Disobedience Read online

  She’d already asked them to meet her tomorrow for their first session together.

  The incident only furthered Finn’s determination to train with Iliana and learn to control her own abilities. After all, how could she teach others what she didn’t know herself? The idea of spending any amount of time alone with her sister practically set her teeth on edge, but she’d made her decision and intended to see it through.

  Hence the pacing.

  After long minutes of hesitation, Finn finally raised her hand and knocked on the door. She listened for sounds of movement on the other side but heard nothing. The longer Finn waited, the stronger the urge to run became.

  Her palms began to sweat beneath the material of her gloves and her heart pounded. Finally, the door opened and Iliana stood before her.

  She’d gone for a more casual outfit today—for Iliana anyway—and Finn took in the pair of maroon harem pants, jeweled halter top, and black shawl draping her shoulders. Her long, red curls hung loosely around her shoulders.

  “Please come in, Finn.” Her smile was somewhat strained, but it was the only clue to how she was feeling. Finn followed her into the pod she used as both a bedroom and an office.

  It looked the same as she remembered: a four-poster bed with silk sheets, orange and red silk draping down from the ceiling, elegant furniture, and a crystal chandelier. Candles burned on top of the bureau and vanity, illuminating the room in their warm glow.

  Two chairs and a small table had been set up in the center of the space, draped with one of the yards of silk. On it sat a small bowl of steaming liquid, billows of cloying vapors wafting up from its surface.

  Iliana motioned for Finn to take a seat at the table. She obeyed, giving the boiling bowl a wary glance. Noticing Finn’s caginess, Iliana motioned toward the pungent liquid.

  “I have found that the best way to avoid losing myself while using my abilities is to focus on something that anchors me to the present.”

  “So you picked that?” Finn asked with distaste.

  “The sights and sounds can be overwhelming when we are experiencing someone else’s memories. However, our sense of smell remains unaffected. I usually carry mine with me here.”

  Iliana tugged on a golden chain around her neck. It hung low, tucking into the space between her breasts and below her top.

  Hanging from the end was a tiny silver vial.

  Thinking on it, Finn realized that while she saw and heard everything when lost to a memory, her sense of smell had never been triggered. It stung to admit, but she’d been with her sister for less than five minutes and already she’d learned something new.

  Perhaps this quality time would be worth it after all.

  “So how long did it take you to learn to control it? I’d like to manage my expectations for how long I’m going to be stuck doing this with you.”

  Iliana ignored Finn’s snarky tone, meeting her eyes with sincerity.

  “It took me many cycles. I worked at it every day with the tutor the Luminary hired for me, and even then, it was at least two cycles before I had any semblance of control.”

  At the mention of Grim’s alternate identity, Finn gritted her teeth.

  “Well, I’m a fast learner.”

  “Indeed,” Iliana muttered. As she took a seat across the table, her gaze fell to Finn’s hands. “I’d like to avoid starting you out with skin-to-skin contact. From what I’ve seen, you have the ability to connect with the residue left behind on inanimate objects. It’s a gift I do not possess and, as far as I can tell, it is one unique to you. I’d like to start there.”

  Finn tensed as she thought about her upbringing with Grim and all the times he’d asked her to touch a book here or a map there. At the time she’d been grateful for his interest in honing her skills for survival.

  Knowing everything she did now, she was beginning to see her education in a different light.

  Had he been grooming her from the beginning? Had he been trying to hone her abilities without her even realizing?

  Sensing her disquiet, Iliana went motionless.

  “Finn?”

  Without any other target for the storm brewing inside of her, she unleashed it on the only person available.

  “Grim knew the whole time, didn’t he? He knew what I was . . . who I was to you?”

  “He wouldn’t do that to me . . . to us,” Iliana defended sharply. “He knows what I went through thinking you were dead. He wouldn’t keep us apart intentionally.”

  Finn scoffed. It seemed as though hardheadedness was turning out to be a family trait. She eyed her sister carefully, pushing to break through the stubborn woman’s careful veneer of calm.

  “How many half-Teslans are running around out there?” When Iliana remained silent, her expression unreadable, Finn pushed harder. “Touching objects for information was part of my daily studies with Grim. Which means he knew I was Teslan, and if he knew I was Teslan, he knew the chances were good—no, better than good—that I was your sister.”

  Iliana’s careful mask of composure finally slipped as her indigo eyes hardened with anger. Her voice was a harsh whisper as she said, “If he kept you from me then he will pay.”

  Interesting.

  It looked like Grim’s little squadron of loyal hybrids was beginning to crumble at the edges. Iliana continued to regard Finn with intensity and she had to look away, else risk getting seared by its heat.

  There was only one other time she’d seen her sister look that way: the night of Axel’s rescue on Cartan when she’d saved Finn from certain death. With Finn seconds from passing out with a giant meteorhead strangling the life out of her, Iliana had touched the beast’s skin and left him in a sputtering, useless heap.

  You will pay for touching my sister.

  Even though she wanted to change the subject—given the way Iliana’s body had gone tense and the hard glint in her eyes had intensified—Finn asked her about it anyway.

  “You mean he’ll pay like that meteorhead back on Cartan did? What did you do to him anyway?”

  “I may not be able to glean information from objects like you can, but I still have a few tricks of my own.”

  Iliana seemed to regain some of her self-control. The tension slowly leaked from her shoulders until her face returned to its usual detached expression. Finn was starting to think of it as her “default courtesan setting.”

  At the continued silence, she narrowed her eyes and waited for Iliana to continue. Her sister released a barely imperceptible sigh.

  “All of the blended are unique in that our genetics seem to manifest differently depending on the individual.” She nodded in Finn’s direction. “Like you and the way you can read objects as well as people. You see, everyone leaves behind an emotional residue, whether on the skin or a beloved doll. It’s like a fingerprint; one our people can read. They call themselves siphons, but really we are more like sponges, absorbing any emotional residue we come into contact with. It’s a passive ability that allows us to gather information discreetly.”

  “Then how did you flatten that bodyguard?” For the moment, Finn’s curiosity outweighed her anger and distrust for Iliana.

  “I have learned to take what I’ve absorbed and project it. The beast I ‘flattened,’ as you so eloquently put it, had killed many people. Most of them with his bare hands. Each one left behind the memories and terror of their last moments. I took those memories and forced him to relive them.”

  Knowing firsthand what it was like to be forced to watch memories she didn’t want to see, Finn almost felt sorry for the meteorhead.

  Almost.

  “Can you teach me how to do it?” she asked Iliana.

  “One step at a time, Little One.”

  Iliana’s smile was small but genuine and Finn found herself too excited by the prospect of all the things she could learn to get her hackles up at the nickname.

  She felt a familiar wave of determination wash over as she stared into Iliana’s eyes.

&nbs
p; “Then what are we waiting for?”

  FIFTEEN

  “Focus on the lilydung root,” Iliana ordered, referring to the syrupy vapors wafting around them.

  They’d been practicing for the last three afternoons, working on Finn’s siphoning ability with inanimate objects, a talent that seemed to be unique to her.

  “It smells worse than the Mud Pit,” Finn complained, fighting the rising wave of lightheadedness and nausea the sickly sweet scent caused. After three days, she still hadn’t gotten used to it.

  “Well, it’s all we have to work with until you find your own anchor scent. I don’t understand why you’re hesitating. The sooner you select one, the stronger your control will be. Now, focus, Little One.”

  Finn groaned and rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what she was waiting for either. Iliana had said that her anchor scent had to be something meaningful, something powerful enough to keep her anchored in the present. The problem with that was Finn had no idea what the hell to choose.

  She inhaled deeply as her bare hand made contact with the gold-handled hairbrush Iliana had presented her with. Instead of her vision going black, a strange buzzing filled her ears and her eyesight went fuzzy; distorted images began to fill her mind.

  With the sweet lilydung to keep her rooted in the present, the memories didn’t overtake her like they usually did. Instead, it felt more like watching scenes play out on a holojector than living them.

  “Now, tell me what you see,” Iliana ordered.

  Finn’s eyes moved rapidly behind her lids as she studied the images flashing there, forcing them into focus.

  A woman sits gracefully before the mirrored vanity in Iliana’s pod.

  Finn inhaled the scent of lilydung again, focusing harder on her vision. She’d learned that the more concentration she applied, the clearer the images became.

  The reflection in the mirror comes more clearly this time. It is Iliana. She uses the brush on thick strands of her red hair, humming quietly to herself.

  “I see you brushing your hair,” Finn told her flatly as she opened her eyes. “It’s absolutely riveting.”

  Iliana huffed in exasperation. During their training sessions, she would often abandon her courtesan decorum and act more like the sister Finn had grown up with.

  “Now I want you to try to siphon deeper. What can you tell me about the person who owned the brush before me?”

  Finn closed her eyes once again and concentrated. Fuzzy images began to circle in her head. As Iliana had taught her, she fixated on one, beckoning it toward her.

  Iliana sits at the foot of a bed, her back to Finn. While she easily recognizes her sister’s cascade of fiery locks, everything else about Iliana is different. She is smaller and much younger, perhaps only four or five cycles. Her little shoulders are hunched as she fiddles with a stuffed animal and her short legs swing off the edge of the bed.

  The room is small and modest with a medium-sized dresser and walk-in closet to the left. The sun’s warm glow cascades over them through a large bay window.

  A woman with dark auburn waves flowing down past her shoulders stands behind Iliana, brushing the young girl’s hair gently as she hums a melody. Something about it is familiar and Finn allows herself to slide deeper into the vision until she too is standing in the room.

  Taking another deep breath and inhaling the lilydung, she sidesteps around the bed, trying to see the woman’s face. She makes it to her side and takes in a pair of sparkling indigo eyes and pale skin. The noticeable bump of her abdomen tells Finn she is heavy with child. Dark purple veins run a pathway up her arms and over her neck and chest. Her full lips are also a deep shade of purple and the same hue contours the blush of her cheeks.

  Finn opened her eyes and stared at Iliana, her breaths coming almost as quickly as the pounding beats of her heart.

  “Who is she?” she whispered.

  Iliana held her stare carefully, a sad expression shadowing her face.

  “That’s our mother, Finn.”

  Finn dropped the brush and scooted back in her chair, watching it like a pulse gun she knew was about to misfire. Her hands shook so hard they trembled, as the threat of tears stung her eyes. She’d been so young when her mother was killed that she’d had no memories of the woman to hold on to.

  Did Iliana understand the gift she’d just given her?

  Her sister cleared her throat and met Finn’s gaze, lines of worry creasing her brow.

  “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know her in some small way.”

  Apparently, Iliana knew exactly what she was doing and the kindness nearly undid Finn, taking the mess of emotions she already felt for her sister, tossing them in a bag, and shaking them violently.

  As their training sessions progressed, her respect for Iliana had continued to grow and it was becoming harder and harder to keep her at a distance. She seemed to be trying to make amends for her betrayal, and rather than make things clearer, it only confused Finn’s feelings further.

  Finn shoved gloves over her hands. Jumping up from her chair, her eyes darted around the room before meeting her sister’s.

  “I have to go.”

  Iliana’s arm extended toward Finn before dropping back to her side. Her brow puckered in concern and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Glancing down at the table one more time, Finn’s hand shot out and snatched the hairbrush. She didn’t bother looking back for her sister’s reaction as she sprinted for the door and out into the hall.

  Finn spent long hours locked away in her room clutching her mother’s hairbrush and letting the memories of the woman she’d never known shroud her. She’d already sorted through images of her mother and father laughing together, her mother by herself, and even images of her mother carrying around a fussy baby that she knew had to be her.

  Enyo had allowed Finn privacy when she’d seen the manic look in her eyes as she paced the confines of her room and told the Sirian everything that had transpired during her session with Iliana. The longer they trained and spent time together, the more willing Enyo seemed to be to relax her bodyguard duties and allow Finn some blessed moments of solitude.

  She finally released the brush from her grip and tucked it tenderly underneath her pillow, realizing belatedly that she had no idea how much time had passed while she’d been deeply rooted in memories of the past.

  Her mother was a unique beauty with more grace in her pinky finger than Finn possessed in her entire being. Yet there were moments: an annoyed glare when one of the pigs ran screeching through the house covered in mud or a soft laugh when one of her girls did something she found amusing. Finn realized she may have inherited more from her mother than a knack for siphoning.

  Sliding on a pair of gloves, she made her way out into the hall. As though operating on autopilot, her feet carried her starboard in the direction of Conrad’s room.

  Iliana had given her a gift today and Finn still reeled from the weight of it. She could see her mother any time she desired. It would only take a mere touch of her fingers.

  Her mind was full with all she’d learned and seen. Like a swarm of tambiflies caught in a net, each thought beat its wings furiously as it collided with the one next to it. Though it scared her to admit, she found she needed to see Conrad, needed his comforting presence as she processed all that the day had revealed.

  Finn reached his door and didn’t bother knocking. He would be expecting her. Each day they grew closer, their bond stronger, and every day they made a point to spend time with one another.

  She had no idea what the future held for them or what their time together even meant. She just knew she needed him more than she was comfortable admitting.

  The door opened before her and she stepped inside, her eyes searching out Conrad’s form. He sat at the desk on the far side of the room, his back to Finn as he stared out the window and into the vast nothingness of space outside.

  “You’re late,” he pointed out as he turned around. His blue eyes s
ought out Finn’s as he turned and stood, meeting her in the middle of the cabin. Whatever he saw in hers made him ask, “Are you all right?”

  She released a deep breath.

  “I saw my mother today,” Finn told him.

  His brows drew together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “Iliana gave me a hairbrush that used to belong to my mother. When I touch it, I can see her memories.”

  Understanding began to light his eyes and his lips lifted in a gentle smile.

  “This is a good thing, right?”

  “Yes, it’s a good thing. I’m just trying to reconcile the fact that my sister is responsible for something good happening to me,” Finn remarked drily.

  Conrad’s smile widened. He lifted a gloved hand to her face, stroking her cheek gently.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but she loves you, Finn.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact and she found herself unable to dismiss the statement as she usually did. Instead, a confusing mix of anger and sadness filled her.

  “She made me relive what I did . . .” Finn trailed off. She still couldn’t bring herself to say Sophie’s name aloud. “If that’s how she shows her love, I don’t want it.”

  Hearing the pain in her voice, he brought his other hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently. Her heart fluttered at the touch.

  “I understand, but hopefully someday you will learn to see what happened to your friend the way I do.” Finn tensed as the familiar shadow of doubt crept over her. Conrad sensed it and he forced her to meet his eyes. “It was an accident, nothing more.”

  When she continued to face him in stubborn silence, his hand dropped from her face and he led her to the bed. As they sat down side by side, he shot her a warm smile.

  “You sat here not that long ago, doing your best to convince me that AJ’s fate wasn’t my fault. Even though it was hard to hear, you were right.”