Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection

by Hailey Edwards

  I placed a hand over my chest, and it ached sweetly.

  “I don’t see anything or anyone here.” Brynmor’s projection drew me from my thoughts.

  Turning a slow circle, I realized he was right. We were alone. If spirits had languished here, they would have been summoned to me, brought to this place to speak and then to be dispatched.

  “This isn’t the spiritlands, merely the gate. All those who cross the threshold must remain.”

  Brynmor took a cautious step back. “You could have warned me.”

  “I was surprised you came.”

  “My son…” he began. “Vaughn is worried. You should have told him your intentions.”

  “Oh.” I was so used to slipping between worlds, so unused to explaining myself. My grip on the thread tightened. Vaughn had anchored me without even realizing what he was doing. I was amazed. I trusted myself to go alone when Old Father was unavailable for assistance, but this. It humbled and shamed me. “You’re right. I should have warned Vaughn first. We’ll return now.”

  Following the thread, my soul found the way down into the world and back into my body. I braced for the rush of sensation, the return of my physical senses, and slipped into consciousness.

  The world rocked beneath me, and my balance shifted.

  “Mana?” Vaughn’s mouth was at my ear, his murmured prayers easing the descent back into my skin.

  I tilted my head back. His brow furrowed as he traced the curve of my cheek. Lleu and Bram stood one at each of his shoulders. They both released audible sighs when Vaughn crushed me to his chest. Gasping for breath, I fought another ascent. He had almost squeezed my soul right out of me.

  “I can’t…breathe.” My voice was a whisper.

  “You left without telling me. Your body was cold…and your eyes…” A shudder ripped through him. “Never leave me like that again.” He rocked me. “I’ll have your word you won’t.”

  “You know I can’t give you that.” I circled his neck with my arms and pressed my face into his throat. “I’m sorry. I should have told you, but you’ve seen me meditate before, so I didn’t—”

  He silenced me with a kiss, the harsh pressure of his lips against mine. His groan vibrated in his chest, and I placed my hand over his heart, imagining the black thread of his lifeline tossed to me. Was this connection with him what couples felt when they tied their life threads? If so, I was ruined. Warmth, assurance, fear, anger, all pulsed through that wispy thread until I’d settled fully into myself and that precious link between us evaporated, leaving me bereft, yearning for him in ways that bespoke of permanence. Dangerous the way he aroused those hungers in me with ease.

  “Once,” he said. “I saw you ascend one time, and I realize now the pains Old Father took to ensure you appeared as if you slept rather than…” His breath came harsh, ragged against my ear.

  Lifeless staring, vacant eyes, a husk without a soul, yes, I could imagine what he’d seen.

  Pressing kisses along his jaw, I whispered, “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

  His laugh startled me. “I don’t think there’s a word for what you did to me.” Air hissed from between his teeth when he resettled me across his lap. Hard male flesh rested against my spine. I groaned when his nostrils flared, knowing he had scented my response to his kisses, to his touch.

  Burrowing my face against his neck, I hid from his reaction.

  Fangs scraping across my pulse coaxed a shiver from me.

  “The things I could do to you, Mana.” His teeth sank into my skin, the bite of pain exquisite. I whimpered when he withdrew. “This is not the time, and here among the dead is not the place.”

  “We should get going.” My voice cracked.

  His voice radiated satisfaction. “Did you discover anything?”

  “No.” I braced on his shoulders and stood. “The souls here are gone. We were too late.”

  Limbs awkward and loose, I almost toppled back onto his lap. I kept my hand on him as he rose. His solid, male warmth surged through me. His touch soothed the chill from my bones.

  Scanning my face, he said, “You didn’t use dayflower oil, or if you did, I didn’t notice.”

  He meant to ask if I’d suffer the drunken effects of deep meditation from using the extract.

  I reached down and Brynmor was there. He leaned against my thigh and helped steady me. I smiled down at him with growing fondness. “It seems with his help, I can circumvent using oil.”

  “Still, I’d feel better if you didn’t ride alone.” He caught my arm and led me to his mount.

  It took some effort, but I dug in my heels. “Would you mind if we rode Sakwa?”

  He glanced between the varanus as if having trouble telling them apart. His chin lifted, nose taking in my scent and matching mine to her. “Is there a reason you prefer your mount to mine?”

  “She has a bit of a reputation,” I admitted. “Much like Noir, Sakwa has little patience for the handlers or much of anyone else. She’s been alone in the stables since I left for Erania.” I knew it without asking. I doubted her disposition had changed during those weeks. “I think she’s lonely.”

  With a curt nod, he said, “All right.” He swept a hand before us. “After you.”

  “Nervous?” I grinned as Sakwa’s head lifted.

  “You compared your varanus to my ursus, so yes. I’d say it’s safe to say I’m wary. Noir is a beast even on her best days.” He eyed Sakwa. “She appears to have a nice enough disposition.”

  “You would think so.” I took his arm for support, which earned him a glare from slit eyes. Moments later, Sakwa began twitching her tail. She sidestepped me. “I think she knows.”

  “I think you’re right.” Nudging me aside, he grasped her halter before she trudged along her merry way without us. Sakwa swept her tail at Vaughn’s ankles. He avoided the lashing once, but she was quick and determined. Her tail caught his knees the second time and he toppled.

  When he sprung to his feet with murder glinting in his eyes, I stepped between them. Sakwa hissed at me, her tongue flicking between her lips. She smacked as if his taste fouled her mouth.

  I caught her bridle. “You can stand an extra rider for a little while.” I scratched her ears until her expression turned less mutinous. “Vaughn is our friend who will help me stay in the saddle.”

  Though I doubted she understood me, she did bump my cheek with her snout.

  I held her and chatted while Vaughn mounted. Her tail twitched, but she behaved.

  Once he was settled, I went to him and he lifted me onto her back, into the saddle. His arms wrapped around me, his scent enfolded me. He held my hands, which gripped the reins, allowing me to melt against him. With his chin on my shoulder, I let my thoughts drift over what Lleu and Bram and I had spoken of. Now was not the time for such discussion. Regardless of how much I knew Vaughn deserved to be absolved of his guilt, if something happened to Isolde, if we had come too late, then he would only trade one burden of self-loathing for another. Better to wait for now. If circumstances in Cathis had deteriorated, we had plenty of time for recriminations later.

  Sunset heralded our arrival in Cathis. Reds saturated the sky. Thin clouds slashed across the dying sun. Crimson towers jutted, one from each of the four corners of a high-walled fortress. Its color reminded me of blood, its shape reminded me this was a clan of mercenaries, and its heir’s hands on my hips held me still as my mind whirled with horrific rumors uttered about this place.

  Gates made of bone. Skins adorn the walls. Blood runs in the streets. Screams fill the air.

  “You’re shaking.” Vaughn drew me closer. “Are you cold?”

  Sweat beaded my lip. I licked it away before answering him. “I could use a bite to eat.”

  “We could have stopped in Halcidia.” Concern roughened his voice. “You should have said—”

  “I cost us enough time.” I calmed my nerves. “Time in the spiritlands takes a physical toll.”

  “I should have conside
red your needs, but my mind was elsewhere. My priorities…”

  “Your priorities are where they should be.” I stroked his hands where they linked around my waist. “I’ve never recovered as quickly as I did with your help.” His calloused fingers tantalized me. “How did you know what to do?” I tilted my head back. “Even Old Father doesn’t anchor as well as you did, and he’s had a lifetime of experience. His life thread never tethered me, either.”

  Vaughn frowned down at me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “When my soul leaves this world, my life thread ties me to my body. Otherwise, I might…” At his scowl, I rephrased. “It’s possible to lose my way.” Color leached from his cheeks. “While I was searching for the souls,” I rushed on, “I saw your black strands twined with my green ones. I thought you had meant to offer your support, but you really had no idea what you were doing?”

  His dark expression gave me his answer.

  “Amazing.” I let him hold me as I watched the city draw nearer. “I hadn’t realized.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.” His arms tightened as he braced himself. “And yet…”

  “We have a connection.” Forged over a lifetime, it was ingrained in us. “It’s a strong one.”

  His hold on me relaxed. “You sound surprised.”

  I read his tone as meaning he hadn’t been.

  “You leant me your life thread, so yes, I was surprised.” I lifted one of his hands and fit it to mine. His fingertips curled over the edges of mine, and I smiled. “Remarkable that you were able to do it at all, that you did it without effort makes me wonder if you have a touch of seer blood.”

  Seers were similar to walkers. Clan traditions mean there were variations in our duties, but I found the notion more and more plausible. It might explain Brynmor’s ability to return from the grave as well. The Mimetidae claimed no seers now, but perhaps the gift was present in a few of his clansmen, their talents so slight they hadn’t realized their gift. Hmm. It bore consideration.

  “Seers are rare, rarer than walkers.” Vaughn stroked my hand with his thumb. “No seer was born in the past several generations of my clan with enough talent to rub between their fingers.”

  “Not since Breda the Eye,” Lleu said. “She died when we were lads.”

  I jolted at the sound of his voice. Lleu had crept up beside us while we talked. Bram flanked us as well. Together we presented a united front, braced for whatever conditions lay ahead of us.

  “Breda the Eye was a poor seer.” Vaughn scoffed. “She doesn’t count.”

  “Mother believed every exhale of Breda’s.” Lleu inclined his head. “Got slapped once when I called the old bat out, but she’d been taking gold from Mother for years, telling her whatever lie suited.” He exhaled once, noticing my interest. “Mother wanted Father to return to her, to us, and that’s the story the crone sold her one coin at a time. Mother died with her eyes on the horizon.”

  “Yet your clan honored her with a title?” The notion baffled me. “Why?”

  Rhys the Cold had earned his title with his icy indifference and the edge of his sword. Odd now that it occurred to me. Vaughn was the heir, the tracker. Or he was simply Vaughn, son of Brynmor and Isolde, and the future Mimetidae paladin. Perhaps those titles were enough.

  “It was less a title and more a statement of fact.” Vaughn sounded amused. “Breda made the mistake of telling Father’s favorite aunt if she crushed her own cosmetic powders and tinted her left eyelid orange, her lover would return with the setting of the sun on the eighth day of prayer.”

  “I’d forgotten that.” Lleu chuckled. “Gods’ web, her powder was the color of puss. Looked like an infection took root in that eye, and if her lover did come back, he took one look and left.”

  “So why was Breda ‘the Eye’ and not your aunt?” I asked Vaughn.

  His cheek brushed mine. “My aunt followed Breda’s instructions faithfully for eight days.”

  Lleu glanced away, but I saw the corner of his smile.

  “And?” I prodded.

  “And,” Lleu said, shoulders shaking with laughter, “after the ninth sunset she tracked Breda down at the tavern. Her eye was swollen shut. She was half blind and half rabid. Long story short is that she took the knife Breda had used to carve her roast and stabbed her right in her left eye.”

  My jaw dropped. “And you think that’s funny?”

  Vaughn’s laughter vibrated through my back.

  Lleu waved his hand. “You had to be there.”

  I think he wiped tears from his eyes.

  “The gates are opening.” Bram’s tone remained cool. “They can’t see us from this distance.”

  Tapping the side of his nose, Vaughn said, “They don’t have to. We’re downwind of them.”

  I said what we all must be thinking. “If someone is manning the gates, then either the plague hasn’t arrived, or Cathis suffered a mild case similar to Beltania’s.” My heart lightened. Perhaps this trip would prove less dire than expected. Perhaps Old Father had been right about Brynmor’s perspective being skewed. Isolde may have fallen ill in conjunction with the plague’s arrival and he assumed the worse to be true. Doubt niggled in the back of my mind, but optimism prevailed.

  Vaughn’s lips brushed my ear. “Wait for me.” He dismounted before I spun, before I caught him. Silk from his shirt slid through my fingers. He loped to his varanus, climbed atop it, settled.

  Optimism deserted me at the sight of him braced for the worst. I said, “Be careful.”

  He inclined his head toward me, his smile grim. “For you.”

  Lleu at his side, Vaughn approached the gates. I leaned forward, hoping their voices carried.

  Bram sidled next to me. Our knees brushed. Our varanus grunted at one another. Otherwise, all was quiet until Vaughn and Lleu reached the edge of the city, stopping before its mighty wall.

  The guardsman called, “Turn back, son of Isolde. The yellow death lives within our walls.”

  “Yet you are unaffected,” Vaughn replied. “Your neck seems fine to me.”

  “We have kept our walls guarded,” the guardsman answered, “and our gate locked.”

  Bram murmured, “Hear how his voice quavers? He lies.”

  “He’s barring Vaughn from the city.” I could guess why. “He favors a new dynasty, then.” My earlier fears redoubled. I hadn’t anticipated the erosion of alliances so quickly.

  “I don’t think so.” Bram tilted his head, listening. “He is either concerned for Vaughn, or for Isolde. After their tumultuous past, is it so farfetched for Vaughn to arrive here with intentions of claiming his birthright before his mother is ready to yield control? It’s a reasonable assumption.”

  My head snapped toward Bram. “Vaughn would never—”

  “Are you sure?” He returned my gaze. “If his clansmen aren’t, how can you be?”

  “You don’t know him.” But I did. Bone deep, my soul sensed the core of honor in him. “The cornerstone of the male he became was set the instant a curious child witnessed my uncle’s death and knew he was the cause. He has spent his life making reparations to his mother and brother.”

  “All the more reason to let the plague take her,” he finally said, but his tone was curious.

  I tamped down my anger and exhaled. “Then we must agree to disagree.”

  “Ah, Mana, you wear your heart on your sleeve.” He trailed a finger from my elbow to my wrist. “Be careful. Your uncle made the same mistake. Look what it earned him, a hard death.”

  “You’re warning me.” I recoiled from his touch. “Why?”

  “I knew a female like you once. Gentle, kind, she was…” His jaw clenched. “She fell in love with a male, saw goodness where there was none, and she died because of his carelessness. You are a beautiful young female with her whole life ahead of her. You are valued and loved by your clan. All Vaughn can offer you is misery and death. You are a healer, he is a mercenary. You are incompatible even in the most basic ways. Don’t
follow his lead into his city or into his bed.”

  My chest tightened. “I will save myself for my soul mate, as is the custom of my clan.”

  “I’ve seen how you look at one another. Have you ever been alone together? Protective as your clan is, I doubt it.” He said, “Even in Erania, you were kept in Rhys’s sight or chaperoned.”

  My voice was hoarse. “Vaughn won’t force himself on me if that’s what has you worried.”

  “No.” His voice drifted. “He won’t have to.”

  Stunned by the truth of his words, I pinched my lips shut and let my gaze seek the direction I last saw Vaughn. He stood, head bent in low conversation with the guardsman. His hand rested on the other male’s shoulder. When they broke apart, he waved at Lleu, who spurred his varanus into a run. Bram had distracted me from the details of their conversation, and I resented the way I clenched the reins in my hand, tempted to run full out to meet him, as if I couldn’t wait to know.

  “The plague came through here, wiped out all of the livestock.” Lleu wiped a hand down his face. “Females grew sick within days. There have been deaths, but not many. Males appear to be unaffected. The guard said desperation had driven the poorest to eat from the infected carcasses.”

  My chest tightened. Brynmor had been right. Where I prayed for flaws in his perception, I found clarity. May the two gods have mercy on us all. “What of Isolde? Is she well? Did he say?”

  “Of course she’s well,” he groused. “She could have a spear through the heart and swear she was sound. Having a minor illness such as the bloody yellow death? No cause for concern there.”

  “A weak monarch means a weak clan,” Bram said. “She’s protecting her people.” He jerked his chin toward Vaughn. “I imagine Vaughn is frothing at the mouth to get inside and see her for himself. What did the guard say?” His tone remained cool, neutral. “Will they admit us or not?”

  Lleu palmed the hilt of his sword. “Oh, they’ll let us in, have no doubt of that.”