15. Where No One Can Reach Her
WHERE NO ONE CAN REACH HER
The waystation was small, little more than a tavern with a handful of rooms upstairs, but it was warm and quiet, and that was enough.
The stranger walked in first, velvet cloak trailing, her presence commanding attention without effort.
Behind her came Kalemon, half-carrying Allora in her arms. The sight drew stares: an unconscious woman, belly already swelling with the weight of her pregnancy, and face damp with sweat.
Kalemon ignored them all, following the stranger up the narrow staircase to a room at the end of the hall.
She shouldered the door open and laid Allora carefully onto the bed, her large hands already moving with brisk efficiency.
She checked her pulse, her breathing, then reached into her pack and pulled out something that didn't belong in this world.
Sleek metal, compact, glowing faintly with a line of green light. A piece of Earth. Human tech.
The stranger's head tilted, curiosity breaking through her usual composure. "Is that some sort of Canariae magical toy?"
Kalemon grunted, not looking up. "We don't have magic, we have science. Technology."
The stranger hummed at that, but said nothing more, only watching as Allora stirred.
Her eyes cracked open, unfocused. Her voice rasped. "What happened? Where are we?"
Kalemon set the device aside, already tugging off Allora's boots with rough hands.
She peeled away her heavy coat next, laying them by the fireplace as the stranger bent to strike flint.
Sparks leapt, caught, and soon the hearth bloomed with fire.
Kalemon glanced at her, a grudging thought curling in the back of her mind.
At least this Awyan was useful. Too useful.
"You passed out," Kalemon said, keeping her tone even. "Probably from lack of sleep and food."
Allora sat up slowly, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple. Her skin burned, her breath shallow. This wasn’t just exhaustion. She knew the feeling too well. The gnawing inside her wasn’t hunger. It was withdrawal.
She looked at Kalemon, her voice low and bitter.
"It's been weeks since the transfusion. Weeks since Malec's blood.
" Her hand trembled slightly as she lowered it from her temple.
"My body's asking for more. The more energy I exert, the faster it burns through whatever he gave me.
I need another dose, and I need it more frequently now. "
The stranger, crouched by the fire, had been tracing her hand along the wall, pale blue light following her fingertips as intricate symbols appeared in the air.
They looked like wards of some kind, glowing softly before sinking into the stone.
She suddenly went still, her hand freezing mid-gesture.
Her hood slipped slightly as she twisted her head back so fast it was a blur.
Her voice cut through the room, slightly shocked and incredulous. "What do you mean, Malec's blood?"
The silence that followed was heavy as iron.
Kalemon froze, her gray eyes darting toward Allora.
Allora straightened, her spine stiff, her glare sharp enough to cut through the stranger's mask. "Who the hell even are you?" she demanded, her tone indignant and biting. "And what are you doing here?"
The stranger rose slowly, her hands clasped behind her back, her smile maddeningly smug beneath the shadow of her hood.
"Oh, finally. Introductions. Thought we'd never get there.
" She gave a shallow bow, mocking in its elegance.
"I'm the last person you want to meet, and the only one who can keep you out of my son's claws a little longer. "
Kalemon stopped her whole body going rigid as she took in the information. "Son?"
The hooded woman grinned wide, devilishly entertained.
"Mm. You may know him. The one who thinks 'no' means 'try harder.
' Platinum hair, perpetually constipated expression, thinks every problem can be solved by brooding intensely at it.
Can command an army but can't command a single functioning conversation about feelings.
Built like a warrior, fights like a demon, cries like a poet when his feelings get hurt. My pride and joy, that one."
Allora's stomach lurched. "You're?—"
She pulled back her hood at last, revealing perfect cheekbones and long, dark brunette hair streaked with deep red highlights, piled up messily and pinned with what looked like a stolen hair stick.
Her eyes were the same rare pale tan as Malec's, but dulled, washed out, like stone worn smooth by years of storms.
"Leira," she said brightly, as if she were announcing the start of a comedy act instead of dropping a weapon into the room. "Terrorist, genius, lunatic. And, unfortunately, Malec's mother. At your service. For now."
Kalemon muttered under her breath, "Oh, fuck me sideways."
Leira smirked at her, tilting her head. "Mm, tempting. But I don't think you could keep up."
Kalemon twitched backward as though the words had been a physical blow. Allora's voice cut in, quick and always straight to the point. "Are you working for Malec?"
The pause went on long enough to become its own kind of statement.
Then, softly, "No."
It wasn't a protest, not even defensive. The word fell flat, calm, final.
Allora blinked. Her fury faltered for just a second.
Leira went on, her voice steady but pointed. "If I was, you wouldn't be standing here asking questions." A pause. "I have my own motives."
Allora's breath caught, her confusion twisting tight with fear. And under it, damn her curiosity, a spark of interest stirred uninvited. She bit down hard, forcing her voice steady. "Then what do you want from me?"
"Relax," Leira said dryly. "My children disowned me, like I said I am not working for Malec."
She let that settle before adding, "But I am working."
Allora stared at her, throat dry. "For who?"
"Lady Kirelle," Leira replied with a bored little smile. "Of House Wascori'Thil. You remember her, don't you? The red-haired one with more ambition than sense, and just enough guilt to keep her interesting."
Allora's fingers curled into fists. "That’s worse!"
“It’s a contract,” Leira corrected, brushing an invisible fleck of dust from her sleeve as though the matter bored her.
“Everyone wants you for a reason. Power, leverage, revenge. I took this one because…” Her eyes drifted over Allora sprawled on the bed.
"I wanted to see for myself what made my son ruin himself over you. "
Allora groaned as she tried to rise from the bed. "I'm done being part of these games?—"
"Careful." Leira's voice cut through the room, soft as silk but pointed enough to slice. Her gaze glimmered in the firelight. "Unless you're eager to collapse again, I'd stay exactly where you are."
Allora froze, breath hitching. Kalemon stiffened at her side, but Leira only smiled, wicked and knowing.
"Tell me," she murmured, tilting her head, "is it you he's chasing, Allora, or the child inside you?"
The words hit like a plunge into icy water.
Allora's lips parted. "He doesn't know."
For a moment, not a sound. Then Leira's lashes lowered, and a laugh burst from her throat, blunt and cruel. She pressed a hand to her chest as if the mirth physically hurt her.
"Oh, gods, that is delicious. Truly. The mighty Malec Talandros, undone by obsession, and still too blind to see."
She prowled a step closer to the fire, her smile gleaming in its glow. "My son was never one for subtlety. And you..." Her voice dropped low, conspiratorial. "You're marked by another Canariae, and he cannot even taste it on you."
Kalemon and Allora's eyes met across the room, an echo of understanding passing between them.
Let her believe that. They preferred her to think the child belonged to some nameless Canariae instead of the truth that would send shockwaves through the entire realm.
So they said nothing, their wordlessness a wall between them and Leira's assumptions.
Leira chuckled again, lower this time, as though savoring the irony like wine. She returned to her work, her hand rising to trace more glowing symbols along the ceiling, then down across the floorboards in careful, deliberate patterns.
Kalemon's eyes narrowed, tracking the movement. "What the hell are you doing? Better not be some signal to your buddies about our whereabouts."
Leira didn't stop, her fingers continuing to weave the intricate wards into every surface of the room.
"Relax. I'm jamming the soul-tether signal.
" She glanced back at Allora with a smirk.
"You're the signal, little bird. I'm just making sure my son will have a hell of a time using you as his compass. "
The runes pulsed once, then settled into a dim, steady glow before fading into the wood and stone as if they'd always been there.
Leira shook her head slowly, almost as though in pity. "Sometimes I question if he is truly mine. He has my eyes and my brilliance, but not my sense. Emotions," she said the word like it was poison, "are his greatest flaw. He lets them twist him, a vine strangling itself around a broken pillar."
Allora's mouth was dry, her pulse thudding in her ears. "So what happens now?" she asked tightly. "You going to turn me in?"
Leira's smile was faint, her hands folding with the poise of a woman about to pour tea instead of threaten betrayal. "Kirelle hired me to find you to place you in her keeping. She wants the glory of delivering you back to Malec herself."
Allora's thoughts tangled with confusion and fury. Kirelle had freed her, risked herself for her. "Why would she do that?"
Leira's look bordered on pity. "Because she is not your friend.
No Awyan could ever be. She's securing her future the only way a woman of her station can, through blood.
She wants his child. She wants status and my son's legacy. And to be fair it is the way things work in Awyan society, it is not uncommon especially amongst the wealthy and powerful.”