Prologue: Cassian
134 years old…
“Cassian, you need a wife.” My mother nagged.
I'm barely middle aged.
“You need heirs. The Bloodmor clan already has twelve!” My adviser, Matheo, agreed with my mother. I stared at the salad in front of me, no longer hungry. Pain bloomed behind my bad eye and spread to the back of my skull. Matheo was the family accountant. A ruthless kitsune with a bad habit of sticking his nose into my personal business.
“I already have five heirs.” Floriano, my older brother, sat across from me, wearing the kind of smug grin only a man cursed with sons could manage. As if Mother didn’t need more ammunition.
“The elves have great grandchildren!” Her manicured claws tapped the table.
I can't sit through another round of this. I exhaled heavily, leaned back in my chair, and noticed Martin pouring another round of whiskey into Matheo's glass with hands that shook.
Martin, my underling, had been working to pay off his debt to me. He was a gambler, a bad one. Indebted to me for over three hundred thousand gold. He owed me, tonight he was going to settle his account. I took advantage of his gambling addiction, told him to do this one job and he would be debt-free with a little extra to fill his pockets. He was a pathetic waste of space, but for once he was going to be useful.
All he has to do is kill Floriano.
That’s it.
“My daughter is back from overseas, I could set the two of you up.” He swished his three fluffy tails and I wanted to rip one out. Martin kept glancing at Floriano. Could he be more obvious?
“No. My empire won't crumble overnight because there isn’t some cunt warming my bed.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I heard my sister, Bibiana, snort.
“Cassian, language!” My mother, Isolde, flicked the side of my elbow. I groaned and sighed again. Warren, the youngest of us, openly laughed, and my mother clicked her tongue.
“Apologies, Mama.” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek, which she had been waiting for me.
“Mama’s boy.” Warren coughed, and I glared at him.
“I forgive you.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “If you have dinner with my friend's daughter.”
And there it is…
“Fine, if it pleases you.” I was about to pick up my fork when she slipped in which daughter.
“Helena will be ecstatic! Bring out the soup!”
“No!” I slammed my fist down on the table. “I will not waste my time on gnoll trash! I told you Helena and I are not getting married. Ever.” Just then, as if my night couldn't get any worse, something hot spilled onto my lap.
From my blind side.
My pistol fired before instinct gave way to thought.
Martin.
His eyes were wide with shock, blood pulsed from the hole in his chest, he made a gurgle sound when he tried to breathe in. Must’ve clipped a lung. The bullet went through him and shattered a vase near the balcony. I liked that vase.
He wouldn’t last. His filthy human blood had ruined my imported carpet and my dinner. The carpet squished under my seal-skin loafers.
Fuck. I set the pistol down, snapped my fingers. My men moved to clean up the body as my mother whined about dinner being ruined by my temper.
Across the table, Floriano froze, spoon halfway to his mouth, utterly unaware that tonight had been meant to be his funeral.
“Big brother Cassian, always shoot first, ask questions later.” Bibi sighed and stood up. “I'm going out. This has been a blast, but I'm so over it.”
She tossed her cloth napkin on the table and stood up. Her dress was much like all the others she wore, but for whatever reason our mother was up in arms chasing after her. Yelling about skirt too short and finding a respectful husband.
“Welp…” Warren stood and dragged a hand through his wig. He looked ridiculous with the damn thing on. Warren always spent more time trying to be something he wasn’t. It was rare to see him sober, he was usually found in the dens run by the elves.
Fucking elves.
“I have a party to crash.” He smiled, the light green of his skin looked so much like our father. They even shared a similar shell pattern, too bad he was an idiot.
“I'll give you a ride, little brother.” Floriano stood and shot me a look. “I need to sow a few seeds tonight.”
Floriano might have five bastards from the women he knocked up in the pleasure district, but none of them were pure. The idea made me cringe.
My seed was precious.
Not to be planted in just any womb. If I were to breed a woman, she would have to be worthy. Not just warm and wet.
Matheo had slipped out after mother, probably to discuss matchmaking with his daughter. I heard she was lovely, but foxes can't be trusted.
I was finally alone.
Silence was my friend. I felt like I could finally breathe.
A low whummm rolled across the room, soft as distant surf trapped in stone.
“Now what?” I groaned and placed my hand to my chest where I kept my sigil slab. Sigil slabs don’t ring. I followed the sound until I found one the whispering shells my company, Deepshell Tidal Network, made. This was a model we never released. Ones we kept for the syndicate only. I often gave these to the Tidebound members for one-time uses for shipments.
Yet, one sat on the floor just under the curled leg of my ornate dining table.
Who the fuck were you talking to, Martin? I picked up the shell and answered the call.
“Hello?” My voice cracked. I don’t even remember the last time I accepted a call from a stranger.
“Oh…um… Is my father there?” Father? The voice on the other end was shaking. I listened for any background noise, something to tell me about where the caller was. I heard a few pop pops and the horn on a passing ship.
The docks.
I knew those sounds better than my own heartbeat.
“He is usually home by now. I just needed to know if he's been drinking.” Her voice pitched higher with a sound I was most intimate with, fear.
“Who's this?” I stood up and walked to the balcony. I could see the shipyard from the cliffside the Deepshell Manor sat on.
“Oh, right. My name's Lark. Lark Burem.” There were sniffles. Martin's daughter was home crying, terrified for her father. “He won't be back tonight. Meet me at the Deepshell Tidal Network Tower tomorrow at ten.” I crushed the shell in my claw and smiled. The night air filled my lungs with a lightness that wasn't there before.
“Martin, Martin, Martin… you have been keeping secrets and now your daughter belongs to me.”
