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  Though Isolde regarded me kindly, her gray hair and wrinkles making her grandmotherly in appearance, she was a renowned warrior in her own right. She led the Mimetidae after all. If she wanted, she could take what she desired from me with the same ease the Theridiidae could.

  Instead, alliance hung in the frigid air between us. Join our clans. Start anew. Take revenge.

  “I’ll agree to the binding, and I’ll outfit your clan with our finest armor, but if your clansman fails to avenge my parents’ death by the new moon, I won’t wed him. If he fails, then your clan must remain and safeguard us until I find a partisan of my own choosing.”

  Her smile was slow in coming. No doubt she had weighed every angle before saying, “Agreed.” She stood and grabbed my arm, hauling me in the direction I’d come from, where the tunnels began. Waving her hand, Isolde waited until a male appeared at my elbow. “Take her home.”

  I took a step before facing her. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. We bargained. We each got what we wanted. It was a fair deal.” She cocked her head to one side. “Know this. I want results, the same as you.” Her toothy grin made another appearance. “The faster your clan is bound to mine, the faster our swords will lift in your defense.” Her expression turned earnest. “I want to help. Gods know I do, but I can’t afford to pay favors when I’ve empty pockets. We’ll reclaim your city, protect your people—”

  “—but not until after the ceremony,” I supplied.

  She nodded an affirmation.

  Despite the way my stomach knotted, I set my jaw. “Can you secure the sanctuary?”

  “I can and will.” Her gaze lifted to the stars. “I’ll see to your parents’ arrangements.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll see to them myself so long as you’ll guard my stewards.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Another gesture brought several males forth. I noticed the tall warrior was not among them. Scanning each face, I wondered which was meant for me. I decided it didn’t matter. I could afford no fanciful notions of courtship now.

  “Have your chosen at the sanctuary in an hour.” I gave her my back. “Don’t be late.”

  She slapped her thigh. “No cold feet on this one.”

  Her merry cackles echoed as I marched down the tunnel’s gullet and toward my fate.

  Silk whispered beneath the soles of my bare feet. Each step down the aisle carried me closer to the podium, and the cleric and the destiny I couldn’t avoid. I was the eldest daughter of the Araneidae clan heads, and the youngest maven ever appointed. My reign had begun in blood.

  News of my parents’ death had traveled fast. On its heels came the realization I alone controlled the purse strings for the richest clan in the Araneae Nation, and I was unbound to a male, placing me and my clan in mortal danger. This farce of a binding was my only hope.

  Exhaling a shaky breath, I continued my procession with my head high and eyes forward.

  My steps slowed as I noticed the barren walls. I had no cause to visit the sanctuary during winter, when the ornate tapestries were packed for the season. Their absence robbed the space of its comforting presence. Woven with the life threads of nested pairs, the tapestries were a treasure greater than gold. They were also the reason I ordered my cleric to remain belowground and guard them rather than preside over the ceremony. I wished for my cleric, but theirs must do.

  Isolde’s warriors ringed the room. Their armor held a dullness to match their expressions, both having lost their shine long ago. The tallest among them stood two heads above my height of five feet. His black hair brushed broad shoulders, and his eyes, the fierce green of new growth in spring, tracked me with predatory interest that raised gooseflesh. He seemed…familiar to me.

  Mimetidae picked their teeth with the bones of their enemies, after said enemies were spit-roasted and eaten. My palms sweated as I wondered which of his hungers heated his gaze.

  Once I reached the cleric’s feet, I knelt. I bowed my head, but not before I glimpsed twin shrouds spun from the same saffron-colored silk as the runner rolled down the center aisle. Araneidae gold, my clan color. There was no mistaking that shade of dye, no comfortable illusion I could retreat behind, no escaping the fact my parents lay there, lifeless and gone from this world. Reining in hot tears, I stared where my hands clutched the silken fall of my gown. I was golden and glorious. Even my dark hair shimmered with glittering ribbons and adornments, all woven by the males of my clan.

  Amazing what could be accomplished in an hour, when lives were at stake.

  Rhythmic pounding in my ears unsettled my stomach. I closed my eyes and wished I could block out the sound of the battering ram slamming home against the sanctuary’s barred doors. Frustrated beyond patience, I coughed into my fist and hoped the cleric took the hint and began.

  He didn’t. Instead, he gestured toward Isolde, and I glanced where she lounged on a bench in the first row. Smoke spiraled from the corner of her mouth courtesy of the rolled tube of paper pinched between her lips. Embers flared red at the end before she stood and stamped out the light with her boot heel.

  Though my lip almost curled at her crassness, I honored the manners Mother had taught me.

  “Isolde, Maven of the Mimetidae clan,” he addressed her. “You’ve come bearing a gift?”

  Her weathered face split wide in a grin. “As a matter of fact, I have.” She turned to her right, and I followed her seeking gaze until it lit upon the face of the same tall warrior I’d admired. A jerk of her chin summoned him forward. “I offer my youngest son, Rhys, as partisan.”

  I gaped as he approached. He was my gift? I’d known her plan, but I hadn’t realized…

  He stopped at my side. His fingers drummed the hilt of his sword, which made the worn scabbard tap his muscular calf left bare by his ivory ceremonial kilt. I glanced between Rhys and the cleric, who nodded encouragement as he asked, “You would serve as this maven’s partisan?”

  My gaze flew to Rhys’s face where I read grim acceptance. “I will serve her.”

  Regret tightened my chest, but I tamped it down. Both of us were prisoners of fate now.

  When his fingers flexed in invitation, mine were drawn to them. His palm slid warmly beneath mine as he used his hold to lift me to my feet. I wet my lips, and his eyes tracked the gesture. This male struck me as one who would demand fulfillment of his duties in all areas.

  No doubt he planned to begin his seduction once our vows were completed. Starting with an injection of venom one of my wedded stewards explained bonded nested pairs together. He’d said the effects were temporary, and his eyes grew heavy-lidded at the memory of his wife’s bite.

  I’d once heard poisonous clans used their venom during love play, that controlled doses were aphrodisiacal. I had dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Pleasure born of pain? Skirting death’s fringes as two bodies strained for a release they may not achieve before expiring? It wasn’t for me.

  I would never beg any male to sink his teeth in me. My neck flushed at the prospect.

  Swallowing my fear, I let my gaze touch on the shrouds. Portraits graced the tops of each, enabling my parents to bear silent witness to our union. With Rhys’s hand still holding mine, I turned toward the expectant cleric. Isolde’s bold stance caught the corner of my eye as she all but rubbed her hands together with glee. Yes, I inhaled deeply, you got what you wanted.

  Rhys’s fingers tightened, the surety in his grip promising me I’d gotten my wish as well. He was a warrior. Gods he was beautiful. Corded muscle coiled beneath tanned skin marred by white scars. His was quiet capability, deadlier than any partisan Mother had considered as my match.

  I gasped through the startling wave of pain summoned by the thought of her.

  “I won’t harm you.” Rhys’s voice was a low rumble at my ear.

  I nodded, too numb to correct his misconception and afraid I’d glimpse elongated teeth.

  Still the Theridiidae hammered on the sanctuary’s door. For a moment,
I despised these warriors who let my clan suffer within my city’s breached walls. They were decorative until the cleric finalized my union with Rhys. Then their stoic masks would crackle once more, unleashing their prowess upon the Theridiidae invaders. Only then would my people be saved.

  “Cleric.” I cleared my throat. “It seems we have guests at the door.” I straightened my shoulders and stood at my full height. I was ready. “I’m eager to introduce them to my partisan.”

  He frowned down at me, as though the pounding of the ram had stopped or the cries for my surrender had ceased. I supposed he enjoyed the luxury of time as his loyalties were on loan from the Mimetidae. The Araneidae, however, were poised on the brink of chaos, our lands and holdings forfeited if those doors failed. Without Mother to govern us, and without Father’s clansmen at our backs, protecting our interests, anarchy loomed. This union was our only hope.

  Forget that Father had belonged to the same clan that bathed their hands in Araneidae blood as I stood here, useless. Forget my parents had intended I allow the Theridiidae males to court my favor and continue our clans’ century-old alliance. The second Father’s body cooled, the Theridiidae broke their vows. They wanted control of my clan. Let them try to take it.

  Staring into Rhys’s eyes, I crushed the urge to run. His clan was rumored to enjoy blood and venom play, all sorts of hideous recreation I refused to contemplate. He was a savior to my people, and welcoming him into our clan, into my bed, would save us from Theridiidae retribution.

  There was also Isolde’s promise. Accept Rhys, and vengeance would be mine.

  “As you wish,” the cleric groused under his breath. His voice rose as he addressed the small gathering. “As Maven Reine of the Araneidae has passed, as has her nested mate, Ennis, their daughter, Lourdes, will now become the Araneidae maven. She has chosen on this day to affirm Rhys, son of Maven Isolde of the Mimetidae, as her partisan. I pray their union embraces permanence, their hearts beat as one and that their lives are blessed by the two gods.”

  His pause lingered. “Rhys of the Mimetidae, do you take Maven Lourdes as yours?”

  “I do.” His clear voice rang through a moment of perfect silence.

  “Lourdes of the Araneidae, do you take Rhys of the Mimetidae for your own?”

  “I…” I stammered until his fingers squeezed mine, I hoped in assurance. “I do as well.”

  The cleric indicated Rhys. “Seal your union and take your place at her side.”

  Rhys gave a curt nod, then grabbed my shoulders and turned me so I faced him. His head lowered, breath fanning my neck. His tongue slipped out to taste my pulse as the fine points of his teeth dragged down the column of my throat. I swallowed hard, and his chuckle warmed my damp skin. I gasped when he struck, sank his fangs deep and fused his lips to my skin as venom flowed.

  An eternity later, when he licked the punctures clean, my skin burned and veins throbbed with awareness of our strange, new connection. When he tilted my head back, I appraised him through slumberous lashes, and I knew desire for the first time. It frightened me beyond reason.

  Cheers arose from within as the door gave on its hinges. Wood exploded and debris pelted the crowd with lethal accuracy. Rhys shoved me behind him, shielding me with his much larger body. When I grasped his hips to keep from toppling over, a shiver worked through him. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and his eyes met mine.

  “Hide behind the coffins.” His voice was harder now. “Don’t move until I come for you.”

  Nodding, I did as he asked. There were enough warriors present Rhys could sit out the fight, though the eager twist of his lips told me that never happened. His eagerness sparked my own. The exhilaration of the night’s victory surged through my blood and heated my resolve.

  A heartbeat later, the doorway filled with Theridiidae in their shining armor, most of it golden, a bitter reminder of our shattered alliance. The Mimetidae released a battle cry and charged. Rhys surged with Isolde into the thick of battle, and I inched farther from my hiding place to watch his beautifully choreographed swordplay. When he spun on an enemy, teeth bared and fangs distended, I caught my breath.

  His eyes jerked unerringly to me, their silent message clear. If I can see you, so can they.

  Slinking back into shadow, I tapped my spinnerets, winding the ends of pearlescent thread I’d spun across each of my palms. Pulling tight, I tested my near-unbreakable weapon. From where I crouched behind the coffins, the sound of metal impacting armor clanged so loudly I was deafened.

  Too late, warning chills crept along my spine. I should have seen the warrior before his blade tapped my throat. When he grasped my upper arm and tugged me back, his sword hand shifted. I prayed to the two gods, asking for their blessing upon the family I might leave behind.

  His thighs encased me from either side. If the fool had sat, he would have done so upon my head. Snaking my hands down my sides, I threaded my arms behind his knees. He grunted a laugh, which I took as his blessing to reach forward. My fingers wouldn’t mesh, his legs were too bulky for that. Stretching forward, I surged up and pushed back for all I was worth.

  The second he stumbled, I knew I had him and pushed harder. He crashed to the ground with me atop him. Fear galvanized me when I realized the enormity of the mistake I’d made by allowing my arms to be pinned beneath him. I breathed a sigh of relief that his sword hand had fallen aside and his clumsy landing hadn’t skewered us both, then another as his knees fell wide as he tried to right himself.

  His failed attempt at sitting freed my arms, which I used to push up, beating him to an upright position. Twisting astride him, I crawled up his body until I straddled his chest and stared into his face. The view was unpleasant, and I swore I witnessed the second he decided to kill me barehanded. Tucking his sword at his side, he wrapped his hands around my throat and crushed.

  But when he’d sat up to catch me, I’d snared him as well. My thread looped around his neck, and I crossed the strands in front, pulling as though my life depended on it, which it did. He had more strength and more experience, but I refused to die. When his eyes bulged in their sockets and his hands released my neck to claw at his, I kicked his sword from his reach. With the thread taut, I strained until crimson smeared us both as his blood and mine mingled thickly.

  He would not die. I had no leverage. I had nothing. My gaze lit on his abandoned sword. One cut and this would end. I could do it. I’d never held a sword, but how hard could wielding one be? As my victim renewed his struggle, I knew I was about to find out.

  The thread sliced grooves in my hands as I released it and lunged for the sword. Before he registered my absence, before he did more than turn, I had lifted his blade over my head and swung. Thunk. Contact made the wet sound of a butcher’s cleaver as it kissed his cutting board.

  I had a sick feeling the cut hadn’t been clean. Noises gurgled from the male as he lay at my feet. I’d shut my eyes, half afraid to see what I’d done blindly. I had to kill him. I refused to let him suffer, though I doubted he would have extended the same courtesy to me.

  Another thunk popped my eyes open in time to see the male’s head roll to one side, neatly severed by Rhys’s blade. I gulped air as I was jerked backwards, the stolen sword plucked from my hands.

  Rhys was a wall of warm, furious muscle at my back. “I told you—”

  “Not to move.” I panted. “I heard you, but as I have a fondness for the way my head rests upon my neck, I decided some movement might be warranted.” Pushing from his embrace, I stood and straightened my gown. “As to the rest, you’ve come for me, and I’m finished hiding.”

  His dark eyebrows lifted at the sight of my bloody palms. His gaze drifted to the dead body cooling inches from the hem of my gown. “I saw a sample of your work earlier.”

  So he’d found the guard’s body. I hadn’t given it another thought. “What of it?”

  He gave me a disapproving look. “It was a cleaner kill than this.”

  I lifted my gown�
�s train, easily half my weight, and threw it at him. He caught it on reflex. “Best a man twice your size while wearing that.” My chin notched up. “Then we’ll talk.”

  He let the fabric slip from his grasp, pooling on the floor between us. “I see you inherited your father’s bloodthirstiness.”

  Fresh pain lanced through my heart. “Don’t.” I lifted a hand as my voice broke. “Don’t speak of him.”

  He gave a solemn nod. When he made no move to carry me away or further hide me, I forced my gaze beyond him. Bodies littered the sanctuary, and wounded Mimetidae looted the fallen. One warrior noticed my rapt attention and sliced a finger from the male at his feet. He popped the digit in his mouth and crunched, daring me to hold his gaze, which I did, or tried to.

  My legs buckled and knees cracked on impact. Rhys trapped me against his hip to keep my face from kissing the stone floor. He snarled as his clansman mocked my weak constitution, and the male fell silent. Too late, my eyes rolled in my head. His warmth faded and darkness fell.

  Chapter 2

  Water crashed over me, shocking me from a dead sleep. I jerked upright and choked on the lump in my throat. Unable to catch my breath, I gasped as my wild eyes scanned the room.

  “That’s it, child.” Isolde chortled as she slapped my back. “Cough it up.”

  Gulping air, I did as she asked and hacked until my lungs ached. Chilled to the bone, I glanced down and found myself stripped to the waist and soaked by the water bucket at her feet.

  “What,” I wheezed, “happened?”

  “You fainted.” She laughed outright. “Guess you didn’t find Glyn’s joke amusing.”

  “He cut that male’s finger off.” Mine curled into my hands. “Then he ate it.”

  Isolde punched my shoulder with mirth. “I reckon he was hungry then.”

  Blood leached from my face in a cold rush that chilled the heart of me. This was the maven whose good intentions my people depended on? This was the clan I’d bound myself to?