Free Tempered (A Daughters of the People Novel) (Daughters of the People Series) by Lucy Varna

inside and his heart sank in his chest. The rooms were
empty. He wandered through the suite anyway. No toiletries in the bathroom, no
clothes anywhere. His eye caught on a wad of paper resting in the bottom of a
trash can stationed next to the chest of drawers. He retrieved it with fingers
that weren’t quite steady and flattened it out. The drawing he’d made of
Hawthorne. He’d given it to her to commemorate their time together. His heart
twisted as he gazed at her, at the beauty of her features, the honesty in her
expression, the gentle warmth no one else would’ve seen.
    Shit .
    What did it
matter if she was telling the truth? It was what she believed, maybe what she had to believe in order to deal with the trauma of her childhood. How could he have
missed that? How could he have made light of her need when she’d tried so hard
to reach out to him?
    Stupid, stupid .
    He rushed out of
the room and took the elevator down to the lobby, tapping his fingers in an
impatient rhythm on his thigh as the numbers slowly decreased until it hit
bottom. At the reception desk, he snagged a clerk and handed him the keycard to
Hawthorne’s suite along with the drawing of her. “This woman invited me to her
room, but now she’s gone.”
    “Hawthorne?” The
young man handed the drawing back. “I know her.”
    “You’re not
another relative, are you?”
    The man laughed,
his tanned face creasing with humor. “Afraid not.”
    “Is there any
way you can help me track her down?”
    “It’s against
our policy to hand out that kind of information.” The man tapped the keycard
against his palm, then glanced subtly around. His voice dropped to a
near-whisper. “Especially about the owner.”
    Aaron dropped
back on his heels. “The owner?”
    “Ssh. Nobody’s
supposed to know outside of family and employees.” The man eyed Aaron
speculatively. “You don’t look like family and I know you don’t work here.”
    “I’m attending
the con,” Aaron admitted.
    The clerk
leveled a pointed stare at Aaron. “I’ve never heard of her giving a keycard out
to anyone who wasn’t a relative, not in the three years I’ve been here.”
    “Look, that’s
the thing. We met here, we hit it off, but since we were both busy with the con,
she never gave me her phone number.” Aaron tried not to look desperate. “I don’t
even know where she lives.”
    “I can’t help
you.” The clerk’s expression tipped into sympathy. “Wish I could, but if anyone
found out, I’d lose my job.”
    “I understand.
Thanks.”
    Aaron pushed
away from the counter with a heavy heart. How the hell did you go about
tracking down a woman with only one name, and likely a false one at that? He
took the stairs to his room, using the time to sort through his options.
Halfway up, he stopped in midstride. What an idiot he was. Jason worked
with Hawthorne’s agent, who would know exactly where he could find the elusive
Hawthorne. And if that didn’t work, he could always lean on Jason to lean on whoever
so he and Hawthorne could work together on her graphic novel.
    He yanked out
his cell phone and dialed. “Hey Jase, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal. I need a favor.”
    He jogged up the
remaining stairs to his floor, planning out a strategy for apologizing to
Hawthorne and finding a way to help her deal with the reality of her past,
whatever that might be.
     
    * * *
     
    A week later,
Hawthorne met Rebecca Upton at the other Daughter’s office on the campus of the
Institute for Early Cultural Studies. Rebecca was half Hawthorne’s age, a
warrior of great skill who had earned the nickname of the Blade, after her
primary weapon, and now served in the coveted position as director of the IECS,
the People’s leading branch of historical research and preservation. Word had
it that when her aunt abdicated her seat on the Council of Seven, Rebecca would
be the one tapped to fill the vacancy.
    Hawthorne
slouched in her chair and stared at the mortal Daughter, waiting for