A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2

by Hailey Edwards

  While it wasn’t my place to question my maven, I tasted bitterness at our clan being viewed this way. Harboring a murderer in exchange for gold? I prayed this incident didn’t begin a trend. I had received no mail during my stay, a fact I had lamented, but perhaps now I knew the reason.

  Negotiation had taken precedence over familial courtesy. Besides Old Father, my aunt was the only person who might have written me. Sikya was my last blood-related family outside of Rhys.

  Hurt at being denied the comfort of even a single letter from home ignited my temper.

  “I’m pleased for Lourdes’s sake. I’m glad a mutually beneficial arrangement was reached.”

  “Why do I doubt that’s what you’re thinking?” Vaughn tipped my chin up with his finger. “I saw that flash of pride, that glint of anger. What thoughts whir in that beautiful head of yours?”

  His compliment made my cheeks sting. “I am happy for Lourdes.”

  I wished only that the Araneidae considered more than their best interests in such matters.

  “Liar.” His grin was wicked. “I could grow to appreciate that about you.”

  Unsure if I should feel pleased or chastised, I startled when a gavel smashed the moment.

  Pascale was led past us. Upon her exit, the council rose for closing prayers.

  Vaughn fisted my sleeve and kept me from standing. I frowned at him. “Isn’t it over?”

  “No.” His expression darkened as he studied the door. “The fun is just beginning.”

  My gaze followed his. “What do you mean?”

  “Who do you suppose they chose to escort Pascale to Beltania?”

  “You?”

  He nodded. “Me.”

  “It makes sense.” Despite my fondest wish to be free of Vaughn’s presence. “You agreed to escort me home in three days’ time. I can see why the council would ask you to bring her along.”

  “Pascale is an Araneidae heiress,” he said, lips quirking, “who is responsible for the death of the Theridiidae clan’s heir. Despite the fact he was killed in self-defense, despite the fact his clan broke their vows of allegiance to the Araneidae, and despite the fact he engineered Pascale’s role in her parents’ deaths, Maven Colleen is playing the part of victim. She sees Pascale as the party responsible for her beloved son’s death. She wants revenge, she wants blood, and she’ll have it.”

  Foreboding slithered down my spine. “You’re warning me.”

  “I’m informing you of the risks.” His voice lowered. “Lourdes and Rhys have a trip planned in four weeks’ time. Stay. Enjoy Araneidae hospitality. Travel with the clan heads will be safer.”

  “You care about my safety?”

  “For some reason, little mouse, I find the idea of you no longer scurrying down passageways disturbing.” He frowned as if the sentiment caught him by surprise. “Consider this conversation a friendly warning. Pascale must be my priority. Lourdes’s clan is allied with mine. Yours is not.”

  My pride smarted again. As if I needed a reminder of how inconsequential I was to them.

  “While I appreciate your counsel, I do, I have been gone from home too long.” I noticed the council members filing past us in neat rows. “Now, if you don’t mind, I still feel unsettled. I’d like to return to my room and get some rest.” I touched his arm. “I’ll travel with you as planned.”

  Gods knew I wouldn’t last four more weeks here.

  “There you are.” Henri paused at Vaughn’s shoulder. “I wondered where Lourdes hid you.”

  “I apologize for disrupting the proceedings.” I cut Vaughn a look. “It wasn’t my intention.”

  “The alternative never crossed my mind.” Henri gave a small smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Mollified, I asked, “Was there something you needed?”

  “I have an idea, a theory really, I wanted to discuss with you. About the dayflower seeds you gave me. If you have a spare moment, would you consider accompanying me to my laboratory?” He snapped his fingers. “I forgot about the party. I’m sure you would rather return than go with—”

  “No.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I had my fill of the party earlier.”

  “Excellent.” Henri beamed at me. “Let’s go then. I don’t want to keep you out too late.”

  Returning his smile was automatic. His enthusiasm was infectious. I joined him in the aisle.

  “I thought you felt unwell.” Vaughn shifted in his seat. “Weren’t you heading to bed?”

  “Mana?” Henri turned to me. “It’s nothing that won’t keep until tomorrow.”

  “I have a lingering headache, but conversation would be a welcome distraction.”

  “In that case,” he said, offering me his arm, “prepare to have all thoughts of pain diverted.”

  I looped my arm through his with a grin. All Araneidae should be as warm as this male.

  “There’s a more, um, private route to my laboratory.” He led the way. “We’ll use it.”

  “All right.” I was unsurprised to learn there were tunnels exclusive to Araneidae clan heads and their families, but I was flattered Henri chose to share them with me. “Avoiding the party?”

  “Yes.” He cocked his head. “I hear music, so the dancing will have started by now.” His grin was lopsided. “My feet can’t handle the northland jig. I was rather relieved to heed the council’s summons. I, um, kept an eye out for your arrival. You were late.” When I flinched, he corrected, “I came early, then the summons was issued. We likely passed one another and I didn’t realize.”

  Flushed with warmth at his understanding, I admitted, “You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

  His brows rose, and I sensed his thoughts had wandered. “Oh?”

  “A handsome male,” I teased, patting his arm. “Dark halls and the promises of distraction?”

  “Oh. Oh.” Blood rushed into his cheeks. “I should have thought—I didn’t think—that is, this isn’t what you think it is. I wanted to—” He dropped my arm and faced me. “I’ve bungled this.”

  “It’s fine,” I rushed to assure him. “I have no reputation among your clan to tarnish.”

  “You’re kind to say so, but your reputation is impeccable and my actions may sully it.” His color rose until his aura lit the hallway, casting the pinkish hue of attraction around him. “I know it’s forward to ask, but you’re returning home soon, and I’m out of time for proper niceties.” His head lifted slowly, and an emotion I labeled hope ensnared me in his gaze. “Can you forgive my impertinence for asking if your affections have been engaged, even a little, during your stay?”

  My face heated when his aura spiked red. “I have no particular attachment to any male.”

  “Good.” His exhale caressed my cheek. “I enjoyed our time together. I hope that you can say the same. It is…rare to find a female as well-read and studied as you—” a grin, “—so far north.”

  Dread leached the warmth from my skin. “What are you asking me?”

  “I’d like your permission to write you.” He was so earnest I struggled against the immediate denial perched on my tongue. He was an heir. Interest in me was a boon for my clan. “Unless…”

  I found myself saying, “I’m flattered you asked.”

  “But you don’t feel as I do.” His gaze lowered. “Your clan believes in soul mates.”

  “We do.”

  “And I’m not yours.”

  Rather than admit I had a mental block where mine was concerned, I spoke from my heart. “No.” I almost wished I could accept less than a perfect match, but I couldn’t. “You aren’t.”

  For a while, the only sound in the hall was our footsteps, and even they were far too quiet.

  “Ah. We’ve arrived.” His voice boomed in the sudden lull. “Watch your step.” He crossed a cluttered threshold and kicked debris, gesturing I should follow him. “Please, forgive the mess.”

  I heeded his warning too late and stumbled. The room was packed with crates of some kind.

  “W
hat are you up to?” My curiosity was less forced than his cheer. “What’s in them?”

  “Seedlings, loam and cuttings from rare plants.” He patted a stool near his workbench and I sat. “On the topic of rare plants, I dried some dayflower seeds that didn’t sprout. I thought I may uncover some alternate use for them, and I think perhaps I have, but I wanted your opinion first.”

  Pleased we had a new topic of conversation, I straightened on my seat. “You flatter me.”

  “Perhaps flatter is too strong a word considering the nature of my curiosity.” His flinch was telling. “I did have a…personal reason for speaking with you, but I had other questions as well.”

  Eager to regain our easy friendship, I encouraged him. “Ask. I’ll answer as best I can.”

  “Your people,” he said. “Spirit walkers, like you, I mean, use dayflower oil as a calmative?”

  “Yes.” I shifted but found no comfort. “Walkers from my clan use the oil to induce a dream state for our patients. We use it ourselves to reach a deep, meditative state conducive to healing.”

  He sat opposite me. “Are you aware of any residual effects from such treatments?”

  “Heavier doses induce coma for those beyond our help. As you saw with Rhys, in measured doses, it can impede the spread of venom until alternative treatment is available, assuming that is the patient’s choice.” I wondered at the point he was making. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

  Despite my promise to answer him, I sensed he was working up his nerve to ask me a question larger than the one we had left behind us in the hall, and Henri’s anxiety fueled mine.

  He spun a tin on the table between us. “From the tests I’ve administered, your dayflower oil is similar in composition to oil of oregano.” A line appeared between his eyes. “I also found that depending on the part of the plant used, the pollen for example, has hallucinogenic properties.”

  My fingers curled into my palms. “I don’t hear a question in that.”

  “I found it fascinating that your entire clan’s medical arsenal was created from the parts of a single flower. It’s remarkable how you use everything from its pollen to its roots. I realize your beliefs mean your applications are somewhat…limited…and that restriction made me curious.”

  I waited for the words he had such difficulty finding.

  “If the results are accurate, and I see no reason why they wouldn’t be, is it not possible that instead of reaching this plateau of spiritual enlightenment, that it’s the hallucinogenic properties at work? That instead of healing a person’s soul from a mystical place between our world and the next, that common antibiotic has cured the ailment you sought to treat? I mean no disrespect, but I can’t fathom the notion of healing as you do. Risking lives… There must be a basis for positive results of such treatment in medical science. Otherwise…” His gaze met mine. “What I mean…”

  Pain blossomed in my chest as his words staggered me. No wonder he had propositioned me in the tunnel. It was better to secure my favor before he insulted my heritage and earned my ire.

  “Henri, I have no response I won’t regret later.” I stood on weak legs and spoke from a sore heart. “Perhaps when Rhys and Lourdes visit in the spring, you can come too. See the dayflowers bloom.” I kept my tongue civil. “You won’t pass up the chance to harvest your own specimens.”

  “Mana.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.”

  His implications cut deep, but from that wound, assurance bled. Three days and I leave for home…

  The nights could not pass fast enough.

  Chapter Two

  Once in the hall, exhaustion beat a sluggish tempo behind my left eye. I rubbed my temples, grateful I kept white willow bark on hand for easing headaches. What I’d told Vaughn hadn’t been a lie. Stress made my gut knot. Strain made my hands tremble, or perhaps that was borne of fury.

  If I brewed a cup of tea before sleeping, it might banish my grim thoughts. Sadly, there was no cure for removing the sting from Henri’s rejection. He was the one friend I counted among his clan, but it appeared I had been generous in my estimation of our mutual esteem.

  I suppose he had viewed my success in healing Rhys as a puzzle worth solving. Now he had his answers…and his dayflower seedlings. While I doubted they’d thrived here, I regretted the gift.

  Cool wind swirled dust about my ankles and set my nape tingling. This far belowground, the crisp breeze nipping my heels meant one thing. There was no vent down here, no source of fresh air.

  “Tell him.”

  My knees locked so hard, so fast, I stumbled. “Hello?”

  No answer.

  One cautious step forward and pain radiated from my shoulder. I spun and met the surprised gaze of the spirit I’d summoned earlier. So he’d expected his jab to pass through me. Well, I had too.

  Sweet wine rose bitter up the back of my throat. On his palm sat a tin, my tin, the one I filled with burnt offerings, the one I must have forgotten to put in my pocket after Vaughn startled me.

  When the spirit poked my shoulder, more insistent, I rocked on my heels, and he bared those vicious teeth of his. Heart pounding, I realized how foolish I’d been to forget such a basic tenet.

  Offerings burnt to summon a spirit link its essence to yours. Old Father’s voice rang through my head. Leave nothing behind. Leave it no power over you. Leave it no gateway into this world.

  Relishing his newfound ability, the spirit tossed me against the tunnel wall and braced his forearm across my throat. While I gasped for air, he turned his head and kept his face in shadow.

  “Tell him,” he said again.

  “I don’t…understand.” I gulped. “Who do you…mean?”

  More pressure. More dots danced before my eyes. Wind howled. “Tell him.”

  It was impossible for him to watch my every move while his head was turned. I made use of his blind spot and fumbled the pocket of my gown. Nestled beside the crystal was a bag of herbs. I carried dragon’s blood at all times. It was the strongest bane against spirits. Thank the gods for small mercies. As I fought the tie and clutched the herb in my hand, I asked, “Tell him what?”

  He traced the spot where fangs had rasped not so long ago. “Tell him.”

  A flicker of fear for Vaughn raised hairs along my nape. “I’m sorry.” But the spirit gave me no choice.

  I shook my hand, and dried herbs caught the wind and pelted him. His howl of rage gave me the opening I needed to cup his mouth with my palm and force a generous handful of herb inside. He snapped at me, fangs ripping through my palm, but I held tight and prayed to the gods until his form swirled and vanished with a throttled cry of fury. I leaned against the wall until I could breathe again. My head cracked on packed dirt, but I welcomed the reminder I was alive.

  Vision swimming, I blinked the ground into focus. No tin. I swallowed hard and tasted bile. Oily residue coated my palm. The first time touching a spirit in this world and it had left a mark.

  I would bind the wound with blessed herbs and keep an eye out for infection.

  Three more days, two really, and I would leave Erania. My head pounded as a plan formed.

  Ward my room. Hide from this spirit. Pray I survived yet another visit to the in-between.

  Air whooshed from my lungs. I woke gasping on the tiles. Cold sweat slicked my nightdress to my body. Salt stung my eyes as the room came into focus. My heart skittered. Not my room. I coughed, tasting blood and rolling onto my side. A gilded mirror reflected the mess of black hair twisting over my shoulder and the white gown pooling on the floor around me. Gold. Araneidae gold glinted on every surface of the room. I owned nothing as fine as the baubles glittering welcome around me.

  This was not my bedroom. This was not my home. I was buried deep in the Araneidae nest.

  I touched my chest and winced. Gods but that hurt.

  Every time I ripped my soul from my body, I swore I’d never do it again. Yet here I lay, my body trembling from
reentry, my soul panicked. How soon the spirit forgot this world. How short the memory of the body. Echoes of life rang through empty shells left from my brethren who had lost their way back to this world. I had no anchor here, not without Old Father guiding my walk.

  Panting as I rolled flat onto my back, I exhaled through those doubts. I’d find a stout anchor or I’d stop crossing into the spiritlands. What use is a spirit walker who ignores her true calling? I asked myself a better question. What use is a dead spirit walker? Why, none at all, that’s what.

  With a curse and a shove, I sat upright, checking each corner where herb sachets sat barring the spirit or those of his ilk from entering my room. I had knelt for so long before crumpling, my legs were numb. Still, it was worth the risk. My prayers were spoken and the room emitted a faint light as the protection charm activated. Bone tired, weary from exertion, I rubbed my eyes.

  A soft sigh of well-oiled hinges and my bedroom door peeked open.

  I felt foolish for asking, “Is someone there?”

  “Why are you sitting on the floor when you have a perfectly good bed?”

  I squinted, but my eyes were weak, my reflexes dull. “Vaughn?”

  The door opened a fraction to allow a view of his scowl. “You’ve forgotten me already?”

  “No, I—” I shook my head to clear the mental fog. “What are you doing in my room?”

  His gaze traveled up the length of my bare thigh. I tucked my legs beneath me, arranging my gown so only my toes were visible. The infuriating male stared until I tucked my feet in too.

  “You said you wanted to go.” His eyes sparkled. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?” With my head and sight clear, I noticed the nicked boots he wore. His pants and shirt were plain, textured and thick. A travel cloak tied at his neck and his fingers tapped a sword hilt. “We’re leaving so soon? I thought we had days left in Erania.” Had I exhausted myself warding my room for nothing?