A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (30 page)

I hoped there were stores inside the kitchen. I’d starve before I ate meat. I had nibbled bread the night before. Bits of dried fruit had helped stave off hunger pangs. Yet the ache in my gut worsened daily, and the scents of the freshly picked herbs in my arms sparked the worst pains yet.

Upon entering the kitchen, Nerys indicated the pots brimming with water. “I should go.”

“It will take several hours for a serviceable broth.” I waved her on. “Once this is simmering, I’ll meet you in the north tower. Be ready for me to examine the patients. I’ll bring Vaughn too.”

We needed a better idea of what Murdoch would see once he arrived this afternoon.

Nerys flitted from the room, as if the results had given her feet wings. I envied her energy.

Once I had the fire roaring, I hefted the largest pot onto a hook over it, adding the bones and the herbs. Content the ingredients were sufficient to provide an adequate meal, I added a second pot. Offset from the flames, this one could simmer lower and longer, sparing me from preparing the same meal twice. While foraging through the pantry, I discovered several varanus steaks and trimmed the fat for Brynmor. The best surprise was a basket crammed with limp root vegetables.

I lifted the topmost offering and bit into it, surprised by the slight crunch.

In the last and smallest pot, I prepared a hearty vegetable stew, munching through the peels I had sliced more from habit than necessity. I choked when firm hands grasped my shoulders and a graveled voice rumbled near my ear. “You’re making a lot of noise very early in the morning.”

I relaxed against Vaughn, smiling when he buried his face against my neck. His arms were heavy where they wrapped around me. “I am?”

“Yes.” The word came out muffled.

“Your mother is awake, then?” With my cheek resting against his, I scratched his scalp.

“Mmm.” He all but purred in my ear.

“I’ll assume that’s a yes. Good.” I rolled my shoulder, and he straightened with a groan. “We have good news this morning. Nerys reported positive results in patients given dayflower oil.”

He leaned a hip against the counter and stared past me. “How are the others?”

“They’re the same. What are you—?” I let my gaze follow his. “Oh. I’m making broth.”

“I can tell.” His chest rose and fell in quick succession. “Three varieties.”

“Close, but two are varanus.” He frowned at me until I clarified. “Different herbs, but I used the same bones.” I patted his shoulder. “I’m impressed you noticed the difference. The last is, of course, a vegetarian stew.” My stomach chose that instant to gurgle. “There’s enough to share.”

“Keep your food to yourself until I can arrange delivery of fresh vegetables.” He rubbed his face. “I should be taking better care of you. Forgive me.” His earnest expression had me reaching for him. “I’m used to being on the road, among males, fighting to survive, not being home or—”

“Living for yourself.” I set his mind at ease. “While I appreciate you wanting to take care of me, I can fend for myself. You protected me on the journey home, and here. I thank you for that. I admit things would have been…unpleasant…had I met the Theridiidae on my own. I will never be a fighter, so your skill was appreciated. But here, in your home, I don’t need you tending me.”

His expression softened. “What if I want to tend you?”

I patted his cheek. “Then perhaps, on occasion, I will allow you to. For now, I’ve done more cooking today than I have since leaving for Erania. I told Nerys to expect me. Will you come?”

“We need as many witnesses as possible, though I doubt my word counts as much. Murdoch made a good point. Regardless of my oaths, or theirs, everything I’ve done will be discounted as the actions of a son to save his mother or an heir preserving his father’s dynasty. His word and, I think Nerys’s, will be our best defense.” His gaze held apology. “Few believe in walkers here.”

“I know.” Fewer and fewer clans believed in spirit walkers anywhere outside the Salticidae.

“Isolde’s actions will be called into question.” He shifted aside. “We’ll find no help there.”

Support from their maven or not, “I don’t need your clan’s approval.”

“If you’re to become our next maven,” he said, “then that’s exactly what you need.”

I could have fought him. I was tempted. He hadn’t asked me to be his maven, and I certainly hadn’t accepted, but this was no time to argue. After the worst was over, I’d make myself heard.

Until then, “We’re running short on time. If we hurry, we can check room two, double check room one, and treat room three. If the gods bless us, we can have the first two rooms fed before Murdoch arrives.” I snapped my fingers. “I’d almost forgotten. We should review the headcount. The first thing we’ll be asked is who’s alive and who’s dead. We must have those answers on the tips of our tongues. There’s nothing we can do about the garden, and I regret that, but at least we can tell the families the fates of their loved ones. Knowledge might ease the worst of their pain.”

As I hurried down the hall, mentally ticking off other last-moment tasks, I heard a chuckle.

“Have I said something that amuses you?” My pace hastened. The more tasks I remembered, the more I was certain I had forgotten some. He’d have to keep up if he wanted to talk with me.

“Not at all.” His lengthy stride left me behind. He glanced back, calling over his shoulder, “I was admiring your efficiency.” His smile turned smug. “You’re behaving like a maven already.”

The spark of panic blazing through my chest was snuffed out easily enough.

Our life threads might be tied, but he had not proposed any permanent union to me. We were not bound in a trial union, as Rhys and Lourdes had been. He certainly hadn’t asked for my hand.

Sikya would make Vaughn walk through fire for me. I admit it. I smiled at the notion.

Oh, I wasn’t fool enough to believe for a moment Vaughn had abstained from sex as I had. I respected the fact he was a virile male who had lived a mercenary lifestyle that meant females of many clans had no doubt sampled their handsome guardian. His fierce reputation no doubt lured the adventurous. His handsome face no doubt drew the sensuous. But none of them knew him the way I did. Most saw the brawler, the fearsome swordsman with a tendency toward anger.

He was both of those things, but he was infinitely more. He was a child with a mother whose love he could not earn. He was a brother whose impulsive act had ended a life. And he was a son whose father doted on him well past the end of his life, a love Vaughn would have cherished, if I had been able to tell him. But I couldn’t. If he learned of Brynmor or Isolde learned of Kowatsi, I would be leading them both down destructive paths. There was a reason I, who could see spirits, had never seen my parents’ souls or the souls of any family member residing in the spiritlands.

The living could not dwell among the dead.

I would straddle the line until one day I stepped fully into the spiritlands. It was my blessing and my curse to know there was existence beyond this life, to know that conveying a few simple words from one soul to a person they left behind could ease old wounds and sow seeds of hope.

But it could also destroy them both.

Chapter Seventeen

Heads turned when Vaughn and I entered the first room in the north tower.

Crystin perched on the edge of her cot with a blanket tucked around her legs. Nerys sat in a chair near her bedside, but with her chair angled toward the center of the room. A book lay open across her lap. After closing the tome, a collection of folklore, she dropped it onto Crystin’s lap.

“I’m hungry.” Crystin peered around me. “Nerys said you were bringing food.”

“It has a while to go if you want your broth to taste stronger than water.” Ah, yes. This child was spoiled by her cousin. Life was fleeting, and with Crystin’s ailments, I couldn’t fault Nerys.

With a pout, Crystin fell back onto her bed. “Fine. I can wait.” Her head lifted. “Is the canis with you?” She sounded eager. “He visited us earlier. I taught him to play fetch with my shoe.”

I must have misunderstood. “The canis visited you alone? And you played fetch? With a—”

“Shoe,” she finished. “He’s a good boy. I think he’d make an excellent guard.
Oh
.” Her eyes rounded. “Can the guards tame a few more—five or six? I’m sure they’d make vicious attack—”

“
Crystin
.” Nerys swatted Crystin’s knee and adjusted her covers. “They’re wild animals. I don’t know how Mana tamed her…
pet
…but Maven Isolde will not allow more of those beasts to roam the city. It’s too dangerous.” She held up a hand, staving off further argument. “I know the late Paladin Brynmor favored them.” She shushed Crystin again. “I know they are the symbol of his dynasty.” Crystin made a growl to do any canis proud. “But you cannot have one as a pet.”

Brynmor, the former Mimetidae paladin, had played fetch with a sick youth and her shoe.

My mind refused to bend around the idea. It did make me wonder if the canis hadn’t pushed to the fore, but would a wild animal behave as they claimed? Perhaps their souls were bonding.

Shaking my head, I dismissed all fanciful thoughts of pet canis. “Listen to your cousin.”

Another aggravated sound and Crystin flopped onto her side, facing the wall rather than me.

I sighed. Favor among this clan would be hard-won. “Perhaps the canis can visit later.”

When Crystin peeked over her shoulder at me, grinning wide, I understood I’d been played.

“She’s precocious.” Nerys’s smile was equal parts love and exasperation.

I kept my smile polite. “Indeed.”

Yet the fact Brynmor had visited them made me wonder. Had he snuck from the kitchen into the north tower? Was the tiny courtyard connected to the gardens? And what brought him here?

I’d have to ask when he woke. No wonder he’d slept in. He’d played throughout the night.

“Do you have the headcount prepared?” Urgency made Vaughn’s foot tap.

“Yes.” Nerys scooped a pile of loose papers from the ground. The ink was smudged, but her handwriting legible. “I have the names of all the females housed in the tower. Based on what few papers Cleit left in his rooms…” her voice lowered, “…the names on the list are one-third of those admitted to the tower. The other two thirds…” She swallowed. “They must be in the garden. I’ve counted two-quarters of the garden, but some—their family will have to make the identification.”

I set my hands on my hips and made a show of surveying the room. “Well, it’s a start.”

“If Crystin has recovered enough to play with the canis, then she can tend the sick while you finish your count,” Vaughn said. “We need that information now. We have visitors coming this evening. They expect answers. Things will go better for us all if we give them what they want.”

Nerys shook her head. “Crystin can’t be expected to—”

“I’ll do it.” During our talk, Crystin had pushed onto her elbows. Eavesdropping on an adult conversation proved an irresistible temptation at her age, or any age, for such a
precocious
youth.

“Good.” He nodded to Crystin. “Nerys, get started so you don’t lose the light.” He walked to the lone window and inhaled. “There’s a storm coming. You won’t want to get caught out in it.”

After casting Crystin one last, pained glance, Nerys said, “I’ll find you once I’ve finished.”

His expression softened. “Crystin will be fine. She’s Mimetidae, a fighter. She survived this outbreak of the yellow death, so she is strong enough to do the task we’ve set before her. Right?”

“Right,” Nerys muttered.

“Right,” Crystin chirped.

“Right,” I agreed, drawing him after me. “Now, let’s you and I tend to the business at hand. If Nerys’s initial observations stand, then we should treat the third room’s patients immediately.”

“I agree.” He paused long enough for Nerys to leave and Crystin to adjust herself for guard duty. After opening the door, he ushered me into the second room. “If you need anything, scream and we’ll come. Scream as loud as you can. Loud as you would if, say, a pack of rabid canis—”

“
Vaughn
.” I grasped his arm and stuffed him into the second room. Crystin’s eyes widened and her skin paled. “If you yell, one of us will hear you.” I promised, “We won’t stray too far.”

Her lips worked, but no sound escaped. She fisted her sheets. “I c-can do this.”

“Yes, you can.” I cast a stern look. “Your clansmen are depending on you.”

Lips tight, she nodded, surer this time.

Once I shut the door, I leaned into it. “You haven’t been around children at all, have you?”

He scratched at his scalp. “It’s that obvious?”

“Somewhere along the line of you encouraging a bedbound child to imagine herself ravaged by a pack of rabid canis—yes—I entertained an inkling of doubt you had no experience soothing youths.” And I had thought his attempts to calm and encourage me lacked tact. A lifetime among his warrior clansmen had done nothing to teach him softer emotions for sure. Having Isolde for a mother couldn’t have helped. When his gaze touched on the door, I said, “No. Leave her alone.”

“If I scared her, I should…” He appeared at a loss.