A Time of Dying (Araneae Nation)

by Edwards, Hailey

  “You sure?” The giant squeezed until I gasped. “Shouldn’t you get sewn up first?”

  “I’m sure.” Murdoch wrenched my arms behind my back. “Do you have your hawser?”

  A tense pause stretched between them. “Always.”

  Murdoch held out his hand. “May I use it to secure the prisoner?”

  “Use this instead.” The blond tossed him a length of black thread that made Murdoch frown.

  He ran the thick, knobby silk rope through his fingers. “You’re a male of many talents.”

  His friend waggled his eyebrows at me. “So the females tell me.”

  After binding my wrists, Murdoch smoothed his thumb over the stump of my missing ring finger. I cringed when he touched it. The first two joints were missing, and his caress of what remained felt too intimate somehow. I was grateful he showed me the small mercy of not asking about it, but resumed his task. He pried my legs from Lleu’s grip and crossed my ankles to hobble me before he knotted the rope. Lleu was all that held me upright while Murdoch searched me. This time his efforts produced the bloody dagger and its crystal sheath, which he kept.

  Assured I was unarmed, he slung me over his shoulder. My face hit a wet spot on his lower back, and I recoiled from the blood turning his worn shirt brown. The wound splashed crimson over his tan skin, and the stain kept growing.

  He must be in terrible pain. I wasn’t being wholly facetious when I offered, “I can walk.”

  “Very fast,” he said, “and in the opposite direction of where I want you to go.”

  Huffing hair from my eyes, I glared at his arse, figuring it was the same as arguing to his face. “Release me.” When he grunted, I promised, “I’m more trouble than I’m worth, Murdoch.”

  His shoulders tensed at my use of his name, but he continued on without comment.

  “You will regret this.” We both would if Hishima got word. “Put me down, please.”

  “There.” He winced when he set me on my feet. “You’re down.” He reached into his pocket and produced the cloth he’d wiped my face with earlier. “Open your mouth.” He waited. “Now.”

  My eyes rounded. “You can’t be—”

  He crammed the cloth into my mouth too fast for me to even bite him. After hefting me over his shoulder again, this effort costing him a muttered oath, Murdoch lumbered on toward Cathis.

  Chortling sounds made me lift my head. Lleu sauntered past me, a grin splitting his face. He tipped his head when our eyes met. I narrowed mine, which appeared to amuse him all the more.

  Let him smile.

  If Hishima found me at long last, his retribution would be no laughing matter.

  Chapter Two

  Whistles rent the air as Murdoch approached a gate made of bone and tethered with sinew. It groaned on its hinges, an echo of its victims’ final cries. Though I had plotted to escape Murdoch at my first opportunity, entering Cathis made me reconsider. Above us, along the wall, its guards leered and shouted profanities at me. More than one hand popped my rump in passing. Murdoch bantered with the males, exchanged crude jokes. Even he landed a swat to my arse that jolted me.

  That trespass I might have forgiven him, had he not also rubbed away the sting.

  “Fine morning, eh?” Calloused fingers crept over my scalp, fisting my hair, wrenching back my head. I stared up at a thickset male whose grin lacked several teeth. “A fine morning indeed.”

  Murdoch tightened one hand around my ankle, as if afraid this male, whoever he was, would snatch me from him if given half a chance. “Mine was going well enough until I found this one.”

  “She a biter?” His friend poked the cloth stuffing my cheeks. “That why you gagged her?”

  “She’s a talker.” Murdoch made conversation with me sound positively vile.

  “Eh. Could be worse.” The male’s filthy hand traced my cheek. “Has a nice face at least.”

  A shrug from Murdoch rolled my stomach. “I’ve seen worse.”

  “Haven’t we all?” The older male chortled while I glared at him. He cupped a hand to his ear and bent so close his breath made my eyes water. “What’s that? Have something to say, lovely?”

  I bobbed my head, and he yanked the gag from my mouth. “I apologize for my appearance.” My voice cracked. “But you’re no doubt used to seeing Murdoch sling females on his shoulder to haul into his lair. I should be grateful he tied and carried me instead of dragging me by my hair.”

  Murdoch sighed. “That’s why the gag was necessary.”

  “Aye.” The male wadded the cloth into a tight ball bound for my mouth. “I’ll mute her.”

  I slumped against Murdoch’s back to escape, burying my face above his wounded hip.

  “Let her be.” His thumb stroked my ankle. “We’re here. No point in stoppering her now.”

  “Fine by me.” The male tossed the cloth to Murdoch. “It’s your name she’ll be cursing.”

  “She’s not the first—” Murdoch began.

  “Nor the last—gods willing.” The male slapped his thigh. “She headed for the grotto?”

  “Where else?” Murdoch angled so he faced the male. “Pearce…she’s under my protection.”

  “Figured as much.” He whistled through his teeth. “If I’d found such a pretty thing—”

  “Mine,” Murdoch said again, firmly.

  “I heard you the first time.” Pearce huffed. “Me and Owain, we’ll spread the word.”

  “Do that.” Murdoch lurched into motion. “I’ll finish my rounds once she’s settled.”

  “Aye, you will.” Pearce jabbed Murdoch’s tender side. “Get that scratch tended to first.”

  Though gritted teeth, Murdoch said, “It’s nothing.”

  “Suit yourself.” The burly male shrugged. “It’s your life if infection sets in.”

  I waited until we left the bustle of the gate behind before clearing my throat.

  “Something to add?” Murdoch asked. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “He’s right—about the risk of infection.” His body was not the first sheath for my dagger.

  Conversation halted while he wedged open a heavy door. “Why do you care?”

  A better question was, “Why did you place me under your protection?”

  Was that pained laughter his? “Give me your answer, and I’ll give you mine.”

  I didn’t have to think twice. “Deal.”

  “Then it’s done.” He prompted, “Why do you care if I see the healer?”

  I saw no harm in saying, “You saw me at my work. Can you not imagine where else a blade of mine has been? I have never killed another person, and I would regret it if you were the first.” Into the lengthy silence, I added, “I’m also hoping fear of contracting the plague from my knife sends you fleeing into the arms of your healer and that you’ll leave me alone to plot my escape.”

  His steps stuttered. “I can’t decide if you’re telling the truth or lying through your teeth.”

  A bit of both, I imagined. Either way, he would be wise to heed my warning. “It’s your turn.”

  “I want answers.” He paused over an ornate threshold. “I think you can give them to me.”

  Curious, I tried lifting my head, but my neck muscles were weak as water. “And if I don’t?”

  “Your protection expires.” His tone gave me chills. “You’ll want to avoid that.”

  Avoidance sounded as good as my other alternatives. I should practice it more often.

  “Here we are.” Slowly, he knelt until my feet hit the floor. When I stood, I toppled backward onto a bed. He remained as he was, seeming to have aged by years during our short journey here.

  The red blossoming on his side drew my eye. “Not that I care, but will you see a healer?”

  Sinking to the floor, he examined his wound as if for the first time. “They were right to warn me.” His eyes crushed shut when he shifted, then blinked open. His notice made me glance aside.

  “So you’ll see the healer?”
I nudged him, or was guilt nudging me?

  What difference did it make to a corpse how long my blades went between cleanings? None. But Murdoch was alive, at risk, and it flustered me to notice his ruddy cheeks and heavy lids, the way sweat rolled down his temples or his fingers trembling against the floor. I had done this. Me.

  Whoever Kaidi of the Segestriidae used to be, she would never have done this.

  I was… I didn’t know who I was anymore.

  He studied me. “You would usher me into death’s embrace so readily?”

  “It’s a scratch.” I flung Pearce’s words at him. “Get it mended.”

  “I see your grasp of Mimetidae politics is looser than your morals.”

  Bristling, I bit out, “Then why not explain them to me?”

  “If I visited the healer, after walking through the main gate like a fool—” he shook his head, “—with a wisp of a female over my shoulder, then what message have I sent the others? I’ve told the guards that their captain was bested by a female so slight a stiff breeze would blow her over.”

  I smiled prettily at him. “I did best you.”

  “You stabbed me in the back.”

  “It was your side.” My face tingled. “I just happened to be standing behind you at the time.”

  His head fell back on a sigh. “Right.”

  As my anger ebbed, my curiosity piqued. “Where are we?”

  “My bedroom,” he answered to the ceiling.

  I was proud of how my tone remained calm when I was anything but. “You told Pearce—”

  “All he needs to know.” Murdoch rose with care. “My paladin and maven entrusted me with a task, and I think you can aid me in its completion.” Movements stiff, he crossed to me. “I want the truth. If you can explain why a Segestriidae female as fine as you—seemingly sane as you—was found in that field with a spade and the blood of my clansmen on her hands, then you might find your stay in Cathis is much more comfortable and of much shorter duration than expected.”

  Tempted as I was to share my burden, I had before, and I was done being the village crier. “I was hungry.” He must have felt my stomach grumbling against his shoulder.

  His pointer finger tapped my earring. “Yet you chose to starve rather than part with this? Or that necklace of yours?”

  Food would have brought cold comfort as I lay in a grave of my own making. “Yes.”

  “Then you had alternatives,” he concluded. “No matter how unsavory you found them.”

  “You’re right,” I snapped. “I could have turned to eating flesh as your clan has.”

  Grinding his teeth made his purpled jaw bulge. “You have no idea what made us as we are.”

  Hadn’t I thought the same about him earlier? Drawing on what remained of my calm, I gave him a believable truth. “That earring is all I have left of my family. It was a gift from my uncle.”

  “I heard the plague was worse near Titania.” He was fishing for confirmation, I realized.

  “It is worse the farther south you travel.” The southeast, Titania’s stronghold, was worst.

  “Your family…” He struggled to find the right words.

  I forced them out of my mouth. “They’re dead.”

  Old grief pricked at my heart, but my family had cast me out long before their deaths. When I turned from Hishima’s offer of marriage, they turned from me. They had no choice. Siding with me was tantamount to condoning what Hishima called erratic behavior and would have earned them his ire. Hard to believe I ever respected him, that I had loved him, until the plague shattered his façade. Behind a beautiful mask lurked a yawning void that strangled all hope from my heart.

  Shivering free of the past, I found myself eye level with Murdoch’s chin.

  “You must have some status.” His demeanor softened. “Were you offered no assistance?”

  I glared at his stubble. “I need no one’s help.”

  For better or worse, I was on my own. At least I could depend on myself.

  Murdoch straightened with a wince. “Where would you go if I set you free?”

  Leaning forward, I wet my lips. “I have a cousin in Erania. I could go there.”

  “You realize if you steal from the Araneidae, they will chop off your hands?”

  “I have a trade. I can earn a living.” But I was sorely out of practice with crystal and gold. These days a spade’s handle fit my hand better. I had even learned to hone my own blades.

  Instead of blowing more threats in my ears, he exhaled. “Will you answer my questions?”

  Too bad he neglected to qualify truthfully. “Will you set me free?”

  “You’re hardly caged.” He gestured around us. “I’ll contact your cousin and arrange—”

  “No.”

  His hand came to rest on his sword’s hilt. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

  Hishima had ears everywhere. His reach was far and his grip was iron cold and unbreakable.

  “There is no cousin, is there?” Murdoch cursed. “Has anything you’ve said been true?”

  The heat of his anger singed my cheeks. Drawing myself upright, I faced him. “You asked if I was eager to send you to your death.” Our eyes locked. “Are you so eager to send me to mine?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he measured my words, clearly undecided if I was still lying.

  Shoving from the mattress, he gave me one last look. “I have to go.”

  Tears threatened when he turned his back on me. “Could you untie me first?”

  His hesitation gave me hope. But with a single word, he shattered it.

  “No.”

  Shadows glided across the floor. I watched their steady advance as I lay curled on my side to remove pressure from my aching wrists and ankles. Breathing made my back ache, but Murdoch had trussed me too well. All I could do was lie here, alone in the coming dark, and plot to escape.

  Murdoch would return. I only had to wait.

  And while I waited, I ground my teeth until I feared my gums might bump before he arrived.

  Low voices made me strain my ears to understand their conversation. I picked out the words female and hang. Not two words I enjoyed having associated within my hearing. Not in that tone.

  The knob rattled, and their conversation hushed. I readied the insults I had honed in my head, but the male who entered the room was not Murdoch. He was taller, leaner and his eyes were so black they reminded me of staring into a starless night sky, a void empty of life, vast and vacant.

  “Murdoch tells me he found you in the field.” He stalked closer, frowned. “With our dead.”

  I nodded when no words formed.

  His brow creased. “You’re not mute?”

  “Far from it.” Murdoch entered the room and pushed the door closed.

  The first male grasped my chin and studied me. “What is your purpose in Cathis?”

  Gathering my nerve, I met his stare. “The same as my purpose—”

  “Keep your tongue in check,” Murdoch warned. “He’s not as gentle as I am.”

  He thought himself gentle? My bruised face and throbbing limbs disagreed. Still, there was a sense of coiled anticipation radiating from his friend that made me wish I could avoid his notice.

  “I can be gentle,” the male said, and I didn’t believe him for a moment. “For instance, those bonds must be chafing.” His violent tug on the rope jerked my entire body forward. “Mimetidae silk,” he murmured upon inspection, reverence in his voice. “One of Lleu’s creations, I assume.”

  He eased a finger between the ropes circling my wrists and twisted until agony zinged down my arms. For hours, I’d lamented the loss of sensation in my hands, but I felt each painful twinge now.

  “It is.” Murdoch’s confirmation sounded gruff.

  Dare I hope he disapproved of my rough handling? Or was he simply in shared anguish?

  “I can make the pain stop,” his friend coaxed, “if you tell me why you’re in my city.”

  His city?
“You’re the paladin?”

  “I am.” He leaned close enough I smelled pungent lavender on his clothes. “My clan has lost a great many of our females to the plague.” Another twist of his finger made me gasp. “Recall, if you will, how welcoming the guards were at the gate.” A cruel note entered his low tone. “Now, imagine for me how much warmer their reception might be if I told them you were a gift to lighten the grief in their hearts.” When I flinched, his teeth flashed. “Ah. I see you possess a reasonable imagination. Good. I’d prefer not to use crude language in the presence of females.”

  “Though torturing a member of the fairer sex doesn’t seem to bother you,” I gritted out.

  “This isn’t torture.” His laughter raised hairs along my nape. “This is conversation.”

  “My mistake,” I panted.

  “Vaughn.” Murdoch’s tone held a warning edge.

  Vaughn’s head snapped toward Murdoch, a snarl twisting his lips.

  “Is that happiness to see me?” The soft greeting carried across the room.

  A female wearing an emerald gown stood in the doorway with a fistful of dried lavender that she arranged in a vase on Murdoch’s bureau. Her black hair spilled down her back, past her hips. She was the picture of tranquility, looking upon my torment as if faced with children quarreling.

  How had she snuck in while Murdoch guarded the door? Unless… Had he let her in?

  The anger contorting Vaughn’s expression softened into anticipation. His snarl eased into a smile so tight one fang bit into his bottom lip. He stood, straightening his shirt before turning toward her.

  “Had I seen you there,” he said, strolling to the willowy female’s side, “it would have been.”

  From where I lay, I caught the pair in profile. Hers looked as familiar as she sounded.

  “Maven.” Murdoch frowned at the vase. “This is not a matter for your tender sensibilities.”

  The maven, who was definitely not Isolde, sidestepped Vaughn before he reached her. “The plague stripped me of tender sensibilities, Murdoch. Now. Tell me about this prisoner of yours.”

  Vaughn trailed after her, sliding his finger into the sash around her waist, stopping her in her tracks. When he bent close to her ear, his voice was grim. “She was caught beheading our dead.”