A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2

by Hailey Edwards

  Isolde pointed a finger. “That’s a better offer than any other you’d get.”

  Vaughn rubbed his hands over his face. “Mother…”

  “I’ll handle this.” Before he reached through the bars and strangled her. “As I said, I’m in no position to make such a bargain with you. I think, given the circumstances, that Sikya will accept your offer.” Despite the bitter blood between our clans, Salticidae honored soul mate marriages.

  Our union would not be contested on those grounds. Once learning our life threads had been tied, Sikya might sulk, but she would accept the inevitable. Old Father could help her transition. I knew in my heart he had read this match between myself and Vaughn. I would have his support.

  “If we postpone negotiations, then we postpone the marriage.” Her gaze honed in on where I stroked Vaughn’s chest to calm his breathing. “There are things sons of mine won’t do, and that means touching a female, even an intended bride, in your situation, without vows in place.”

  I flushed clear to my hairline at her remark. My virginity was not a situation, it was a choice.

  “We can wait.” Vaughn’s voice sent shivers down my spine. “Mana is worth the wait.”

  With a curl of her lip, Isolde tossed the keys to Murdoch. “Let them out.”

  “As you wish, Maven.” Clinks sounded until he found the right one and fit it to the lock.

  Vaughn leaned into me, steady but weak from his trials. “I should have known this wouldn’t be simple.” He echoed his father’s words. “Males of my clan are cursed in matters of the heart.”

  Eager to leave the grotto and more eager to lighten the burden weighting his shoulders, I called upon the one option I had left to me. “There is one thing I can offer you that is my own.”

  “I’m listening.” She put her hand on Murdoch’s to prevent the lock from tumbling.

  “What if—in exchange for Vaughn’s hand in marriage—I offer you the life debt that Maven Lourdes owes me?” I fixed her with a hard stare. “The boon is one I earned saving Rhys’s life.”

  Pain flashed in her eyes before she glanced away.

  “I would add a qualifier. If my maven agrees to your terms, then your conditions are met and Lourdes’s debt remains my own.” Not that I had use for it. “If Sikya refuses to bargain with you, then the debt Lourdes owes me is yours, and you may ask the Araneidae for your heart’s desire.”

  When she glanced up, she was resolved. “I’ll take that offer.”

  “Now I know how Rhys felt when you offered him up to Lourdes as her husband.” Vaughn scowled. “At least he didn’t have to hear his mother and his future wife haggling over his value.”

  Isolde shrugged. “You should be proud. She drove a hard bargain for you. Don’t know that I would have paid it, myself.” Her pointer jabbed in my direction. “That was cutthroat, to buy one of my sons with the blood of the other.” Her gaze softened. “You’ll make a fine maven one day.”

  Complimented by Isolde, would wonders never cease? I stammered, “I—well, thank you.”

  After slapping Murdoch’s wrist, she tested the weight of her ax. “Hurry up, guardsman. Get them out of there. We’ve a council meeting to crash, and I want my heir at my side, thank you.”

  Grunting a non-answer, probably the safest response to Isolde, he swung the door open.

  She set out on her mission, determination in every step, before we stepped free of our cell.

  “Wait—Maven—the stairs…” Murdoch raced to catch her, steadying her ascent.

  My stomach knotted when I stepped over the spot where Vaughn had fallen. His blood still slicked the stairs. Once he took the first step, I wrapped an arm about his waist and held on tight.

  He grunted when I squeezed too hard. “I can manage the climb on my own.”

  “Remember how you said there were times when you wanted to tend me?” His silence gave me my answer. “This is one of those times for me. Be a dear. Hush until we reach the landing.”

  “Yes, dear.” He indulged me, though he no longer required my steadying arm. “After all, you paid a hefty sum for the honor of wedding me. I suppose you’ll expect me to work off my debt?”

  Taken aback, I frowned up at him. “Why would I…?” I flushed. “Oh.”

  “Yes.” His sinful smile made me stumble. “Oh.”

  If his smile was this potent…I shivered to think of the rest of him.

  At the top of the stairs, we were met by guards. Two familiar faces made me sag with relief.

  “I heard you were dead.” Lleu tossed Vaughn a sword. “Look plenty ready to fight to me.”

  Bram lifted a short bow and patted his quiver of arrows. “My bow is yours to command.”

  Vaughn inclined his head, voice gruff. “Close ranks.”

  “Deverell’s the one to watch.” Murdoch took his place behind Lleu. “He’s seen the garden.” His gaze lowered. “His wife…” He swiped a hand over his mouth. “He can’t be reasoned with. I know from experience. I’ll ask you to try and spare him if he loses his head, but his family is several males strong. If Deverell makes a move, others will follow. Prepare yourselves. They’re all excellent fighters.”

  “We’ll do our best to avoid bloodshed,” Vaughn said. “No one wants the clan divided.”

  “Division is inevitable.” Bram glanced up. “Today we learn your enemies. Pay attention.”

  While the males discussed tactics, Isolde linked arms with me and tugged me to her side.

  “Show no weakness.” She rolled her shoulders. “They don’t call us mercenary for nothing.”

  Foreboding prickled my nape. “Vaughn can’t—”

  “He can, and he will.” She pinched my arm. “This is your first lesson on being a Mimetidae maven. Your paladin must never show weakness. His mercy must be earned and given sparingly. The clan is Vaughn’s by birthright. These people loved his father, they love him, but if they scent blood, they will go in for the kill. Do not let your fear for him show. Fear is something shared in private moments, once the blood has dried and the clan is secured. It’s something you whisper in his ear at night, not something addressed in the morning. Understand? His life is in your hands.”

  Though my arm hurt, I resisted the urge to rub the pinked skin. She was right. If I wanted to secure my place among this clan, today was as good as any to make my public claim on Vaughn.

  Earning their affection would take time, if it happened, but I would command their respect.

  “I understand.” I smoothed my clothes into some semblance of order. “I can do this.”

  “Course you can.” Another pinch made me jump. Isolde grinned. “You’ll do, Mana.”

  Snagging my arm a second time, Isolde swaggered to the head of the guards, hefted her ax to her shoulder and led our formidable procession. Through my bond with Vaughn, I felt assurance and dissolved my fear before I compromised him with my doubts. Instead, I sent him love, hope and the promise I would support him however events unfolded. Together, I swore we’d triumph.

  We stopped before a door arching taller than Vaughn by several heads. Loud voices churned and angry shouts made me wish I had a weapon, or the skill to use one if I had been armed.

  “Here we are.” Isolde kept her voice low. “Ours is a triad of elders, similar to the Araneidae. I get a vote, Vaughn won’t. As long as we can sway at least one elder to our side, we’ll manage.” Palm braced on the door, she bowed her head. “Gods be with us.” She gestured toward Murdoch.

  He threw the doors open, and we descended into chaos. The council chamber was inset, and below the walkway were lower seating areas. Before us, three squared chairs dominated the space. Elders sat in each chair. Two of them were familiar. When Pearce winked at me, I exhaled and my steps became surer. Owain slouched beside him, scowling. The third elder I didn’t know.

  “That’s the problem.” Owain pointed at Vaughn. “Prisoner walked right from the grotto. No respect for the law. No respect for the clan. No wonder he acts as he does, look
at his mother.”

  To a person, the room fell silent.

  “Now you’ve gone and done it,” Pearce muttered.

  “Don’t throw mud in my son’s face. If you’ve a problem, you take it up with me.” Isolde let her ax twirl on her shoulder as she spun the handle. “I’ve been maven for a long time. This is the first I’ve heard you complain, so if you’ve got an issue with me, speak up now. Well? Get to it.”

  Leaning forward, Owain braced his palms on his knees. “You lied.”

  Isolde cast him a bored look. “Be more specific.”

  The remaining elders frowned at her flippant attitude. I restrained the urge to thump her.

  “See how she mocks us?” Owain addressed the room. “You’ve seen the garden, the bodies.” His voice rose. “Who among us was informed when our loved ones passed? Not me.” He swept his arm toward Deverell. “Not him. He lost his wife, my great niece, Dianna, to this plague. Her body has not been accounted for. He was not told, nor was I, that she had gone to the spiritlands. Instead of a proper funeral, her soul was set adrift without a single word of prayer. She was a—”

  “—victim of the yellow death,” Isolde snapped. “If I had spoken of one family’s loss, others would have known.” She turned a slow circle before her clan. “If you’d been given a tally, then I bet my son’s firstborn that those able to flee the city would have. What would that have done? It would have spread the plague farther and faster. It wouldn’t have saved your loved ones.” When a burly male stood, Isolde marched to him, put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back in his seat. “Don’t try and sway me, boy. I stood at those gates and held back the tide when the scourge almost wiped the Mimetidae clan from the maps. I saw us at our worst. Saw us turn against our clansmen. Saw our clansmen’s corpses used as food, watched the sickness spread like wildfire.”

  The male sank into his seat, face pale. He glanced away.

  “I remember gathering those who showed signs of infection. How we herded them into the most decrepit of our barns. It was me that held the torch, me that set the fires.” Her jaw trembled. “I remember the screams.” Her fist pounded her chest with every step. “I bloody well screamed enough for those whose voices were lost in the flames, so don’t you dare question my loyalty.”

  “Mother.” The single word from Vaughn snapped her to attention.

  “Maven Isolde was out of her mind with fever.” A timid voice rose from behind me. I turned and found Nerys pushing Crystin in a spindly chair with tiny wooden wheels. A black blur sped past, and I prayed Brynmor hadn’t followed them here. “She can’t be held accountable for those decisions. In truth, when the maven became ill, it fell to Cleit to inform the council. My uncle neglected that duty the same as he neglected the patients under his care. Once he offered me shelter in the towers, the damage was done. He used me to tend the sick to appease his conscience. If Mana hadn’t come, the towers would mirror the gardens. Her potion saved us.”

  I covered my wince. Her endorsement had the crowd studying our apparent health.

  The elders took notice as well. The one I hadn’t recognized stared. “She discovered a cure?”

  “Yes.” She approached them, papers in hand. “Here are my and Cleit’s records.”

  “This came about how?” His brow creased. “She tested her potions on the infected?”

  “Mana’s a spirit walker,” Pearce announced to the room. “She’s as much right to practice as the other healers we’ve had before. You can’t blame her for using gods given skill to save lives.”

  “All right,” the third elder said with reluctance. “Tell us how this cure came about.”

  After positioning herself before them, she began. “When Mana arrived, Isolde was dying…” Hope spun a bright filament throughout the room as she wove her tale.

  Silence enveloped the crowd. Even Owain squinted at Nerys. I wondered if he read lips. Her story held enough grains of truth to satisfy the basic facts, but she took pains to glorify my role in saving their maven as well as those who should have been under Cleit’s care. With him missing, most assumed his guilt was proven by his absence. The fact that Vaughn had been absent during the outbreak but had rushed home with aid was also mentioned, loudly and frequently, by Isolde.

  In the end, the elders filed out of the room into a small deliberation chamber.

  Nerys took Crystin and left. It was safer for them to be gone before the verdict was read.

  Time wore on. Our group huddled close, backs together, faces out and gazes skimming over the crowd, searching for signs of danger. Vaughn pressed his back to me and laced the fingers of his free hand with mine. His shoulders were tense from holding his sword at the ready. I kept my face impassive and my posture relaxed. The Araneidae’s open council had been nerve-racking enough, but this closed-council nonsense frayed my patience. Vaughn rubbed my palm with his thumb. The longer we stood quiet and looked uninteresting, the fewer nasty glares we collected.

  By the time my feet ached from standing, the solemn ambiance of the room had cracked and the crowd mumbled among themselves. Waiting for a finger to point and blame to be assigned.

  The drone of conversation covered the exit of the elders from their chamber.

  Lleu elbowed Isolde and jostled me to attention.

  The three males reclaimed their seats, all somber, all calm, all, I hoped, willing to forgive.

  “We have weighed the evidence and made our decision.” The third elder looked to his peers, then stood. “We have decided unanimously that Isolde is no longer deserving of the title maven.” He lifted a hand to hush the sudden uproar. “In the interest of keeping these proceedings legal, it should be stated that our three votes cannot be overturned by her single vote, therefore consulting her was unnecessary, as well as being a conflict of interest since our determination is her fate.”

  Isolde’s hand brushed mine, trembling and cold. I grasped her tight and she held on to me.

  A charge in the air told me Kowatsi was near. Isolde relaxed, and understanding rocked me. Kowatsi hadn’t been waiting on Isolde to pass…he had chosen to linger here in Cathis all along.

  I hadn’t noticed until now with Vaughn and Brynmor anchoring me, heightening my senses.

  “Since the Mimetidae are a patrilineal clan,” the elder continued, “we have elected Vaughn, Brynmor’s heir, as her successor. Because his life threads are tied to Mana’s, we demand that an official ceremony take place within a sunset of Vaughn’s succession ceremony.” He frowned. “I hope that the former maven Isolde will see the merit in our decision and choose not to contest it.”

  “We can fight this,” Vaughn whispered over Isolde’s shoulder. “Our clan is loyal to you.”

  “I never wanted to be maven.” She turned her back on the council and reached for Vaughn. “I fought long and hard to keep this title, to protect Brynmor’s dynasty. When the time came that I should have stepped aside, I clung to this life because being maven was all I knew. This is what your father would have wanted for you. He’d want his forefather’s line to continue through you.”

  She pinched my cheeks. “Let’s get some blood back in those cheeks, girl. I’m not dying. I’m getting out of the way.” She winked and almost resembled her usual brazen self. “Besides, you’re in need of an advisor, and I’ll have plenty of time on my hands. Count yourself lucky. Wish I’d had someone like me back when Brynmor and I wed. Gods, his mother drove me to drink. Crude and brash female as I ever saw, and loud? My ears rang from morning until night after hearing her.”

  Panic must have shown in my expression, because Vaughn pulled me tight against his chest.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind.” He kept his hold light as if he sensed my urge to bolt for the doors. “Once I’m paladin, I will rescind your bargain with Mother. Keep your favor from Lourdes and know my clan will offer yours aid if they are ever called upon.” His voice dropped. “I want no debts, no obligations between us. I tied our life threads without asking, but I’
m asking now. Stay with me, be my maven. Let me prove to you I am worthy of the gift you’ve given me.”

  Perhaps it was the way his hand fisted the back of my shirt as he spoke that did me in. As if his mind were preoccupied with saying the right thing while his heart had other plans. Or perhaps it was the way his mischief-sparkled eyes had gone dull. Thoughts of me leaving had done that. I imagined Kowatsi’s eyes must have held the same pain when Isolde told him she was leaving.

  She had no choice. I had two.

  Stay and love this male, learn to love his people, or return home. Endure the same half-life Kowatsi had until desperation, that bone-deep desire for my soul mate, drove me back to Cathis and right into Vaughn’s arms…where I belonged.

  “How could I leave you?” I brought his face down to mine for a kiss.

  “Best give them your word.” Isolde cleared her throat. “They won’t honor mine.”

  Expression hardening before my eyes, Vaughn faced the elders. “We accept your ruling.”

  “Good.” Pearce looked to his peers. “Now, if we’re done here, there’s somber work ahead. I move to dismiss and let the families claim their dead—or visit their healing.” His gaze lit on me. “I’ll ask that you keep treating them as you have been. I’ll also ask you to make preparations for the ceremonies to come.” He stood and offered Vaughn his hand. They clasped forearms, and Pearce leaned close. “Sorry. I tried to sway them. You know I’ve nothing but respect for your mother.”

  “I know.” Vaughn’s smile was tight. “We’ll manage.”

  Behind Pearce, Owain waited with a curled lip. “We’ll be watching—you and your walker.”

  Not Vaughn’s maven or future wife, but his walker. The distinction suited me fine, for now.

  Without another word, Owain scuffled toward the door we’d entered.

  A growl from Vaughn hastened the elder’s retreat. No. Not from Vaughn. From Brynmor.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t spot the canis in the crowd.

  “She’s gone,” a tight voice said. “She’s gone and you weren’t punished. Your mother wasn’t punished. No one was held accountable for her death. Dianna was my first love, my only love.”