A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (28 page)

“The dead are in the garden.” Vaughn sounded matter-of-fact. “It’s warm enough the bodies are ripening. Once the worst has passed, we’ll perform the proper burial rites as we discussed.”

As I crept closer to Murdoch, I planned my strategy. Distract and detain seemed wisest.

A dubious light entered his eyes. “Do you mind if I see them? Pay my respects?”

Vaughn placed me behind him. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Don’t see the harm.” His brow creased. “Unless you think I won’t like what I find?”

“No one could like the contents of that garden.” I shivered at the thought. “Trust me.”

“Mana’s right.” Vaughn stepped closer to him. “There’s nothing you need to see there.”

“I’ve been a guard long enough to tell when I’m being given the runaround.” He sounded as if our attempt to do so had insulted him. “This is a dangerous time for an heir to lose his allies.”

“Allies who threaten me risk severance of another kind.” Vaughn grasped his sword hilt. He was calm, so sure of his skill that the threat of unsheathing his weapon made most males cringe.

Murdoch didn’t cringe. “Heirs who keep secrets make enemies.” He stood his ground. “Show me, Mana. Let me see for myself what’s been happening behind the tower’s walls. As the male responsible for keeping the city safe, her walls guarded, I deserve to see what my efforts have wrought. Show me. Now.”

Brynmor chose that moment to return. Murdoch’s gaze fastened on him and his jaw opened.

A wet and meaty
plop
made me flinch.

Vaughn’s eyes were narrow, and fury burned there.

Gathering my nerve, I let my gaze lower in slow increments until I spied the canis. His teeth were bared in a daring smile. At my heel, almost touching my foot, he had left a monstrous gift.

A gnarled arm, rotting from the bone, reached dead fingers toward me.

In my haste to escape the macabre offering, I leapt into Vaughn, knocking us into the wall.

“That’s a…” Murdoch stared where I no longer dared to look.

“An arm,” Vaughn supplied.

Shrugging out of his shirt, Murdoch used the fabric as a glove to lift the severed appendage.

Brynmor yipped, whirled a circle then barked again.

“He wants me to follow him.” Asking Vaughn’s permission rather than demanding this time. Murdoch was learning. When Vaughn kept quiet, Murdoch said, “This, ah, should be returned.”

My link to Brynmor hummed.
“Let him come.”
He yipped.
“The time for trust is now.”

Isolde’s lies were unraveling before my eyes, and I could do nothing to stop their fraying. He was once the Mimetidae’s beloved paladin. He wouldn’t harm his clan or his son, I believed that. No soul would risk what his had to save his legacy only to toss it aside at the first sign of trouble.

“We may be close to a cure.”
More time, we needed more time.
“Why not wait—?”

“He will make a good ally.”
The canis whipped his tail.
“He’s a good male. I observed him before I let him catch me.”
That part was said with a sniff.
“The other guards respect him. If you win his loyalty, the others will follow. We need him in order for Isolde to keep popular opinion.”

“I trust you.”
Three words I never expected to say to Brynmor of the Mimetidae.

When I faced his son, a different three words came to mind, but I banished those.

“Mana?” Vaughn looked at me, expectant.

I flushed. “Yes?”

He stood closer now. When had he gotten so close?

“You know what this means. Once he’s seen the garden, there’s no unseeing it. He’ll know.” He bent low. “I trust your judgment. Tell me. What thoughts churn in that lovely head of yours?”

I glanced past his shoulder to see Murdoch had turned to give us privacy.

“I think it’s only a matter of time before your clansmen realize that the females they thought were protected are either languishing in the tower or laid to rest in the garden.” I put my hand on his chest. “Murdoch’s position gives him the ability to weigh facts and evidence. If we grant him access, explain Isolde’s reasoning was clouded by her illness, inform him of Nerys’s success, I think he’ll see the merit in our experiment. I think he’ll allow us time to determine whether that initial success can be duplicated or not before his sense of honor demands he informs your clan.”

“I see now how you felled my Mother.” His hand covered mine. “You are very persuasive.”

“Oddly enough, I can picture your mother as a tree.” I snorted. “Her roots run deep in Cathis, and chopping through her trunk would take more strength than I’ve got. She’ll be standing proud long into her twilight years, don’t doubt that. She will weather this and be a better maven for it.”

With a wry twist of his lips, he said, “I notice you said nothing of tree rings.”

“Some things are sacred among females.” I thumped his chest. “Our ages are one of them.”

He cracked a smile, the first real one I’d seen in days, and my worries scattered along with my wits. The need to comfort him overshadowed my insecurities. Our link thrummed tight in our chests and drew us to one another. He’d needed that smile, the promise of better times, before we faced the garden’s grisly reminder of how precarious Isolde’s and Vaughn’s futures had become.

When he offered, I clasped hands with him. We faced Murdoch together.

“We could use an ally with your skills.” Vaughn swept his hand toward the final bend in the hall, from which the garden entryway was visible. “First, we’ll tour the garden. Then we’ll talk.”

Murdoch nodded, leading the way.

As we followed, I prayed my instincts were right and that Brynmor hadn’t done us harm.

Chapter Sixteen

Warm air swept this section of hallway, swirling fresh decay around my face. The smell hit me, pungent and sickening. Beside me, Vaughn coughed into his fist, eyes watering. His throat was rough, dry when he cleared it. I had thought emotion choked him, but Murdoch coughed too.

Both breathed through their mouths and wore tight expressions. Both moved stiffer and less sure than their natural gates. Neither could scent, and both were at a disadvantage because of it.

I knew when Murdoch caught his first glimpse of the garden, and I remembered my own.

His spine stiffened, shoulders tensed. He stared at the arm he carried rather than lift his eyes.

“How many?” he asked in a rasping voice.

Neither of us answered. Neither of us knew.

“How many bodies?” Murdoch lost his starch. He began slumping.

“Nerys, Cleit’s niece, is performing a proper count.” Since Cleit hadn’t kept records. “She’s also crosschecking each person in the towers against the names of her clanswomen so that we’ll know who is living and who…so we can match families to proper bodies when the time comes.”

He was nodding, but Murdoch’s expression betrayed his shock.

“I must tell the others,” he finally said. “They should know—be able to prepare themselves.”

“Not yet.” A glance cut my way before Vaughn addressed Murdoch in a low voice. “I must ask you to postpone such an announcement, for now. There are other factors we’d like you to—”

“I won’t be a party to covering for Isolde’s mistake. We deserved to know.” His palm spread against the wall for support. “There are husbands out waiting on their wives…assuming no news is good news.” He flung the arm into the garden, chest heaving. “Is this all? Or are there more?”

“Cleit told us the dead were here.” I believed him. I wanted to believe him. I didn’t want to stumble across more bodies, but I would ask Nerys to be sure. “We haven’t performed a search.”

“What have you done, then?” Murdoch spun, one foot edging onto grass. He leapt into the hall, onto the stone, as if that contact had burned him. “For days you’ve been here. You tended to your mother well enough. Yet you made no effort to right her mistakes.” His fingers trembled on the hilt of his sword. “It’s not right or honorable to keep secrets affecting the lives of your clan.”

“Murdoch—” I shifted closer to him.

“No. Let him speak. I’ve been home a matter of days. Yes. I tended my mother first.” Anger crackled in the air between them. “She’s more than my mother, she is my maven. I swore an oath of fealty to her the same as you did. Her wellbeing comes before us all.” Vaughn curled his lips. “Draw your sword. Do it.” He shoved me hard against the wall behind him. “Go for first blood.”

“Vaughn, you can’t do this.” I reached for him, and he shrugged me aside. “Please. Listen.”

“I accept.” Murdoch drew his sword. “Mana, you’ll want to give us room.”

Vaughn did the same, swinging his blade in warming arcs, loosening his muscles.

“This is not the solution.” I sought Brynmor, but he danced out of range. “If we could—”

“I’m done with talking.” Voice strained, Murdoch lunged.

Metal clanged and sent hairs prickling along my nape.

Beautiful male, infuriating male, Vaughn risked my life and his. Had he given that any thought? I doubted he had. His brow shone with sweat. His hair clung to his temples. Murdoch mirrored his panting breaths and harsh grunts when impact staggered them both. They fought hard but lacked a killing edge to their blows. Despair and fury fueled Murdoch’s swings, hope propelled Vaughn.

Stubborn males fought with their stubborn pride. I stood my ground. Let them bleed.

“Yield.” Vaughn panted through the next blow.

Murdoch grimaced. “I’ll offer you the same chance.”

Blade swinging wide, Vaughn’s sword caught the edge of Murdoch’s. “I do not yield.”

Neither male moved with the swiftness they had moments earlier. Both lunged deeper. Both put their weight into each arc of their blades. They were well matched. I thought evenly matched.

For an instant, Vaughn’s gaze locked with mine, saw my disapproval. “I tire of this.”

He let Murdoch press his advantage. Swords crossed. They stared at one another across the tangle of sharp metal. Razor edges neared Vaughn’s throat. Too close. The blade was too close.

Fear and anger churned my blood. “Swords down. Put them down. Now.”

They ignored me.

Metal continued its singing, clashing on metal, echoing through the hallway.

Well, my threat had renewed their vigor at least. I managed one step before Brynmor’s teeth closed over my ankle. I yelped and cursed. Caught off balance, I fell in a sprawl of fur and arms.

As I lay on the floor, swearing at Brynmor, Murdoch’s gaze slanted my way.

“Your female’s hurt.” He gave Vaughn no chance to reply. “Yield and go to her.”

I pushed upright and scuttled to a safe distance from them and Brynmor.

Brynmor made our mental connection hum.
“It’s a matter of honor.”

“I wouldn’t want to cost Vaughn his precious honor,” I muttered. Murdoch wheezed a laugh. Vaughn was considerably less amused. He ended the fight with a quick combination of moves he must have learned from Rhys. They were fierce, precise, and Murdoch had no chance to recover.

A heartbeat passed. Murdoch’s blade slipped from his grasp. Vaughn pressed his sword into Murdoch’s throat. A thin line of blood formed, but the males didn’t notice or weren’t concerned.

“Now, as I was saying…” Vaughn eased his stance when Murdoch relaxed. “Go home. Rest. Think on what you saw here and what it means for our clan, but keep the news quiet. When your shift ends tomorrow, come to the eastside door. Bring another guard, one you trust.” He paused. “One day will make no difference to the dead, but it might make all the difference to the living.”

“And if I don’t?” Murdoch challenged.

“You were here when Father died. Many challenged Mother’s rule. Duels were fought in the streets and blood flowed. I would rather avoid that when the outcome will be the same.” Vaughn withdrew. “These are my people. I’ve bled and killed for them. No one will take them from me.”

“That you have.” With a curt nod, Murdoch turned. “You’ve earned yourself a day.”

As his footsteps receded, my shoulders slumped. I stared up at Vaughn, who was likewise in worse shape for the wear of the past few days. His steps dragged as he crossed to me and offered a hand up. I snorted at his bloody offering. My knees were bruised, but I got my feet under me.

“You gambled with my life.” I dusted my palms. “You do realize that?”

Hurt tightened his expression. “You’re mistaken.”

“Our life threads are tied. If he had slain you…” I couldn’t finish the thought.

Closing the space between us, Vaughn tipped up my chin. “Do you really think I would have risked you? I’ve sparred with Murdoch before, with all the guardsmen. It’s how Rhys and I once entertained ourselves. I know his tells. He was hurting. He needed to vent. He understands sweat better than cheap talk. His rage was channeled and bled. Now his worst edges have been dulled.”

“One misstep would have taken you from me.” My chest tightened. “You were thoughtless.”

Wrapping me in arms that smelled of forest and sweat, Vaughn kissed my temple.