Cubed (Kielan Series #1)

By Brenna Lyons

On the Earth colony Kielan in the far future, social standing is based on two things, family affiliation and power. All power is psi. Every individual has between five and forty units of psi power, but on Kielan, soulmates and bond-siblings are a way of life. By the science of matches, power increases geometrically by finding pairs destined to you.

When Balin Night sub Summer, a member of a bond-mated Trio, finds her bond-sister, a classless waif named Riann, she believes she has completed a bond-mated Quartet. To everyone's surprise, Riann is soulmate to the unmated single of their Trio, Lio. They have formed one of the rare Quatrels, and the untrained Riann is their cornerstone.

But there is a secret surrounding Riann. She is a member of one of the four great houses on Kielan and not lowborn as her name would suggest, but how could such a thing occur? It is up to Lio and Talek to solve the mystery of Riann's past and help her find her way as one of the true elite of their world.

CONTENT ADVISORY: This is a re-release title.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fireborn Publishing
• Release date: Feb 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781946004468

Brenna Lyons

Brenna Lyons wears many hats, sometimes all on the same day: ex-president of EPIC, author of more than 100 published works, teacher, wife, mother... She's a member of ERWA, IWOFA, Broad Universe, and more than 60 other author groups. She's taken Spinetingler's Book of the Year for 2007, and she's also finaled for multiple times for the EPPIE, PEARL (including one HM, second to Angela Knight), CAPA, and once for a Dream Realm Award. Brenna writes in 25 established worlds plus stand-alone fiction books and stories, poetry, articles, and essays. She's a bestseller in indie/e fantasy and horror, straight genre and cross-genres thereof. Brenna has been termed "one of the most deviant erotic minds in the publishing world...not for the weak." (Rachelle for Fallen Angels Reviews) Milieu-heavy dark work is practically Brenna's calling card, with or without the erotic content. She teaches classes in everything from POV studies to advanced editing, networking to marketing.

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Fireborn Publishing Copyright Statement

Cubed

Copyright © 2014/2017 by Brenna Lyons

eBook ISBN: 978-1-946004-46-8

First eBook Publication: February 2017

Cover Artist: Brenna Lyons

Photo Credit: 123rf

Editor: Kathryn Lively

Logo copyright © 2014 by Fireborn Publishing and Allison Cassatta

Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

This book is written in US English.

PUBLISHER

Chapter One

From the Writings of Evan Silver, First Historian of Planet Kielan

October 4th, 2504

My Pappap prophesized a bitter end to my flight to freedom. His final words before I boarded the ship were, Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

My answer had been an angry one. I wish, now, that I could take back every unkind word I spoke.

I thought nothing could be worse than the persecution and mistrust we'd known on Earth. Life on a far-flung plant that tested as supporting of human life seemed like Heaven without death. The Earth governments, most notably the American government, were glad to see us go. Leaving was the best for everyone involved—we believed.

Woken from stasis-sleep by complete loss of ship's power, we found ourselves in a hell we hadn't envisioned. Scrabbling about in the dark like blind rats, we pried open doors whose mag locks no longer held them tight and spilled onto a red-dirt plain in a pouring rain.

We found ourselves on a world wholly unlike Terra Tres should have been. Where we have come to rest is an uncertain thing. A hull breach had destroyed the last hope we had of learning where we were; by that, I mean it killed the few pilots on their six-month rotation out of stasis-sleep, their spouses and children.

The world is not ideal, but it supports human life. Thank the Lady for that small favor! No electric machines work here; we cannot even use our diagnostic machines to postulate on why the essential systems do not function.

Without the ship's systems, we have no star maps, no medical facilities, and no way to leave this cursed place. I have no voicecorder to commit this to history, and so I am writing this in the old style, with parchment and pen kept as a child's art supplies.

We do not even know how this sad state came about. Without the computer logs, the only evidence we have are starfire burns on the ship's hull and the manual thrusters our doomed pilots fired to slow our descent onto this plain. How we came to be so near a star when the preprogrammed guidance systems should have prevented it—and the pilots should have had ample time to correct any errors in the system—is yet another unsolvable mystery.

For now, survival is our only goal. The animals from stasis have been released into pens or to fend for themselves in the alien terrain. Test crops have been seeded with a small portion of our seed stores.

The future is uncertain. We've lost two of the twenty horses in the last three days, half the cattle, and one of the chickens. Birds seem to fare best in this new environ, but with no foreknowledge of the seasons, our lot in life may change tomorrow. Fear stalks our steps.

Survival is most important... And our technicians are now useless to us. Historical players, those with knowledge of pre-electrical life, may hold our only hope of survival. The ones who love history and our strongest psi talents...

****

April 1st, 3755

Riann Brook ran a shaking hand over her forehead. She needed rest, both physical and mental. She needed water and time out of the hot sun of Kielan. The ten-hour workday allowed by the psi-labor laws had come and gone more than an hour before, with none of her allowed breaks. If any of Jerelen Winter's other employees noticed, they were too frightened of the old Lord to comment in her favor.

Still, Riann couldn't complain to Winter about his treatment of her. The money she'd earn literally meant the food in her stomach and the roof over her head that night. Worse, if Winter gave her a poor reference—or gods forbid, blackballed her—she'd be reduced to scut-work day labor as her father had all those years since her mother died.

Galen was dead, now—gone nearly a year. She was a Brook, one of the lowest families on the planet, let alone in the city of Hanford. With no bonds to raise her status, she was the lowest of the low. She had attended three nerve-wracking meeting days and found no bonds. Not that she'd expected to, as a Brook. The odds were stacked against her.

She didn't have the money to travel to other towns for meeting days like the upper classes did, and even the highest level she had searched hadn't been happy to have a Brook, in her work browns and scuffed boots, at their meeting day. Her father had insisted that she stand, and he'd seemed more upset than she that Riann hadn't found a bond that day.

Riann couldn't afford to lose this job yet. If she left without a backup firmly in place or upset Winter in the leaving, he could easily find another to take her place while he saw to it that she went hungry.

The rich had that power. She'd heard enough whispered conversations between Galen and Uncle Tydl to know that her father had crossed a Lord once. He'd paid for that mistake, whatever it was, until the day he died. She didn't know the details, only that the Lord had been a madman. Still, he was a powerful madman from a respected family.

Riann managed a weak smile. She could find a way to get arrested again. At least in prison, she'd have bread and soy milk in her stomach and a dry bed for a few nights.

No. Her mother and father had taught her better than that.

In addition, getting arrested had landed her this job with Winter. He'd offered the job in repayment for his mistake in accusing her, and she had snapped up the chance of a steady income from a respected shop. She should have known the Lady could not be so kind to the likes of her.

She hefted the next crate carefully, every muscle in her body throbbing in time with her head. She had to be careful. If anything was damaged, it would come from her pay. She breathed a sigh of relief as the crate landed softly atop the growing pile in the dooryard then turned to the dwindling pile in the back of the cargo transport.

****

Balin Night-sub-Summer stopped and ran a hand over her forehead, wondering at the wave of exhaustion that washed over her, gone almost before she realized it had come. She wasn't tired, and surely it wasn't her soulmate, Talek.

True, she was pregnant with her second child, another girl that she and Talek had decided to name Celli. She was in town bartering for clothing that would appeal to Celli when the first wave had made itself known. There had been two more since then, but it wasn't the pregnancy that was causing this. It wasn't anything inside herself and certainly nothing from her unborn daughter, her older daughter, or her mate.

At a little over four months along, she and Celli had exchanged loving thoughts often enough for Balin to be certain of the nature of her younger daughter's mental touch. Even the few occasions when Celli had been in mild distress had not been comparable to this. Whatever this was, it wasn't anyone she had a known connection to.

She shielded herself from Talek. He would surely demand she lie down at home and see a healer if he felt her exhaustion and upset. She had to know from where this sensation came before she made such a move.

She looked around her at the light crowd milling between the white-tex plaster storefronts in the uptown marketplace of Hanford. The plaster was pristine, save the red stains of Kielan's native dirt even the most affluent shopkeepers had long since given up trying to clean off, trusting that the nightly rains and frequent painting would keep them looking respectable.

The shop signs were carved wood, painted in bright colors, but never red. They all saw enough red on a daily basis. The carvings were repeated on the wax-sealed wood doors, and the richest shops had small redglass windows in those heavy doors. Balin had seen pictls of marketplaces on old Earth with great clear glass windows. Window-shopping was what they called strolling along the marketplace then.

The exhaustion assaulted her again, stronger this time, and she followed the sensation down a dingy alley between two stores. The sensation faded, and Balin stopped. Had she found her bond-sister at last? She had to know for sure. She was concerned now. The one she was sensing was in a dire state.

Balin sighed. This was too slow. As when she found Talek at her first meeting day, intense emotion and proximity were her only keys to finding a bond. If she lost her bond-sister now, she might never happen upon her in a moment of stress again. Even in the same town, there was that chance, and her presence here didn't mean that the other woman lived in Hanford. If she were a visitor, they might never cross paths again.

When the sensation struck Balin again, she could feel the desperation and struggle underlying the exhaustion. She hurried down the alley, heedless of the complaints her body made at the movement, and spied a ragged young woman in brown work cover—the rough synthetic tunic and trews of the lowest classes. Her red curls glinted in the harsh sunlight that beat down on her uncovered head.

She will need hats to protect her sun-touched skin—and clothes that fit her new station.

She lifted a heavy crate from a cargo transport to the back of a clotherie. The exertion of what she was doing beat at Balin. She was too tired to detect or rebuff Balin's questing touch on her mind.

While Balin watched, the woman placed the crate imperfectly on the pile in the clotherie dooryard. Her concentration faltered, and the crate slipped off the pile, landing heavily in the red dirt lane.

The young woman pushed her hair back from the brown work cover and looked at the crate in dismay; Balin bit back tears along with her. Her bond-sister rubbed her temples with shaking fingers. She couldn't lift the crate again without rest.

Balin felt her own shield falter as she searched for the words to approach the woman.

[What is wrong, Love?] Talek's mind sought hers at the first sign of her distress.

I need you. Please, Talek.

[What is the problem?] His concern washed over her, followed by his calming touch.

I cannot. There were reasons. She had to secure the woman, but if Talek knew of her bond-sister's treatment, he would be uncontrolled in her defense, for Balin's sake. This treatment was illegal. At the least, the Council would be advised.

[I am on my way. Lio has Siri.]

Thank you, Talek. Balin sighed in relief. Lio was Talek's bond-brother and the third in their Trio. He would care for his bond-daughter well while Talek came to their aid.

She moved toward her bond-sister, hurting with her, feeling her hopelessness. Balin was suddenly glad that the woman wouldn't be subjected to this treatment any longer. As bond-sister, the woman was part of Balin's family. She would never be forced to labor to the point of collapse again.

Balin gasped in shock as she felt the impact to the woman's face, and she planted her feet to keep from stumbling back in reaction.

The other woman's red hair fanned over her brown work cover as her head rocked back. She stumbled, landing awkwardly on the hard-packed loading strip. She wiped a drop of blood from beneath her nose with a shaking hand.

Incompetent, Jerelen Winter thundered as he rounded the pile. His hand flicked back, prepared to strike the woman again, a crude representation of the telekinesis he was about to employ.

Balin had never cared for Anaca Winter's mate, though the Lady herself was gracious and kind. Sometimes, Balin wondered what the gods could be thinking when they matched mates or bonds. She was never quite sure why pale, haunted Anaca stayed where she seemed so unhappy. Not that the Winters and Summers often mingled.

The woman on the ground looked at him wearily. No, she pleaded. She put her hand up as if to ward off the attack.

No, Balin echoed her.

Her bond-sister in danger, Balin felt the interface solidify between them, despite the fact that they had yet to touch. Even in the woman's weakened state, the force of their bond-release propelled Jerelen into the wall behind him. Most of the force came from Balin. The other woman was too weak to contribute much, though Balin felt her unconscious call for help and her pull at Balin's mind for that help.

The woman looked at her hand in confusion and crumpled to the dirt, surrendering to unconsciousness. Balin rushed to her, seeking out her pulse frantically and sighing in relief as she found that it was strong and sure.

Night! Jerelen raged at Balin. How dare you launch an attack on my person?

Balin managed a weak smile. She had directed the attack, and the other woman's psi outlay had added so little that Winter had missed it entirely. Naturally, he assumed the attack was all Balin's doing. She was glad for that. Bonds were a private thing until they were secured.

Consider your words carefully, Winter. You will pay for this mistreatment. I intend to petition the Council on this matter. No matter what this woman's class or job, Winter's treatment carried fines and the possibility of prison time.

What matter? You think the Council will take the word of that worthless rag against me?

Balin bristled. She had always hated that term. They will when I stand with her.

Be careful what enemies you seek to make, Night.

Talek's voice came from the alley behind her, hard and cold. Perhaps you should heed your own advice, Winter. Do not forget who you address, mated!

Winter's face darkened. He was a simple mated, not a Trio as their family was that morning. With the addition of the woman at her feet, they would either be a bond-joined Quartet or a rare Quatrel—if the woman didn't refuse her place. All depended on whether or not the woman was soulmate to Lio.

Jerelen couldn't know that. All he knew was that he was facing a Trio—still his betters, though she and Talek were both of lower birth family than Winter was.

Winter shook his head in seeming disgust. Why do you take the side of this incompetent rag?

Talek wrapped Balin in his arms when she would have physically attacked the brute. Her mate sent a warning look at Jerelen. [What is it, Love? Does his brutality disturb you?]

Yes, but it's...more than that. Please, Talek. Help me take her from here before he can harm her further.