FanStory.com - Our Bloodlineby Rinshikai

“No,” my aunt says, throwing the paper on the pile, eyeing Livius with a stare that could kill. “The Trajans would never believe we’d be related,” she points at her green eyes. “Our eyes alone prove it.”

“Yet you and I share other traits.” Livius tugs at a few slivers of black hair hidden among the field of grey. “My father fought against Oswald's rebellion, escorting refugees to the tent city.” Livius stands next to my aunt, resting one hand on her shoulder. “One of them was a woman named Neasa.”

My aunt tenses at the mention of that name. Shoving his hand away, she stands, anger rolling off her like steam. She grips Livius by the wrist, squeezing so tight that he winches. “I won't be a pawn in your scheme.” Releasing her grip, she crosses her arms, “I paid my debt a long time ago.”

Twisting his wrist, Livius returns to his desk with a cold expression. Taking a seat, he stares at us, hiding his fury behind a mask. He leans his cane on his desk, sitting like a king on his throne. Eyes closed, he tilts his head back.

“I could have left you to die in that cell, Iona.” He said, his hand resting on his chest. “I could have cut my losses for your years of disobedience.” He scolds her like a child. “But I didn't. I saw and nurtured your potential when everyone else wanted you dead.” His growling tone grows soft, yet it keeps its sharp edges. He takes the papers Iona threw on the desk. “And after all this, you spit at the opportunity I offer?”

My aunt turns, slamming her hands on the desk. Leaning forward, she locks eyes with Livius like a beast ready to pounce. “I won't play your games, Livius,” pushing herself off the desk, she prepares to leave. “Find someone else.”

A smile cracks through Livius's stoic features. “Would you prefer I sent Enid instead?”

It takes every ounce of my will not to punch Livius square in the jaw. But Giselle stands, holding her arm in front of me. A look of disgust, on the verge of anger. Worrying for my aunt, I turn to find her facing away from us, with her arm planted on the entryway’s frame, her fist trembling.

“Neither of us wants to send such a sheltered child to the frontier.” His full attention is now on my aunt. “Don’t force my hand, Iona.” He rummages through the sea of papers. “Few freed women get this opportunity. Even fewer live long enough to enjoy it.” He twists the knife, cutting deep into my aunt's resolve. “The arrangement is done,” he says, the papers still in his hand. “The question is, will you shoulder this burden? Or will you force it on Enid?”

My aunt turns, her gaze fixated on the ground. Her other fist, now firmly on the wall, she looks at the rest of us with a look of defiance. Those eyes fall on Giselle, who gives a gentle smile.

Giselle walks around me, her hand sliding across my shoulders. Closing the distance, she takes Iona by the hand. “This is the opportunity you've been waiting for—a home where you can start anew.” She pulls their hands to her chest. “Just like your brother wanted.”

Her honeyed words are brushed aside as my aunt rips her hand from Giselle's grasp. Pushing herself from the wall, she glares at Giselle, her eyes burning with rage on the verge of tears. “My brother's dream died with him.” Her words cut Giselle deeply. Who reaches for her heart with a trembling hand. “And now you're willing to send my niece to be wed to some old soldier if I don't obey?”

“Of course not!” Putting her other hand on her chest, Giselle tilts her head in a parody of prayer. “Iona, what happened that day was a tragedy.” She clinches tightly to her collar. “And what the three of you went through.” Looking at my aunt with a hurt expression, “Was cruel. I want to help you.” She holds out her hand. “But, this threat is bigger than any of us.”

My aunt holds out her hand with a sour expression, but as they are about to shake hands, she grabs Giselle by the collar. Pulling her close, with lips to Giselle's ear, “I won’t let you take my family from me.” She looks to Livuis, knowing he heard her.

“You won’t be going alone,” Livius interjects as he eyes me. “Colton will be joining you.”

“What?” I say.

“Absolutely not.” The hair on the back of my neck stands up as Giselle stands between Livius and me. “I won't allow this, Livius.” She points to my aunt. “Iona has real combat experience.” Her hand lands on my shoulder, which I shove away. “Sending Colton to the frontier would be a waste of his talents,” she looks at me with a smile. “He’s going to take my place on the council.”

Livius sighs, disappointedly shaking his head. “We need a translator, Giselle. He is fluent in the northern tongue, so there's a chance we can negotiate.” He looks at me. “It's a perfect opportunity for him to prove himself worthy of the position.” He turns to Giselle. “Isn't that why you had him master five languages?”

“He has a point, Giselle,” Hunter says.

“Hunter!” All eyes fall on Giselle, now with a sheepish look.

Unfazed by her outburst, “Having a translator would be a boon.” The room grows cold. “Colton’s skills could ensure that there is no misinterpretation.” The bluntness of his words cut Giselle deeply. “But even if you could bring Baer allies to the table, it's a moot point if we lack the men.”

“And where do you propose we get these men?” Livius asks.

Hunter's eyes dart between Giselle and Livius. She looks worried, shaking her head, but says nothing. “There are nomads who have lost their homes to the Imperial expansion and Baer.” He looks to me, then to my aunt. “They may be willing to fight for the right incentive,” he says.

“Hunter, those nomads have no loyalty but their own,” Giselle says as she walks to Hunter. “You can't rely on them.”

He calmly caresses her cheek. “What other choice do we have, Giselle?” He turns to Livius. “We need more men.“

Giselle forces Hunter to look back at her. “Hunter, they hate us as much as Baer.” She snaps at him, “What could we offer them?”

Livius taps his cane on the ground, drawing everyone's attention. Rising from his seat, he draws a line on the map. “Should these nomads fight, Dorian can expand the offer of land by several miles south. While it isn’t the Plains of Juliana, it is still farmable land, suitable for settlement.” He then points to Bloodcrest Keep, the largest fortress along the Scar. “Should we succeed, we will have a permanent force on the frontier.” He draws a line to the Eastern mountain range. “And land for them to live on.”

I rest my elbows on my knees, fighting a throbbing headache. What is Livius planning, claiming kinship, and forcing us to make a marriage pact? Aunt Iona has connections with mercenaries, but neither of us is skilled in politics or trade.

Iona stands behind me, leaning at the back of the couch. She's deep in thought, muttering to herself. Is she really going to go through with this? The prospect of going north gives me a restless feeling in my gut. I want a home as much as her, but will we collar ourselves to do it?

“You're not really going through with this, are you?” I whisper, praying Giselle can't hear me. She closes her eyes, rubbing her head in frustration. “Aunt Iona?” She snaps back to reality, giving me a reassuring smile.

“Sorry,” she rubs her forehead in frustration. “What do you gain from all this, Livius?” she asks, pushing herself off the back of the couch. “How does claiming kinship with me benefit you?” She crosses her arms with a puzzled look on her face. “

Turning around, Livius stares at us bluntly. “Stability, Iona. I won’t allow Titus’s hatred of northerners to jeopardize the Empire. If he remains in control, war is all but assured.” He turns to Giselle. “So it would be best to prune the branch so something better can grow.”

Things start to make sense, but I hold my tongue. Is he suggesting we have Dorian take the reins? I look to the ground, my foot tapping as my heart pounds. If the great houses get word of this, or worse, Titus himself, my memories of the purge start to surface. I can’t go through with that again. I can’t.

“And the Emperor agrees with this?” Giselle asks.

Livius shakes his head, “I’ve advised Octavan that this rotting branch must be pruned for the tree to survive.” He stands next to Iona with both hands on his cane. “After the incident with Cato, I’ve convinced him that extending an olive branch is in our best interests.” This attention falls on Hunter. “Do you know how to get in contact with these Nomads?”

“I do, but it will take time to gather them,” Hunter says, crossing his arms as his attention falls on my aunt. “Though I advise you to tread carefully, Livius, the Empire cannot afford to lose its few northern allies.” He bows with one hand over his heart. As he leaves, he gives a slight nod of approval. “Giselle, we need to speak privately.”

“Hunter, we’re in the middle of…” Giselle stops when Hunter gives her a cold look. Though hesitant to leave, she complies. She stops, “Colton, I.” She reaches for me, but I swat her hand away. I don't want to hear her excuses again; I’ve heard it all. She’s hurt, but I don’t care. With a heavy sigh, she closes her eyes and shakes her head. “We’ll talk later, ok.” I don’t acknowledge her, leaning back on the couch and crossing my arms.

Once they're gone, my Aunt walks around the couch, squeezing my shoulder. The spark reignited in her eyes. She smiles, then turns to Livius with a hardened expression. “If I'm forced to play this game, Livius, I expect a few things in return. ”

Amused by her bravado, he leans on the edge of his desk, gesturing to her with his free hand. She grabs the list she made earlier. He shakes his head. “Iona.”

Handing the papers to him, she stands at the opposite side of the desk with crossed arms. “Livius, you, of all people, should understand the bonds built from time.” She scowls. “If we send an army of random mercs that can't work together, we might as well cut our own throats.” Sitting on the desk's edge, “If I’m going north, I want men I trust to keep Colton and me safe.”

It's a harsh assessment, but true. Hahaku and the others have been a tight-knit group for as long as I can remember. I’ve seen how that bond made them a formidable force in that time. That's not something you can create by fighting alongside strangers. Not to mention, they’ve come to our aid on more than one occasion.

I play with one of the stones on my bracelet, worry eating away at me. The purge floods my thoughts. I remember standing in the inferno with Enid in my arms—the cries of battle ringing in my ears, with the stench of burning meat suffocating me. Through watering eyes, I remember people telling me to run, hide, protect Enid, and find Aunt Iona. I can never remember their faces.

My time in the auxiliaries has shown me how disciplined the Empire's military is. Few can challenge them on the open field. However, according to Hunter, Baer isn’t foolish enough to be drawn into the open. That means smaller auxiliaries like myself and mercenaries like Aunt Iona must make up the difference.

“Fine, Iona.” Livius sighs as he tilts forward rubbing his eye. “I'll humor you for now, but if your allies can't muster enough men. I will take matters into my own hands.”

My aunt nods, “Now about Luna and Enid.”

“They will remain here,” Livius answers. “And as long as you fulfill your end of this agreement, I can assure you that no harm will come to them.”

“Not good enough.” Iona steps forward, her arms crossed. “If I’m playing your game, I want my people protecting them.” Her attention falls on me. “Finally, if I die without an heir, I want Colton to replace me.”

“No,” Livius says as he stands. “I will allow you to choose protectors for Enid and Luna. And I will provide you with two guards for your protection.” His eyes fall on me, but his expression is cold. “But Colton will take Giselle's place once he turns twenty-one.”

Forcing myself to stand, I glare at Livius, “Don’t I get a say on any of this?”

“No!” Livius says, closing the gap between us. With his cane between us, he stands proudly, looking at me like I’m a disobedient child. “Boy, the needs of the Empire outweigh the desires of the individual,” he says stoically. “You're going North, and once you prove yourself, you’ll take Giselle's position on the council. Under our guidance, you can make a real difference for your people.”

I gesture to myself, hands in the air, frustrated with this ordeal. “I’m not a politician,” I growl.

Livius grabs me by the neck, forcing me to look at him directly. “You will be.” Does he believe what he is saying? Or is his mind getting soft? Narrowing his gaze, he lets me go and returns to the map. With his back to me, “There will be no more discussion on this matter.” He taps his cane on the ground. “Iona, we will discuss your contacts in the coming days.” He sits back at his desk. “But for now,” is glances up. “It may be pertinent to accelerate Colton's combat training.”

I look at my Aunt, who nods and then gestures to the doorway. Putting my hands up in defeat, we leave the room. “Are we really going to go through with this?” I ask, only for Aunt Iona to shush me with a finger to her lip. I follow her eyes, finding a trio of Alexis’s staff whispering to one another in the Easterner's tongue.

My heart jumps into my throat, but I swallow it when nothing but petty rumors escape their lips. To say that I’m stressed would be an understatement. With everything that's happened, I need something to unwind. Iona shoulders me, gesturing to the training yard with a smile.

Following her lead, I prepare for a sparring match, but she doesn’t assume the position like usual. She makes a mess of the training yard, kicking things over and leaving sparing weapons and other items scattered around. I can understand that frustration. They dropped a mountain on us. My Aunt takes two sparing blades from a barrel, letting one slip through her fingers to the ground. We walk past one another; as I pick up the weapon, she taps my hand with the flat end of her sword. I pull my hand away, trying to ease the stinging sensation running through my arm. “Hey!” I protest, only for her to try to strike me again.

“The enemy won’t wait for you to be ready.” We start our dance, trading blows. Her strikes are precise, limiting my movements. I try to focus on her but keep tripping over the scattered debris. Losing my footing more than once, I feel like I’m being hunted. She’s acting colder, even bloodthirsty, with that eerie smile, making her look like a mad woman.

Fear creeping its way into my heart, I ready my sword, but she moves around me with ease, her pummel striking my ribs, causing another wave of pain to rush through my body. The cuts from earlier start to reopen, letting a warm trickle seep into my clothes. I can’t let her know what happened, not yet. Get a grip, Colton. Just hold out for now. Griping my sword, I shield my torso with my free hand, preparing for the inevitable onslaught.

We circle each other, looking for openings. Aunt Iona lowers her blade, so I rush her, hoping to use my size to my advantage. Cracking a smile, she kicks sand in my eyes. Grabbing my sleeve, she steps backward, using my momentum to throw me over her shoulder. “Mind your surroundings, Colton.” She goes for a kick, but I grab her leg in midair. Standing, I throw her back, but instead of landing on her ass, she somersaults, landing on her feet. I chuckle through my burly vision without her armor; she's far more nibble.

We close the distance with adrenaline pumping, and the real fight begins. Our blades sing as they connect, sliding along the edges like a whetstone. She tries to disarm me, but I twist my wrist so her weapon hits the hand guard. Now that she's hooked, I go for a pummel straight to the face. But a knee to the kidney sends me stumbling back. My foot hits something. I fight to keep standing but land hard, my weapon disappearing in the debris.

Aunt Iona prepares to strike, so I grab the first thing my hands find. Blocking her attack with a staff, I kick her in the stomach. I’m inexperienced with polearms, but it's all I have now. I stand looking at our little battlefield. There’s opportunity everywhere, but will I get the chance? I mimic Tristan’s stance, holding my weapon across my forearm like a shield. With wide swings, I gradually allow the shaft to slide further through my fingers, giving me more range with each swing.

Forcing her to duck under my broad attack, I pull my weapon back, going from a thrust to her stomach. But she sidesteps, snapping my staff in two. Going for a thrust of her own, I step forward, griping her wrist while I hold her off the ground with my other arm. “Yield,” I growl, barely able to restrain her.

She tilts her head, striking me on the nose. The world starts spinning, a pain clamps down on my ear, while a blow to the back of the knee sends me to the ground. I land with a thud, a pair of arms crisscrossing across my neck. My Aunt's face comes into focus, the smile gone, leaving a mixture of concern and disappointment.

Leaning in, I can feel the heat of her breath. “Don’t hesitate to fight dirty. Your opponent won’t.” Taking her words to heart, I pull her hair, sticking my thumb up her nose, using my size to flip us over. Now, with advantage, I hold her down by the throat. If she moves, all I have to do is tighten my grip. She smiles, grabbing my elbows. I tighten my grip, but she won’t let me go even as she turns red. The air is ripped from my lungs as her heels dig into my sides, forcing me to loosen my hold.

Gasping for air, she kicks my knees out from under me, forcing me to land on her. With all her strength, she flips us, her legs planted firmly on my arms. She ready her fist, looking down at me, breathing heavily with a cold stare. “Do you yield?” I nod in defeat, “Good.” Her fist rushes toward me. I look away with closed eyes, waiting for the blow to hit me on the cheek. As it's about to hit, she stops, flicking me on the nose. She starts laughing in a light-hearted way. Getting up, she offers me her hand.

Taking her hand, she helped me get to my feet. I wince when another cut starts to reopen. Though I try to hide my pain, my Aunt taps her cheek. I wipe my face, and a red smear covers my fingers. She starts to clean the grounds, gesturing for me to join her. As I kneel to help her, a few prying eyes land on us from various points of the estate. It's not the usual gawking out of boredom. It's too focused, as if they're looking for something.

I lift a barrel, filling it with sparing weapons. When Aunt Iona is close enough, I whisper in the Northener’s tongue. “Are they watching us?” I ask, taking the weapons she hands me.

Without looking, she reaches into her clothes, pulling a cloth for my cheek. “I don’t know,” she says as we drag the barrel to the other side of the yard. Rummaging through the barrel, my aunt curses. “ Damnit, I’m missing one of the shields,” she points back to the yard. “I must have dropped it.”

Taking the hint, I walk back to the yard. Searching through the sand, I find what she's looking for. Picking the shield, I strap it to my arm. As shadow towers over me, I turn to block my aunt's attack. “I thought you said we were done?” I throw my weight, pushing her back, my frustration boiling.

She shoulders her two-handed club. “In battle, it isn’t over till someone is dead,” she says coldly, making me think about what I had done in the alley. “I just want you to be ready, Colton.” She starts gathering other tools from the ground. “I can’t lose you,” the cold expression melts away. “Not like that.”

We continue to clean up the mess, watchful of the eyes that follow us. When they disappear back into the estate, I relax but remain cautious. With both arms full, I carry my load to the storage area, leaning most of it against the wall. My back is killing me, so I sit, taking a cup offered. Drinking my fill, I slump back, the cool stones of the wall easing my pain.

Aunt Iona chugs her drink, joining me. “So, how did you get those cuts?”

I lean forward, trying to think of a believable lie. “You must have grazed me with that sparing sword.” I look at her, getting a scowl. With nowhere to run, I tell her what happened after Becka and I left Blackstone. What I’d done to Atius and his slave to protect Becka, and how he threatened to claim Enid if he didn’t get his way. Then, what happened at the Silent Sin, where Hunter had to save us from the Madame’s extortion.

Talking about it helps, but I worry about what will come from it. If Madame talks or Atius’s family goes sniffing around, Enid and my aunts will never be safe. I cling to my pant leg, but Aunt Iona cups my trembling hand, resting her head on my shoulder. “Whatever happens, we will face it together.” She looks up with a genuine smile.

I rest my head on hers. “Together,” I say, leaning back. I watch some birds fly overhead. “How do you think Aunt Luna will take the news?”

My aunt leans back, crossing her arms and legs. “She won't be thrilled.” Closing her eyes, she takes a breath. “I worry her enough as it is.” The weight of the situation hangs heavy on her features. “But if it means we can leave this city,” an innocent smile creeps across her face. “Then it's worth it.”

“You think the Trajans will honor this deal?”

“They don’t have a choice.” She turns to me, her emerald eyes glowing in the cool afternoon light. “If we die, they die. Baer will wipe them out along with the rest of us.”

“And if they try to stab us in the back?” I ask.

“I'll have you and the others there to watch my back.” She leans forward, wincing as she grabs her stomach, giving me a reassuring smile. “We’ll get through this, Colton, I promise.”