Broken Truce (Broken City, 2#)

By D.D. Chant

Life isn't turning out the way that Deeta thought it would. With the Lewises defeated and peace between the tribes, she'd believed that the dark times were in the past.
However troubles between the tribes continue and the Andak council has selected Tom as their ambassador and chief spokesman to the other tribes.
Deeta knows that there is still much resentment against the Andak, that Tom is in danger every time he leaves the safety of Andak city.
Struggling with her own complicated feelings against the tribe that she is now a part of, Deeta tries to ignore the changing attitudes growing within her.
Then Tom is betrayed and with the whole City thrown into great danger, Deeta finds that reality can't be ignored forever...

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Chant
• Release date: Feb 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310143212

D.D. Chant

Hiya everyone, my name is Dee Dee, I’m twenty five and I live in a beautiful part of England, Devon. Broken City is actually my second novel. My first, as my Aunt so delicately put it, was crazy, but in my defence I was only sixteen at the time. On the plus side I learnt a lot (or so I hope) and two years later Broken City was finished. Since then I have written another book ‘The Promise’, which is set in Saxon England and is a romance, it is the beginning of a series. I am currently writing my third book, which is set in the distant future and is also the start of a series. I’m about half way through and very excited about it! I really hope you enjoy reading my books as much as I enjoy writing them.

Book preview

Chapter One

Deeta

I truly believed that it had ended that day. I thought that in drawing together to fight a shared enemy we had overcome our fears, the segregation, and our loneliness.

I guess that makes me naïve, doesn’t it?

Maybe it was just that I wanted it all to be at an end, and so I convinced myself that our troubles were over. Now I see that I was stupid to think that people would be able to forget, that they could overcome the mistrust and hate that had governed their lives for so long, in such a short time.

The reality is not so cosy.

I pull the quilt closer around my shoulders, resting my head back against the armchair I’m curled up in. It’s late, after midnight, and the house is deathly quiet. The fire in the grate crackles merrily, chasing away the dark shadows that threaten to engulf the room, dark shadows that are mirrored in my thoughts.

Deet?

I jump, startled by Jan’s voice and turn to see her on the threshold of the lounge, blonde hair hanging loosely around her shoulders and eyes drowsy.

Are you okay? she asks, moving further into the room and curling up on the settee across from me. Her hand slides down to rest on the swell of her stomach, and firelight glints on the gold band on the third finger of her left hand.

I was about to ask you the same question.

My sister pats her stomach lightly.

The baby was hungry, so I came down for a snack, but then I saw the light from the fire.

The look she casts me is questioning.

I couldn’t sleep.

Jan nods, and I know I don’t have to explain.

My thoughts drift to Tom, out there somewhere in the City.

It happened again.

Fighting… I thought we were past bickering among ourselves, but apparently we’re not. Tom knows most of the tribes, having traded with them for the Clark’s for years. So he’s always the one who has to go and try to sort things out. The tribes are more willing to listen to him than any of the other Andak council members.

I shake my head. I’d thought that this part of our life was over, that Tom would never have to leave the safety of the Andak compound again and risk his life out in the City. However, thanks to the continuing troubles, his journeys out have become more frequent.

This time the problem has been with two of the larger tribes in the east, the Dangras and the Johnsons. Tom says that they’ve been fighting since the breakdown and that there’s a lot of bad blood between them, a lot of death and misery.

How will they get past their hate?

What if they can never make peace?

I push the thoughts aside, not wanting to think of such unhappiness. Jan’s stomach grumbles and I look up at her with a smile, glad to be distracted.

We’d better get that baby something to eat.

Jan grins as well, but I know she has picked up on my mood. I see a frown creasing her brow, and feel bad that I’ve made her worry. She stands and rocks a little, unsteady with her newly acquired weight. I slip my arm around her waist, pulling her toward me in a quick hug. Jan laughs as her stomach comes between us, and squeezes me briefly.

It feels strange to see her like this, to know that soon she will be a mother. She is, after all, my little sister. I held her as a newborn, taught her to tie her shoelaces, read to her, comforted her, and looked after her. Despite the fact that I have often seen her as the wisest of us three sisters, she is still the baby of the family. To think of her as a wife and mother is taking some getting used to.

I often find myself wondering over the changes that have occurred to us in these last months, just a year ago we had no idea that Tom was Andak. Our lives were contained in the Clark compound: sheltered, reclusive, ignorant of so much that was happening in the City. Is it wrong of me to nurse a secret wish that in some ways it was still like that?

Maybe it is wrong, perhaps even selfish.

It’s just that before I had a hazy knowledge of the dangers, but now I know those dangers well. More importantly, I know that Tom faces them almost every day, and that scares me so badly I can’t even put my dread into words.

Tom laughs when I tell him my worries; he pats my cheek, and smiles at my fears as though they are groundless.

But they aren’t groundless, and we both know it.

I settle into a chair up at the island in the middle of the kitchen, and watch as Jan examines the contents of the fridge. One hand is on her hip, pulling the fabric of her pyajama top into the curve of her waist. Her other hand taps out a thoughtful rhythm on the door.

I don’t really know why she’s hesitating. I already know that she’ll have eggs: fried, scrambled, poached, or made into an omelet. She’s had an insatiable craving for them ever since she became pregnant. She bends forward and, sure enough, emerges from the fridge with two eggs.

Do you want some, Deet?

I feel my stomach heave; I can never manage to force food down when Tom is ‘out’.

I’m fine thanks.

Jan shakes her head.

You didn’t eat any dinner.

Yes I did!

Jan raises an eyebrow sardonically, an infuriating habit she’s picked up from her husband.

Pushing food around your plate for half an hour does not count, Deet.

Don’t you dare practice your mummy voice on me, Jan.

I was born with a mummy voice, Deeta, I don’t need to practice!

I laugh, shaking my head. Folding my arms on the work surface, I watch as she puts butter into a pan and cracks the two eggs. For a while neither of us speaks, but watch silently as the egg white bubbles and starts to crisp.

He’ll be okay, Deet. Jan’s voice is soft.

How many times has she said those words to me?

A hundred?

A thousand times?

I want to believe it, I want to let the fear go, to believe that I will never kiss him goodbye and have him disappear from my life forever.

Yet it won’t go away. I carry this horrible weight of terror that haunts me, giving me no peace when Tom is not by my side.

This isn’t how I expected being married would be.

In a way its better, the joy of being with Tom is beyond anything I’d ever imagined. The thrill of just being together is so new and strange to me. Tom and I have known each other for so long, he has been an integral part of my day to day life from my earliest memories, and yet this is different. It’s sweeter, warmer, and so wonderfully safe.

Safe, that is, until the world outside encroaches and takes him away from me. Then I experience the flip side of those heady emotions: the worry, the fear, the ache of hoping that he will be alright. That’s when the painfully clear understanding that the safety I bask in is little more than an illusion, breaks upon me. That is when I truly understand that my happiness is a fragile web that hinges on Tom.

I could lose him.

I can’t lose him.

I don’t think I’m strong enough to survive anything happening to him, and it’s worse now than it was before. I came so close to finding out how my life would be if I ever lost him, the day the Lewis army attacked Andak City. I can still remember Ryder telling me that Tom was going behind enemy lines alone, the weakness and nausea that flooded my whole body, the horror that filled my mind. Suddenly everything was clear and calm, and the knowledge that he could die had pierced my heart.

I realised suddenly then that it was possible he might never come back, that I might never again have him wrap me in the warm and comforting embrace that makes me feel so protected and loved. Every time I stand on the doorstep kissing him goodbye, these are the thoughts that fill my head, making me weak when I want so much to be strong for him.

Yet despite everything I know that being with Tom is worth anything life throws at me.

Mari is right.

I asked her once how she could stand the loss of her husband Dax, how she could bear the pain of knowing she would never see him again. Her answer had been simple: she could have had none of the pain, but she could not have had Dax either. I didn’t really know what she meant at the time, but now I understand a little better.

I love Tom.

I love everything about him, the person he is. I love his sense of responsibility, the way he sees it as his duty to look after everyone. I love his strength, his fearlessness, his ability to courageously face those who seek to hurt the vulnerable.

Yet all of those things that make me love him so much are the very things that put me in this state of dread. So Mari is right: I can’t have one without the other.

If Tom were to retire within the walls of Andak City and ignore the plight of those less fortunate outside, he would not be the man I love. If I try to change him, convince him to stay with me in safety, he would no longer be Tom and I would have lost him just as surely as if he had died out in the City.

Jan clears her throat, and I realise that the silence has become overlong.

How are the improvements to the Marshall compound going?

Jan shrugs delicately, and begins to butter the toast on her plate.

Rye said something about running in to trouble, apparently the stone is different and it’s slowing down the drills. She shakes her head. He was too tired to explain it properly but I think they’re trying to decide if it would be quicker to go around.

How much longer will it take than scheduled?

I don’t know. Rye’s worried because this particular phase of the project puts a lot of strain on the Marshall defenses. He’s already supplemented their guard with a detail of Andak soldiers, but with tensions between the Andak and the Marshall’s being what they are… Her voice trails off. After what the Andak did to the Marshall compound things are bound to be a little… difficult. She finishes softly.

I nod thinking back to that night; the screaming, the panic, and the sound of fighting that could be heard so clearly above everything else. The night the Andak attacked the Marshall compound in search of Tom.

Jan scoops eggs on to her toast, and sits down next to me up to the island. As she picks up her knife and fork her stomach growls loudly again and we both chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

The memories of the night of that attack will stay with me forever I think. It was the beginning, and the end, of so much. It was from that moment that I truly began to understand Tom. I had been friends with him for sixteen years, but before that day there was so much about him that I didn’t know. I knew who he was but not why he had become that person. It was only after coming to Andak City that I found explanations for the quirks of his nature.

Tom has always protected people and tried to keep them safe. After learning about his life here I realised why that compulsion is so fierce in him. Tom knows what it’s like to be helpless, defenseless, and in great danger. He has an unbreakable bond of compassion toward all who find themselves in a position of vulnerability, and feels a duty to help them.

His strength has always fascinated me, perhaps because I could never detect the same strength in anyone else. Power can sometimes be brutal, harsh, or even suffocating. Yet Tom’s toughness is somehow comforting. Often I think that it is the same comfort and protection I feel from my father.

My thoughts wander and coldness covers me as my mind again begins to dwell on the peace talks that Tom is even now overseeing between the Dangras and the Johnsons.

Peace.

I wonder if that is the right word?

I don’t really think peace is possible in this broken city of ours. It seems as though every alliance that has been made between the tribes since the Lewis attack, are based more on mutual mistrust and prejudice than anything else. If it wasn’t for the continued threat from the Lewis army, the unity of the first few months after the attack would have crumbled completely.

There is, as Tom so aptly put it, too much bad blood between the tribes, and the memory of all that has gone before is a gulf that no one seems to be able to bridge. Sometimes it feels like no one really wants to, as if they need to hold on to their hurt because they are too afraid of the unknown in their future to move forward.

I understand that.

For so long that is how I felt when I lived with the Clark tribe, long before any of this had happened. I wanted to see the outside world, but at the same time I was too scared of the unknown, of the darkness in the City, to do anything to realise my dream.

Now I know the truth. Our future is what we make it, and if we chase the shadows and darkness they flee from before us.

It was Tom who taught me that. Because of his strength, I don’t fear the darkness anymore.

Chapter Two

Deeta

The first thing I see when I wake up the next morning is Tom’s face. Jan and I returned to the lounge after her midnight snack and talked until we fell asleep. I think it is Jan and Tom’s voices that wake me up. As I groggily try to kick-start my brain, Janny gets to her feet and stretches.

I’d better go back to bed before that man of mine wakes up and sees that I’m not there. She rearranges her dressing gown and gives me a grin. He’ll behave like a moody teenager for the rest of the day if I’m not!

She leaves, and I turn back to Tom. He’s crouched down beside my chair, elbows propped up on the arm, cradling his chin in his hands. His face is very pale, dark smudges of fatigue ring the sleepy eyes that are fixed on my face, a lazy smile in their depths.

You look tired.

I am.

I shift a little in my chair as his gaze becomes more alert and his mouth stretches into a slow smile.

Deeta?

I feel a shiver of goose bumps spread over my arms at the softly caressing tone.

Yes?

You’re dribbling.

I touch a hand to my face in panic but there is nothing there.

Made you look! laughs Tom, his whole body shaking with mirth. I thump a cushion into his grinning face.

Horrid boy!

Say it like you mean it, Deetina, he whispers teasingly, catching my arm and pulling the cushion out of my grip before drawing me closer. I hang back against the gentle pressure and shake my head in mock indignation.

Don’t even think about it, I’m not kissing you: you’re ghastly!

Tom shrugs his shoulders.

"You should have thought about that before you married me."

I continue the pretence of resisting while still allowing him to pull me closer.

I was blinded by your shoulders.

For a moment Tom stills and looks down at me as though he couldn’t possibly have heard me correctly.

"You were blinded by my what?"

Your shoulders, I sigh gustily, playing with a button on the front of his shirt. I was so busy admiring them that I didn’t notice you stalking me. Before I knew it, you’d pounced and I was caught. I shake my head. Such a sad tale.

Tom slants a disbelieving look my way.

"As I recall it was you who pounced on me, he corrects, and you waited until I was injured and weak to do so!"

By now his arms are wrapped around me, cradling me close.

You feeling injured or weak now, Tom?

Why? Are you thinking of taking advantage of me again?

I run a finger over the short bristles on his cheek.

The idea had occurred to me.

Well as it happens I am feeling a little bit faint at the moment,’ muses Tom. ‘I doubt I’ll be able to put up much of a fight.

His face tilts closer to mine, but a second before our lips touch a giggle bursts from my mouth. Tom pulls back, a look of mock affront on his face.

You’re laughing? I put the moves on you, and you laugh in my face? What kind of wife are you?

My giggle progresses to a full out laugh, and I lean my head against his shoulder weakly.

"Faint? Faint, Tom? You sound like Mrs. Bennet!"

Mrs. who?

From Pride and Prejudice.

Recognition lights his eyes, along with a spark of outrage. Before he can act on it I pull his head down and kiss him.

It must only be five minutes later that we hear a snort from the doorway and guiltily pull away from each other.

Dec and Roydon stand just inside the room, their noses wrinkled in distaste. They’re dressed in their cadets uniform, a blue-grey shirt and trousers. A black beret is squashed through the epaulettes on their shoulders, and I’m struck again by the fact that they are now young men.

Yuck!

He never used to kiss her this much, remarks Roydon with a disapproving shake of his head.

"Uncle Tom didn’t used to kiss her at all! returns Dec. Or hug her, or hold her hand, or touch her hair; now he does it all the time!"

"Not all the time, argues Roydon judiciously, he isn’t here all the time."

Dec considers this statement thoughtfully.

But if he was he’d be doing it all the time though.

It’s soft.

It’s gross.

Both boys turn to each other and their voices unite.

It’s girly!

And you’re sticking around to watch it, I observe.

Something very like revulsion crosses both boys’ faces and they start to back out of the room.

Yuck, no!

They turn to run down the corridor and a moment later we hear the back door slam as they run out into the garden.

Poor Tom, I think you’ve lost your street cred.

It looks that way doesn’t it? I’ll have to start beating you and see if I can recover lost ground.

Before I can make the appropriate rejoinder there is a squeal from the doorway.

Uncle Tom’s home!

Carris erupts into the room, flinging herself into Tom’s arms and letting loose a stream of quick fire questions that are so garbled, neither of us understands a word.

Take a breath Carrie! smiles Tom, lifting her from the floor. The maneuver is starting to get more difficult now that Carris is approaching her tenth year. Carris giggles and snuggles her cheek against his dark stubble, wrinkling her nose as it pricks at her soft skin. Tarri enters the room just behind her step-sister and seeing a lull in the conversation takes the opportunity to catch Tom’s attention.

Aunty Deet didn’t go to bed last night, Uncle Tom. Her eyes are wide as she confides this information. She stayed up all night!

Tom looks down at me, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

No wonder she’s such a shorty. Let it be a lesson to you girls: if you don’t want to be a midget like your Aunty Deeta, you’ll have to make sure you go to bed early every night.

That’s right, why don’t you all gang up on the little one? I mutter, pretending to be offended. How could you grass me up like that, Tarri? I thought you loved me!

Carris covers her mouth with both hands and giggles, her hair is rumpled from sleep and sticks out wispily like a halo. Tarri shakes her head at me, she’s dressed in a pink nightdress with a teddy bear print and has a pair of fluffy pink slippers on. She looks soft and warm… and very disapproving.

Uncle Jep says you’ll make yourself sick. Her voice takes on a motherly inflection. If you’re sick who’ll make us pancakes every Friday?

Tom chokes back a laugh.

Tarri has a point, Deet, he grins, you know how much I like your pancakes, what would I do without them?

I elbow him in the ribs.

You only love me for my pancakes? If that’s the case I dare say you’ll be able to find a replacement. I can just imagine the advert: needed, one woman, not afraid of little monsters with untidy bedrooms. Must have nice pancakes.

I feel Tom’s fingers slide around mine, the slightly rough skin of his thumb skimming across my knuckles.

"But I like your pancakes," he murmurs softly.

I do too! announces Carris fervently, completely innocent of Tom’s innuendo.

This statement completely oversets Tom and he sinks down into a chair, laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes free of tears. I shake my head trying to be disapproving, but it’s no good with the laughter bubbling up inside me. I tell both girls to go and help Nan set the table for breakfast.

When I turn back to Tom it is to find that he has recovered from his amusement, but a lingering smile still hovers on his lips. His head is resting against the softness of the cushions and his eyes are closed. He seems close to sleep, and I notice again the fatigue in his face. The paleness of his skin stands out sharply against his dark stubble and the bluish shadows beneath his eyes.

I wish I could make it better somehow, that I could take away the responsibilities that wear him down like this. I want to ease his burden, bring him relief, but I have no idea how to do that or if it would even be right.

You’re staring. Tom shifts a little as if he’s trying to find a more comfortable position. Do you fancy me or something?

I snort.

I was just thinking that if you fall asleep there I’m not strong enough to carry you up to the bedroom.

He smiles a little, still not opening his eyes, and reaches a hand up to me. I lean forwards to take it, thinking he wants me to help him up. When I place my hand in his, he jerks me down beside him and pulls me close. With a contented sigh he wraps both arms around me.

Mmm… that’s better, he murmurs, settling my head on his shoulder and resting his cheek against my hair. You’re nice and soft, Deeta: comfortable.

Are you telling me I’m fat?

Tom’s shoulders shake in amusement and he lifts a hand, covering my mouth.

Shhh, let’s just sit like this for a bit.

His voice is so tired that I decide that now is not the time to ask him what happened while he was ‘out’. A few seconds later I feel his hold on me relax and his breathing change as he falls asleep.

These are the moments I treasure, the times that bring me most happiness. I know that it’s memories like these that I’ll never forget. They are simple, common place even, but more precious to me than the grandest of romantic gestures.

I can’t begin to explain the feelings I experience when Tom turns to me for comfort, for peace. The way he is only able to relax completely when he has me in his arms draws me to him in ways I can’t express. It makes me feel so good to know that to him I am important and precious. That my existence makes his life richer just as his existence enriches mine.

I move a little so that I can study his face, the dark hair falling over his brow and the strong features that I know and love so well. I smile slightly. I don’t mean to brag, but there is no denying that I did pretty well for myself!

Beneath my hand I can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. It’s a heart that I know is filled with Tom’s own special brand of tenderness. As the warmth he radiates seeps into me, my eyes flutter close.

Tom is back safe and sound, for now that is the only thing of any importance.

-------

As expected the children wake us up before much time has passed, with the news that breakfast is ready. Tom rubs his eyes sleepily and grunts something about being too tired to eat, before slowly making his way up to our room. By the time I enter the breakfast room I see that my ragtag family has already gathered. There is a deep sense of content in my heart as I look at them, all so dear to my heart. It never ceases to amaze me that this collection of people can be a true family without the ties of blood.

I smile at Tom’s step-father and look down at Tarri where she curls up on his knee, her chubby fingers threaded through Uncle Jep’s watch chain. Dec and Roydon are attempting to brush grass stains from their trousers as Jan looks on her step-nephews disapprovingly.

I seriously don’t know about you boys; do you have to bring half of the garden in with you?

Royden and Dec look sheepishly down at the damp and slightly muddy marks.

I don’t know how it happens, Aunty Jan, states Dec, his eyes wide, conveying his sense of being caught up in a conspiracy. Ricky looks up briefly from his book and shakes his head at his younger step-brothers.

A wild guess suggests it might have happened in the garden, while you were trying to force grass down each other’s throats.

Dec looks startled.

How do you know about that?

You were right outside my bedroom window making enough noise to wake the dead. How could I have missed you?

Jan pulls a revolted face.

Yuck, what a ghastly pair.

I gesture that they should take their seats but before the room can settle down, the door bursts open and Dec’s sister Jojo bounces into the room.

Hello everyone! She greets us cheerily. Aunty Deet, please feed me!

Her large brown eyes fix on mine pleadingly.

Of course, Jojo. Haven’t you had breakfast yet?

Her face takes on an aggrieved expression and she slumps into the nearest chair.

Jennet, Fay, and Tina have started a new diet. They’re only eating yoghurt and fruit for breakfast and they won’t let Mum cook anything else, just in case they’re tempted to eat it. So Mum said I should come over here and have breakfast with you.

Yoghurt and fruit? echoes Dec aghast. That’s not even a proper snack!

Jojo nods vigorously in agreement, stuffing a sausage in her mouth.

That’s what I said.

Girls are crazy! Dec shakes his head bemusedly and helps himself to two slices of fried bread.

You’re only just finding that out? murmurs Ryder softly, but not quite softly enough. Jan turns to him slowly raising her eyebrows.

So what does that make you?

I don’t follow.

If women are crazy, men must be psychotic, muses Jan, because you’re so set on living with us!

Sounds psychotic to me, I observe.

Ryder grins slowly.

You make up for your craziness in other areas.

As he is talking his fingers brush up the length of Jan’s hand until he reaches her wrist. The soft caress of his fingers brings