As he worked, I hovered at his shoulder. “If the grotto’s proximity mattered to you, then you must have intended your cache to be part of a contingency plan. Say the city fell, you would take the secret exit through the grotto, stop here and then raid the cache before you went into hiding.”
He shook his head. “Only a coward leaves his city while it’s under siege.”
“Oh?” I savored the view while he worked. “Then why have this made? Why here?”
“The rest of your theory was sound.” He glanced up. “I did this for my family, to provide for them if I was unable to. We were poorer in those days. Their fortunes have improved since then.”
The words fell from my lips before I could catch them. “You have family in Cathis.”
Of course he did. What other tether could tie a male with no clan to Mimetidae land?
“I do.” He nodded. “This cache was meant for my son…and for my wife.”
“You have a wife.”
“I did.” Muscles in Brynmor’s neck twitched.
“I shouldn’t have asked.” It was none of my business, even after… No. It didn’t matter.
His thick voice carried over the frothing water. “We lived separately for years before…”
“You don’t have to tell me.” I didn’t want to hear how his heart belonged to another. Or that his earlier burst of passion was the response of a male deprived from activities in his marital bed.
“It’s not what you think,” was all he said.
“With married males, it never is.”
He didn’t disagree with me, but straightened with a grunt. “Here you are.”
A shimmering gold pendant set with a glossy black stone hung from his fingers on a slender chain. My fingers curled with desire to snatch the bauble and examine it. When he coiled it in my palm and folded my hand closed over it, my covetous heart fluttered despite the blow he had dealt it.
My first treasure—the first spoils earned during my journey—warmed my hand.
“This is yours.” He tapped my clenched fist. “Or it can be if you earn it.”
“A net is all you want?” I wanted to be very sure. “I can weave a large one in two days.”
Appearing to consider my question, he finally said, “A net is all I require.”
Aware of the thin line I tread, unsure why I did so, I nudged him. “Is that all you want?”
“Would you give me more?” His voice took on a rugged quality that gave me chills.
“It depends.” I laughed to loosen the knot in my chest. “What else is in that cache of yours?”
The grin spreading across his face made him dangerously handsome. “Perhaps I’ll show you sometime.” He stepped back and exposed an intricate metal trap set in the stone wall with silvery metal teeth and serrated jaws. I watched him slide five pins into the hinged joints before looking away. His tone was apologetic. “In case you’re tempted to double back and treasure hunt alone.”
“Put your mind at ease.” I wiggled my fingers. “I value my hands too much to risk them.”
He captured my wrist and brought my hand to his mouth, where he kissed my pointer finger.
The gesture was so tender, so unexpected, it shattered me. “Tell me about your wife.”
“We should leave.” He swept past me without a backward glance. “It’s getting late.”
Knowing I should let it go, doubting he would answer me, I caught his arm. “One question.”
His head fell back, and his eyes drank in the sky over our heads. “One.”
“Did you love her?” It was the most important thing I could think to ask.
“Yes.” He shrugged free of me, and I was left alone with the fruits of my curiosity.
Chapter Four
Quiet stifled Brynmor, pressed on him until his chest strained to expand. Not that breathing was a requirement of his new existence, but it was a soothing habit he should maintain while he kept Daraja’s company. The female had questions enough without him inspiring more of them.
Night slid over his skin and left him mourning the loss of the sun’s warmth.
While guiding Daraja to the den, he noticed she was surefooted despite the absence of light. Her clan must be gifted with keen night vision, the same as the Mimetidae. It explained why she was comfortable hunting alone in the dark. Though he wished she hunted during the day instead.
“How long do you think it will be before the hunters try again?” Daraja asked.
It seemed he wasn’t the only one bothered by the silence.
“A couple of days I imagine.” He frowned. “It depends on the purpose behind the kills.”
“You think they may not strike again?” She sounded as doubtful as he felt.
“They killed two canis last night. If they are Mimetidae, then leaving the city will be difficult. Since the plague struck Cathis, guards watch the comings and goings of the citizens much closer than they once did. If the hunters left and returned empty-handed, they would arouse suspicion.”
Meaning they required time to hunt not only their intended targets, but other game as well.
“They also need time to begin curing their trophies before they spoil.” Her sigh caressed his arm. “I wish we knew if they took the same trophies from the second canis as they did the first.”
“It’s been hours since…” Brynmor slowed. “The river would have washed the body away by now.”
“It might have.” Daraja’s touch was gentle on his arm. “But it may still be worth the walk.”
Knowing Errol, he had gone searching for Karenna after Brynmor left with Daraja. Errol might accept Karenna’s death, but he wouldn’t leave her body in the river by choice. Since Brynmor’s hands made him more suited for the task, if the pack failed to retrieve her, then Brynmor would.
“Are you up to it?” Brynmor appraised Daraja. She had walked a good ways for one day.
She brushed past his shoulder. “I offered, didn’t I?”
Rather than return to the den and face the grim countenances of his grieving pack mates, Brynmor fell in step with Daraja and let her lead him to the river. With a grin, he admitted she much improved his view. The way her hips swung while she walked made him think she moved to music heard by her ears alone. What must that be like? To be carefree, with her whole life spread before her?
With a laugh, Daraja said, “It’s less exciting than you might think.”
Clearing his throat, Brynmor pretended he hadn’t been caught thinking out loud. “How so?”
“For one thing, my siblings are all married. They have children or don’t, but their lives have begun. They have someone to welcome them home after a good hunt, someone who shares their dreams and hopes.” She snorted. “Or at least my brothers have the sense to pretend that they do.”
Then they were wise males indeed. “You’re close to your brothers?”
“Yes.” Her voice softened. “They were—are—protective of me.”
“They’re good brothers then.”
“They are.” She asked, “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”
“No.”
“What about your son? He’s your only child?”
“His mother…” Brynmor’s gut tightened. “She has another son.”
“Good for him.” She gestured with her hand. “An older brother is a good thing for a boy.”
The words refused to come the first time. “He’s younger than my son.”
“How is that…?” Daraja’s shoulders tensed. “Oh.”
Once freed, the story flowed from his memory. “My wife’s clan was indebted to mine. Clan war had broken out on their border, and we protected them. But the war ran long and the cost ran high. At the end, their debt was more than they could afford.” He exhaled. “Instead of gold, they offered me a young female from their clan. Her name was Isolde, and she enchanted me. Though I knew she loved another male, deeply, I was convinced that she would learn to love me in time.”
Daraja turned. “If she
loved him, then why not marry him?”
“He was a poor Salticidae farmer,” Brynmor said. “He failed to pay her bride price.”
Her features were carefully kept blank. “Her father sold her.”
“He did.” Brynmor rubbed his face. “She squared her clan’s debt with mine. She prevented a difficult situation from becoming much worse. My clan was poor, and I couldn’t let their debt go uncollected, or rumors of my mercy would spread until my clan starved to pay for my kindness.”
“I understand.” She frowned. “Your wife had one of those private liaisons you mentioned?”
“She did.”
Her head tilted to one side. “How did you react?”
“I cut out her lover’s heart, before her and our son.” His voice turned grave. “Then I ate it.”
Surprise parted her lips. “That was unexpected.”
“I don’t remember doing it.” He ruffled his hair. “The blood, the taste, came after.”
Her eyes bored into his. “Do you regret your actions?”
“To regret meeting my wife is to regret her birthing my son when he was the one good thing born from my life. To regret my actions with her lover is to condone their actions, and I can’t. A vow is a vow, and she broke her promises to me.” He exhaled. “That insult I could not forgive.”
“I take it she never forgave you, either.”
“Never.” He met her gaze. “She would have sunk a blade in my heart if not for her son.”
“Don’t you mean your—?” Daraja’s eyes shut. “She bore her lover’s bastard.”
“She did.”
She peered at him through thick lashes. “You let him live?”
“I did.”
Her sigh of relief was audible. “That was also unexpected.”
“He was raised by his father’s people,” he added before she thought to ask.
The fact he allowed his wife to carry the child to term surprised him as well. After the child was born, Brynmor had their physician announce the babe stillborn. He allowed one of his wife’s relatives to secret the child away to be raised among its father’s clan where Brynmor didn’t have to gaze into its vibrant green eyes and recall the face of the male he killed in a fit of jealous rage.
The brush of slight fingers across his cheek distracted him from his thoughts.
“You really did love her.” Sorrow tinged Daraja’s voice.
“I loved the idea of her at least.” He forced a tight smile. “Very much.”
Stubble along Brynmor’s jaw prickled my palm as I slid my hand down his cheek. “I’m glad you told me.”
“It was a long time ago.” He caught my hand before I reached his chin and held it there.
“Some wounds take longer to heal. Blows dealt to the heart are often more tender.”
He rubbed my finger over his lips absently. “You have a knack for prying secrets from me.”
“I haven’t pried.” No more than usual. “Mainly, I listen and people tell me things.”
“I believe you.” He left my hand fall. “I’ve never spoken to anyone about my wife.”
“Then I’m flattered to be the first.” I tried to turn, but he held me still.
His fingers bit into my arms. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I let him drag me closer, until my palms braced on his chest and his full lips tempted me to distraction. “We should go if we want to return from the river before dawn.”
“We should.” He made no move to leave.
“Brynmor?” I smoothed the fabric of his shirt. “You and your wife…?”
His expression softened. “We parted ways long ago.”
“Good.” I had wanted to be sure. “Then I think… I’m going to take advantage of you.”
His sadness melted into something darker, hungrier, and I was lost. If I left this place in two days’ time without tasting him, I would wonder until the end of my days if salt and sorrows flavored Brynmor’s lips or if his kiss was as sweet as his hidden kindness. His gentle heart was bared to me, and when I should have commiserated and gone, I found myself leaning in, rolling onto tiptoes, wanting more.
“I think…” His head lowered. “I’m going to let you.”
Hovering out of reach, he made claiming his mouth difficult. I linked fingers behind his head and drew him down to me. My tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and I tasted salt dried on his skin. He stiffened when I nipped his chin, but let me explore, let me taste him how I wanted. Only when he began pressing for my lips against his, did I surrender to convention and I kissed him with fierce apology for all the love he gave his wife, the love she could not return, for the son he adored and the bastard child who grew up without his mother or his father to love him.
To my embarrassment, tears sprang in my eyes and flavored our kiss with the tang of grief.
Brynmor broke away and rested his forehead against my shoulder. I placed my hand over his heart and frowned. His pulse was so relaxed I couldn’t feel a beat. I spread my fingers wider.
He caught my wrist. “It’s dangerous for us to be distracted when there are hunters about.”
“Hunters, right.” Twisting free of him, I rubbed my wrist. “We should be on our guard.”
“Daraja…” Heat suffused my name when he spoke it.
“Follow me.” I slipped deeper into the forest, leaving him to hurl swear words at my back.
I had gotten what I wanted, a taste of Brynmor, and now I knew he was still healing from the wounds he and his wife had given each other. Better to forget him before my fool’s heart became a casualty of my fascination with an unavailable male. I was so set on finding a mate and settling down that I hadn’t stopped to ask myself if that sort of permanence was what I actually wanted.
Finding a male I desired was no guarantee of love, or even of compatibility.
I had blithely set out on this journey with the belief I would find the male I wanted, and then what? Bind him with my net and drag him home? Risk the same sort of heartache that had ruined Brynmor? That was not what I wanted. I wanted adventure while I was young enough to enjoy it.
I wanted love, passion, fire. Brynmor’s smoldering gaze promised those things, if I was bold enough to claim them. But I wanted permanence too. Young I may be, but I was past the age for common dalliances, and I wasn’t convinced he was capable of more than a physical relationship.
Assuming he wanted one. Assuming I wanted one.
Pity was not a foundation to base a relationship on. Neither was grief or commiseration.
“Is that the way to the sandbar?” Brynmor called over my shoulder.
I realized I had passed the well-worn path leading down an embankment to the water’s edge. “It’s less steep near those rocks.” I pointed. “That’s where I was hiding when the hunters came.”
He gave me a doubtful look that I ignored as I led on, paying closer attention now.
When the ground began sloping gently toward the sandbar, I said brightly, “Here we are.”
He uttered a harsh grunt that said clearly you got lucky.
I made a production of leaping onto the sand and leaving him behind.
“The body was trapped near those rapids.” I squinted. “I can’t tell if it’s still there.”
“I can only see so far at night.” Brynmor stopped with his shoulder pressed against mine. “It looks like we’re wading in from here. The banks are too steep to make following them practical.”
“I agree.” I bent to remove my boots for the second time tonight with a groan. Blisters made the backs of my heels weep, and at this rate, I’d have open sores tomorrow. A dip in the river may soothe them now, but the skin would rub that much rawer until the next time I donned my boots.
“You can wait here if you’d like,” Brynmor offered. He must have noticed my expression.
Once my feet were bare, I set my boots on a nearby stone ledge, then propped my spears in a shady nook between rocks to conceal them. “You might need my help.”
His compliment surprised me. If he had been one of my brothers—or my father—he would have ordered me to wait for him here, then called for my help after realizing that he needed me.
I stood and dusted my hands. “All right then.”
We entered the river together. Silt squished between my toes in a comforting way that spoke of the familiar. I was more at home in the river than on the land, and in times like this I realized how blessed I had been to have a father who made his living selling treasures our river provided.
It made me wonder for the span of a heartbeat if a male like Brynmor, used to living on land, could embrace life on the water.
“I see something.” His hand closed over my upper arm.
Ahead of us, caught in the whirl of the rapids, was a mass of dark fur. It was misshapen for a canis, and I soon learned why. A hunter myself, I wasn’t squeamish about what they had done to the body. I might have admired their precision in another time and place, but this killing was made personal by my involvement with Brynmor. The way he stroked the mass of matted fur reverently told me we had found the missing canis. My heart broke for the tiny pup who would soon realize that her parents were never coming back. At least she wasn’t facing a grim future alone. She had a pack.
If Errol failed her, then Brynmor would ensure she was well-tended, that much I knew.
My certainty made me wonder again—what was his connection to the pack? There had been no right time to ask him yet, but his loyalty to the Mimetidae made me think perhaps shame had driven Brynmor from Cathis. Perhaps the paladin had offered Brynmor a position as warden over the canis. It would enable him to earn a living and do his clan a service while giving him privacy to mend his heart. Perhaps he considered himself clanless because, without his wife or his son, he felt detached from his clansmen. Without family, he no longer felt he was a part of their clan.
Or perhaps I was romanticizing a person content to live among canis, unfettered by society.
It seemed I suffered insatiable curiosity where Brynmor was concerned. He had charmed me the first night we met and every moment we spent together reinforced that fascination. It was as if he had cast a net over me. What worried me most was how content I was to let him haul me in.
A Cast of Shadows: An Araneae Nation Story Page 4