He instantly let go. “Dear Source, why are you scared? I won't hurt you.”
Lena lifted her chin. “You just startled me.”
“I apologize.” Rallorival grimaced and ran a hand through his long, dirty-blond hair. He pulled his wings in tight and reduced his size by a third. “Lena, I was hoping you might—”
“My harp!” Lena declared, cutting him off.
“What?”
“I forgot my harp in the meadow!” Her anxiety wasn't feigned. If it rained, it could warp the precious instrument, and ruin it. “Excuse me.” She bolted around him and outside.
Once Lena was free of the house and Rallorival, she took a calming breath. But she didn't slow down. Her harp was one of her most prized possessions, given to her by her parents the day she graduated from the Wexlen School for Musical Advancement. She couldn't afford a new harp, not on her salary from the Wexlen Theater. Lena hoped to one day play in the Sarshan Orchestra. It was the most elite orchestra on Para, located in Enavi, the capital of North Dox and the seat of Paradefense. If she became their harpist, she could buy all the instruments she wanted.
For now, Lena was living in a little cottage near her parents, supplementing her income with music lessons she gave the local children. Next to Liria's accomplishments, she was a failure. Her parents coddled her, but Lena knew they were proud of Liria while they were still waiting for Lena to show some ambition.
Lena let out a sigh when she saw her harp sitting beside the chair she had used. She hurried over to it, but when she bent to pick it up, someone grabbed her from behind. Before she could scream, the person bit her on her upper arm, right where it met her shoulder. Lena was so shocked by the sudden pain that the lethargy didn't register at first. Only when Lena tried to open her mouth did she notice she couldn't. And then she realized she was paralyzed.
Lena's mind spun as she was lifted and settled against a broad chest. The arm beneath her back felt strange—too solid for flesh. Although her body was paralyzed, she could still move her eyes, and she lifted them to see the face of her attacker.Internally, she screamed. He was a monster with metal horns. Then Lena realized he wore a horned helmet with a face shield. All she could see of him was a pair of gray eyes. At first, she thought it was Rallorival, but these eyes held blue within the gray, the colors merging seamlessly like a watercolor painting. If they hadn't belonged to a man who had attacked her, Lena would have found his eyes beautiful. As it was, their beauty terrified her because she couldn't place them. She would have remembered eyes like those.
Then the helmet registered. Lena's eyes went wide. He was a soldier. What was he doing there? Why had he . . . he bit her, and it paralyzed her. Only one race could do that to a Medean. This man wasn't just any soldier. He was a Nethren.
If Lena hadn't been paralyzed, she would have fought violently. Instead, she lay pliant in the monster's arms as he raced through the trees to a waiting erial. Her eyes went wide, and fear threatened to choke her when she saw the flying machine. He was taking her away from her family! She tried to fight the paralysis, but her body wouldn't respond. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she couldn't wipe them away. The monster didn't notice her fear or tears. He didn't say a word as he climbed into the erial and settled her in the passenger seat.
Lena watched the Nethren power up the erial, and then they were flying away from Thennis and an army of Aethari who should have protected her. But no one had suspected a Nethren attack. This wasn't even that. It was a single Nethren who had flown in and taken her. Only her. Why?!
The man settled the erial into flight, and then removed his helmet, a masculine sigh coming from his perfect lips—not too full and not too thin. His bright, golden hair clung to his head, but he ran his hand through it and fluffed the top. He had amilitary cut, with the sides cut close to his scalp and the top long with bangs that fell over his forehead.
A gasp caught in Lena's throat and bundled up with her urge to scream. The Nethren had a face even more handsome than Evellor's. He looked young, with flawless skin, high cheekbones, and a dramatic jaw that swept down to a sturdy chin. Yet his dark blond eyebrows slashed over a pair of eyes that chilled her. This was no boy. Those striking eyes held dark secrets that belonged to a man. The blue within them turned the gray to silver, making them shine like the metal of his arm. Dear Convergence, his arm was metal, with tubes running down the forearm and gears at the elbow. Even his fingers had the gleam of polished steel, as if he had stuck his hand in a vat of molten metal.
He reached over to stroke Lena's cheek with his metal hand, and a whimper of fear escaped the paralysis to tremble over her lips. The man looked at his metal fingers, then at her cheek, and dropped his hand.
“Don't be afraid.” He raised his normal hand to cup her cheek. “I won't hurt you. You and I are bound. Don't you feel it?”
Bound? Suddenly, her vision came to her—golden hair sweeping over a proud brow. It was the exact color of this man's hair. Was it him? Were Nethren psychic? Had he seen an image of her and come for her? And if so, what did that mean? He couldn't be the man she was meant to be with. It was impossible. She was a Medean. She could never be with a Nethren. Of course, a Nethren flying a converged erial was also impossible.
Nethren, people of the underground, served the Source of Technology as Aethari served the Source of Magic. Technology had merged with them, making them into partial machines.Monsters. Their bite was death to Aethari and could paralyze Medeans because they were so full of Technology. They were supposed to be death to convergence as well. Any converged item should have failed in his presence. He wouldn't even have to touch it. Merely being close to a convergence should have killed it. But there he was, flying an erial, no issues at all. Lena closed her eyes and tried to process the insanity.
“I won't hurt you,” the Nethren repeated as he turned in his seat to fully face her and gently laid his metal hand on her thigh.
Lena's lips trembled. Oh, great convergence! What was he going to do to her? He was already touching her inappropriately.
“We Nethren don't feel the softer emotions,” he whispered. “But you are changing me. From my very first sight of you, I have felt things I shouldn't. You've awakened needs inside me.” He jerked his hand back and rubbed the normal one over his face.
The Nethren's metal hand clenched. “Look at me. I am not a machine. Nor am I a monster.” He opened his hand and turned it over for her to see. “The tech is a part of me. It's alive. My blood runs through this arm just as it flows through my flesh. It brings these gears, tubes, and wires to life as it does my sinews, bones, and arteries. I can feel you with this metal hand just as well as with my other.”
He tried to lay it on her cheek again, but this time Lena cringed back. The paralysis was leaving her. But the Nethren kept coming, following her until he pressed the padded tips of his metal fingers on her skin. Padded! They felt almost like flesh. They were even warm.
“I'll show you. You'll learn that there is beauty below as well. You will learn to see beauty in me.”
“Why have you done this?” Lena whispered.
“You feel it too. Don't deny it. You know why I've come for you. You and I are meant to rule this world.”
“What are you talking about? You're insane!”
“Is this about your Aethari lover?” His steely eyes narrowed. “I saw you with him when you were working on the barrier. You will forget him soon enough. I know how you Medeans are obsessed with the delights of the flesh. I will give that to you. I will satisfy you in ways he never could.”
“What Aethari? I don't have a lover.” Lena wondered if he had been spying on the party and saw her with Rallorival. Maybe she should claim the Aethari warrior as a lover. It might keep the Nethren at bay. Or it might drive him into a rage.
