Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection Page 10

  While I didn’t fear similar punishment from Rhys for what I was about to do, I enjoyed newfound respect for his temper. In return, I hoped he’d grow to appreciate my determination.

  Chapter 4

  Smooth wood suctioned my ear where it pressed against the spinning-room door. Rhys had positioned guards in the hall, yet I heard no jaws popped in yawns or bored sighs exhaled. Still, I knew the males were out there, that the obvious exit was blocked at my partisan’s behest.

  A half hour had lapsed since Rhys closed the door between us, and I’d waited as long as I dared. Every minute I spent holed up in this room was time Pascale and her beau used to near the city’s limits and flee the safety of home. I had to escape, but how could I bypass Rhys’s guards?

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Armand’s voice came from over my shoulder.

  I shushed him and returned my focus outward. “What are you—ouch.” My scalp smarted as Armand captured a fistful of my hair and tugged on me until he’d peeled my ear and cheek from the door.

  “He said we’re to stay put.” He gripped my shoulders, spinning me to face him. “What’s gotten into you?” He tipped up my chin. “I swear you’ve turned as bloodthirsty as the Theridiidae.”

  I pulled from his grip. “Our sister is out there.”

  “One of my sisters is out there. The other is in here, where she’s safe.” He placed heavy emphasis on the last word. “There’s no reason to have you both endangered. You’re our new maven, Lourdes, act like one.”

  Heat crept up my neck and spread through my cheeks. “Did you not see Isolde? She’s a maven, yet she leads her clan into battle. She’s respected for it. Not shamed because of it.”

  “Is the Mimetidae maven your role model now?” He snorted. “You’re not serious.”

  “Who would you have my role model be?” I flinched at what I’d said.

  “Our mother kept our spinners productive, her paladin happy—by extension our clan home secured—and she was a kind, gentle female. She was an ideal maven.”

  Raking fingers through my hair, I voiced a rather obvious truth. “I’m not like her.”

  “Of course you are.” Armand offered me a smile. “You’re her mirror image.”

  “You realize similar appearances don’t equal identical temperaments?” Henri glanced at Armand. He was seated at a table empty but for a collection of tins and measuring implements. “There’s a reason she was Father’s favorite. They got along because they were two of the same.”

  My denial was reflex. “That’s not true.” Yet I’d heard the argument all my life.

  “Yes, it is.” When Armand’s mouth opened, Henri addressed him, “Just as you were always Mother’s darling.” He pointed a slender spoon his way. “Don’t deny it. You two spent as many hours in this room strength-testing swatches as Lourdes and Father spent target practicing in the old vineyard.”

  “Where in this fantasy of yours do you fit in?” Armand folded his arms across his chest.

  “The same place as Pascale was, that Channing would have been.” He held up a tin, shaking its contents. “We each found ways to distinguish ourselves so our parents noticed us.” Popping it open, he inhaled. After licking his finger, he tasted his creation. “Perfect.”

  “This is pointless.” I grew restless. “What does it matter who was what parent’s favorite?”

  “I’m merely making an observation.” He capped his tin and dropped it into his pocket.

  Portent weighted his stare, and I found the intensity of his gaze unsettling.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Henri, I do.” I turned to Armand. “He’s saying you can’t expect me to run the clan as Mother did. I’m not her. What’s more, I’ve long resented our reliance on outside clans for protection. Father and I—it’s true we spent many hours together, but we were working toward weaning our clan from this absolute dependency.” We had hoped, in time, to convince my brothers to share those views. Now that burden fell to me. “Why else would Father have spent so many hours teaching his heir defensive tactics?”

  “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about the matter. This is how things have always been done.” Armand paced. “I assumed Father taught you from boredom, or for your safety.” He rubbed between his eyes. “I’d always thought, I mean, you were to wed a Theridiidae, and they aren’t gentle males. I assumed that’s why Father taught you to defend yourself.”

  I pressed at a sore spot over my heart. “No. That wasn’t the reason.” Bracing my back against the wall, I voiced a secret of mine. “Our clan, our work, I’m proud of who we are and what we do, but I’ve always felt as though a piece of me were missing. Father saw that, saw his restlessness, in me.” Sadness filled my chest. “He said I wasn’t wrong for wanting more. He understood my duality.”

  He’d understood my desire to leave the nest and indulge a wanderer’s heart.

  “It’s why the two of you got along so well.” Henri sounded unsurprised as he pushed from the table and took my hand. “The two gods wouldn’t have created such a visionary for our people if we weren’t in need of one.” He tugged me along behind him. “I trust you to do what’s best for our clan. As middle brother, my faith carries less weight than Armand’s, but times are changing. The Theridiidae were restless long before their attack. I have been as well.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Armand trailed us to a far corner well hidden from the door. Silk bins cluttered the area and created a maze at odds with the neat precision of the main room.

  “It’s time we got our hands dirty.” Henri knelt on the floor. “Did you learn nothing from yesterday? The Theridiidae had been allied with us for the better part of a century. If they turned on us, who’s to say the Mimetidae, an untested ally, won’t as well?”

  Defenses for Rhys sprang to mind, but I dismissed them. Once I would have defended the Theridiidae with conviction too. I’d been wrong about them. I may be proven wrong about him.

  “You make a valid point.” Armand came to a standstill. “What are you doing?”

  Henri’s expression turned grave. “Lourdes isn’t the only one Father confided in.” Pulling back a rug, he exposed the bare stone floor. “The past year had left his faith shaken in his home clan. He never voiced his concerns, but as Lourdes said, he craved independence from the Theridiidae maven’s goodwill.” He shook his head as if he were at a loss. “I installed two of these over the summer during the tunnel renovations. They were meant as evacuation routes, but tests proved more tunnels beneath the clan home would make it too unstable.” He pointed above us. “The city is heavy. Our supports are reinforced, but risk outweighed any possible benefits.”

  “Henri.” I stared at the floor but saw nothing. “You’ve lost us.”

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Right.” His knuckles rapped hollow on the stones. They must have been false. “This can’t be right.” He dusted crumbled mortar from the cracks. “Someone’s used this hatch since I sealed it.” He inspected the area before glancing up. “I don’t understand. Only Father and I knew of its construction.”

  “What sort of hatch is this?” Most accommodated full-grown males with ease. This one was half the normal size, making me wonder if the tunnel beyond was as cramped as the hatch.

  “It’s of the secret variety,” he said earnestly. “No one should have known its location.”

  “Someone knew.” Armand leaned over. “You couldn’t have dug the tunnels yourself.”

  “No.” Henri’s voice rang with annoyance. “I didn’t, but the laborers were compensated well and sworn to secrecy. I doubt many were brave enough to face Father’s fury if they told.”

  I considered his point. “Unless they knew they wouldn’t have to face him.”

  “Are you implying,” Armand asked carefully, “that we have traitors among us?”

  “Someone had to know about the tunnels and their locations, as well as know how to use them. They must have had guards to keep the curious at bay.”
I had but one question. “Were they Theridiidae?”

  “We had only one. Father worried more would draw attention.” Henri’s gaze met mine, and I knew there was more to the story. “The male, Kellen, was a friend of Pascale’s. I’d forgotten I caught them…” he coughed into his fist, “…touring the tunnels one day. Since Kellen was sworn to secrecy and Pascale was family, I let the incident lie.” His tone held self-recrimination. “I see now that might not have been the wisest course of action.”

  Armand scowled as if his hormones had never bested him. Though, if they had, I gave him credit. I’d never heard about an incident. Then again, this was the first I’d heard of this one.

  Courting the paladin’s daughter without his consent was a dangerous occupation. Kellen had proven himself a fool by risking Father’s wrath, but was he also a murderer? Involvement on his part explained why Pascale’s token was lying around for Rhys to find when their rooms were straightened daily. Whoever had lost it, they must have done so between late afternoon and night.

  Kellen. His face was lost to me. Few as the guards were, I doubted I could match a dozen of the younger males to their names. I’d thought myself practical by avoiding the temptation of a handsome face when my marriage would have been arranged, but avoidance was costing me now.

  “Why are you showing this to us?” I was afraid to hope I knew the answer.

  Armand appeared equally curious. “The hatches would have come in handier yesterday.”

  Henri paled. “Do you honestly think I haven’t thought of that?”

  “I shouldn’t have said that.” Armand rested a hand on Henri’s shoulder. “The attack came too sudden. Only Lourdes had her wits about her. No doubt Father was to thank for that.”

  I patted Henri’s cheek. “Besides, the danger was above, in the city. Those hidden in the tunnels fared best. If those here had known of another escape route, they would have taken it to their detriment.” I grimaced. “Keeping your secret saved lives, you can’t feel guilty about that.” I knelt beside him. “Now, where does your tunnel lead?”

  “This tunnel crosses one hidden in the nursery.” At my odd look, he elaborated. “The spinning room and nursery are across the hall from one another, and both down the same section of tunnel that underwent renovations. I thought it best to keep things simple until we determined viability.”

  I wanted to smile at seeing this scheming side of him for the first time. Perhaps the warrior in me wasn’t the only one awakened by our tragic events. Perhaps we’d all heeded the call to arms shouted from the paternal branch of our family tree. “Where do they go from there?”

  “From there, they intersect the rear tunnels.” He turned earnest. “You’ll crawl until you think you’ll die from it before you reach another hatch. Open it, and a ladder leads to the surface.”

  “The rear tunnels,” I mused. “That would explain Rhys’s poisoned guards. Pascale’s bedroom intersects those. She had a clear path from there to here, if she wanted to meet someone in private.” I forced my voice to remain level. “She also had access from either place to the surface.”

  Henri gave me a reluctant nod, as though he should have foreseen this series of events.

  My nail flicked along the stone’s edge. “I assume you showed me this for a reason.”

  “You’re going to go after her,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know I can’t stop you, and I doubt Armand can.” He flipped over a small stone and hooked his finger through a ring hidden beneath it. “Considering the delicate nature of what Kellen and Pascale used the tunnels for, I doubt either confided the location in anyone else.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, the Theridiidae would have attacked the clan home from underground. They didn’t, so they must not know.”

  I nodded, pulse jumping with eagerness as he lifted the hatch and revealed the entrance. Cold air smelling of damp earth hit my face. I sat before he told me otherwise, dangling my feet in search of the ladder, the lure of an open hole to an eager body. “What are you—oomph.”

  Armand had hooked his arms around me, dragging me backwards until I fell atop him.

  “You’re not going down there.” He crushed me against him. “This is insanity.”

  “You heard Vaughn. He said Pascale and her captor vanished, which means they can’t be down there.” I sank my elbow in his gut and rolled aside. “The Mimetidae have secured the city. Rhys waited with us until they had it cleared. The most dangerous thing I’ll encounter is worms.”

  “You’re our maven.” He touched his middle and winced. “You must remain protected.”

  “Would you feel better if I said I’d seek out Rhys the second I reached the surface?” Regret almost tempted the truth from me as Armand’s expression eased. I’d posed the question as a hypothetical. I had to leave, now. No matter his answer, Rhys was the last male I’d go hunting.

  “All right, you can go.” He delivered his line as if he’d had real influence in my decision.

  “Thank you.” I worked to convey proper gratitude. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “See that you are.” Henri crossed the room to retrieve his coat from his chair’s back. “Here.” He all but threaded my arms through the sleeves, then rolled the ends until my hands were visible. “Inside the city, there are windbreaks. Where you’re going, there aren’t. Explore what you must, but make it quick. Get to Rhys as soon as you can, or you’ll freeze.”

  My fingers brushed my thigh, where my quiver should be. Cramped tunnels meant no room to pull a bowstring. Even my silk trick depended on leverage and surprise, neither of which I’d have if I ran headlong into company in the same tunnel. At least we’d both be disadvantaged.

  “This is a mistake,” Armand groused as he lifted me, lowering me into the tunnel.

  “If it is, it’s as good as made.” Henri guided my hands and feet onto the rungs and then total blackness enveloped me. Chills swept over my skin. My sister had used this tunnel. Had she given us a single thought as she crept into the night with her…lover? I didn’t know what he was to her.

  Inhaling a last breath of clean air, I climbed into the void and let earthen scents enfold me.

  Henri was right. My arms and legs faltered after crawling through his tunnel. While I imagined a male might wriggle through, he wouldn’t thank whoever had set him to the task. The walls were close and the air damp, but the path was packed hard and well-traveled. Pascale must have gone this way more often than we’d guessed. Either that, or Henri had spent an inordinate amount of time crafting a passageway whose primary function was to remain hidden and unused.

  Blinking as currents swirled about me, I sneezed when dirt blew up my nose. I inhaled fresh air in greedy pulls until realizing I shouldn’t smell grass and sunshine down here. Without light, I missed my cue and hit the end of the tunnel face-first. Cursing alleviated the worst pain.

  Groaning, I reached over my head and located the hatch. A hard shove cracked it open, and it fell aside, giving me room to stand for the first time in an hour. Clean air rushed over me, raising chills as winter’s breath whispered over my skin. Above me, dawn’s reds and oranges saturated the sky. Climbing hand over hand, I breached the surface, eager to be bathed in light.

  Though my eyes burned, I recognized this place. No wonder the tunnel ran so long and the ladder stretched so high. Stumbling on weakened legs, I collapsed in a heap while surveying my surroundings. Henri had dug a passage clear to the base of Mount Ereac. From this vantage, the whole of Erania spread before me. She was beautiful despite the wintry mantle she wore, her face kind in spite of the black stone walls looming above her brow, stretching far as I could see.

  Our markets and summer spinning rooms were empty, closed against the harshest part of winter. No travelers dared venture so far north for our wares when we went to ground for safety.

  The harsh clime was one reason Araneidae nested below the city. Only our clan and their spouses were allowed access to the clan home, although my parents had several personal guards.


  To think all these years we’d welcomed Theridiidae into our home. Their presence was tolerated because a second generation union between our clans was mutually beneficial. We’d given them the chance to learn our ways, our home, our clan, and this was how they repaid us.

  I blamed the biting winds for the tears blurring my view of the landscape as I sealed the hatch. Wishing for better concealment for the entrance, I trusted Henri to have locked his end.

  As I glanced away, a quick glint caught my eye. The length of my arm away, I spied a button covered by gold fabric shining in the sun. I picked it up gingerly and turned it in my hand. It was cold, which felt too final somehow. I didn’t like it. Before appraising it again, I warmed it in my fist, squeezing until the pointed edges bit into my palm.

  Hidden in the pattern were Pascale’s initials. This button had come from her coat. I knew, because the work was mine, and I’d given her the coat as a gift. The addition of her initials had struck me as a perfect way to nudge my extravagant design into excess. Rubbing my thumb over the top of the button, I recalled there were more than a dozen sewn up either side. How clever I’d imagined myself to be at the time, before I’d worn my fingers raw with all the intricate detailing.

  How clever I’d always imagined myself to be. I supposed it was time I proved it.

  On closer inspection, the button appeared to have popped off her coat when she crawled from the hatch. Or at least that was my assumption based on the frayed bit of string stuck to its backing. After that, it must have rolled to its final resting place, where I’d found it. When I shifted to search for more clues, I was rewarded by the glittering appearance of frost footprints.

  Where dew had settled on dead grass, hints of ice had formed. Amid the sparkling blades, footprints identical to mine had crushed a clear path leading toward the old vineyard. Heart in my throat, I shoved to my feet and followed. Faster and faster, I trailed after my sister. Rational thought fled as her strides grew longer and I struggled to keep pace. Had she been chased? Why had she run? Lungs screaming for mercy I refused to grant, I pushed harder until I’d cleared the vineyard and reached a small hill dappled with trees. I shivered, unable to resist the urge to turn.