He set down the basket and retreated, careful to keep his back to me.
I stepped onto the bank and picked a soap cake from the basket. It smelled divine.
“I asked you where Pascale has gone,” I called.
Asher’s spine snapped straight, and his fists bunched at his sides. “Old Father wished to speak to her. It could be some time before she’s free to…” His voice went deep. “I won’t take advantage of you again. I was surprised to find you as I did.” He murmured, “I would make amends if you let me.”
“You won’t expose me to the Salticidae?” I hated the frightened edge of my question.
Though impossible to tell from here, I think he put his fist over his heart. “You have my word.”
“All right. I accept your offer.” I grasped my lapels and slid my jacket off my shoulders. “I must ask you to stand farther away, as it is only proper, but…not too far. I want to hear you if you signal.”
He took a few more steps until he stood on the far side of the hedge wall. “Will this do?”
“Yes.” I hesitated when my coat hit my elbows, but I shut my eyes and tossed it to the sand.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
The water in my ears must have distorted his voice. Surely I hadn’t heard him smile.
“A kind offer.” I shucked my clothes, grabbed the soap and a cloth. “I can wash my own back.”
“And your wings?” he asked softly. “What about those?”
The cake of soap shot from my hand.
I used the excuse of diving after it to avoid further conversation.
Chapter 6
Asher’s impatience was a beast prowling the confines of the modest room where we awaited the arrival of Maven Sikyakookyang and her husband, Paladin Chinedu. We knelt on a dirt floor near the base of a lounge covered in vibrant pillows. While we waited with our heads bent, I noticed a clever hand had impressed square rows in the hard-packed ground to give the impression of laid tile floors.
My fingers came away clean when I traced the nearest faux grout line. Such care had been taken in crafting the intricate patterns that they might have been glazed clay tiles rather than polished earth.
“I’ll do the talking.” Asher’s voice cut through the silence.
“I suppose I will do the listening then. Perhaps nod appropriately to punctuate your points.”
His sigh was long suffering. “I don’t trust you to negotiate in your current state of mind.”
Amusement laced my voice. “What state of mind is that?”
He scoffed. “No male alive would answer that question if he wanted to remain breathing.”
I kept my chin tucked against my chest to stifle the chuckles tickling the back of my throat.
After the last week I thought myself drained of happiness. I marveled at the urge to laugh.
Fabric rustled in the doorway at our back, and a warm breeze swirled over my bare feet.
A sharper version of the soap cake’s light scent filled my nose as the curvy female who must be Maven Sikyakookyang sashayed past. I had heard that the Salticidae used their dayflowers for every purpose from soaps and perfumes to medicines. The maven wearing dayflower perfume that her clan had surely produced must be a point of pride. Not that I blamed her. It was a pleasant floral scent.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” she said. “A disturbance outside of town kept me and my husband out until dawn.” The maven strolled to the lounge and reclined across the cushions. “I expected several guards as well as the Thomisidae couple. Are you two what remains of the envoy?”
“We lost three of our guards and five ursus.” Asher rumbled, “There were risers in the north.”
She addressed me rather than Asher. “What about your husband?”
The room went hazy for a moment while I blinked. “He was killed in the crossing.”
Her hand went to a sun-shaped pendant at her throat. “May the two gods bless him and keep him.”
Light shifted in the room as the rug over the doorway was pulled aside yet again.
Without raising my head, I could only tell the male had dark skin and silver rings on his toes.
Rather than ask the maven to rearrange herself, he simply lifted her and sat with her in his arms.
From the noises, I surmised they were kissing. I ducked my head farther to afford them privacy.
After clearing his throat, Asher said, “Might I ask what the trouble was last night?”
“No trouble,” the male who must be Chinedu rumbled. “A minor disturbance is all.”
“We don’t stand on ceremony here,” the maven said. Though she had kept our heads bowed for some minutes now, the same as I would expect from any other ruler. “You may lift your faces.”
Chinedu grunted and shared a sideways glance with his wife. “That face explains the ruckus between the guards earlier.”
I jutted out my chin. “The fault for that tussle lies with them. Not with me.”
The paladin chuckled. “Males ruffle their feathers to attract the attention of pretty females.”
“If that was true, Lleu would have none left.” The maven rolled her eyes. “That cock has crowed at Pascale for weeks. I have never seen such a pair. She’s as likely to pluck and boil him as she is to smile at him. Though I suppose that might be the lure. He is Mimetidae after all. Their tastes are…”
Abhorrent, she might have said. Or vile. After all, the partaking of Araneaean flesh was taboo.
Once I might have shared the sentiment. Now, thanks to Idra, I shared those tastes.
“Speaking of taste…” She pursed her lips. “Is the fabric you’re wearing of Pascale’s making?”
“Yes. My clothes were lost. She was kind enough to gift me this fabric for a simple drape.”
I had used the first length of fabric and a wide ribbon to fashion myself a basic chiton popular in Fortunia. The improvised dress hung to my ankles and was cinched at my waist. The second length was gathered to create a modified cloak with deep folds. I pinned the material at my shoulders with broaches Pascale loaned me in the hopes that extra layers of fabric hid the outline of my wings.
The maven nodded. “You improve her attempts at weaving by wearing them.”
I would have argued at the fineness of the weave but instead murmured, “Thank you.”
“Before we join the rest of the clan for first meal—” the maven slid onto the seat, “—we wanted to make proper introductions and discuss what you hope to gain from your time among our people.”
“Forgive my rudeness, Maven, for that must surely be who you are.” Not that either of them saw fit to make their introductions. “I am Marne of the Thomisidae, and this is Asher of the Mimetidae.”
“The pleasure is ours,” the maven assured us.
“Indeed.” Chinedu smoothed his beard. “What I don’t understand is why Henri sent you. What he said in his letter was too vague for us to grasp what it is you hope to accomplish by staying here.”
“Marne is…” Asher glanced at me as if asking for my permission.
I was unsure how much he could share without the whole truth tumbling out, but I nodded.
“Marne has delicate health. Henri was treating her condition.” Asher left the couple to make of my condition what they would. “He sent a small store of medicine for her, as well as the instructions for its production. His hope was that she could prevail upon you for a small supply of dayflowers as well as a teacher who might guide her in cultivating her own plants.” He let them digest that unwelcome news. “Henri hoped Old Father might be willing to meet with her and discuss such an arrangement.”
Maven Sikyakookyang had set herself apart from Chinedu. Gone was the playful wife. This was the maven, poised to crush an invading pest before it devoured her people’s stores of precious plants.
Her shrewd gaze narrowed on me. “He speaks for you?”
My gaze touched on Asher. “He does.”
“Be wary during your time of mo
urning,” she said. “There are some who might take advantage.”
The flash of anger I felt on his behalf stunned me. He had done nothing to earn her ire.
I kept my tone civil. “Asher has been nothing but kind to me.”
“He is Mimetidae.” Her lips pursed. “They pull what is needed from their bag of tricks.”
My mouth opened on a suggestion of what she could pull from where.
A hacking cough brought my attention to Asher.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him mouth a single word. No.
His rebuke flashed my goal back into focus. Her cooperation was necessary, so I kept quiet.
As I expected, the maven interpreted my silence as agreement.
“You’re asking much from her.” Chinedu shifted on the lounge. “Perhaps too much.”
“Henri sent them.” The maven turned to him. “He must have a reason.”
Chinedu hummed. “Is there an alternative to dayflowers that would suit your purpose?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Henri has yet to discover a substitute.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Henri has put us in a delicate situation. If we refuse to honor your requests, then your failed health will be laid at our feet. As you are a friend of Henri’s, and his sister is a most generous benefactor to our clan, a slight dealt to you is an affront to them, and we can’t afford that.”
Asher’s scowl darkened. It seemed I wasn’t the only one smarting from the sting of her warning.
“If her life wasn’t dependent on your generosity, then we wouldn’t be here now. Marne isn’t too proud to ask for help. That doesn’t mean she relishes throwing herself upon the mercy of strangers.”
Chinedu gifted Asher with a response. “If that is the case, why has she not asked for our help?”
He stared at me when he said it, and I sensed the challenge in his observation.
“She is newly widowed.” Asher tucked his fists at his sides. “I ask you for your consideration.”
The paladin grunted in my direction, chiding me for my choice of champion.
Except I had not chosen Asher, he seemed to have chosen me.
Maven Sikyakookyang curled her lip at Asher as though his words smelled foul.
My stance mirrored Asher’s, fists clenched at my sides, anger painting my cheeks. A person in my position could not afford to be too proud to beg. A week ago, I would have done as the paladin asked, thrown myself upon his mercy and agreed with his wife that Mimetidae were a clan of brutes and scoundrels, anything to secure the dayflower supply to extend my life with Edan.
Today I felt the Mimetidae was the only person in the room who respected me. Hard as I tried, I failed to placate or entreat the paladin. Instead I sat in sullen quiet.
Shifting her skirts to cover her toes, the maven grew tired of waiting and cleared her throat.
“Old Father is what my people call a spirit walker. He is an elder, a healer, who can see into the spiritlands. He has a unique perspective in matters of health where souls are concerned. He believes there is more to you than what we have been told.” The maven waited for a response I dared not give her without forfeiting my life. “He says there is a sickness in your aura that he has only seen in those who are infected with the yellow death, but that you do not suffer ill effects from that spiritual taint.”
“He’s right.” It was obvious I was not ill in any way they could see.
How long I continued my charade of health depended on me maintaining my injection schedule.
Chinedu tapped a finger to his mouth. “Would you care to explain how that is possible?”
Asher rocked to his feet. “If the price of your help is the violation of her privacy—”
The paladin bristled, his hand sliding to the curved blade anchored at his hip.
Taking a deep breath, I forced a bright smile at the paladin that I hoped reassured him.
“No harm done.” I patted Asher’s thigh. “I can share my condition, but I prefer to discuss it with Old Father first, if I may. I hadn’t realized he was quite so insightful. I would like to compare notes.”
“I can allow that.” The maven nodded after a time. “Old Father is the povosqa of our clan, and if you seek his council, then you can be granted certain privacies by him that I can’t offer you. Though I will warn you now that if he feels you are a threat to our clan, he will tell me and you will be dealt with accordingly. Our clan stands at a crossroads, and we can’t afford to falter if we are to survive.”
Crossroads.
As near as Beltania sat to the veil, she had no idea how right she was.
Thoughts of the veil spawned thoughts of Edan, bloodied and limp, carried in Idra’s clutches. A wave of grief swept me forward until my palms crashed to the floor to brace me before I kissed dirt.
Revenge will be mine. I waited for my heart to steady. I can do this. Just a few more days…
“Marne?” Asher’s fingers brushed my shoulder.
I swallowed hard and raised my head. “I understand, and I accept that risk.”
This would be worthwhile to win Old Father’s cooperation.
“Marne is famished.” Asher knelt beside me. “Are we finished here?”
A scowl creased Chinedu’s forehead. “We will be finished when I say we are finished.”
“The guard is right.” The maven’s lips puckered at the bitter taste of her agreement. “Marne has suffered a great loss. We were wrong to press her while her health is so fragile. A conflict with risers would stress anyone, but she lost her husband.” She gazed over at Chinedu. “Her heart is broken. Thank the gods their life threads were not tied, or she would not be here at all. Let her eat. Let her speak with Old Father. Once she has rested, then we will come to an understanding.”
“As you wish, love.” He kissed her full on the mouth. “We will do as you think best.”
When Asher grasped my elbow, I was grateful for his help. “Thank you both for your kindness.”
Brackets formed around the maven’s mouth when I let him draw me gently onto my feet.
“Old Father also has a unique perspective in matters of the heart. Our youths leave him offerings in exchange for him using his talents to divine their soul mates.” When I paled, the maven spread her hands. “What I mean is that perhaps he can help you heal. When you’re ready.” Her gaze touched on Asher. “It’s easy for a female unused to being alone to fall into the trap of thinking she needs a male when they’re often more trouble than they’re worth. Grieve. Heal. Then see where your heart lies.”
Knowing full well she considered Asher the trap, I accepted her advice in the spirit it was given.
“From what Lleu told me of your people, I have no cause to fear the males who live here.”
“They would show you no disrespect.” She splayed her fingers. “As I said, Salticidae believe we each have a soul mate. We believe in finding the one person meant to share our lives. The unwed in our clan take the commitment to their future life partner seriously. You are perfectly safe here.” The maven allowed Chinedu to draw her to her feet and into his arms. “Unless you are a Salticidae’s mate.”
My limp arm slid from Asher’s grip.
The shock of knowing Old Father could make such life-altering predictions rattled me.
It seemed the talented elder was full of surprises.
Asher nudged me with his elbow in time to duck my head before the maven passed by us.
Once we were alone, he rubbed his face with his hands. “I could have handled that better.”
I traced a grout line with my toe. “I got the impression the maven dislikes you.”
“She does.” He glared where she had sat. “It isn’t personal. She hates all Mimetidae.”
My brow creased. “Yet you offered to speak on my behalf, knowing how she would treat you.”
He shrugged and found the patterns I traced of sudden interest. “The Mimetidae are everything the Salticidae hold in contempt. We indulge. They abstain. They nibble
shoots and nuts. We like our meat hot and bloody.” His expression darkened. “For all that we are different, their closest ally, Maven Lourdes, wed into our clan. She found us worthy of alliance.” He shook his head. “Even the maven’s own niece, Kokyangwmana, a celebrated spirit walker, wed a Mimetidae. Our paladin, Vaughn, is Mana’s soul mate. Yet none of that endears our people to hers.”
I tapped his chin until he looked at me. “I know what it’s like to be reviled for what you are.”
Shame sent his gaze skittering away from mine. He covered my hand with his. “Marne—”
“We can’t help what we are.” I withdrew from him. “Who we are, that is of our own making.”
Leaving him to gather his thoughts, I stepped outside and inhaled the promise of a hot meal. When the scent made my stomach rumble, I set out with the intention of finding the source.
The streets bustled even at this early hour. It seemed the entire clan had awakened while we had been speaking with the maven and paladin. Females walked past with empty baskets balanced on top of their heads. They chattered and laughed as they followed the same dirt road as the boys with their varanus had taken. The fields must lie in that direction. I debated following the females to see if they intended to harvest produce or pick dayflowers, but our hosts might not take kindly to such curiosity.
A shout brought my head around where a skirmish crowded the street.
Bodies parted, and I glimpsed the instigator. Pascale’s blonde hair was colored muted dayflower blue, and her fine white dress was dyed the same blue as the rest of her. She was kicking a cloth sack at her feet. No. Not a sack. A person. There was a male writhing on the ground. Oh dear. It was Lleu.
“Untie me, harpy,” he bellowed.
“Apologize.” She swept her arms in front of her body. “Look what you’ve done.”
He barked a laugh. “I regret nothing.”
She kicked him again.
His warning growl made my hackles rise.
Stinging in my fingers alerted me to my growing nails. Vicious claws curved over my fingertips.
A steadying hand at my back startled me until the scent of Asher reached my nose.
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