Delicate Circles: Silverspire, #1

By Lyla V. Mornny

When a chaotic rebel attack leaves Wrenley Silverspire with an unexpected soulmark, she is sent to a boring, remote town for her very first delegate assignment. She quickly gets wrapped up in an increasingly dangerous mystery looming over the small village and she must work with the local community to navigate the clues left in the wake of incidents around town. She finds herself growing fond of the new people in her life, and despite her soulbond existing somewhere in the world, her heart starts opening to someone new as they work together seeking answers. She must get to the bottom of the fatal attacks before her leadership catches on to the diminishing loyalty and growing doubts about the world she thought she knew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyla V. Mornny
• Release date: Feb 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224123988

Book preview

1

The ash swirled through the air in swoops and dips, resting on and around my bare hands and feet. The subtle lilac tint to my skin seemed brighter against the pearly flakes. I sighed heavily and shook the ash off my hands, raising the hood of my black cloak over my dark hair that barely brushed my shoulders. I hated burning days. Especially on a day like this. My face hidden in shadow, I leapt from the roof I was perched upon and landed silently in the empty alley. The buildings around me were unimpressive at best, decrepit at worst. I was in the outskirts of Vora in the slum district of Jajunas to pay my parents one last visit, and their house was nestled in among the crumbling stone structures the impoverished called home. Dust caked my feet, and I grimaced thinking about how much scrubbing I would need to do later today to meet the pristine standards for the ceremony. There was simply no way I could risk my shoes, so I chose to let my feet feel every pebble and rock in the cracked, barely paved road before me. I turned the last corner and couldn’t stop myself from slowing my pace to a near-crawl and rolling my eyes. Although my parents lived in the poorest neighborhood in Vora, their home was the first any creature’s eyes snapped to. It was made entirely of shining white marble that towered over the nearest ramshackle houses. The front lawn was gated and full of beautiful soft grass that seemed to ebb and flow despite the stagnant air. The bright blue leaves of an azulia tree on either side of the front walkway were the perfect contrast to the stark building. My mother designed it from top to bottom and would gush about it to anyone who would listen. It was her crown jewel. Her proudest contribution as the soulbond of my father, the council representative of the slums. Some people say it comes across as out of touch and disrespectful to their constituents living in squalor literally next door. I tended to agree, and it was one of the many reasons I’d ensured it was not widely known that I was a direct relation to the councilperson of Jajunas district. Personally, I thought it looked an awful lot like a mausoleum.­

It was just as cold on the inside. The dark wooden door three times my height swung shut behind me with a deep boom reverberating through the entire house. I winced and rubbed my filthy bare feet extra hard on the spotless white rug in the entryway. The grand staircase that led to the airy upper floors spilled out right to the front doors, as my mother greatly enjoyed greeting her guests with a regal strut down to the foyer. Sure enough, as I examined her latest art piece on a pedestal in the corner of the room I heard her telltale sweeping down the steps. Knowing how much it would irk her, I refused to so much as glance in her direction. I heard her exhale roughly in frustration before breaking the silence. A small smile flitted across my face in satisfaction before I rearranged my expression to my usual stoniness.

I commissioned that piece from a group of local artisans here in Jajunas. They live right down the road. My mother’s attempts at self righteousness didn’t even come close to impacting me.

I remained facing the small statue, a complex but beautiful mass of twisted copper wires formed together into a perfect sphere. The sphere was hollow and full of holes so that the cradle of the sphere was visible. Nestled at the bottom were a clump of dry, brown flower petals. I snorted and reached in to brush my fingers against one of the decaying bits. I wondered if they had intentionally been placed already dead or if my mother commissioned an old flowerpot.

"Wrenley!" She snapped, rushing over and swatting at my wrist. My hand was out of her reach in a flash. I wouldn’t give any soul on the continent a chance to lay their hands on me without my permission. My training demanded as much. I finally faced the female who birthed me, taking in her bravado. She wore a ruby dress with flowing skirts and thin straps to show off her skin that was just a shade deeper than mine. Her bald head was shiny and chic, adorned with earrings and a delicate gold chain draped across her brow. Three jagged black lines stood out on her left temple, the soulbond mark that matched the one on my father’s own face exactly. Soulmarks had an iridescent quality about them when you examined them closely. As if the ink had been tattooed over solid gold. My mother leaned into it heavily. Kohl lined her eyes and her lips had been painted a red that matched the dress exactly. She was beautiful. Her solid black eyes, full lips, and sharp cheekbones stared into my own face, practically a mirror image if you looked close enough. Even down to our pointed ears. I did everything I could to hide the similarities. Hide the beauty that felt like a curse most days. Bearing that in mind I put on my best sneer, knowing it would be absolutely unappealing on those features we shared.

Did you know there are dead flowers in there? I asked, crossing one arm across my torso and pointing at the sphere with my other. My mother scowled at me and let her scathing gaze drift down the heavy black cloak to my exposed feet. Her lip curled at the sight of them.

"Yes, my daughter. It’s symbolism. And I’ll have you know, my purchase of this piece gave the artist’s family enough money to last them an entire month." Up went her chin, right to the sky as she glared at me down her straight, perfect nose.

What a fucking philanthropist, I muttered, turning to walk further into their home. She followed behind me quietly tutting.

Now, now, Wrenley. That doesn’t sound like the language of a delegate. Isn’t that sort of thing important to your ... mission? she purred to my back, and on assignment day, no less. Hm.

She was a viper, preying on my most exposed nerves in this moment. My mouth pressed into a tight line, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. I could not let her get to me today. It was this exact scenario that made me dread coming, but my father insisted. Unfortunately, when my father insisted on something, most people had no choice but to obey. Even the weight of my future could not come before his requests.

I slowly meandered through the maze of white. My mother must have had ten servants on hand to clean at all times. At least she was creating jobs for the locals.

She huffed impatiently at my back again.

On second thought, she probably outsourced the servants from central Vora.

My father’s office was at the end of the long white hallway, his door ajar. I pushed through keeping the same slow pace and taking in every detail, as I would in any situation involving a potential threat. The room was the opposite of the rest of the house. The walls were painted a deep grey, nearly black and covered in bookshelves or large framed images of maps. The dark mahogany desk took up nearly half the room. He pored over documents splayed all over his desk. Unruly dark hair pulled back into a short plait, pointed ears poking through, a pair of thick spectacles dangling from the corner of his mouth. Captured in this moment, he looked almost... approachable. You could barely see the thick layers of gold dripping from his neck, or the dark red scar running from his eyebrow to his ear opposite the soulbond mark linking him to my mother eternally. I cleared my throat and stood against the wall next to the open door, hands clasped in front of my body under my cloak. The knife I kept strapped to my thigh was now clutched tightly in my hands.

The one the people called Nefastus raised his cunning indigo eyes to mine. Hair and eye color were the only features I inherited from my father. His thick brows shot up on his forehead the color of the sky on a clear day as he took in my appearance. A moment passed, as the male was always thinking, always calculating, and then his face split into a wide grin. His too-white teeth gleamed as he stood up, placing his thick black frames on the bridge of his nose. He was a tall male, nearly three heads above my unusually small stature. I straightened my spine even more as he approached, determined to gain even a few millimeters more height. I would never have the high ground in a level fight, but I would exude confidence nonetheless. Intimidation could be just as powerful as a fist. I nearly snorted to myself for entertaining the notion of intimidating Nefastus.

My darling daughter, He began in a warm tone. The sharpness never left his eyes. My grip tightened on the knife. What a special day for you. How are you feeling? He stepped forward and raised a hand toward me. He couldn’t see my flinch just before he tugged off the hood still circling my face. My mother came to stand next to him, the soulbond magic emitting a soft, nearly undetectable glow in their eyes and a more tangible sense in the air around them as she rested her hand on his bare arm. I stared into the eyes of the serpents before me, Nefastus and his viper, and willed my legs not to tremble.

I feel ready, My voice came out as barely more than a whisper. Pathetic. His grin only widened, distorting his blatant soulbond mark. It was fitting how on display my parents’ soulbond marks were. They could be anywhere on the skin, yet theirs manifested where anyone could see at all times. So typical. I was certain they loved it.

Thank you for answering my summons. I know you are not meant to leave central Vora today. But my daughter is resourceful, he winked before continuing, I have it on good authority—

I had no doubt Nefastus was about to reveal something I had no business knowing, surely from criminal sources, and I found my courage suddenly return.

—Father, my voice was much clearer, and I brought a hand out from my cloak to hold in front of him, I do not wish to hear any information that I would not normally be privy to. I cleared my throat. Please. I added softly, trying to convey an expression that was stern but pleading. My mother rolled her black eyes and shook her head.

Wrenley, you have much to learn about this world. Nefastus said, the light fading from his eyes as my mother swept out of the room. He pointed at me and took a step closer. I brought both hands around the knife again. What do you know about Vora, Wrenley? What do you know?

I know my duty. My duty is to bring honor to Vora. I recited the lines I’d spoken so many times I’d lost count. The lines I’d spoken so many times I started to believe them somewhere along the way. He scoffed in my face and waved me away.

You know nothing of duty. His voice dripped with scorn and he circled back around to his desk. I hope you’re happy with your assignment today. All I’ll say is this— I opened my mouth to stop him again, but he barreled on, "—nothing but advice, daughter, I promise. Be careful. Be watchful. Do your duty. You have not seen the world beyond the mountains, and you may find it surprising. Your training these twenty-three sun cycles has made you lethal, as evidenced by the dagger clutched so tightly beneath your cloak, my eyes widened ever so slightly, do not be afraid to use your training. Protect yourself, but never forget to open your eyes and ears. Your loyalty may lie with Vora now, but you will always be the child of Nefastus."

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. I hated when he referred to himself in such reverent language. He had no duty to anyone other than himself, and his soulbond. I had no idea what he expected me to do with that kind of advice. So I did what I always did and brought even less emotion onto my face, nodded once, and muttered a quick Yes, father. Thank you, before marching from the room. I thought I heard a sigh as I made my way back down the hall.

There was a time in my past when the act of bowing down to anyone made me feel as though filthy sludge was working its way through my body. The inadequacy would root itself in my mind and my heart until I was consumed by my inability to oppose, my disgust with the duty I was sworn into from birth. My duty to obey. Eventually I grew resigned to my fate and my focus changed. If I was duty bound to becoming a lethal delegate, a warrior and protector of Vora, then I would be the best and most deadly Voran delegate in the history of the Continent. At least that’s what I told myself every morning as I watched the sunrise over the mountains, running along paths and lifting heavy stones. Pushing my body to it’s limit to start each day. There was no doubting my physical power.

My fists clenched at my sides as I glanced up the ridiculous staircase, fighting the urge to punch the beautiful spherical sculpture that helped the artisan survive another month. A servant quietly mopped near the door already attempting to clean the mess I left behind in my childish defiance of my mother. I sighed and felt my shoulders slump. I brought a hand through my hair and took a step toward the servant, intending to finish the mopping for her but I quickly stopped myself. If anything, the young female would find it insulting of me to even offer to assist.

Your brother is out, my mother’s voice came from the empty space a few feet before me.

The servant jumped out of her skin, but I barely blinked. It was always best to assume my mother was nearby in this place. She materialized in front of me as she removed the light she had wrapped around herself. Her teeth were bared in what I think she meant to be a smile. I met her empty eyes and shrugged, hiding the cold disappointment that washed through me.

My younger brother was one of the very few people I could truly be myself with, but each day his own training as a delegate grew his fervor and obsession with duty to Vora. I felt him growing farther and farther from me as he espoused the same mantras and lessons I did, but with a sense that he, like so many delegates, had no doubts, no identity beyond delegate, warrior, protector of Vora. It was how I was supposed to feel as well. It was how I told everyone I felt. Everyone but Delio. Delio was my best friend, my flesh, my brother. He knew me, and I never had to exaggerate my dedication with him until he started delegate training himself. We had the same life path laid before us from birth, and he followed in my footsteps perfectly. He was just as skilled, just as determined. Why then, was the first thing I felt when I thought about his place—our place— in this world not pride, but fear?

—  —

As I walked briskly through the outer roads of Jajunas, the homes got nicer and the dust cleared, but the ash grew thicker in the air. I felt suffocated and forced my face into a blank expression. I wasn’t expecting anyone to recognize me, but I couldn’t take any chances on Assignment Day. It only took a few minutes for me to reach the beautiful city center of Vora. The bright buildings in varying shades of silver, copper, and gold rose high into the sky disappearing into fog on a gloomy day like today. Vines crawled along walls sprouting a pleasant monochrome rainbow of green. I trailed my fingers lightly along a few soft leaves, thinking of the petals in my mother’s sculpture. The road before me was solid and well-maintained, but the ash now completely clogging my vision ruined the picturesque cityscape. I could not understand why they chose today for a burning day. The smell of burning flesh violated my nostrils and I took deep breaths through my mouth, bringing my scarf up to filter the ash. People milled about unbothered, most heading toward the market I knew to be closing soon in preparation for assignment day. Some rode atop their four legged pantherbeasts, large paws padding along the road and feathered tails swishing along behind their smooth and powerful bodies. My own pantherbeast Lucia was being tended to in the stables, preparing for the journey ahead. I hoped the ash wasn’t bothering her. I pulled my head back further into my hood as I thought I saw a flicker of curiosity cross someone’s face ambling past. There was nothing particularly notable about my appearance but the stoic demeanor demanded of delegates was unmistakable. I slipped into a tight space between buildings a few blocks from the entrance of the college and swiftly climbed a wooden fence. Cursing the convenience of having a crime boss for a father and a most esteemed Light Witch for a mother, I brushed my hand against a portion of the stone wall that appeared totally normal. It melted away at my touch and allowed me entry to a sloping tunnel. It was completely dark inside but I used this path so many times I could have taken it blindfolded. In fact, my father made me run it blindfolded one hundred times before he had my mother update the spell to allow my entry. I broke into a light jog and made it through in just a few minutes. The exit opened just as the entrance did, and I rushed through the hole in the wall to find myself in the large janitorial closet in the basement of the college. A male organizing brooms and mops nodded to me as I passed, and I held my head high and ignored him. I hoped desperately that he didn’t notice my still-bare feet.

The guilt twisted in my gut. It was rude not to acknowledge him, but it was what a delegate would do. It was also wrong to use the pathways and assistance of Nefastus. I was breaking many rules and risking my duty to Vora, but it was also what the daughter of Nefastus would do. My father’s network extended in a web of lies, secrets, and blood throughout every facet of Vora. As far as I knew, everyone working a servant’s job in the college answered to him.

Delicate circles, my daughter, he would whisper to me as a child before I moved to the college to begin my training, it’s all just delicate circles.

I shook my head slightly and wiped the emotion from my face. The past was gone. Today was about my future. Today was assignment day.

2

It took me way too long to clean my feet. They were still slightly itchy and it was all I could think about as I slipped on the loose white shirt and pants myself and my classmates would all be wearing at the ceremony. My room was just like every delegate’s room. A bed, a small brown dresser, and a metal shelf full of books. Atop the dresser was one small personal artifact, a photograph of my parents, Delio, and I when we were small. Everything else was issued by Vora. I sat down on the crisp sheets carefully draped across my small bed and rubbed my feet with a towel one last time.

Damn Jajunas district, I muttered to myself, hastily brushing my hair out of my face as I laced up the simple white shoes. They were hardly practical for fighting, but this entire uniform was absurd in my opinion. I scoffed to myself one last time before standing and smoothing out the shirt. I could just see the edge of the ceremonial arena from the window and I craned my neck to get a better view.

Curiosity is unbecoming of a delegate, a deep voice said behind me. I whirled around in shock, my knee connecting with the bed post and prompting a litany of foul language to pour from my mouth. My eyes welled up with the pain and the male towering over me doubled over with laughter.

That language, he remarked, pointing at me, "is also unbecoming of a delegate."

Fuck. You. Fyrdrech. I hissed through gritted teeth, massaging the spot on my knee that would be a black bruise in a few hours. Fyrdrech chuckled and sat down on my bed. I looked down at his soft brown hair and pale skin not unlike my own and rolled my eyes. He patted the bed next to him and winked. I laughed, tension gone. Fyrd was a lot of things to me, but first and foremost he was a friend.

Fyrd, first of all, the dormant themself could not grant us the time to do anything other than fix the sheets you’ve now crumpled on my bed, I began, shoving him off the bed so I could straighten the wrinkles, and secondly—,

What called you from your chamber this morning? I searched for you earlier.

"Secondly, I continued, ignoring his question, last night was the last time you’ll be in my bed, you fool. We’ll probably never see each other again after today. The best you can hope for here is a letter every few months." I ruffled his hair affectionately, taking an extra moment to run a finger down his jawline.

Ever the mystery, Delegate Wrenley, he murmured, leaning into my touch just slightly.

I couldn’t help myself. There was a certain amount of lust between Fyrd and I, but it started and ended there. The sex was good, but it was purely about pleasure. They say you know love when you feel it. I wouldn’t know. I’d never been in love, and Fyrd was good company in my bed, but saying goodbye certainly wasn’t a heartbreak. It was unlikely we would be placed in the same region, and even less likely we would see each other after our assignments. So with a disappointed lingering glance and a determined effort to stamp out the curling sensation in my navel, Fyrd squeezed my arm once and stood up to walk out of my room and join the others.

My fellow delegates mingled in the hallway with a nervous energy that was contagious in the air. Some were standing alone looking somber, some were gossiping about who was late for the ceremony. The dormitory building was bland, like most of the college, with its blank stone walls and serious lack of windows. Fyrd and I approached our small cohort and a tall female slung her arm around my shoulders. Her green skin clashed against mine, and all of her limbs were loose and long. Her hair was full of wild dark curls—although pinned down neatly today—and her canine teeth ended in sharp points that pressed against her bottom lip whenever she smiled.

Wrenley, finished breaking Fyrd’s heart one last time? she crowed, and everyone around us chuckled along with her. A slight flush brushed my cheeks but I met her gaze with a serious and unbothered stare.

The only thing I’m doing is preparing for my assignment, I layered the slightest tinge of sarcasm in my voice. Lucky for me, I had grown up with these people and they knew me and my sense of humor better than my own family. Even better than Delio these days. Myan removed her arm and brought her hand to her heart, eyes wide.

The honor you will bring upon your family, Delegate. Astonishing. Her voice was mocking our training leader who would be spouting such similar rhetoric this very day that I couldn’t help but let a laugh escape me.

Oh, Myan. I will miss you more than everyone else. I told my closest friend, trying to express the sincerity with my eyes.

Wow. Fyrd said, leaning against the nearest wall. Everyone laughed again. I let my face show a small smile. Even among these people who I had experienced everything from child to adulthood with, I found myself shielding my emotions. I was known for it. Serious Wrenley, they called me. So devoted to her duty. I let a select few behind those shields because I knew total isolation would drive me insane, and I still had the same mental and physical needs as every other Voran. But for the most part, I was singularly focused on becoming a delegate. I never had any other choice.

When we were just babes, our parents brought us forward to the Voran council as offerings to the People. It was seen as an honor to have a delegate in your family. It brought good wages, a free education, and ultimately protection for all in Vora and the mountainlands. When the child reached adolescence, they had a choice to leave the college and abandon the delegate path. Some did, certainly, and made their own way in the city. Some ended up in Jajunas. Some turned to my father, where money was as abundant as the danger.

However, Nefastus became the mayor of Jajunas under a very specific condition. He was to ensure that his children would become delegates. The best delegates. Delio and I had no choice at adolescence. I would never forget the day all of my friends and peers had the opportunity to choose while I remained locked in the dormitory. The magical brand of a delegate who chose the path warped my skin in a black tattoo of beautiful swirls across my chest and between my breasts, ending above my navel as I wept in my room, utterly alone. When Delio reached the age to choose a few sun cycles later, I learned that he was allowed to attend the choosing along with his peers. There was never any doubt that he would commit. No one ever acknowledged or explained why I was treated differently. After that, I worked to ensure that my goals and desire to complete delegate training would be questioned by no one. Not even myself. Most days, it worked. I made it to assignment day at the top of my class—despite being the shortest person—and no one could deny my strength. If they did, I would show them how wrong they were.

Myan, Fyrd, and I fell into line as Leader Zyona called us to attention and began the march outdoors. Ash continued to fall like rain. I guess it was a good thing our uniforms were white today. The scent from the city center burned my nose and I tried not to look beyond the college walls where I knew I would just barely be able to make out the source of the ash swinging from the Burning Arch.

The sunlight felt nice on my clammy skin as nerves began creeping their way into me. My assignment was bouncing around inside my brain. As the top student, I was likely to be assigned close to Vora, in a larger city like Grovia that was just past the mountains to the east before hitting any of the regionlands. Lots of activity there required many delegates to do work in the community and also fend off the beasts that roamed so near the regionlands. Lionesses, centaurs, even the occasional dracona prowled the base of the mountain looking for easy prey in the form of lost villagers or overconfident delegates. I was expected to be honored with an assignment close to home with many opportunities to show my talent and move up in the ranks swiftly. Still, I was quite anxious. Nothing was official until my assignment was declared.

A makeshift stage had been assembled in front of the cluster of seating in the courtyard at the center of the college. Families and select instructors were granted seating, and just beyond the courtyard into the city-center, rows of people stood to watch. They were visible through the main gate of the college which lay open today, guarded by a few bored delegates. The white and beige stone buildings rose around us in an intimidating circle as the sun radiated directly above us. There would be no shadows during the ceremony. Much of today was symbolic. By the time the loads of boring speeches were done, there would definitely be plenty of shadow back on the ground. I stifled a giggle to myself as we were led to the stage and seated all at once just as we had rehearsed the day before. Myan sat to my left and Fyrd to my right. Each of us had our hands tightly clasped in our laps and I glanced over at Myan. She winked and gave me a quick grin. She was probably the worst in our class at maintaining the stoic exterior so often associated with the delegates. Maybe she would learn in time. Although if her assignment was far out, I doubted it. Supposedly, life was much more relaxed out in the eastern cities and towns of the regionlands.

I looked out in front of me to the seated group, instantly finding my family. Maybe I was oversensitive, but I thought my parents were intentionally overdressed. My mother wore the same red gown I