The Underglow Season 1 for ebook

Teshelle Combs Books

Copyright © 2022 by Teshelle Combs

or partial form.

Manufactured in the United States of America.

This story is currently available in serial format on the Kindle Vella platform.

hello, quiet one

Episode 1: A Child In A Fortress Of Southern Lykke

Femme Marna brought the strap down on my knuckles with a snap.

“This brings me”—another snap—“no,”—and another, only harder than the one before—“pleasure.” She said this, but the corner of her mouth twitched, and her face flushed red. Disciplinary moments were the only ones where Femme Marna was unkempt. The brown hair around her temples loosened from her bun and flailed as her body jerked with each blow.

“I believe that is enough, Marna,” Femme Brinn said, her calm voice somehow filling the tiny, stone room where punishments were given and free will taken.

Femme Marna found herself again, pushing her hair back into place and catching her breath, her wide chest heaving and her puffy cheeks speckled with perspiration.

Femme Brinn stood very still, as per usual, her hands clasped in front of her modest gray frock and white apron. She was always coiffed, so her hair was hidden from sight.

“We cannot, in good faith, send this child back the way she came,” Femme Marna said, still panting from the exertion of striking me far too many times.

“We cannot, in good faith, send her back in pieces either, can we, Marna?”

The older, fatter woman scoffed, flapping her hands at Femme Brinn and turning away to dab her forehead and neck with a cloth she kept on hand for what she liked to call “times such as these.”

“Come,” Femme Brinn said to me, holding out one of those still hands. I rose to my feet, leaving the kneeling block and the heat of the room behind. I took the governess’s hand, though my knuckles were bleeding, and any contact was uncomfortable.

We walked down the long corridor, the stained windows letting in the last of the morning light. The air in the great fortress was chilled enough to cool my burning fingers.

“Aurelie,” Femme Brinn said, slowly, “your father comes for you tomorrow. Are you looking forward to seeing him again?”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Anything was better than this place of learning, but my father was better than anything. If only I could figure out how to tell him I never ever wanted to return to Femme Marna and the governesses.

“Aurelie? Can you not answer me? Just this once?” Femme Brinn asked. She sounded truly sorrowful, her voice swooping from high to low as people tended to do when they were remorseful.

Outside the window, I could only barely make out the snow and the dark trees of deep winter. I wished the glass was not stained with so much color, so the wilderness around the fortress could have been clearer.

“Aurelie, you still have not answered. Can you hear me?”

I looked up at Femme Brinn. She was the kindest of the instructors at the fortress. She took her time with me when others raged or threatened or struck. I preferred to please her. But wanting to please someone is never enough.

Femme Brinn stopped, bending so she was at my eye level. She straightened up my frock and tucked my blonde waves behind my ears.

I was distracted by the tall figure who stood in the corner, his back to the wall, his skin pale and gray and tired. It looked like marble, if marble could rust. His eyes were like coal, but also like diamonds. He did not move. More still even than Femme Brinn. If he were not standing with his eyes open, I would have thought he was stone dead.

“Please try to pay attention, Aurelie,” Femme Brinn said.

But it was so impossible. I wanted to hold the hand of the strange, tall man more than I wanted to listen to a lecture. But I was not allowed to touch him. This I knew. Pyres were not to be touched. Especially if they were unmuzzled. They could be used, but only carefully. “Pyres are dangerous,” the Femmes would say. “They bite. They kill.”

“Don’t you want to please your father, Aurelie?” Femme Brinn tried again. “It was so difficult for him to part with you for all these months. With no wife or other children to comfort him or keep him company. And he sent you here, to us, for us to teach you how to speak. How to be a proper Femme. How to make the Kendrick name proud. Isn’t that what you want, Aurelie?”

I already pleased my father. A great deal. There was nothing I could do to please him more. He told me that. Often. Every night before bed. Until I came to this place, where they tried to convince me it was not true.

With a long sigh, Femme Brinn straightened back up. She took my hand and turned back around the way we had come.

It seemed I would spend the last night at the fortress with Femme Marna after all.

Episode 2: A Young Woman In The Woods Of Kendrick Estate

The forest knew my name better than anyone.

The trees, they called to me when I walked among them. They whispered secrets. And the brooke giggled when it overheard them, always rushing by, busy on its way.

Once, when I was a child, a year or so after leaving the fortress and traveling back to my home in Northern Lykke, I got lost in the forest. Not because I couldn’t find my way, but because I couldn’t find the time. It left me. Time. It was easy to let it slip from my fingers. There is no difference between day and night when one loves them both the same.

My father had worried so much when I could not be found that he wept. Wept like he did the night my mother died. At least that’s what my grandmother said when she gave me a warm bath afterward.

After a few more times of wandering off over the next few months, my father brought home Vincent. One of the great loves of my life. An old pyre who stood almost seven feet tall and never smiled, not a day in his life. He reminded me of the one who always stood guard outside of Femme Marna’s little torture chamber back when I was a child at the fortress. Except Vincent had a bit more life to his skin and color to his eyes.

He found me, now, in my favorite clearing and, with a tilt of his head, motioned toward the sun as it dipped beneath the treeline.

Of course. Darkness was no place for humans on a night like that one. Though a pyre like Vincent would have his fill of the moonlight once I was safely inside our home.

I was late for dinner. But I was always late for dinner. And my father hardly minded, as long as I was not lost or devoured by animals or frozen to death.

Outside, near the stone steps that led to the grand double doors, I stopped and pulled off my glove, gripping it in my teeth so I could unbraid my hair, which had been tousled by the freezing wind.

“Oh,” a voice said. “It’s you.”

Sam Crawford stood before me. Or rather, stumbled to a stop and then ambled in front of me so I could not ascend the staircase, his freckled cheeks flaming as bright as his red hair. He was taller than me, though we stood as equals when we were young children. His shoulders had filled out since then, and his green eyes stood out from his comely face.

“Aurelie…I did not think you would be out today. It’s one of the coldest nights of the year,” he said.

I did not think it was too cold to be out, or obviously I would not have gone.

Sam noticed Vincent and went from pink to pale in an instant. “Oh…um…I didn’t….” He cleared his throat. “Good evening, Vincent.”

Neither the pyre nor I said anything. It was unusual for a Braun to greet a pyre. Really, no humans gave things such as greetings or courtesies to pyres. Not ever. Of course, except for our family. And friends like Sam, who did so because we did so, and they did not want to be impolite.

Sam did not know what to say since Vincent would not answer him. Truly, could not answer him. And I surely wasn’t going to do the job.

“You…look…healthy?” Sam said to me, going back to fully-flushed again and still blocking me from the steps to the front door.

I finished running my fingers through my rather long, blonde tresses and gathered them up, twisting them into a braid once more. Sam stared as I underwent the process. Perhaps he was visiting because he was bored. Perhaps my hair braiding was more interesting than whatever he had been doing before he showed up. When I kicked the mud off my boots and gave up on the twigs and leaves stuck to the hem of my blue skirts, he watched as well. Could he really have been so bored as to find such things fascinating?

Finally, Vincent stepped forward and sort of nudged Sam out of my way.

This made Sam gasp and overcorrect, jumping to the side so Vincent could no longer touch him.

I grinned. Watching humans react to Vincent was one of my favorite pastimes. They truly thought at any moment, the most patient pyre in all of Lykke would reach out and sink his teeth into their necks, draining their blood and leaving them like useless animal skins. They thought Vincent would want to drink them. That they were so irresistible, they might turn him into a monster.

They did not know that Vincent preferred daffodils to daisies in the spring. And that he was a lousy throw with a snowball. But I could not tell them these things. And neither could Vincent. So people like Sam jumped out of the way when the pyre came close.

“I…um…am here to borrow one of your horses,” Sam explained. “Your father is kind enough to lend one to me, as our faithful mare has injured her shoe.”

How awful. I liked the Crawford’s faithful mare.

Sam stepped forward. “No, don’t worry,” he said, studying my face. “She’ll be alright. Just needs time off her legs.”

Good. Time has the habit of healing things, even if no one keeps track of its passage.

I walked past Sam toward the house and the relieved sigh my father would give when I walked in, but the young man called my name.

“Would you…um…like to come? I am going to the Tower estate. I could use the company. And their library could use a raid, I’m sure.”

I turned back, narrowing my eyes at the crafty boy. He knew I could not turn down a library the likes of which was possessed by the Tower estate.

His smile lit his face up. “So you’ll come?” He nodded toward my pyre. “Of course, you may bring Vincent. If you must….”

I looked to Vincent because I never “must” made him go anywhere or do anything. Though most of Lykke couldn’t understand such a thing, Vincent was not a pyre slave to our family. Though we had the means to own many of his kind—to force them to work for us, to serve us—it was not the Kendrick way. We purchased Vincent from the markets so he could be his own, not ours. And if he chose to stay with us, we Kendricks were thankful, not exploitative.

Vincent nodded toward Sam Crawford. Good. I preferred he come with me. Always, but especially that night.

I put my hands on Sam’s shoulder so he understood to stay put while I ran inside to kiss my father and put dinner in a basket. Some for Sam as well.

He had our horse saddled and hitched by the time I got back, and Sam and I were off before the last of the sunlight vanished.

“Will Vincent not ride in the carriage with us?” Sam asked, worry etched in his tone. No doubt, he was worried about traveling so late, though any dangers were unlikely.

He didn’t need to worry about how Vincent would get there. The full moon was rising. Vincent would drink in the moonlight of the forest and arrive at the Tower estate well before we could, even if we’d had a dozen of the best Kendrick horses charging before us.

“Perhaps we should turn back. Wait until tomorrow? I would hate for you to be frightened.”

I, unlike Brauns such as Sam, was not afraid of things I could not control.

Sam seemed to lose his words as we rode on. That was alright. I liked the quiet of nighttime as much as I enjoyed the hum of the day.

“Aurelie,” he said finally. “There is a question I have always wanted to ask you.”

Oh no. Do not. Do not ask me this, Sam. I stiffened, looking for a way to remove myself from the situation he was so ignorantly unfolding. But Sam, like most people, found it nearly impossible to pay attention to anyone but himself for very long.

“Why is it you no longer speak? I remember, when we were very young children, you spoke to me all the time. We played games where you—”

Not only did he ask the question, but he would not shut up about it. So I tossed aside the carriage curtain and jumped out. It was not so hard to do, though I landed on a slope and rolled a bit in the snow.

Vincent caught up to me in a moment, snatching me into his arms and setting me back down on my feet before any real damage could be done.

Sam, who’d stopped the carriage as soon as I left it, ran over to us, his cheeks more red than I had ever seen them. “Are you  insane ?” he asked, screaming for no reason. “You could have gotten yourself killed! Why did you jump out of a moving carriage , Aurelie? If you did not want to speak, you could have just told me so.”

I stared at him, wondering when he would realize how silly he sounded.

He calmed, taking deep breaths and running a hand through his ginger hair. “Are you…are you alright?”

I would be alright as long as he—and everyone—stopped asking why I would not speak to them.

“Please,” he said, finally realizing what had happened. “I am so sorry. I am. Honestly. I should not have asked such an insensitive question without your permission. It was selfish of me. Your reasons for not speaking are none of my business. Will you please come back to the carriage? It’s warmer in there. And—” he looked around as black swallowed the forest, sharing itself only with the eerie glow of the silver moon. “And…it’s safer. Please?”

It was not safer, but I let him think that. The safest place for any human on a full moon in Lykke was on Vincent’s back. The pyre had only drunk from my veins once. That was enough for him to bond himself to me. And it was his choice. On a night I’d wandered too far, too late, too long. No pyre would try to take me from Vincent.

But I knew he would follow our carriage, and so I got back in. And Sam and I rode the rest of the trip in the best way possible. Silence.

Episode 3: Friends Welcomed (In Part) At The Tower Estate

The carriage lurched to a stop, and I stepped out before either Sam or the footman could reach my side, which I knew bothered Brauns for some reason. But my legs worked just fine, so I watched Sam’s cheeks redden as he met me where I stood outside the entrance to the Tower home.

“Their grounds are to die for,” he said, trying to let go of the notion that he missed helping me out of the carriage. “I am sure you would like to wander them. Of course,” he was quick to add, “with permission, when the sun is shining.”

I’d wandered the Tower grounds without permission and with complete disregard for which heavenly body was where. But Sam did not know this. Only Vincent and I and perhaps whichever pyres Vincent told.

Braun Latimer Tower met us on our way to his front doors. I curtsied, lest the man’s heart falter at my impropriety. And he offered a stiff arm to me, turning a cold shoulder to Sam.

“Why, Femme Kendrick, I had no idea you would be joining us this evening. You grace us with your incomparable presence. You must stay for dinner, of course. The children will be so glad to know you will.”

As the man, a few years my father’s senior, led me up the stairs with my hand clutched in his arm, I looked back to Sam, hoping he might rescue me from this unforeseen fate. Someone like Latimer was incapable of noticing that I did not want to dine with his family.

Clearly, Sam was forlorn. After all, he was the one who invited me to the Tower estate. He hurried up the stairs after us with that look on his face that said he was concocting a plan—hopefully an escape, and a timely one.

Inside the doors, pyres moved about. One might say they bustled, but if they looked closely enough, they would have seen that pyres never really rushed. They only ever moved very quickly or very slowly, but it was always with the same presence, as if they floated through the air rather than simply moving from place to place.

“You,” Latimer said to a pyre who could not have been older than me. “Take the Femme’s coat. Quickly now.”

I did not need a pyre to take my coat. My fingers were very skilled at simple tasks like releasing clasps and handling cloth. So I stepped aside with the intention of doing it myself.

“Oh dear,” Latimer said. When he was displeased, the growing bald patch atop his head wrinkled, and he sort of shook his face so his jowls jostled. “Aurelie, you must accept our hospitality. You are a guest in the Tower residence.”

But I certainly would not accept a pyre assisting me against his or her will. Perhaps I could not accept such a thing.

Sam put a hand on my shoulder, and then he quickly took my coat and handed it to the pyre himself.

“It’s alright,” he assured me, placing a hand on my back and rubbing ever so slightly, as if to comfort me.

It was only barely alright. But it was already done. And Sam, as usual, meant well.

“Braun Tower,” Sam said, bowing as a way to gain some basic acknowledgment of his existence from the man. “Thank you for the invitation for dinner, but we are only here to collect a few books from the library, as you discussed with my mother.”

“Ah yes, I remember. And you thought to bring the winsome Aurelie along. How fortuitous for us.”

“Indeed.” But Sam was no longer acting like it was fortuitous that I was present.

Episode 4: A Measuring Of Members Between Rivals

“If that is the case, I will inform the children that you are present, and they shall accompany you in the library.”

Once the man waved us off, I quickened up the grand foyer staircase, careful not to slip on the marble. Near the top, Sam reached out for my arm to slow me.

“Aurelie, even if we flew, we could not be expedient enough to avoid this encounter. Best to pace ourselves.”

He was right, for once. Time spent with the Tower children could not be dodged.

The Tower “children” had left childhood behind long ago. Chrysanthemum Tower stood five feet tall in all her frumpy, glorified disdain. Her lip was always bent into a sneer, and her curls piled high on her head in an effort to make her look taller. Some would have called—or were forced to call—her lovely.

Hallen Tower. He quite literally knocked things over when he strode through a room. He was wider than most men and muscular enough that his arms did not fall naturally at his sides. The width of his neck rivaled any birch tree.

“Well, what have we here?” Hallen said far too loud, raising his arms and quite nearly embracing me.

The library was large enough for me to dodge him without much maneuvering, though he did step squarely on my left foot. He did not notice, and I was forced to slide my boot from beneath his with a bit of effort.

“It’s been some time since you’ve graced our estate, Aurelie.” Hallen looked at me. Or rather, looked at me until it pleased him. “You have grown even more beautiful.”

How I wished I had my coat to pull over me. Or Vincent’s presence. Though encounters like this were exactly why it was best for Vincent to wait outside. If I was rude to Hallen, I would be frowned upon. Perhaps dismissed. But for Vincent, the consequences were far worse.

“We are here for books,” Sam interjected.

“Sure you are,” said Hallen with a smirk. He sort of grunted, and it took me a moment to realize he was doing so to show off some particular patch of muscles.

“The Femme of Kendrick,” Chrysanthemum said from a shadowy corner of the library. “Always here to draw attention to herself. Who comes to Tower estate for books? Only someone who wants to seem interesting.”

Sam sighed. The rivalry between Sam and Hallen was well-known and ill-matched. Clearly, I preferred Sam. He was usually genuine and considerate. And I despised Hallen. Once, I saw him slap a pyre who could not clean up the mess he himself made. On that visit, my father had to carry me out of Tower estate and graciously limited my visits to our so-called friends.

But Hallen Tower was what some thought of as a better match. His family and mine were of nearly equal wealth and history, though the Kendricks lived further up the hill than the Towers.

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