A Kiss of Venom (An Araneae Nation Novella) (12 page)

Though Isolde regarded me kindly, her gray hair and wrinkles making her grandmotherly in appearance, she was a renowned warrior in her own right. She led the Mimetidae after all. If she wanted, she could take what she desired from me with the same ease the Theridiidae could.

Instead, alliance hung in the frigid air between us. Join our clans. Start anew.
Take revenge
.

“I’ll agree to the binding, and I’ll outfit your clan with our finest armor, but if your clansman fails to avenge my parents’ death by the new moon, I won’t wed him. If he fails, then your clan must remain and safeguard us until I find a partisan of my own choosing.”

Her smile was slow in coming. No doubt she had weighed every angle before saying, “Agreed.” She stood and grabbed my arm, hauling me in the direction I’d come from, where the tunnels began. Waving her hand, Isolde waited until a male appeared at my elbow. “Take her home.”

I took a step before facing her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. We bargained. We each got what we wanted. It was a fair deal.” She cocked her head to one side. “Know this. I want results, the same as you.” Her toothy grin made another appearance. “The faster your clan is bound to mine, the faster our swords will lift in your defense.” Her expression turned earnest. “I want to help. Gods know I do, but I can’t afford to pay favors when I’ve empty pockets. We’ll reclaim your city, protect your people—”

“—but not until after the ceremony,” I supplied.

She nodded an affirmation.

Despite the way my stomach knotted, I set my jaw. “Can you secure the sanctuary?”

“I can and will.” Her gaze lifted to the stars. “I’ll see to your parents’ arrangements.”

“Thank you, but I’ll see to them myself so long as you’ll guard my stewards.”

“Consider it done.”

Another gesture brought several males forth. I noticed the tall warrior was not among them. Scanning each face, I wondered which was meant for me. I decided it didn’t matter. I could afford no fanciful notions of courtship now.

“Have your chosen at the sanctuary in an hour.” I gave her my back. “Don’t be late.”

She slapped her thigh. “No cold feet on this one.”

Her merry cackles echoed as I marched down the tunnel’s gullet and toward my fate.

Silk whispered beneath the soles of my bare feet. Each step down the aisle carried me closer to the podium, and the cleric and the destiny I couldn’t avoid. I was the eldest daughter of the Araneidae clan heads, and the youngest maven ever appointed. My reign had begun in blood.

News of my parents’ death had traveled fast. On its heels came the realization I
alone controlled the purse strings for the richest clan in the Araneae Nation, and I was unbound to a male, placing me and my clan in mortal danger. This farce of a binding was my only hope.

Exhaling a shaky breath, I continued my procession with my head high and eyes forward.

My steps slowed as I noticed the barren walls. I had no cause to visit the sanctuary during winter, when the ornate tapestries were packed for the season. Their absence robbed the space of its comforting presence. Woven with the life threads of nested pairs, the tapestries were a treasure greater than gold. They were also the reason I ordered my cleric to remain belowground and guard them rather than preside over the ceremony. I wished for my cleric, but theirs must do.

Isolde’s warriors ringed the room. Their armor held a dullness to match their expressions, both having lost their shine long ago. The tallest among them stood two heads above my height of five feet. His black hair brushed broad shoulders, and his eyes, the fierce green of new growth in spring, tracked me with predatory interest that raised gooseflesh. He seemed…familiar to me.

Mimetidae picked their teeth with the bones of their enemies, after said enemies were spit-roasted and eaten. My palms sweated as I wondered which of his hungers heated his gaze.

Once I reached the cleric’s feet, I knelt. I bowed my head, but not before I glimpsed twin shrouds spun from the same saffron-colored silk as the runner rolled down the center aisle. Araneidae gold, my clan color. There was no mistaking that shade of dye, no comfortable illusion I could retreat behind, no escaping the fact my parents lay there, lifeless and gone from this world. Reining in hot tears, I stared where my hands clutched the silken fall of my gown. I was golden and glorious. Even my dark hair shimmered with glittering ribbons and adornments, all woven by the males of my clan.

Amazing what could be accomplished in an hour, when lives were at stake.

Rhythmic pounding in my ears unsettled my stomach. I closed my eyes and wished I could block out the sound of the battering ram slamming home against the sanctuary’s barred doors. Frustrated beyond patience, I coughed into my fist and hoped the cleric took the hint and began.

He didn’t. Instead, he gestured toward Isolde, and I glanced where she lounged on a bench in the first row. Smoke spiraled from the corner of her mouth courtesy of the rolled tube of paper pinched between her lips. Embers flared red at the end before she stood and stamped out the light with her boot heel.

Though my lip almost curled at her crassness, I honored the manners Mother had taught me.

“Isolde, Maven of the Mimetidae clan,” he addressed her. “You’ve come bearing a gift?”

Her weathered face split wide in a grin. “As a matter of fact, I have.” She turned to her right, and I followed her seeking gaze until it lit upon the face of the same tall warrior I’d admired. A jerk of her chin summoned him forward. “I offer my youngest son, Rhys, as partisan.”

I gaped as he approached.
He
was my gift? I’d known her plan, but I hadn’t realized…

He stopped at my side. His fingers drummed the hilt of his sword, which made the worn scabbard tap his muscular calf left bare by his ivory ceremonial kilt. I glanced between Rhys and the cleric, who nodded encouragement as he asked, “You would serve as this maven’s partisan?”

My gaze flew to Rhys’s face where I read grim acceptance. “I will serve her.”

Regret tightened my chest, but I tamped it down. Both of us were prisoners of fate now.

The most damaged heart can fly with the right pair of wings.

Everlong

© 2010 Hailey Edwards

Daughters of Askara, Book 1

Madelyn’s life is far from fairytale perfect. She is second in line for the throne of a corrupt, brutal monarchy. Or at least she was until her dark guardian sacrificed his life to hide her safely in a realm of infinite possibilities.

For years she’s lived among a colony of escaped slaves as her guardian’s widow. Even in this simple life, though, nothing is as it seems. Her hero kept a secret—a younger brother named Clayton Delaney. Warrior, winged demon…and the man who now wants to lay claim to her heart.

No longer cast in his brother’s shadow, Clayton meets all obstacles head on, including one named Maddie. His infatuation with her reaches the breaking point when she undergoes a royal rite of passage, going into heat and pushing them both over the edge.

Just as Maddie learns that some risks are worth taking, she discovers that her guardian may be alive. And she’s forced to make a choice between the man she’d thought she loved, and the demon willing to lend her his wings.

Product Warnings

This book contains virginal angst, a hero who’s too nice for his own good, wings, claws, and convenient use of glamour. It contains heartbreaking loss, conversation with a woodland creature, and sweet, sweet demon loving.

Chapter One

Realm of Askara, City of Rihos

Impact jarred my bones as one swift kick from Emma introduced my back to the floor of the courtyard. My head thumped dully against the ground, snapping together teeth over tongue and filling my mouth with a fresh burst of coppery liquid.

Through the dust stirred up by our sparring, her brows knit together over serious azure eyes.

We weren’t blood related, but she was my sister in all the ways that mattered.

“You win.” Shooting pain stabbed my lungs on each shallow inhale. “I think something’s broken.” I curbed the whine from my voice before she heard it too.

“Maddie, this is the third time this week.” The training stick fell from her hands to land with a hollow thud.

I watched the stick roll just out of her reach and breathed easier.

She dropped to the hard ground beside me and dug her knees into my tender side. Another whimper forced its way out over my bruised lips. “Stop whining.” Emma inched closer. “It’s not that bad. The bone didn’t even break the skin this time. Just hold still for a minute.”

Her brows gathered again as she walked her fingers across my chest, tracing the lines of each rib from base to tip. Midway down my sternum, I hissed, “That’s the one.”

She acted like she hadn’t heard and tapped the sore spot with her pointed fingernail. “You mean this one?”
Tap.
“This rib right here?”
Tap. Tap.

Pain flared bright red behind my eyes. “Poke me with your finger one more time and I swear to Zaniah, I will rip it from your hand.”

One side of her mouth quirked upward in a wry smile. “If you had the nerve to back that up, I might be scared.” Her gaze raked me from head to toe. “But you don’t.” Soft curls bounced around her face. “You’re pathetic. The first female born of the two demon houses and you’re weaker than a kitten.”

The insult was so unexpected, so brutal, I couldn’t think past it. I didn’t register the decision my brain made to punch Emma, so I’m not sure which of us was more surprised to find my fist planted in her face. Cartilage crunched under my knuckles and blood ran from her nose like a sieve. My mouth opened on a gasp.

“If you say you’re sorry,” she growled, “I’ll thread your rib through your lung for you. It’s about time you started sticking up for yourself.”

I bared my own bloodstained teeth in a grin and rolled the shoulder she’d dislocated earlier. “I was just going to ask if you could bleed someplace else. You’re drenching me.”

Her pale pink lips were painted red and swollen, much the same as mine. She spat on the ground, then dropped into a sprawl across the patch of dirt beside me and took my hand in hers.

Her fingers squeezed. Mine squeezed back, our injuries already forgiven and forgotten. Emma’s minor wounds would mend within the hour, mine knitted together even now. We knew from experience the bones she’d broken in me would heal after a solid night’s rest. We had no cause to hold on to insults or anger.

“So.” She cleared her throat. “Tomorrow is our big day. Have you given any thought to the color you’ll choose for us?”

I willed the vibrant blue sky overhead to hold my attention. I didn’t want to think about tomorrow while we had borrowed time left today, but the thoughts tumbled out one after another.

My ascension was the final step in claiming my title as an Askaran heiress, not that I wanted it or even needed the confirmation as second in line for the throne. I would never rule Askara. That unpleasant task fell to my elder sister, Nesvia. Still, the kingdom expected a spectacle and Mother did enjoy putting on a show.

“Maddie?” Her elbow jabbed my side.

I winced. “I chose lavender.”

Her fingers traced lazy circles, loops and swirls across her cheeks and pert nose. “My favorite color.”

“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

For all the difference it would make. By this time tomorrow, ritualistic tattoos would cover our bodies. Mine would denote my lineage. Hers would be an ornate branding to identify her owner, the royal house of Askara.

Emma tensed and dug her fingernails into my palm seconds before a long, dark shadow cast across my face. Squinting into the sun, I glanced up and caught a hint of tailored black velvet breeches adorned with the silver threads symbolic of First Court consorts. The pants were topped with a similar dark shirt and matching vest. The heavy embroidery indicated how high up the social ladder my stepfather had managed to climb.

“Lord Archer.”

I didn’t miss his flicker of interest when his gaze roved over the blood and sweat slicking my skin. I’d seen the same expression too many times to mistake its cause.

“Princess Madelyn.”

Formality hardened the tone he used when calling on business rather than pleasure. Emma’s grip loosened. He hadn’t come for us. Not this time at least.

I offered thanks to the divine goddess that Askaran nobles prized virginity. I could not be touched until after my ascendancy, and as my chosen handmaiden, neither could Emma. But our meager protection’s expiration date was fast approaching, as evidenced by his arrival.

“Queen Eliya wishes me to remind you that your ascendancy ceremony is tomorrow, and that you are to be prepared for her personal inspection no less than one hour prior to its commencement.”

Archer nudged Emma’s shoulder with the toe of his dress shoe, then stomped the ground below her ear as if he would enjoy crushing her face beneath his heel.

Assured of her attention, he addressed her. “Emmaline, you will prepare your ward to the queen’s exact specifications. Tomorrow is a very important day for the royal line.” He glanced between us. “Even the bastards.”

Emma pushed from the ground to her feet and leaned down to offer me a grimy but much-needed hand up. “Careful.” She lifted me slowly until my feet bore my own weight. Halflings were remarkably stronger than either their demon or human parentage, and she was no exception.

He appraised me a second time. His icy fingers brushed a trail from the waistband of my bloused white pants, across my bare midriff and upwards until they touched the fabric ending just below my breasts. Loathing caused me to shiver beneath his touch.

Slapping away his hand only elicited another spark of sickening interest. He lifted the hand he’d caressed me with and inhaled the tips of his fingers. My lips curled with disgust.

“You cannot find my stench appealing.” Blood mixed with dirt to crust my palms and knees. Salt stung my eyes and dusted my skin as sweat dried.

His eyes gleamed brighter. “You have no idea.” His ensuing laughter smacked of his superiority, as if he knew something I had yet to guess. Any secrets he held could only be as vile as I found him, and I wished them to stay locked in his conscious rather than burdening mine.

“What happened to her?” he asked Emma, the unspoken
without my permission
clear behind his words.

“It was an accident while sparring, Father,” she said. “It’s nothing serious. This type of break never takes more than a few hours to heal.”

“I’m well aware of her regenerative capabilities.” The smile he turned my way made gooseflesh ripple across my chilled skin. “I never dreamed she would have such an unexpected genetic quirk. That marvelous ability to heal shouldn’t be wasted.” His lips pursed. “I suppose we’ll simply have to continue testing her limits.”

“Is that what you call it?” Emma snapped. “Testing her limits?” She held her hands outstretched for us to see. “You use
my
hands to break her. It’s
my
hands covered in her blood and
my
shoulder she cries on while her bones mend.”

His eyes hardened. “You aren’t suggesting I enjoy what has to be done to Madelyn?”

“Oh no, Father. That would make you a monster.”

The crack of flesh meeting flesh resounded in the enclosed yard.

My shoulders bunched, bracing for an impact that didn’t come. Glancing up, I watched Archer’s struggle for composure in the tense lines of his shoulders and the sweat dampening his brow. Emma’s scowling face bore the imprint of her father’s hand.

“Never take it upon yourself to hurt Madelyn this way again.” His gaze swept the scuffed-up earth beneath our feet and passed over the training stick a few yards away. “She’s too weak to be properly trained. It’s a waste of your time and talent.”

“And he wouldn’t find me half as amusing if I could defend myself.” Shaking my head, I tried to clear away the rebellious thoughts streaming through my mind.

“Bite your tongue, girl.”

I almost told him I already had. I’d awakened today transformed with an odd sense of purpose. I wanted to train, was ready to fight, ready for something. It was the only reason Emma agreed to the quick match even knowing Archer was on his way. She had known I needed to dull the edge of whatever consumed me.

“Maddie’s fast. With more training she could become a valued—”

Archer’s mirthless laughter cut off her retort. “Her greatest value lies in breathing.”

One hand caught the end of my wheat blonde braid, snatching my head back as he used my hair like a rope to drag me against him. Hair ripped free of my scalp, making my eyes water as his other hand cinched around my rib cage and squeezed until the tears overflowed onto my cheeks.

I couldn’t breathe through the acute agony of his hold as each caress dug his fingers deeper into bruised and aching flesh. I sank a sharp elbow into his soft gut, but he only pulled harder, rewarding pain with pain.

“So long as her heart beats, her mother’s throne is secure.” The arm banding me tightened as he leaned in, brushing my cheek with his nose before drawing my scent into his lungs. “The queen requires an heir to keep her title.” He shrugged. “In the unfortunate event something happened to her elder sister, Madelyn would enable Eliya to keep her crown. The royal line must be kept established…and fertile.” He hummed gruffly in my ear then shoved me away from him.

Humiliation warmed my cheeks as hatred filled my heart for the man who was father to me by name, but sire to Emma by blood. For a tense moment, I thought he might come at me again, but he didn’t get the chance.

“My lord Archer,” an Evanti slave called from across the courtyard. He broke away from his peers while jogging steadily in our direction. The familiar black-skinned courier wore only a thin scrap of leather around his hips and the great, carmine wings that marked his breed. He advanced until he stood squarely between Archer and me.

A move not lost on my stepfather.

“Harper,” Emma whispered just loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

Harper’s wings twitched in agitation and tucked closer against his bare back before he addressed Archer.

“Your presence is required at First Court.”

“Is it now?” Archer tilted his head, catching my eye over the curve of Harper’s shoulder. He reached just behind Harper’s back and tugged the thick wrist of one wing. “I wonder, slave. Will Madelyn’s virtue be found intact on the morrow? Or will we discover she’s been lying with her guardian?” His thumb stroked the thin, filmy skin of Harper’s wing. “Unfortunately, sometimes the apple does not fall far from the tree. Her mother suffered a similar taste for darker flesh.”

Fear tightened my gut. “Harper has nothing to do with this. Release him, now.”

I didn’t dare to breathe until Archer’s hand dropped. This time he left the silky skin intact, and I could have thanked him for it.

“Harper, is it? How quaint, you’ve named him.” He smiled as if amused. “You’re really not so different from your mother. She would barter her soul to keep her seat upon the throne.” He stroked a finger down Harper’s forearm. “And I know the price of your soul as well.”

I met Archer’s level stare with disinterest, unwilling to let him see how his dawning comprehension terrified me.

Then he spoke to Harper. “You do realize how far beneath her you are, don’t you? Her bloodlines alone will harm her chances of finding a proper consort. Her affection for you only lessens her prospects,” he said with false sincerity. “Even her Evanti father had some status within your race. What could you possibly think you have to offer her? She’s Askaran royalty and you’re just…her pet.”

“I am in her service, my lord, nothing more.” Harper stood silent and unmoving.

Archer stared a moment longer, seeming to decide something before losing interest and wiping his fingers across his thigh. He turned on his well-tailored heels and stalked towards the arched metal gate leading through the heavy stone wall of the summer castle and out into the desert sands of Rihos.

Once Archer reached the gatekeeper and boarded his transport, Harper followed in steady, measured strides. He glanced over his shoulder and pointed once towards the entrance to the grand hall. Beside me, Emma nodded her agreement.

I held my breath as his wings outstretched and thrust downward to launch him into the sky. He would follow Archer to the border before returning home to me. If his flight took longer than the few hours necessary to make the round trip, I never said a word. His face shined with joy as he made the leap skyward, making me smile for long minutes after he became a distant dot on my horizon.