Warchild by Blaze Ward

Author:Blaze Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781644703670
Publisher: Knotted Road Press

Scene Fourteen

Brianna had found herself at peace this morning.

Constanz would have screamed in outrage, but it had been necessary. Wyatt had pushed her back into that place that she had spent so long escaping from. She had, however, woken to control, which was a new thing.

Most of the last two years had been an ongoing blur. Multiple voices in her head, often arguing with each other. Stranger’s faces in the mirror.

Not today.

Today a beast had awakened. She had it on a leash. An iron chain held in one hand as it tugged and growled, but it sat when she ordered it.

Control.

At least for today.

Abigail was finishing up the final touches on Brianna’s face.

“I’m worried about you,” Abigail said quietly. Sadly.

Brianna nodded. She was worried about herself, too, but this was a thing that needed doing. Worse, Wyatt had needed it even more than Tessa and Constanz had. Weird as that had been.

She would be in charge, because Wyatt and Laney would make decisions based on the same training programs as had created a man known as Warchild.

Brianna McLaren would not. She had emerged from other programs, designed by men—always men, it seemed—in Zaddinul who could not admit that they had lost the war to Lorastir.

“I cannot say that it will be all right,” Brianna replied. “I’m not certain it will be. But it is necessary today. Tomorrow, I need your help remembering who Brianna was, if she starts to slip away from me.”

“That I can do,” Abigail said. “I’ll fry some salmon skin for a salad for dinner after this.”

Brianna found her mouth watering at the thought of it, but Abigail knew her well. Knew this Brianna person who occasionally felt like a mask that was slipping off.

Except that Brianna was the person today. It was the wolf on the chain she had to worry about, dragging her along if she lost control.

Ergo, she could not lose control.

“Okay, you’re ready,” Abigail finally said, stepping back with makeup brush in hand and handing Brianna a mirror.

Cleavage: emphasized with a push-up bra and a low-cut top, until she was about to spill over the top, it seemed. Loose, flowing skirt in blue, just past her knee to allow movement, with tights and her good walking boots. Sleeves to her elbows to cover enough and let her move.

The face was a stranger, but she was less worried about that than most people would be, since it was such a common feeling.

Eyes wider and brought to points with kohl. Blood red lips. Highlights designed to make her new cheekbones even more prominent.

Her hair was pulled back and tied but had enough natural curl to make her still beautiful, instead of lean and feral.

That was buried deep in her soul, tugging on that chain.

Brianna nodded.

“Let us do this thing,” the stranger said, using her mouth.

Abigail nodded tightly, leaving certain things unspoken, with a promise of salmon skin salad and maybe fresh scones, like a candle in the window on a winter night to draw her home.

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