Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection

by Hailey Edwards

  “That was noble of her.” Foolish, but noble. “I assume she took precautions.”

  “I took them for her,” he said. “I refused to risk her or our people to prove a point. I had been in touch with Mana. She sent me several vials of the cure to study and replicate. I diluted the samples, creating what I hope is a preventative. For days now, I’ve been dosing all those most likely to come into contact with your ward in anticipation of your arrival. I diluted it further and treated the livestock too, to see if it could protect them from infection in the event things didn’t go as planned.”

  “You knew.”

  He made no apologies. “As you said, I do understand. All I’ve done, I’ve done for my family.”

  “At the expense of mine.” I shoved him away from me. “You could have prevented this.”

  “You came from the southlands.” He pushed to his feet. “You had been exposed—”

  “If we had been exposed, we would have been infected. Or was that what you were hoping for, a chance to prove your precious cure worked by breathing our air, sharing our meals and surviving?”

  “It wasn’t like that.” He began pacing. “All that mattered to me was containing the threat so that my family was protected from all this. I wasn’t being malicious, but I was thoughtless and arrogant.”

  “I can’t fault your love of your siblings,” I said, “but I can blame you for the risk to mine.”

  “Yours had already been exposed to the harbinger—to risers—and mine had not. Until I saw for myself that you were well, there was no reason to treat you all with the preventative in short supply.”

  “You saw Ghedi just now. He was feverish and out of his mind inside of what? An hour after he was bitten?” I scoffed. “You would have known if we had been infected on sight, and you know it.”

  “I had no reason to believe you would become infected during your stay.”

  “Did that stop you from continuing the treatment for your clan?”

  “No,” he admitted. “It didn’t.”

  “Of course not.” I dusted my hands. “There. I absolve you of your guilt. Now get out.”

  “My guilt is not yours to understand or to dismiss as trivial when I assure you it is not.” His tone lowered dangerously. “I have lost my parents. My youngest sister has ruined her life. Now my eldest sister wants to endanger hers, and our brothers, and our clan. I meant you and yours no harm. Can’t you extend me that much faith? I did what I thought was right to protect what family I have left.”

  “I would have taken the same precautions without regret.” Family first, always. “Understanding that, even while I respect you for protecting your clan, doesn’t make it easier for me to forgive you.”

  Nodding as though he could accept that, he exhaled. “We’re wasting time Ghedi doesn’t have.”

  He was right. I didn’t have to like it. I did have to get over it. For now. I had time for anger later. Crushing my eyes shut, I tamped down Henri’s betrayal long enough to ask, “What do we do now?”

  “We begin the process of creating the cure.”

  “Begin?” My gut pitched. “As in you don’t have any made? What about—?”

  “I dosed Ghedi with the preventative serum in the hope of slowing the progression of his illness. In order to treat him, we must distill more of the cure.” He grimaced. “The plague kills within days, and it requires days to make. I have no choice but to entrust the secret of its creation to you and hope you see why its existence must not become common knowledge until the Council of Elders wills it.”

  “When, exactly, will they? For that matter, when will they tell the nation what it is we’re facing? They can’t think allowing the southland clans to cower in ignorance will save lives. What’s holding them back?” I asked a question I feared the answer to. “If there is a cure, then why not announce it?”

  “The cure has not been fully tested. Even once it has been, even if it works universally as Mana believes it will,” he said, “then we still face the dilemma of great need versus a very limited supply.”

  “The Council of Elders is comprised of what? Eight northland clans to four southlanders? Of the eight, now that Titania has fallen, four of the wealthiest clans are now seated in the north. You can’t think for a moment they will vote to share a cure with the south unless the north is protected first.”

  “As I said, its existence can’t become common knowledge until they will it. That doesn’t mean treatment will be withheld from those who need it most. The cure comes from the southlands, and it will be administered in the southlands, whether the council deems them worthy recipients or not.”

  A glimmer of hope pushed me to the edge of my seat. “I didn’t figure you for a revolutionary.”

  A sly grin curved his lips. “I’m not.”

  I tilted my head. “Why are you risking your neck?”

  “I lost both of my parents to a rival clan’s ambition. Mother was poisoned and left for dead. My father died shortly after.” He cleared his throat. “Their life threads were joined. A dual assassination was carried out with one single prick from a poisoned dart laced with venom by my sister Pascale’s lover.” He paused. “I want you to understand me when I say I have no ambition outside of my family’s survival. Ambition is its own poison, it kills.” He sank to his haunches so that our eyes were level. “To earn a measure of your trust, I’m giving you a secret and the ability to do me great harm.”

  A secret, he said. I wonder how many more and how much deadlier ones he knew.

  “If your sister Pascale was not irreparably harmed for her crime, I doubt you would be either.”

  “The matter of my parents’ deaths was a clan matter, handled by our elders and our maven. The Council of Elders bows to no one, my sister included,” he said. “I have put my life in your hands.”

  “Your reputation perhaps.” The Council of Elders wouldn’t dare strike at him.

  “As I am partial to both, I hope our arrangement won’t come to that.”

  Neither of us had a choice. Best we stop pretending we did. “You’ll teach me to make the cure?”

  “I see no way around it.”

  “But I won’t be allowed to tell anyone what I learn or of the cure’s existence?”

  “That’s right. If you told them, they would have no way to obtain the required supplies.”

  “As much as I disagree with your stance on secret-keeping, I will help you. I won’t let Ghedi die because of all this. I was the one who agreed to take the job with Hishima on my brothers’ behalves. It’s my fault we were in Titania. It’s my fault we’re here now. If not for me, we would be working in the southlands—ignorant and blissful as everyone else. If this deal with you costs me my moral high ground, then so be it.” I exhaled. “Family first.”

  He gripped my armrests, pinning me in the chair. “I have your word?”

  “I give you my word, Henri of the Araneidae, that nothing I learn will leave this room.” I hoped he read my sincerity. “I will protect your secrets, your life and your reputation with mine.”

  “I hope it won’t come to that,” he said, equally serious.

  “So do I,” I agreed. “So do I.”

  Chapter 6

  Until my sequestration in the nests below Erania, time was fluid. I took for granted the cycle of morning, evening and night because those parts of my day blended seamlessly with the others. Here, there was no sun. There was no moon. There were no winds. I lived in a void of hours that lingered from one day to the next. I had only Henri’s word for what day it was. I was fed and put to bed on a schedule he alone seemed to understand. Even Asher and Braden often fell behind in what Henri established as routine for the Araneidae, but then again, he had been born into this dark world.

  “Drink this.” Henri held a steaming mug of tea under my nose. “It will help.”

  “A new pair of these would help.” Grit scoured my eyes when I rubbed them.

  “Stop that.” He caught my hand. “You’ll only make
it worse.”

  I fought his grip and won. “Is there a salve for dry, itchy, trying-to-go-blind eyes?”

  “Yes.” He plopped a crate onto the floor at my feet. “It’s called sleep.”

  “Dayflowers, I presume?” I had never seen them in person.

  The plants were rare, grown only in Beltania by the Salticidae clan. The blossoms were also the sole ingredient in Mana’s cure for the plague. After reading that unfortunate comment in her notes, I understood what Henri had meant about demand versus supply. Demand was so great it may as well be endless. Supply, well, those delicate little flowers were so scarce the cure might as well not exist.

  “They are indeed.” He set a bag of petals on the counter, then a row of whole plants.

  So this was it, the cure. Crush those tiny blue petals in oil, bottle it, and then bottoms up.

  All right, so there were several more steps in between, but that was the gist of it. Henri had spent the last several hours reading over Mana’s letters, making notes and cross-referencing every step of the cure distillation process. In the interest of preserving his sparse supply of dayflowers, Henri had never attempted to replicate her methods, which meant this was our first and only shot to get it right.

  I lifted a petal and inhaled its sweet fragrance. Hard to believe a cure was hidden inside of it.

  Life and death balanced within an essential oil. Who would have ever imagined?

  “You’ll have to work fast. I don’t have many plants, and they’re very temperamental. I’ll guide you through the process with your first flower. The rest you can do on your own. When you finish this crate, I’ll bring you another. Five are in the greenhouse. This one makes six. At the rate of two crates per day, we ought to finish what few batches we can during the window of Ghedi’s illness.”

  “Will it be enough?” My voice was so small I almost didn’t recognize it.

  “It’s the potency that concerns me. The longer the oil sets, the more certain its results.”

  I nodded rather than try my voice again just yet.

  From his supplies, Henri offered me a mortar, a pestle and a bag lined with waxy paper.

  “First pinch a petal between your thumb and forefinger. Exert gentle pressure,” he said, “pulling until it releases. See that white tip, the tapered base? You want to see that discoloration every time.”

  “I think I can handle it.” I held the petal up for his inspection. Most females I knew had picked flowers when they were children for their mothers to braid into their hair. There, I was no exception. What Henri asked of me was simple work for idle hands.

  “Perfect.” He offered me the pouch. “Drop it in here.”

  “You want me to clean all these?” I was already fingering my next victim.

  “Yes.” He pried the bag’s mouth open and placed it at my elbow. “Wait for me when you finish.”

  I started my task. “Where are you going?”

  He turned his back on me. “There is a matter in need of my attention.”

  I challenged him to set me straight. “What can be more important than this?”

  For a moment, I expected him not to answer. As it was, his reply was so vague he might as well not have bothered. “It’s not more important, it’s of equal importance. One day, you will understand.”

  I asked what seemed to be my favorite question these days. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I have respected your brothers’ privacy where their silence is concerned. I understand there is a story there, but instead of asking why they have chosen the path of silence, I have simply accepted it. In this regard, I must ask you do the same.” He nodded toward his office. “I won’t be long. I swear.”

  I shook my head and watched him leave. “You keep too many secrets, Henri.”

  His steps slowed. “And you don’t?”

  The world traded in secrets. Of course I kept a slew of them, most of them not mine to share.

  With the distraction of Henri absent from the laboratory floor, I returned to work. It wasn’t long until I was ready to test his word. I angled my chair toward his office and sat. He didn’t keep me waiting. Slipping from the room, he held a syringe in one hand and a vial of red liquid in the other. When he caught me staring, he hesitated, but must have decided I didn’t want an explanation. The syringe, he tossed into a pail beneath his workstation. The vial, he fit gingerly in a small box under the counter.

  Wiping his hands, he strode for the greenhouse, leaving me to wonder what sort of experiment he felt was best conducted inside his office when he had an entire laboratory at his disposal. The red liquid must be his blood, drawn by syringe. I smirked. Must be part of his preventative maintenance.

  I could see why he wouldn’t want to own up to that and just how important it must be…to him.

  Though I stared after his every step, Henri made an effort to act as though I wasn’t. Without comment, Henri exchanged the plants I had plucked clean for the second crate. This time the work went faster. Still lost in thought, Henri stayed to help. When his gaze strayed to his office, I frowned.

  “I can do this alone if you weren’t finished doing whatever it was you were doing.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” he said, jerking his gaze back to his task, “but we have work to do.”

  In other words, he wasn’t keen on my knowing about what went on behind those closed doors.

  After he pushed from the counter, he strode down an aisle. “Bring the bag of petals here.”

  Setting them on my lap, I followed him to a bulbous kiln built into the wall on the farthest side of the laboratory. Its presence made me wonder what else he kept hidden here. No wonder he never ventured out into the nest. Why bother when everything he required was within easy reach?

  “Is there anything you don’t have?” It seemed the amenities in this place were endless.

  “I add whatever I find lacking as it occurs to me,” he answered absently.

  “So you never have to leave.”

  Startled, he glanced at me, giving me his full attention. “Yes.”

  So awkward was my revelation, we both found other places to look.

  “This is a kiln, isn’t it?” From across the room, it had resembled one.

  “It was.” He patted it fondly. “It’s been modified.”

  “I noticed.” Glowing coals in its open belly poured subtle warmth into the room. Its top was flat like a stove instead of gently sloping upward toward a chimney, with its wide flue inset into the wall.

  Four metal discs were inlaid in its clay top and four copper pots rested over them. I was near enough to see that clear liquid filled each pot, the heat enough to form bubbles but not hot enough for a full boil.

  “Divide the petals equally into the four pots.” From a metal vase, he picked a wooden spoon.

  I did as instructed, though even for a person of my height, the rear pots were a hard reach from a sitting position. If Henri’s expression was any indication, his thoughts were far and away from here and now. Had I burned my hand, I doubt he would have noticed, so distant was his attention. When I finished my tasks, I cleared my throat and waited for him to come back from wherever he had gone.

  “I’ll take it from here.” Using the bowl of the spoon, he crushed the petals into the oil.

  “Are you sure?” I worried he might be the one who got blistered if he wasn’t more careful.

  “You should get some rest.” At last he sought my face. “You’ve had a long day.”

  “When do you plan on sleeping?” He had gone as long as I had without respite.

  “When all I have to do is done,” he said earnestly.

  “All right.” Unsure what else to say, I eased away from him. “Happy mixing, then.”

  “Zuri?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Resist temptation.”

  I froze with my hands on the wheels. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t visit Ghedi.”

  “We have all been exposed.” My grip tightened. “
Is the risk in visiting him so much greater?”

  “I hear in your voice that you know it is. You’re tired. You’ll think clearer after you’ve rested.”

  Knowing he was right and hating that he was, I grumbled, “Fine.”

  “This stage requires six hours. Then we can strain the used petals, add fresh ones and begin again. We’ll do this two more times for six hours each. That gives you plenty of time to sleep.” He tapped the spoon against the pot’s lip. “Do you want more tea for the pain before you leave?”

  I angled myself toward the door. “Are you sure you won’t leave with me?”

  The spoon clattered to the floor behind me. “What?”

  I laughed under my breath. “If you won’t take a nap, will you at least walk me to my door?”

  As long as his feet were in motion, he could stave off sleep a while longer.

  “Of course.” He paused beside me. “You do realize…?”

  “That I can’t literally walk?” I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. “I got that part.”

  The smile he aimed down at me sagged at its corners. “With you, it never hurts to be certain.”

  “Oh ha ha.” I poked his side. “I have been a model patient so far.”

  “So far?” He eased out of range and opened the door. “Is that a declaration of intent?”

  I intended to do as he asked, within reason. I wanted a full recovery. “Just a slip of the tongue.”

  His answering “Mmmhmm” was rife with doubt as he gripped the handles of my chair.

  I twisted so I could see him. “I can push myself.”

  He placed his hands gently on my shoulders and faced me forward. “Let me do this.”

  “Suit yourself.” Hands in my lap, I let him wheel me into the tunnel like he was a proper escort.

  Long as his legs were, he covered the distance to my room in a dozen strides.

  “Here we are.” He opened the door with a flourish and pushed me over the threshold.