Rhys leaned forward, interested. “What did they discover?”
“That the rumors were true. The sickness had swept through the herds as well as the wildlife. Several clans reported missing females. The males—husbands, fathers, brothers, sons—all dead,” she said. “Yellow death doesn’t break necks. Araneaean fingers are needed for that.”
“Is it possible a maven or paladin is using the yellow death as cover to stage a coup?” I couldn’t think of how else to tie the sort of deaths we’d seen to the selective murder she implied.
“We encountered a large pecora, a stag, before reaching the veil. We realized it was sick and put an end to its suffering.” Rhys’s fingers tapped on his plate’s edge. “Lourdes filled it will arrows, then I beheaded it. It should have died well before my killing blow.” His hand stilled. “It was rotted. Perhaps this plague is flesh-eating, or perhaps not. I saw a similar illness once, in Cathis, but it was a contagious bacterial infection found in fresh corpses.”
“Corpses, how did…?” I swallowed. “Oh.” It spread because they’d eaten their dead.
“Yes.” He held my gaze as if daring me to be the first to glance away. “Most Mimetidae are more secretive than Trefor with their flesh addictions. At least corpses are already dead.” I couldn’t argue his logic. “I witnessed a number of those deaths. They were necessary to keep the illness from spreading once it began affecting those who consumed the rancid meat. Those males were sickly. Most, I’d bet, were unaware they’d been slain, their fevers raged so high. They bled too. Not the sickly yellow of the pecora, but Araneaean red. In the end, we gathered the afflicted and burned them in their hut.” His voice hardened. “It was the only method left at our disposal.”
“That’s why you insisted we leave.” I frowned. “You should have told me.”
His fingers sank into my hair and cupped my skull, turning me to face him. “I had no idea what had infected the creature and dared spare no time for speculation.” His grip tightened. “You are safe in my keeping.” His eyes glinted with all the facets of an emerald. “No harm will come to you.” He kissed me, a brush of lips that left his breath ragged and me wanting. “I won’t allow it.”
“I know.” I doubted the gods themselves could defy his iron will.
His smile burst on my tongue, and I wished we’d had time to learn one another before leaving on this journey. Or perhaps I was wrong to wish for something different than the gift we’d been given. I trusted a hundredfold more what I saw with my own eyes. In that respect, Chinedu and my faith meshed. What I’d learned about Rhys was his word was true, his promises were always kept, and his devotion to me was unwavering despite my insecurities.
Perhaps this was the ideal sojourn before we wed. He could give me no better gift than the trust he’d earned. Desire was a fine thing, but trust was a foundation for the rest of our lives.
Sikyakookyang cleared her throat delicately. “You asked what we sought by inviting you here tonight and including you in our council. We seek to reaffirm our alliance. You’ve seen our clan’s discovery, and your encounter shows the yellow death is migrating north despite the cold.”
“Perhaps my lack of social graces has use after all. What my wife means is a large-scale search for the true cause of these deaths will cost a hefty bit of gold.” Chinedu grinned. “Your gold to be exact.” He leaned forward. “Whatever this plague is, it requires a fast cure.” He measured me for a moment. “If someone seeks to profit from the deaths of these poor males, then my clan is at your partisan’s disposal. We won’t tolerate cowardice cloaked by misfortune.”
While I mourned the fact I was never invited anywhere without my purse, this was a worthy cause and I had the means to fund it. “Consider it done. Send your price to my brother, Armand. He’s authorized to act in my absence. Tell him I will explain when I return home.”
His brow creased. “You never said what brought you to Beltania.”
“You never asked.” I curbed bitterness from my voice. It served no purpose. “My sister is missing.” Running was a better word for it. “Vaughn tracked her to the veil, but we abandoned our pursuit and sought shelter since the roads are no longer safe. Even now, her trail grows cold.”
For the first time since Rhys forked Vaughn, he spoke up. “That’s not entirely true.” His smug voice grated beneath an undercurrent of pain. “We never left your sister’s trail.” He exuded pure self-satisfaction. “While you two slept, I scoured the city for her scent. With so steep a price set on her head, I would have ridden you into the ground myself rather than make a useless stop.”
Rhys coiled tight, ready to spring at the least provocation. I patted his thigh to calm him.
“This trip served your purpose.” I should have realized Vaughn had been too pleased at the prospect of this side trip. I’d assumed tormenting Rhys was the reason. Perhaps his motives were less shallow than I’d suspected. “Coming here killed two birds with one stone for you.”
His lips hitched in a smile, one frightening in its sincerity. “So it did.”
“What did you discover?” Rhys pegged him with a sharp glare.
“Her sister and the Theridiidae paid a farmer for the use of his spare room.” He tapped the side of his nose. “The scent was fresh. They couldn’t have been gone long. They were foolish traveling the roads tonight.” He shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t realize the danger they’re in. Or if they do, they might have thought it worth the risk to gain ground on us.” He acted as if the notion of outrunning him was laughable. “If we leave at dawn, we’ll catch them, I’d wager before nightfall.”
My pulse skipped. “If they’re close—”
“No.” Rhys trapped my wrist. “Vaughn’s right. They’ll make poor time in the dark. Theirs is a desperate gamble we are too careful to match. They may not realize the danger they’re in, but we do.” He snarled, “I won’t risk your safety by fumbling around in the dark.”
Vaughn’s chuckle shook his large frame. He muttered, “Too easy.”
Rhys’s jaw popped under the strain of ignoring his brother. “Vaughn said we can catch them, and we will. Now is not the time for recklessness. I promised you I’d get Pascale back.” He swallowed. “You say you trust me.” He braced himself. “Now is your chance to prove it.”
I found myself assuring him he held my complete faith. “We wait for the dawn.”
Though my heart wrenched at the thought of Pascale alone with Kellen in the night, I knew Rhys was right. The time we’d spent here was necessary. Whatever the root of this yellow death, if it continued sweeping through the herd animals and crippling southland farming communities, then those dependent on their produce would likewise crumple. I would not count on my fingers the cost of safeguarding these clans or our trade routes. Gold was cold comfort for the starving.
He stroked my cheek. “Thank you.” His smile etched hard lines around his eyes.
I leaned near. “Are you well?”
His tone roughened. “Yes.” I didn’t believe him. He closed the distance from his mouth to my ear. “Wait for me. Remain in Vaughn’s sight.” He waited, as if he didn’t want to leave me.
“Go,” Vaughn said gruffly. “I’ll watch her.”
With a nod, Rhys vanished into the night.
I watched him go, unnerved when I lost sight of him. “Where is he going?”
“Somewhere private, I imagine.” Vaughn picked bloody cloth from his clotted wound.
Something in the way he said it made me pause. “Is he all right?”
“I don’t know.” He ripped his pant leg open and inspected his thigh.
His altruistic acts must be limited to one per solar cycle. “You don’t care?”
“Should I?” He poked the four tine marks.
I gained my bearings. Rhys had exited to the east, so I would take the western stairs. “I need a private moment. I won’t be long.” I pulled a small tin from my pocket and put it in his hand. “Here. Use this. It’s a healing balm. You don’t want
to risk an infection.”
He turned the container over in his hand. “I’ll give you as long as I would take myself.”
Life on the road would be a much simpler thing if I were a male. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I hadn’t explored much of Beltania when I’d come here with Father. Traveling with the Araneidae paladin meant conducting business at each stop, and I pitied him the hours of tedium.
Uncertain where Rhys might have gone, and unable to see much farther than the end of my nose, I made my way toward the river. Stopping at the water’s edge, I inhaled and fancied I smelled his familiar anise scent. Glancing around, I was alone except for the low rush of water.
Movement caught the corner of my eye, and I followed it down a path winding away from the city. I loosed a silken thread and kept it tucked in my palm, but something familiar in the gait of the ghost I was chasing made me think I’d guessed right. That Rhys had come here.
My steps slowed as I reached an old gate, worn smooth by the frequent caress of hands. Pushing it open, I was puzzled by the enormity of the barren space and its whimsical sculptures. Some were rusted from a lifetime spent outdoors. Some were little more than artful skeletons.
I shivered when the gate closed behind me and I noticed five plats of freshly turned soil dappled the otherwise dried and cracking earth. Silver figures sparkled in the moonlight, leaning mournfully over each carefully mounded plot. Bending toward the nearest sculpture, I noticed a chain of metal flowers rustled by the breeze. When I straightened, heavy arms banded about me.
I stamped my attacker’s instep and was rewarded with familiar swears. “Rhys?”
He released me on a pained grunt. “What are you doing here?”
“I was worried.” I rubbed my arms. “I wanted to make certain you were all right.”
“You shouldn’t have come.” He cursed his luck. “You should have stayed with Vaughn.”
“Are these burial grounds?” I swallowed my hurt. “Am I allowed to be here?”
“You’re welcome anywhere you wish to go in Beltania.” His sharp tone made me flinch.
“But not here.” His expression made that clear. “I’ll return to the meeting.”
“Stay.” He caught my hand and rubbed his face red with the other. “You might as well.”
Uncertain he meant it, I struggled but he held firm. “Why did you come to this place?”
“The varanus didn’t sit well with me.” He resumed his stroll and dragged me in his wake.
“You thought a walk among the dead would soothe your upset stomach?”
“No.” His steps were sure, and I labored to keep pace with his longer legs. He stopped at a well-rusted sculpture depicting clouds laden with snowflakes and raindrops. “While waiting for relief, I paid my respects. I’d have had no chance otherwise.” He gestured. “My father lies here.”
I stared at the barren earth. “I don’t understand. Isolde wed Brynmor of the Mimetidae.”
“Yes, she did.”
“He died, years ago, but he was buried in Cathis. Father attended his funeral rites.” I faltered when Rhys didn’t speak. “Vaughn is your older brother.” He nodded confirmation. “Your father…” I kept my accusation pitched low, “…isn’t his father.” He nodded again. “Your father was Salticidae.”
“He was.” He gave a neat answer for such a messy question.
“How is that possible?” I could guess, but nothing short of slander made sense.
His reluctance to answer showed in the slow shift of his weight from one foot to the other. “My mother was promised to a Salticidae farmer named Kowatsi,” he said after a while, “but drought struck the south and he failed to produce his bride price.”
When he fell silent for too long, I laid my head against his shoulder. “What became of her?”
“With no other suitors vying for her favor, she was given to Brynmor as payment for a debt her clan owed his. She was intended to be his servant, but he grew enamored of her soon after her arrival. Once she became pregnant with Vaughn, his desire for a legitimate heir led them to wed.” He stroked my cheek. “He wanted her child as his successor.”
“He must have loved her then.” Whether that made the situation better or worse, I couldn’t say.
Rhys only nodded. “After she birthed Vaughn, Brynmor devoted himself to grooming his heir. Visits from Vaughn were kept short. His own visits to Mother grew less frequent. She was left alone for weeks on end, in a foreign city, with no understanding of the culture she’d wed into or confidantes to ease her loneliness. She longed for the familiar and became desperate to return home, even for a short visit, but Brynmor refused to allow her such freedom.”
“She attempted to escape?”
“I doubt she had such courage back then, and fate intervened before she made such a call.” He stared at the marker. “She met Kowatsi by chance, at the market in Cathis.” His laugh was hard. “Chance is a stretch, I suppose. I have no doubt he pursued her there. He would have stayed away as long as he could, but in the end…” His voice rang hollow. “They loved one another beyond reason, beyond thought, beyond care of the consequences.” His hand stilled upon my cheek so long he might have forgotten I was there.
“How did Brynmor discover them?”
“Mother said Vaughn was an inquisitive child. He noticed her leaving home one afternoon, which was, as I said, unusual, given her lack of social outlets, and he followed. Brynmor, in turn, followed Vaughn, afraid for his heir to brave the market alone.” His hand fell. “There are slavers in Cathis. Children are their specialty.” He frowned. “Once Brynmor caught up to Vaughn, his curiosity was piqued and they followed Mother to her rendezvous.”
I covered his hand with mine and dreaded the end I sensed coming.
Salticidae believed in soul mates, that much I did know, and they spent the whole of their lives preparing for the day they met that person. For his father to have lost Isolde…I’d heard few survived such loss even prior to thread binding. Faced with living without her, he may have welcomed the end.
“Brynmor caught them together.” He paused, then swallowed. “He carved Kowatsi’s still-beating heart from his chest, and he ate it.” His hand dampened. “He wanted to make an impression on Vaughn, and he succeeded.” He glanced at me. “That’s why Vaughn stays. He feels responsible for me. He hates me for what I am, for what our mother did, and hates himself for his role in Kowatsi’s…” he steeled himself, “…in my father’s death.”
“I’m so sorry.” I kissed his palm. What a miserable bond between the two of them.
“You owe me no sympathy.” He turned from me. “It was a long time ago.” His profile showcased the unforgiving line of his jaw. “You deserve to know who and what you’ll wed. I know this alters your opinion of me, and you may regret our earlier intimacy, but I will fulfill our bargain and you will be mine.” His fists balled. “I hope you can forgive me in time.”
I caught him by his thick wrist. “You believed this would change my opinion of you?” With Vaughn as the conscience whispering shame in his ears, of course he would fear ridicule.
“You paid my mother for a Mimetidae partisan.” He pulled from me, but I held fast. “You were cheated.”
In recalling how our deal unfolded, I was struck by the realization Isolde had managed a coup worthy of my father. I had refused to wed a Mimetidae, so she countered with a male of her choosing. I agreed, thinking I could renegotiate if she saddled me with an ogre for a partisan because her choice would be a Mimetidae when I’d denied that possibility. “I hadn’t realized.”
“I doubt she meant you to. At least not until after we were married.”
Surely he must realize… “If I’d been given the choice, I would have chosen you.”
He snorted. “You would have chosen the maven’s bastard son as your match?”
I scowled at him. “You are more than the sum of your parents’ mistakes.”
“I’m less than worthy of you.” His hal
f smile was hard. “I’m called Rhys the Cold because I never part from my sword. Its cold steel named me. I’m nothing but a blade for hire.”
“I know who you are.” I turned him toward me. “You’re Rhys the Warm, Rhys the Kind, Rhys the least cold and most noble male I know.” I thumped his chest. “You said I will be yours. Have you not noticed you’re already mine?” At that, he grinned. “Besides, I know your secret.”
“I have so many.” His chuckle was tired. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“You always taste of anise.” I sank my hands into the pockets of his pants and found the seed packet I’d anticipated and held it to my nose. “I assumed you liked their taste, but that’s not it.” His shoulders tensed tight as my bowstring. “Isolde sent you to live among your father’s clan.” I felt more than saw him nod and ventured my best guess. “It’s because you’re like them, isn’t it? You couldn’t remain in Cathis with her because you’d taken after him. Salticidae are more than strict vegans, they can’t digest meat.” I replaced his packet. “You can’t either.”
“When Brynmor died, Mother called me back to Cathis. The seeds were her idea.” He shrugged. “He had kept the details of her affair private to safeguard Vaughn’s legitimacy.” His smile was sad. “My birth was excused as stillborn, and I was sent here hours later. The best I can say for Brynmor is that he did love Mother, and exchanged my life for her faithfulness.” His next words gave me chills. “My return from the grave reeked of scandal. If they knew my constitution was so weak I purged each time I partook of our enemies’ flesh, they would kill me for defiling their sacred practices.”
Beneath the moonlight, shadows cut hollows in his cheeks and made the skin beneath his eyes appear bruised. Strain showed in the tightness of his mouth, and when I pulled him down to kiss me, my lips tingled. His anise taste was stronger, serving as a poignant reminder of his loss.
“Come on.” He sought the seeds in an unconscious habit. “We’d best return. I’d rather not be found here if Vaughn is sent to fetch us.”
Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection Page 19