A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2

by Hailey Edwards

Sensing he wanted to do this for me, I watched him start a fire and tend it until heat made his shirt slick to his back. He stood, wiping the back of his wrist across his brow. In moments, I was sweating too. He was right. Southlanders had no use for the tidy personal hearths from the north.

  With a pleased sigh, I sank into the chair and folded my feet beneath me. “Thank you.”

  He dragged a knuckle down my cheek. “You’re welcome. If you’re up for something to eat, there are supplies in the storeroom. Otherwise, I’ll lock the doors and I ask you to do the same once I leave.” He shuffled backward, glaring at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll want you in here or not.” He glanced up. “Well? It seems your friend is eager to make amends.”

  Glaring at Brynmor, I knew I’d have no peace. I either entertained the canis now or the male himself would come to me in my dreams. “Leave him be. If I don’t let him stay, he’ll claw at the door.” Or the edge of my mind. “Perhaps I’ll find a bone for him to chew instead of my ankle.”

  “Here, try this.” Vaughn stepped behind me. I heard utensils rustle and a drawer open.

  My eyes rounded at the chunky butcher blade he offered. Battered and dinged, it gleamed in the firelight. When I failed to reach for it, he slapped it into my palm and wrapped my hand around the worn grip. I tested its weight and wondered at who the cook had been. I could knock someone unconscious with the flat of the blade without resorting to bloody means I was certain.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Vaughn pointed out, “Your canis bit you.” I briefly wondered at what point Brynmor had become mine, but Vaughn was tapping my wrist. “You’re spending several hours, if not the entire night, in an empty part of the towers. You’re in screaming distance, but I’d rather not have you harmed in the time it takes me to reach you. Keep the knife handy. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

  “Fine.” I admitted the idea of a defense against Brynmor’s pique appealed to me.

  “Rest well.” He smiled at my expression.

  “And you as well.” I lay my head back and shut my eyes. “Give your mother my best.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  I sensed him lingering, heard his fingers drumming on the doorframe. I cracked open an eye.

  Longing softened his features, but for what I wasn’t sure, and he left before I could ask.

  It didn’t occur to me until his footsteps receded that perhaps he was troubled too and would have valued a spot before the fire. There was only me or Nerys or Isolde for company. I know of my choices, his company was my preference. Though I intended to rise, I never cleared the chair.

  Brynmor turned a circle to lay at my feet. His wide yawn made me think he’d pushed the canis too far while leading Murdoch on a merry chase. Good. I hoped his soul shared its exhaustion.

  Coaxed by the crackling flames and the promise of dreamless sleep, I let my eyes close.

  Bump. Bump. Bump. I jolted awake, grasping the cleaver’s handle. Bump. Bump. Bump.

  “Don’t you hear that?” I asked the canis snuffling at my feet. “Brynmor?”

  I got my wish. His adventures had tired him body and spirit. Our connection remained silent.

  Weapon in hand, I eased around the chair, toward the door I’d locked when the hiss of dying embers woke me earlier. Straining my senses, I heard shuffling steps and a huffed feminine sigh. Drawing on my connection with Vaughn, I settled into a light meditative state and tested the aura pacing outside the door. Teal impatience clashed with hopeful white. Female for sure. Nerys.

  Bump. Bump. Bump. The flat of her palm slapped the door.

  “Give me…a moment.” I forced the words before she left, or worse, roused Vaughn.

  His strength soaked into me, and I shrugged off the floating sensation making my head light.

  Once I threw the lock and cracked the door, Nerys stumbled inside, knocking us both to the floor. My tailbone throbbed, and from the corner of my eye, my chair’s soft cushion taunted me.

  “Are you all right?” Nerys stood and offered me a hand. “I thought I heard something. I was leaning against the door when you opened it.” Her high-pitched tone alarmed me. “I was eager.”

  “So I see.” Her cheeks were flush and her eyes merry. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

  “I didn’t realize you were in the kitchen. I checked Vaughn’s—your—bedroom, but no one answered and I thought perhaps you and…” More red crept up her neck. “Well, um, in any case, I didn’t want to disturb you.” She clasped my hands. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know how I’d last the night. Such news I have, and no one to share it with.” She inhaled, drew herself up to her full height. “The dayflower oil is working. The others are coming around. Fevers are breaking.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Pain forgotten, I let her hope fill me. “How are the untreated?”

  “They’re the same as they were last night. The sweet oil changed nothing.”

  “In that case, I’d like to examine patients in the first and second rooms. As long as there are no unanticipated side effects, we can dose those in the third room.” Assuming improvement was shown all around, I would send Lleu for my personal supply of oil and continue their treatment.

  “There’s just one thing.” She cut me off in the doorway.

  Merriment dashed at her tone. Of course overnight success was asking too much.

  “Do you think you could help me?” Her gaze touched on the room behind us. “Room one is hungry. They’re asking for food. I thought perhaps a broth, but I’m the worst cook, and whoever manned this kitchen has long since gone.” She stepped aside. “I believe he was one who left us.”

  Eager as I was to see the results, food was a priority. “They’re safe to be on their own?”

  “I’d rather they not be.” She picked at her nails. “I think someone should remain with them.”

  Meaning she expected me to cook while she played nurse. She had one foot out the door.

  “Go on, then. Leave the door open, so I can vent some of the heat.” I’d have to stoke the fire to get it hot enough to boil water. Vaughn had said to help myself, but I’d chosen sleep over a meal.

  “Your efforts will be much appreciated by those not forced to eat my cooking.”

  I caught the back of her blouse. “Can you show me where the good meats are kept?”

  “What you need are bones. That much I do know.” She began a thorough exploration of the kitchen. “At home they’re usually in the…” She pried a cabinet with a sticky door until it gave a suctioned pop. “There we are. Oh. You’ll need herbs. I know I saw them.”

  Rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep from them, I mentally sorted recipes adaptable for meat.

  “Is there a fresh source of water here?” I hadn’t thought to ask if what I’d seen and used was jarred or drawn that day. I assumed the latter because the liquid was cool and crisp, unscented.

  Nerys pushed on a panel resembling the rest of the cabinetry, but it swung wide into a small courtyard. “The pump is here. If you’ll pass me those pots, I’ll fill them for you before I leave.”

  “I would appreciate it.” I entered the courtyard and followed a well-worn path. Lush smells I associated with growing things made my stomach rumble. Crammed into a series of raised beds, I found the cook’s herb garden. Or what was left of it. The vegetable plants were ripped from the bed and stripped to nothing. The herbs fared slightly better. I picked what was usable and sighed.

  I hoped there were stores inside the kitchen. I’d starve before I ate meat. I had nibbled bread the night before. Bits of dried fruit had helped stave off hunger pangs. Yet the ache in my gut worsened daily, and the scents of the freshly picked herbs in my arms sparked the worst pains yet.

  Upon entering the kitchen, Nerys indicated the pots brimming with water. “I should go.”

  “It will take several hours for a serviceable broth.” I waved her on. “Once this is simmering, I’ll meet you in the north tower. Be ready for me to examine the patients.
I’ll bring Vaughn too.”

  We needed a better idea of what Murdoch would see once he arrived this afternoon.

  Nerys flitted from the room, as if the results had given her feet wings. I envied her energy.

  Once I had the fire roaring, I hefted the largest pot onto a hook over it, adding the bones and the herbs. Content the ingredients were sufficient to provide an adequate meal, I added a second pot. Offset from the flames, this one could simmer lower and longer, sparing me from preparing the same meal twice. While foraging through the pantry, I discovered several varanus steaks and trimmed the fat for Brynmor. The best surprise was a basket crammed with limp root vegetables.

  I lifted the topmost offering and bit into it, surprised by the slight crunch.

  In the last and smallest pot, I prepared a hearty vegetable stew, munching through the peels I had sliced more from habit than necessity. I choked when firm hands grasped my shoulders and a graveled voice rumbled near my ear. “You’re making a lot of noise very early in the morning.”

  I relaxed against Vaughn, smiling when he buried his face against my neck. His arms were heavy where they wrapped around me. “I am?”

  “Yes.” The word came out muffled.

  “Your mother is awake, then?” With my cheek resting against his, I scratched his scalp.

  “Mmm.” He all but purred in my ear.

  “I’ll assume that’s a yes. Good.” I rolled my shoulder, and he straightened with a groan. “We have good news this morning. Nerys reported positive results in patients given dayflower oil.”

  He leaned a hip against the counter and stared past me. “How are the others?”

  “They’re the same. What are you—?” I let my gaze follow his. “Oh. I’m making broth.”

  “I can tell.” His chest rose and fell in quick succession. “Three varieties.”

  “Close, but two are varanus.” He frowned at me until I clarified. “Different herbs, but I used the same bones.” I patted his shoulder. “I’m impressed you noticed the difference. The last is, of course, a vegetarian stew.” My stomach chose that instant to gurgle. “There’s enough to share.”

  “Keep your food to yourself until I can arrange delivery of fresh vegetables.” He rubbed his face. “I should be taking better care of you. Forgive me.” His earnest expression had me reaching for him. “I’m used to being on the road, among males, fighting to survive, not being home or—”

  “Living for yourself.” I set his mind at ease. “While I appreciate you wanting to take care of me, I can fend for myself. You protected me on the journey home, and here. I thank you for that. I admit things would have been…unpleasant…had I met the Theridiidae on my own. I will never be a fighter, so your skill was appreciated. But here, in your home, I don’t need you tending me.”

  His expression softened. “What if I want to tend you?”

  I patted his cheek. “Then perhaps, on occasion, I will allow you to. For now, I’ve done more cooking today than I have since leaving for Erania. I told Nerys to expect me. Will you come?”

  “We need as many witnesses as possible, though I doubt my word counts as much. Murdoch made a good point. Regardless of my oaths, or theirs, everything I’ve done will be discounted as the actions of a son to save his mother or an heir preserving his father’s dynasty. His word and, I think Nerys’s, will be our best defense.” His gaze held apology. “Few believe in walkers here.”

  “I know.” Fewer and fewer clans believed in spirit walkers anywhere outside the Salticidae.

  “Isolde’s actions will be called into question.” He shifted aside. “We’ll find no help there.”

  Support from their maven or not, “I don’t need your clan’s approval.”

  “If you’re to become our next maven,” he said, “then that’s exactly what you need.”

  I could have fought him. I was tempted. He hadn’t asked me to be his maven, and I certainly hadn’t accepted, but this was no time to argue. After the worst was over, I’d make myself heard.

  Until then, “We’re running short on time. If we hurry, we can check room two, double check room one, and treat room three. If the gods bless us, we can have the first two rooms fed before Murdoch arrives.” I snapped my fingers. “I’d almost forgotten. We should review the headcount. The first thing we’ll be asked is who’s alive and who’s dead. We must have those answers on the tips of our tongues. There’s nothing we can do about the garden, and I regret that, but at least we can tell the families the fates of their loved ones. Knowledge might ease the worst of their pain.”

  As I hurried down the hall, mentally ticking off other last-moment tasks, I heard a chuckle.

  “Have I said something that amuses you?” My pace hastened. The more tasks I remembered, the more I was certain I had forgotten some. He’d have to keep up if he wanted to talk with me.

  “Not at all.” His lengthy stride left me behind. He glanced back, calling over his shoulder, “I was admiring your efficiency.” His smile turned smug. “You’re behaving like a maven already.”

  The spark of panic blazing through my chest was snuffed out easily enough.

  Our life threads might be tied, but he had not proposed any permanent union to me. We were not bound in a trial union, as Rhys and Lourdes had been. He certainly hadn’t asked for my hand.

  Sikya would make Vaughn walk through fire for me. I admit it. I smiled at the notion.

  Oh, I wasn’t fool enough to believe for a moment Vaughn had abstained from sex as I had. I respected the fact he was a virile male who had lived a mercenary lifestyle that meant females of many clans had no doubt sampled their handsome guardian. His fierce reputation no doubt lured the adventurous. His handsome face no doubt drew the sensuous. But none of them knew him the way I did. Most saw the brawler, the fearsome swordsman with a tendency toward anger.

  He was both of those things, but he was infinitely more. He was a child with a mother whose love he could not earn. He was a brother whose impulsive act had ended a life. And he was a son whose father doted on him well past the end of his life, a love Vaughn would have cherished, if I had been able to tell him. But I couldn’t. If he learned of Brynmor or Isolde learned of Kowatsi, I would be leading them both down destructive paths. There was a reason I, who could see spirits, had never seen my parents’ souls or the souls of any family member residing in the spiritlands.

  The living could not dwell among the dead.

  I would straddle the line until one day I stepped fully into the spiritlands. It was my blessing and my curse to know there was existence beyond this life, to know that conveying a few simple words from one soul to a person they left behind could ease old wounds and sow seeds of hope.

  But it could also destroy them both.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Heads turned when Vaughn and I entered the first room in the north tower.

  Crystin perched on the edge of her cot with a blanket tucked around her legs. Nerys sat in a chair near her bedside, but with her chair angled toward the center of the room. A book lay open across her lap. After closing the tome, a collection of folklore, she dropped it onto Crystin’s lap.

  “I’m hungry.” Crystin peered around me. “Nerys said you were bringing food.”

  “It has a while to go if you want your broth to taste stronger than water.” Ah, yes. This child was spoiled by her cousin. Life was fleeting, and with Crystin’s ailments, I couldn’t fault Nerys.

  With a pout, Crystin fell back onto her bed. “Fine. I can wait.” Her head lifted. “Is the canis with you?” She sounded eager. “He visited us earlier. I taught him to play fetch with my shoe.”

  I must have misunderstood. “The canis visited you alone? And you played fetch? With a—”

  “Shoe,” she finished. “He’s a good boy. I think he’d make an excellent guard. Oh.” Her eyes rounded. “Can the guards tame a few more—five or six? I’m sure they’d make vicious attack—”

  “Crystin.” Nerys swatted Crystin’s knee and adjusted h
er covers. “They’re wild animals. I don’t know how Mana tamed her…pet…but Maven Isolde will not allow more of those beasts to roam the city. It’s too dangerous.” She held up a hand, staving off further argument. “I know the late Paladin Brynmor favored them.” She shushed Crystin again. “I know they are the symbol of his dynasty.” Crystin made a growl to do any canis proud. “But you cannot have one as a pet.”

  Brynmor, the former Mimetidae paladin, had played fetch with a sick youth and her shoe.

  My mind refused to bend around the idea. It did make me wonder if the canis hadn’t pushed to the fore, but would a wild animal behave as they claimed? Perhaps their souls were bonding.

  Shaking my head, I dismissed all fanciful thoughts of pet canis. “Listen to your cousin.”

  Another aggravated sound and Crystin flopped onto her side, facing the wall rather than me.

  I sighed. Favor among this clan would be hard-won. “Perhaps the canis can visit later.”

  When Crystin peeked over her shoulder at me, grinning wide, I understood I’d been played.

  “She’s precocious.” Nerys’s smile was equal parts love and exasperation.

  I kept my smile polite. “Indeed.”

  Yet the fact Brynmor had visited them made me wonder. Had he snuck from the kitchen into the north tower? Was the tiny courtyard connected to the gardens? And what brought him here?

  I’d have to ask when he woke. No wonder he’d slept in. He’d played throughout the night.

  “Do you have the headcount prepared?” Urgency made Vaughn’s foot tap.

  “Yes.” Nerys scooped a pile of loose papers from the ground. The ink was smudged, but her handwriting legible. “I have the names of all the females housed in the tower. Based on what few papers Cleit left in his rooms…” her voice lowered, “…the names on the list are one-third of those admitted to the tower. The other two thirds…” She swallowed. “They must be in the garden. I’ve counted two-quarters of the garden, but some—their family will have to make the identification.”

  I set my hands on my hips and made a show of surveying the room. “Well, it’s a start.”