmet.

  “Liathlinn,” he whispered, hissing the word like a curse. Andee flinched, struck by his terror and revulsion as if they were physical blows.

  Commander Maysen stepped forward. “Apologize to Lady Andelynn.”

  “Liathlinn are evil,” Rolens snapped. “Monsters! She’ll devour us all!”

  Andee shook her head, and panic iced her veins. She should have been more careful around strangers. “That’s not true,” she assured him. “Those are just stories told to frighten children.”

  “I saw you eat that Cy’ren’s soul,” he accused.

  “I would never—” Andee’s protest ended as Maysen loomed in front of her, placing himself between her and Rolens.

  “I don’t know how things work in House Sunsinger, but in this house we don’t accuse a good soldier of being a bogeyman. House Morningstar has no room for superstitious fools in our ranks.” Righteous anger filled the commander’s aura. He would kill to protect Andee and her secret if need be, and she was grateful for that loyalty. In the end, the Sunsinger sword’s pride overwhelmed his suspicion, as Andee hoped it would. Few people believed in liathlinn anymore—she hadn’t, until the day she’d met her mentor.

  Rolens bowed in sheepish apology. “Please forgive me, Lady Andelynn. I misspoke.”

  She tilted her chin up an imperious inch as she sheathed her blades. “I’ll endeavor not to mention your misconduct to Lord Degalen when I speak with him next.”

  At least her secret was still safe. Andee had only herself to blame for putting it at risk. She should have relayed the information to Maysen over the comm., or stayed back, out of the fighting. But the Sunsinger sword was right and wrong, because while she used her empathic abilities in battle, she didn’t steal souls. Over time liathlinn could become addicted to the powerful rush of pain and terror and go mad, but no souls were consumed.

  Perhaps Andee had been doing this for too long, rushing into battle instead and risking revealing that she was a liathlinn. Aleithir were rare and their empath
ic abilities were tolerated, even valued by some, but liathlinn were feared and hunted. Even a lord’s daughter wouldn’t be safe from persecution if her secret was discovered.

  Commander Maysen knelt beside one of the fallen assassins, tugged down the flexible collar of his armor and revealed Nightfall markings inked at the male’s throat. “More Nightfall mercenaries. They must mean open war. We need to warn Lord Najamek.”

  The pitch of the alarms shifted from the wail warning of a security breach to the high-pitched shriek telling of a city-wide lockdown.

  Andee swallowed hard, heavy with dire foreboding. “I think he already knows.”

  ∆∆∆

  “There is much to discuss,” Jace began. He ran his free hand through his shoulder-length white hair, leaving anxious disarray in its wake. The last few hours seemed to have aged him. “Too much, no doubt. There isn’t time to mourn Father or Wylarric properly. We are at war now.”

  Father was dead, and his loss stole the warmth from Andee’s bones as though the entire manor were encased in ice. Fear, pain and anguish met her at every turn, threatening to swamp her shields and drown her in the city’s mourning. Wylarric was also dead, though Andee had precious little pity for her elder brother. Wylarric had always been a vicious, self-righteous prick.

  Jace stood in front of the gathered family, his new mates beside him. He was battered and bloody, his pale blue eyes too wide from the lingering shock of the battle he had narrowly escaped. Jace was lord now, and no one could have predicted that outcome, least of all him. Brynnaren stood tall and imposing to Jace’s right, while Sabine stood to his left. Sabine took Jace’s hand and squeezed it, and he gulped a deep, fortifying breath. He straightened and cleared his throat.

  “For now, know that I will do my best to keep our family safe. I don’t intend to take Wylarric’s mates as my own, and they are welcome to stay in the manor for as long as they wish after their mourning period has ended. I want the best for my nieces and intend to see that they are provided for.”

  He smiled reassuringly, and Andee felt some of the tension fade from Wylarric’s two mates, Mirlindra and Zhanti. The females had likely feared that Jace would evict them based on the brothers’ hatred for each other. Wylarric wouldn’t have hesitated to turn on Jace’s mates, but Jace would never do that.