“Skeleton in the corner,” Avery says, less than amused. “And my darling wife wants to explore.”
“That’s…a…” Adeline gulps as her light stutters. “I mean, was that…human?”
No one answers her, but Gorin wrinkles his nose at the bones and decomposing...matter. Even Yancey looks unsettled.
Avery, being Avery, kneels next to the skeleton and then looks at us over his shoulder. “He has a rather terrified look about him, don’t you think? What with him being in the fetal position with his arms covering his face and all.”
“Not helping,” Sebastian hisses under his breath.
The captain shrugs. “Wouldn’t it be prudent of us to question how the fellow died?”
Gorin points to a dagger under the bones. “That might have something to do with it.”
Avery notices the dagger for the first time, and he grins. Without the slightest hesitation, he reaches under the ribcage, through thick spiderwebs, and plucks the blade from the ground, receiving a chorus of quiet groans from the rest of us. He holds it up, examining it. “Too bad it’s not enchanted. Still—look at those rubies.” He whistles, awfully proud of his find.
“What did we talk about?” I ask, mostly teasing. “Respectable captains do not rob tombs.”
My husband rises to his feet, stalking toward me. “Who said anything about respectable? I thought I was a pirate?”
“And I thought that nonsense would stop after you got married,” Sebastian says, looking unsettled. Before Avery can retort, he looks around. “What doorway do we try first?”
I point to the one to our immediate left. “I believe that one’s closest to the pillar.”
Adeline cranes her neck to look at the archway as we pass, her eyes trained on the thick and silky webs. “Where are the spiders do you think?”
She doesn’t sound like she truly wants to know.
Again, Avery walks behind me and leans close to my ear. “Waiting for fresh blood.” Then he tickles my sides with a featherlight, tiny-arachnid-feet touch, making my skin crawl. I lightly elbow him in the stomach, and he laughs in my ear.
Bless the tiny village. As soon as we’re in the room, we find the pillar. It stands at the very center, just as Sebastian predicted. There are old tables here, covered in ages of dust. They stand intact, safe from the weather and sun.
“It was an alchemy chamber,” Yancey says as he studies the room.
“How can you tell?” Adeline asks.
He points to a dozen mortars, pestles, shears, and earthen jars, turning to look at her as if she’s daft. But her eyes still linger on the webs above us.
I couldn’t care less about the room; my eyes are glued to the pillar. “It’s a map!” I say excitedly as I kneel in front of it.
Gorin’s right behind me, even more eager than I. He scans it with his finger, murmuring names of landmarks and cities to himself. Finally, his finger comes to rest on a spot far to the south of Elrija, near the sea. “Here!”
Elated, as a group, we let out a quiet, collective cry of jubilation. Well, Adeline’s might be of the please-let-this-be-over-as-soon-as-possible variety, and Yancey’s is an are-we-finished-yet sort of groan of relief.
Sebastian’s already pulling a rolled piece of parchment and charcoal from his pack, ready to do the etching. Kneeling feels strange, like my stomach is oddly heavy even though I’m not yet showing, and I stand to make room for Sebastian. I wander the room, taking in the engraved art on the walls. I poke about the alchemy supplies, curious what might be lying around.
One jar contains salt and another crystallized honey. I open a third pot, curious. But it’s not an ingredient—it’s a nest of silk webs. Startled, I gasp and drop the brittle jar. It breaks on the table and suddenly, hundreds of tiny red spiders emerge from the cocoon. I stumble back, letting out a piercing shriek that echoes through the entire underground chamber.
The tiniest bit of dust falls from the ceiling, and I back away from the table. “Hurry, Sebastian!”
“What did you do?” he demands, half-finished with the rubbing. “Lucia—”
“What’s that?” Adeline demands.
We all fall silent. I hear it too—it sounds like millions and millions of tiny scampering, crawling…
Adeline screams first. Scarlet, coin-sized spiders erupt from every nook and cubby, crawling out of holes and crevices and seams in the rock. Spiders everywhere.
“Leave it, Sebastian!” I scream as we leap for the exit.
In her terror, Adeline’s already halfway out, leaving us in partial darkness. Avery shoves me ahead, pushing me to the exit. Feeling as if half a dozen of the spiders are on me, I run as fast as I can. Even when I burst into the sunlight, the sensation of their imaginary feet crawling over me makes me shudder uncontrollably. Adeline’s dusting herself off at a frantic rate, and I do the same. The men burst out of the chamber right behind us, and Yancey shoves the stone disk back into place.
“What happened?” Esme demands, her eyes wide with worry as we flail.
After several long moments, much to our relief, we realize we don’t have any stowaways. Suddenly, Gorin goes completely still. “Lucia,” he whispers, horrified. “Don’t move. There’s a crimson assassin on your arm. If it bites you, there’s no antidote.”
I freeze as well, my mind skittering with horror.
Avery tries to rush to me, but Sebastian holds him back. “No, Yancey’s closer—and calmer.”
The alchemist walks to me slowly, his gaze on my shoulder and his hands steady. “I’m going to whisk it away.”
“Mmmm,” I manage. From the corner of my eye, I see the spider moving up my arm, and I can now feel it on my bare skin.
I hate the desert. I hate its cobras and scorpions and wraiths, and I really, truly loathe its spiders.
Yancey raises his hand, preparing his air manipulation spell, but then he stops.
“Yancey,” I plead, not daring to move. “Just get it over with.”
“If it goes the wrong direction, it could bite you.” Only now does he sound nervous, and that terrifies me. “I’ll have to flick it off with my hand.”
“Be careful,” Esme pleads.
Adeline’s tucked into Sebastian’s arms with her face buried against his chest, unable to watch. I can barely breathe. Only one thought runs through my mind, over and over and over: If I die, then the baby dies with me. Would it feel pain? Would it hurt?
The thought is horrifying, but I cannot give in to the slightest sob. If I do, if I tremble at all, that might be all it takes for the spider to feel threatened.
Yancey steps right in front of me, bending his knees so he’s at my eye level. “I’ve got this, do you understand? I won’t let it bite you, but you must not move a muscle.”
I close my eyes, preparing myself.
Then I feel it, the quick flick of Yancey’s hand on my shoulder. Around us, our companions gasp, and my eyes fly open. As if time has slowed, instead of falling to the ground, the spider sends out a web, and the thin string carries it right to Yancey. The alchemist leaps back, trying to avoid it, but it’s too late. It lands on his arm.
Not even a full second later, he knocks the crimson assassin to the ground and smashes it under his boot. My relief is so intense, I double over. After a moment, I look back up. Yancey’s still staring at the ground.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
He meets my eyes, his face unusually pale, and he holds out his arm. A tiny red welt already forms just below his elbow.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Just a Tiny Bite
Horrified, I stare at the wound. “Yancey!”
He lowers his arm, almost looking as if he plans to ignore the bite. “It’s not that bad.”
Esme, getting the drift of the conversation, is on him in an instant. She pulls his arm up, ignoring his protests, and her face goes white. “No,” she whispers.
I turn to Gorin. “You said there’s no antidote.”
Our guide looks as
hen. “There isn’t.”
“What about something to slow the poison,” I demand. “Anything.”
“I have charcoal,” Yancey says from behind me. “I’ll make a paste and see if I can draw it out.”
I turn and study him. At first glance, he looks unconcerned, but the truth is, he’s dying right in front of us. He hides his worry well, but it’s there in the lines at the edges of his eyes, in the way he presses his lips together.
“I’ll do it,” Esme says, grasping his hand. “Tell me what to do—tell me what to make, and I’ll do it.”
He looks at her for several long minutes. Something passes between them, something heartbreaking. “All right.”
Together, they go to his horse, off to sort through his pack.
Sebastian steps close to Gorin, but his eyes are on Yancey. “There must be something we can do for him. We can’t just watch him die.”
“The spring,” I say suddenly, hope washing over me like warm sunshine. I grab Avery. “It will heal him, won’t it?”
Gorin’s eyes widen at the thought. He nods slowly at first, but the motion becomes more sure. “Yes, it will. But we only have ten days before the poison finishes its work, and” —he takes the just-finished rubbing right from Sebastian’s hand, frowning— “it will take at least twelve days to travel there.”
I watch Esme earnestly make the paste just as Yancey directs. Her focus is solely on her task, and she wears a look of sheer determination. But Yancey’s eyes are on the tall, pretty Elrijan woman—on her hair, on her face. He looks like he’s taking her in, committing her to memory. It’s a wistful look, perfectly devastating.
Choking back the emotion tightening my throat, I turn to the men. “We will make it. We have no choice.”
They nod in agreement, and we part, already mounting our horses.
“Hurry it up, Yancey,” I call, trying to sound light and confident. “We have to get you to the spring.”
Esme stares at me blankly, and then she understands. She sets a hand over her mouth, and her shoulders shake as she turns away from the group, overcome with relief.
Yancey, who must have come to terms with his fate in this short period of time, stars at me dumbly.
I lean forward in my saddle, making him meet my eyes. “The spring will heal you, Yancey, but you have to get your massive self on your horse right this moment, or we’ll never make it in time.”
He blinks at me, and then he nods.
Done crying, with tear trails running down her face, Esme turns, shoves all the supplies back in Yancey’s pack, and yanks him to his horse. Once they’re ready, we turn our horses back toward the dragon bridge arch. I pass Akello.
The mercenary has stayed silent this whole time, but his eyes meet mine now. Quietly, he says, “You should have gone home. The desert isn’t safe.”
I glance at Yancey, and guilt writhes in my stomach.
“It’s not too late to go back to Kalae. I would hate for something to happen to you, Lucia.” Though the words are chilling, and frankly, a little ominous, his expression is sincere.
“It’s too late now,” I answer quietly. “If there’s even the slightest chance we can save Yancey, we’re going to take it.”
The man nods, obviously expecting nothing less.
***
I count the days, and each seems to go faster than the last. Time is against us, and it’s slipping through our fingers. The desert is brutal. With every spring day we lose, we creep closer to summer, and the sun grows more unforgiving.
Esme rides next to Yancey, concern etched in her expression. She keeps a watchful eye on the alchemist, making sure he doesn’t topple right off his horse. I’m not sure what she would do about it if he did.
We ride fast, traveling day and night, stopping only to rest a few hours at a time during the hottest part of the afternoon. By the fifth day, we’re all dead on our horses, and Yancey’s failing fast. A blue bruise spreads around the wound, a sure sign the tissue is dying.
Today, he began to sweat, and he clears his throat often, as if there is an obstruction.
“He can’t go on like this,” I overhear Adeline say to Sebastian as we ride.
My business partner nods, but there is nothing we can do. We press on because we have no alternative. Each day, Avery grows more concerned, but it’s not Yancey who has his attention. He watches me, looking for signs of extreme exhaustion, for signs that I’ve pushed myself too hard.
And I do ache, though I’ve told no one. Every once in a while, I wince from a sharp pain, but I hide my discomfort as best I can for Yancey’s sake.
“Let’s stop for a few hours,” Gorin calls when we reach a copse of large boulders that cast a little shade.
The sun is high in the sky, and the heat is sweltering. I stay in my saddle, too tired to move, wanting nothing more than a bath and a soft bed. At the very least, a cool breeze. I’d even settle for a lukewarm breeze at this point—anything but the sporadic, bone-dry gusts that kick up sand and debris.
“Avery,” I say, still atop my horse. If my stomach didn’t feel so heavy and awkward, I’d lie against my horse’s neck. I’m barely showing, but it feels as if I swallowed lead.
My husband is at my side in an instant. His eyes take me in, and he frowns. “I’d ask if you’re doing all right, but I’ve been forbidden from uttering those words.”
I give him a tired smile. “Help me down.”
Instantly, his hands are on my waist, and he gently assists me from my horse. Exhausted, I rest against him. I could fall asleep right here. Quietly, so no one will hear me, I say, “I want to go home, Avery.”
He wraps his arms around my back. “Is that a request?”
I think about it for a moment. He’d take me away right now if I wanted him to. Sebastian wouldn’t mind; neither would Adeline. Gorin might panic a bit, but Sebastian is every bit as capable as I am.
Let’s be honest: Sebastian is every bit more capable than I am.
We could go home, just Avery and me. We could sleep in a real bed tonight and not get up until noon the next day.
After several moments of selfish indecision, I shake my head.
Because we don’t stop long, we don’t bother with the tents anymore. We toss out the bedrolls and collapse on top of them. I fall asleep as soon as I stretch out on the hard, prickly ground. It seems, however, that as soon as I close my eyes, it’s time to get up.
Avery’s still asleep beside me, so I linger a few minutes more. We’ve already overslept. The sun is low in the sky. We should have been up hours ago.
As I lie here, I idly listen to Esme as she speaks with Gorin.
No, not Gorin. Akello.
“I have done everything you’ve asked of me,” she says quietly, sounding frantic. “You swore that if I helped you…”
My ears perk up, intent now on the conversation.
“What do you want from me? I have a job to do, Esme. It is unwise to double-cross…” Akello lowers his voice, and I cannot make out the last of his words.
They shift a little farther away, and now I can’t hear them at all.
I turn back toward Avery, groaning as a rock stabs me in the back. When I turn to face the captain, his eyes are already open and alert.
“You heard that too?” I barely whisper.
“I did.”
“What do you make of it?”
Avery shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
“Should we confront them about it?”
“Not yet. But we’ll be watchful.”
Behind us, Sebastian rises. We too get up, acting as if we just woke. Esme comes back to camp and kneels by Yancey’s side. Her eyes flicker over his pale face, and she bites her bottom lip.
“Yancey,” she whispers as she sets a hand on his shoulder.
He groans in his sleep, but it’s a weak sound.
“We have to go,” she tells him softly as she rubs his arm, being careful to avoid the spreading wound.
What did Akello mean he has a job to do? Though it makes me feel unloyal to think it, I can’t help but wonder if Esme has a reason to keep us from the spring. After all, most of the trouble started when she showed up at Struin Aria.
But when she looks at Yancey like that, I can’t help but think that she’s as desperate to find the spring as we are.
After a few long minutes, Yancey manages to pull himself to his feet with the men’s assistance. He looks like death.
I don’t know if he has five more days in him—I don’t know if we’ll find the spring by then even if he does. Esme follows him to his horse, wringing her hands as the men hoist him up. Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a weak smile. Her expression flickers when I purse my lips and turn to my own horse.
We ride into the night and morning, taking brief breaks to keep Yancey hydrated. He quit eating a day ago.
Flink finds us, and he wanders about, looking at us all with his serious amber eyes, probably wondering why we’re all so somber.
After the short break, we get on our horses and do it all over again.
Day six passes, and then day seven. I’m sick with exhaustion, and I begin to wonder if Avery’s right. This can’t be good for the baby. But what choice do we have?
On the beginning of day eight, my stomach cramps. The pain is so intense, I cry out and grasp hold of the reins to keep from falling.
Avery yanks his horse to mine and pulls me to a stop. I double over, waiting for the pain to subside.
“What is it?” Avery demands. His eyebrows are drawn low, and his eyes search mine, looking for the truth this time.
“It hurts,” I finally admit.
He offers his hand, and from the look on his face, I know I’m going to have to acknowledge I’m not doing well.
“What hurts?” he whispers once my feet are on the ground.
I set my hand on my lower abdomen.
“Lucia,” Avery says, taking me by the shoulders. “You can’t keep going at this pace.”
Lily of the Desert (Silver and Orchids Book 4) Page 13
