A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 Page 15

  I had heard rumors Mimetidae venom was aphrodisiacal.

  Now I believed them.

  My skin was alight with desire for this male. The punch of his teeth, the strength of his arms, there was nothing he could ask of me in this moment that I would have the will to deny him.

  “Shh.” He kissed his mark. “I didn’t give you much. The effects will wear off soon.”

  I hoped so. Otherwise Bram would be proved right about my attraction to Vaughn at my first opportunity. Tingles crept over my skin, but I registered the surety in his tone and wondered how many females had enjoyed his bite, had worn his mark, been made a spectacle of before his clan.

  Jealousy sobered me better even than the unknown lurking behind the high walls.

  “You’ve staked your claim.” I steadied myself. “We should see to your mother now.”

  His lips parted, but I spun aside before he spoke. I bounced off Lleu’s chest. He caught me by the shoulders and steadied me, but his gaze lifted. I followed his line of sight and gaped at the sheer number of Mimetidae warriors who lined the wall above us and had watched our display.

  “It’s all right.” His grip tightened. “It’s for the best they saw.”

  For some reason his tone failed to assure me.

  Hard fingers bit into my arm as Vaughn pulled me to him. “Don’t run. Never run from me.”

  Desire clouded his eyes, made his voice rumble. I promised myself, “I won’t.”

  Cries rang out. “Open the gate. The heir has returned.”

  Metal groaned and more males shouted orders, directions and curses. The heavy seam in the great wall parted, and Vaughn offered me his hand. I took it, and together we passed the gate that I saw now was not bone, but sun-bleached wood. The grains were telling. I supposed people who came here saw what they wished to see, and I had as well. I would keep my heart and eyes open.

  There was no other way to perform the tasks that lay ahead of me.

  “Glad to see you’re back, boy.” A burly male clasped forearms with Vaughn. “Ya took your sweet time getting here.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Thought I’d be chewing on old Owain’s bones before you arrived.” He whooped. “And you’ve a female? I told old Owain you’d settle down soon. Said when that brother of yours took himself that fancy Araneidae wife, I bet you’d win us one better.” His gaze raked over me. “Pretty thing, little shy, but that’s all right. We can soften her up in no time, right, Owain?” He glanced past his shoulder. “I said, right, Owain?”

  A scarecrow of a male stared down his birdlike nose at him, squinted. “What’d you say?”

  “I said—” Pearce bellowed, “—we’d soften up this lovely creature.”

  Owain licked his dry lips in my direction, and I had to force a pleasant expression. Pearce made me sound as if I was a slab of meat to be ground between Vaughn and his clan.

  “I’m glad to see you’re well.” Vaughn sounded sincere. “How is the city faring? Our clan?”

  Expression draining of merriment, Pearce said, “They’re bandying about the yellow death. I just don’t see the difference between this and that nasty scourge that infected the varanus herds a few years back. Livestock died then, people too. Only difference is this time we had the funds to act instead of sitting around and starving. Had a messenger gather supplies. Other clans knew we had Araneidae gold to back up the orders, so aid came fast—and at a cost.” He sobered. “We learned the ropes last time this came. We did better this time around, but we still lost lives.”

  Vaughn clasped his shoulder. “You did the best you could. Father would be proud of you.”

  Straightening his shoulders, Pearce grinned. “You think so, eh?”

  “I know it.” Vaughn sidestepped Pearce. “You must excuse us. I should see Mother now.”

  “That’s wise, boy.” Pearce waved us past. “Get on with you.”

  Short barks made me turn. Brynmor lunged, avoiding guards who tried herding him from the gate. Snapping and snarling, he kept the males from touching him while inching inside the walls.

  He bit one guard and drew blood. The male cursed, but no swords were drawn. No attempts to hurt him were made. All who danced with the canis bore his bite marks, but none complained.

  I touched Vaughn’s arm. “He seems set to come with us.”

  “Leave him be.” Vaughn’s voice carried. “The canis comes with us.”

  With a final snap of his jaws, Brynmor loped to my side and butted my hand with his head. I scratched his ear automatically while wondering how much the beast had come to rule the male.

  Pearce guffawed. “The canis is hers? If your father were alive to see this, why he’d—”

  “That’s a canis. Inside the city.” Owain blinked. “Who left the gate open?”

  The crotchety elder’s reaction made me question his suitability for his position on the wall.

  “Don’t mind him.” Pearce shielded his mouth with his hand. “Been hard on Owain living by himself when he’s used to being tended to. Getting on up there in years. Wears his clothes inside out some days, and I won’t help there. Gods bless the day he’s Dianna’s headache and not mine.”

  If Dianna was his wife and as withered as Owain, then gods spare her Pearce’s sentiment.

  Vaughn grasped my arm and led me past the guards while Pearce explained in his booming voice that the canis was my companion. Despite our circumstances, I was charmed. First by Lleu and then by Pearce, whose affection for Vaughn was obvious. It was good to see him among his people, moving freely and without remark. Sure, his clansmen observed him, he was the heir, but there was no malice or ill will present in their stares, which only served to contrast his interaction with my own clan, and with the Araneidae. Rhys would bear that harsh scrutiny every day of his life. I was grateful that after all Vaughn had endured, he had this one place, home, to be himself.

  Onlookers’ stares drilled into my back as we left the wall behind us and entered the heart of the city. Brynmor kept pace with me, drawing more openmouthed gawkers than Vaughn and I did.

  The eeriest part was the total lack of females, of children. Not a one was in sight.

  “They’re curious. They won’t hurt you.” His voice went rough. “They know you’re mine.”

  After his public display of affection, I doubted his claim was in question.

  I strove for a conversational tone. “How long has it been since you were home?”

  “I can’t say.” He shrugged. “Before Rhys’s marriage filled our coffers, I went years without returning home, had to. Clans are harder here. I had to seek out the softer, richer clans for work.”

  Rambling from battle to battle had kept him occupied all these years. Newfound wealth and status meant, “You have no need for lengthy travel now. What will you do? Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know.” He glanced around, sounding lost, looking very much uncertain.

  For a male who had spent his life scraping together a living for his clan, he lacked direction. His puzzlement endeared him to me. Yes, he would ever be the mercenary, but perhaps his hands would not always be so bloody. Given the chance, he might learn enjoyment outside of his blade.

  I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “I have no choice in the matter.” His steps slowed as we entered a slender door carved in the side of one of the towers I had noticed. “I’ve seen to the fulfillment of my clan’s obligations with the Araneidae. Rhys can handle them—their ice and snow and frivolousness—from here on out.”

  Our footsteps echoed on the stone floor. No one greeted us or seemed aware we had arrived.

  Brynmor’s claws click-clacked on tiles behind us.

  Eerie chills prickled my skin. “Is it always so quiet?”

  “You’ve met my mother, Lleu and Pearce.” He sounded unsettled. “What do you think?”

  “You there,” a shadow called from down the hall. “What are you doing? Coming here?” The voice w
as deep, male, but the shape was squat, thick and barreling toward us. “Are you deaf?”

  “Cleit, it’s me.” Vaughn caught a brittle male by narrow shoulders. “I’ve come for Mother.”

  “Oh.” He straightened. “Thought you might have been that gang member. Tried to get inside the towers once. Called a guard down here and he swore the situation was under control. Said it was probably a male wanting to visit his female. As if I were fool enough to believe that excuse.”

  Vaughn frowned. “Pearce didn’t mention any gangs.”

  “He wouldn’t have, would he?” Cleit grumbled. “Thinks he has it under control, as I said.”

  “The city was quiet enough,” I said. “Perhaps Pearce was right and the worst has passed.”

  “Who are you?” Cleit glared. “What do you know if you think that bloody quiet is normal?”

  “Cleit.” Vaughn draped an arm around my shoulders. “You were saying?”

  “Guess you heard about the plague. I wondered if you’d come.” Cleit’s tone held censure. “You didn’t bother to last time. Guess the yellow death put a burr under your saddle that scourge didn’t. Guards warn travelers away from the gate. Tell them the plague is here, but does anyone believe it? No. They pretend it’s under control too. Better to lie than to face the truth. It’s here. I know. I’ve seen the bodies. Fools the lot of them. Under control.” He snorted. “My hairy arse.”

  Vaughn cut Cleit’s rant short. “How is Mother?”

  “I could use an extra hand with her. I have others in need of tending, glad of my company.”

  “I’ll do what I can to ease your burden.” Sarcasm bled through Vaughn’s words.

  “Good.” Cleit huffed. “As well you should.”

  “Where is Mother?” Vaughn stared past the male’s shoulder. “Is she in her suite?”

  “No. South tower is closed,” he said. “This tower houses the ill, north tower the dying.”

  Eyes shut, Vaughn exhaled long and slow. I heard frustration in the sound.

  Taking his hand, I asked Cleit, “Which tower houses Maven Isolde?”

  “This one. For now.” He slipped between us and latched the heavy door on our heels. “She’s hanging on by the skin of her teeth.” Cleit dusted his shirt. “She’s a fighter, a damn stubborn cow and then some, but this is… It’s bad, boy. Best ready yourself. Best leave your female out here.”

  Vaughn studied at me, considering, but the matter wasn’t up for debate.

  I informed Cleit, “I’m a spirit walker from the Salticidae clan. My mentor, Masikookyang, sent me to do all I could to aid spirits in need.” I took Vaughn’s elbow. He didn’t resist. “We would like to be taken to your maven, if you don’t mind. Time is short, you said. We should go.”

  Brynmor nudged my calf with his head. I made room for him between me and Vaughn.

  “Fine.” Cleit ushered us and set a brisk pace. “Don’t be thinking I left that door open, either. I had a guard set, name was Duncan, old Ervin’s son. Don’t know where he went. That happens lately. Set a male to a task, turn your back and he goes off somewhere. They don’t come back.”

  Vaughn remained quiet, so I answered for us. “I thought females went missing, not males.”

  “Who knows? Lost a few to scourge we never found.” He shrugged. “I don’t think we looked too close, if you catch my drift.” I leaned against Vaughn. Cleit meant they had been eaten. “The plague came, killed every animal in the stables, it did. Females went ill and males wandered from their posts. City reeks.” He eyed me. “Don’t suppose you could do some laundry?” At my scowl, he said, “Fine. Suit yourself. If we don’t cleanse Cathis soon, then we’re inviting more and worse things here.” He pointed at us. “Bodies are in the west tower’s garden. Avoid it. Both of you.”

  Shock numbed my fingers where they clutched Vaughn’s arm. “Why not bury them?”

  “Food ran low. Animal carcasses were plentiful in the first days, but some of our clan caved to the flesh hunger and, well, we saved what bodies we could. Until this passes, I have a guard at the entrance to the garden and another in the hallway guarding him.” Cleit stopped short and hit a door with his open palm. “You got guests. Don’t throw nothing at this door or so help me…”

  “Who?” Wood muffled a rough voice that could only be Isolde’s.

  Vaughn placed his hand against the raised panel. “Mother.”

  “Deaf sow.” Cleit leaned close enough his spittle hit the door. “Your son, that’s who.”

  “Rhys?” she croaked.

  “No.” Vaughn’s voice cracked. “It’s me.”

  Whining, Brynmor pawed at the door.

  Cleit startled. “That’s a canis. Where did he…?”

  “He won’t harm anyone here.” I hoped. “Are you coming inside with us?”

  “No.” He stared at the canis. “She won’t let me tend her. Says she doesn’t need help.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” I grasped the handle and shoved open the door. “Isolde, we came to…”

  Vaughn bumped into my back and jostled me inside the room. Brynmor followed.

  Propped upright on dingy pillows was Isolde. Once possessing generous curves, Isolde languished now. Her sheets clung to her skeletal frame. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes glassy. Her white hair spiked wild about her head. A healthier female sat by her side, scowl fixed in place. She reached beneath the bed.

  “Shall I throw the chamber pot, maven?” She clutched the foul thing in her hands.

  “My son,” Isolde panted. “Save the pot…in case Cleit…returns.”

  When her frail arms opened, Vaughn went into them, stroking hair from her face and kissing her cheek while he murmured soft words in her ear. Her voice caught when she said, “My Rhys.”

  Vaughn flinched, releasing Isolde with as much tenderness as he could muster.

  Tears for him welled in my eyes, blurring my vision, when I noticed a faint aural glow to the right of her bed. Using my link with Brynmor, I strained to see clearer, to sort the aura from hers.

  A low growl from Brynmor should have prepared me. It didn’t.

  Hovering at Isolde’s bedside, Kowatsi held vigil over his dying soul mate.

  Vaughn rubbed his face with his hands. “What is it?” His voice was muffled.

  Features smudged, his expression was a smattering of light as Brynmor’s had once been. He shook his head. Put a finger to his lips. Of course he asked for silence, one more secret kept from Vaughn, one more layer of guilt slathering my heart, one more reason to give him back his ring.

  “I was reading her aura.” Not a complete lie. I was doing it now as we spoke.

  “And?” He peered at me over his fingertips.

  I lowered my voice. “I would prefer to speak with you privately.”

  “You’re…Masik’s…apprentice.” Isolde waved me closer. “Did he…send you?”

  I clasped hands with her. “Masikookyang sent me to aid your clan and learn what I can from the victims of the plague. I will do everything in my power to help you and your clansmen survive this.”

  The female at her side rose. “Isolde wishes to journey into the spiritlands.”

  “She’s ill,” Vaughn spat. “She thinks I’m— She’s delirious. We can’t take her at her word.”

  Her hand rose to her throat. “You would disobey your maven?”

  “I would save my mother.” Vaughn studied her. “You’re Nerys, Cleit’s niece.”

  “I am.” Her chin lifted. “He worried for me. I’m the last well female left in the city.”

  “Yet he brought you here.” Vaughn’s tone was scornful. “How thoughtful of him.”

  “Where would you have him take me? Isolde ordered the gates locked until the plague passed. It was a knife through the chest for defying my maven’s orders or seeking refuge here, among the dead and dying.” Nerys’s chin trembled. “The males in the city don’t know how bad it is here. They think all females brought to the towers are in the sick wards. I’m not
proud, but I’ve lied and said as much to them myself. If they knew what was happening here while they’re locked inside the city walls…”

  “They’d panic,” he finished for her.

  “And if they had the plague, they’d spread it.” I think Isolde was right to lock the gate. “Now I see why the guards were being difficult. Their loyalties were torn between their maven and her heir.”

  “Doubt is playing in our favor, then.” He told Nerys, “Many seem to believe this is the same scourge that swept through Cathis years ago, that rumors of the yellow death have become sensational.”

  Brynmor butted the back of my knees with enough force I stumbled.

  Vaughn caught me, and our gazes locked. I read his fear that his mother would die, his fear that Nerys was right and Isolde wanted to die. If he learned of the spirits standing guard over her, I knew his tenuous hold on his temper would shatter. He was agonized enough as it was and would lash out.

  I made an easy target.

  “Let’s step out into the hall.” I withdrew from him before he read my unease. “We must talk.”

  “Stay with her.” Vaughn cast Isolde a final glance. “We won’t be but a moment.”

  At her nod, we exited the room and left the taint of imminent death behind us.

  Once in the hall, Vaughn spun and punched the stone wall. Blood ran down his fingers.

  I flinched, knowing if I tried to soothe him, he would cast me aside.

  “Can you save her?” He braced his forehead on the wall, refusing to look at me.

  “There’s a taint in her aura.” I balled my fists to keep from reaching for him. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t promise it can be healed until I know what it is.” Desire to touch him won. “I will gather my supplies, and I will spirit walk with Isolde. If the two gods will it, she will be healed.”

  “I don’t care much for the wills of the gods.” He shrugged my hand from his back. “Save her.”