Such a Daring Endeavor Read Free Page A

and a sturdy mustache nestles above thin lips.
    Warwick isn’t sure if he
likes
the talisman or not. Some type of technology wired into the metal released his emotions the instant Miss Hawkes’ will overrode his own. Though it’s been a day since it happened, his thigh still burns where the blonde girl thrust her Xian claw in and claimed him for her minion.
    She struts behind the Arcaian general now, her face beaming in Warwick’s direction. Fear layers itself in at the sight of her. Fear and anger so hot it makes sweat bead down his spine beneath his tweed shirt. And the realization of it all makes him weak. So weak, his knees give out, and he collapses to the marble floor of his new chambers.
    The instant the blonde Miss Hawkes snapped this bracelet on, the wharf blocking his emotions opened. A collision of pain welled at the wound, searing a heavy, wretched pulsing clear into his bones and back. His eyes bulged, burning away any moisture that should’ve been there.
    Miss Hawkes laughed at this pain. She laughed at his reaction to it, as emotions he hadn’t felt in the eight years since his magic Torrented emerged anew.
    Now, Tyrus gestures to Miss Hawkes, urging her forward. The heels of her pointed nude shoes clack their way to where Warwick kneels on the cement.
    “Looks like you’re finished reconnecting with the real you,” she says, kicking against his shoulder with her heel so that he lifts himself to face her. “You should consider yourself lucky. This talisman is a gift, one we only give to servants who are more…valuable than others.”
    Warwick raises his eyes to hers. She is disgustingly beautiful with porcelain skin and celery green eyes. She wears a fitted pink suit that cinches in at her narrow waist. He’s sure she meant to pay him a compliment just now, but it didn’t sound that way to him.
    Servants
. He had goals, dreams. He was advancing well in pledgeschool, he was preparing to graduate with a career in magitech electronics, to upgrade the way vehicles were fabricated. Of course his emotions were gone, but his intellect was there, and that was enough of a drive to pursue the highest point in his education that he could. And now he’s nothing more than a
servant
.
    “What do you want with me?” Warwick finally asks, struggling, unable to find his feet.
    General Blinnsdale pulls a clipboard from the counter behind him, perusing through papers as though he’s a physician examining a patient’s medical history.
    “Warwick Alexer Cunningham, top of your class at St. Nichol Pre-Col in Jienke, graduating with a scholarship to Windsor Pledgeschool where you’ve been studying magitech and engineering.”
    Miss Hawkes smiles at him, the corners of her eyes squeezing in an almost-wink. Does she expect Warwick to reply to a read-out of his transcripts? He knows full well they already know who he is. A sour twinge eddies in his stomach and pulls him to open his mouth despite the strong desire to deny her the satisfaction of an answer.
    “That’s me,” he says without knowing why.
    “Come here, Warwick,” says the woman, wagging the first finger of her petite, well-manicured hand.
    Against his will, he obeys. She’s even lovelier up close. Golden hair weaves into a braid banding around her head, while straw-colored tresses tumble down her back. Her face is one he wouldn’t likely forget either, but something beneath the pretty exterior is poisoned, like a shiny red apple rotted inside by worms.
    “Do you realize how important you are?” she asks him.
    He rolls his eyes at her pathetic attempt to sound smart. What does this girl know, and why is she keeping it from him? “This grows tiresome. Why don’t you ask a question I can actually, legitimately answer?”
    Tyrus booms a heavy laugh, stepping forward to clap Warwick on the back. “I like him,” he says to Miss Hawkes, as though Warwick was a pet she just selected at the store.
    “Stop playing games with me. Tell me why you took me