A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (29 page)

“I can’t undo what’s been done, but I will swear to guard your heart closer in the future.” He squeezed me. “I believe you were right to trust Murdoch. He is honorable, and his honor means I asked too much of him today. It was easier for us both to let him leave after having been bested.”

I pinched his arm. “All that—with swords—so he can say you forced him to support us?”

His chuckle warmed me when it should have infuriated me. “Males are complex creatures.”

“Clearly.” Beyond his shoulder, I glimpsed the setting sun. Sleep tugged at my body, and my wearied mind turned to thoughts of Vaughn’s bed. Plump pillows and thick mattress, soft sheets.

“Something tells me I didn’t put that dreamy look in your eyes.” He studied me. “Well?”

“Your bed,” I admitted with a blush. “I can’t get it out of my mind.”

“Ah.” His smile turned wicked. “One day I’ll hear you say that while I’m lying next to you.”

I spluttered.

“Until then, I’ll walk you to m—your room.” He took my hand, and I didn’t mind how slick his grip was, or what made it so. Without flourish or thought, he brought my knuckles to his lips.

I sighed, defeated. Every day, every touch, eroded the walls around my heart. I was tempted to peek at his aura, see what emotion stirred within him and compare the roots of our life threads.

I was tempted to give our bond a good look and determine once and for all if our match was preordained by the gods, but Old Father’s words kept me from that final determination.
Have you looked at a male, not with your sight and not at his aura, but at the male himself, his character?

With that in mind, I kept Vaughn’s aura blocked. His soul shone for me, but I read no color.

Though I longed for bed, I was unable to pass the north tower without a cursory check. If I’d been alone, I would have caved to the compulsion. As it was, I considered Vaughn’s slower pace and questioned how much sleep he’d gotten the night before. Had he rested well? Or slept at all?

Since he had proved sensitive to me spiritually, was he aware of Isolde’s beloved guardian?

Instead of those things, I asked, “Will you sleep in Isolde’s room again tonight?”

“Yes.” His gaze touched on the north tower door as well. “Since Nerys will remain with the sick, I don’t want Mother to be alone. Nerys’s bond with her cousin is strong enough to tie her in place, I think. She has work enough to see her through the night. I doubt she’ll give us trouble.”

Once in the last bend, with his bedroom door in sight, I hesitated.

“Is something the matter?” His thumb smoothed across my knuckles.

“Tomorrow intimidates me.” I dragged my feet but reached his door just the same. “I want a different sleeping arrangement.” A flush stole over his cheeks. “Lift your mind from the gutter.”

“I’m not certain it’s possible while you’re making such remarks.”

“Do you think I might…?” I felt foolish for asking.

He dropped my hand to rub my shoulders. “Ask me.”

I braced for his reaction. “Do you have a room with a hearth?”

“Only the kitchen,” he said slowly. “This far south, we have no need for such amenities.”

“I figured as much.” I grasped the doorknob. “Thank you, though.”

“Are you cold?” His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t feeling feverish?”

“Whenever I’m troubled, at home, Old Father would sit with me in the council circle, by the fire.” Part of it was the comfort of connection. Our god, Tawa, was the sun god. Our sacred fires paid him tribute and connected me to that keystone of my faith. The other part was complicated. “When my parents died, I was too young to understand the funeral pyres. I thought the fire—that they would feel their bodies rendered to ash. Old Father said no walker feared death. But I did.”

Vaughn cradled me against him. “You were a child.”

“I was.” I leaned into his strength. “But he was right. He brought me to the council circle, he made me Keeper of the Sacred Flame, a duty Wishövi has overtaken, and to this day staring into the roaring flames brings me peace.” I toyed with the ends of my shirt. “It was a foolish request.”

“I uprooted you from your home, brought you here and stripped you of choice. Dragged you down into my problems and have set you up to stand trial with me before my clan, as my chosen mate, as my choice for their future maven.” His tone gentled. “Let me do this one thing for you.”

Future maven.
Me, act as maven. I groaned. “I had blocked that part from mind.”

“Ah.” His smile faltered.

I winced at my callousness. Lack of sleep had loosened my tongue.

“Oh. I meant the trial.” I added with false cheer, “I’ve seen the Araneidae council in action, and I know my own clan’s protocol in such matters. Of course this matter must be brought before your clan’s council. I expect nothing less.” I sighed. “I dread the proceedings, and the outcome.”

Some of his hurt expression ebbed. “Liar.”

“I tried to spare your feelings.” I sounded less valiant than I’d hoped. I was a poor liar. I preferred the truth, it was easier to remember.

He grimaced. “I’d rather you hurt mine than falsify yours.”

Kind of him to say, but I longed for middle ground free from his hurt and my lies.

“I should get some sleep.” I pushed open the bedroom door.

He slipped past me and, before I decided why his presence in the room made my heart thud, he lifted a wide chair and carried it into the hall. He made it several steps before glancing back.

“Well, come on.” He shifted the chair. It looked heavy. “Don’t drag your feet.”

Curious, I followed him down a corridor I hadn’t explored. I thought it led to a suite of some kind, but it opened wide into a cavernous room. An enormous hearth consumed one entire wall. I touched pots and pans hung on hooks and wires. Wood was stacked in one corner and crumpled balls of oily paper lay in twists beside them. Vaughn dropped the chair dead center before the hearth.

Sensing he wanted to do this for me, I watched him start a fire and tend it until heat made his shirt slick to his back. He stood, wiping the back of his wrist across his brow. In moments, I was sweating too. He was right. Southlanders had no use for the tidy personal hearths from the north.

With a pleased sigh, I sank into the chair and folded my feet beneath me. “Thank you.”

He dragged a knuckle down my cheek. “You’re welcome. If you’re up for something to eat, there are supplies in the storeroom. Otherwise, I’ll lock the doors and I ask you to do the same once I leave.” He shuffled backward, glaring at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll want you in here or not.” He glanced up. “Well? It seems your friend is eager to make amends.”

Glaring at Brynmor, I knew I’d have no peace. I either entertained the canis now or the male himself would come to me in my dreams. “Leave him be. If I don’t let him stay, he’ll claw at the door.” Or the edge of my mind. “Perhaps I’ll find a bone for him to chew instead of my ankle.”

“Here, try this.” Vaughn stepped behind me. I heard utensils rustle and a drawer open.

My eyes rounded at the chunky butcher blade he offered. Battered and dinged, it gleamed in the firelight. When I failed to reach for it, he slapped it into my palm and wrapped my hand around the worn grip. I tested its weight and wondered at who the cook had been. I could knock someone unconscious with the flat of the blade without resorting to bloody means I was certain.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Vaughn pointed out, “Your canis bit you.” I briefly wondered at what point Brynmor had become mine, but Vaughn was tapping my wrist. “You’re spending several hours, if not the entire night, in an empty part of the towers. You’re in screaming distance, but I’d rather not have you harmed in the time it takes me to reach you. Keep the knife handy. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

“Fine.” I admitted the idea of a defense against Brynmor’s pique appealed to me.

“Rest well.” He smiled at my expression.

“And you as well.” I lay my head back and shut my eyes. “Give your mother my best.”

“I’ll do that.”

I sensed him lingering, heard his fingers drumming on the doorframe. I cracked open an eye.

Longing softened his features, but for what I wasn’t sure, and he left before I could ask.

It didn’t occur to me until his footsteps receded that perhaps he was troubled too and would have valued a spot before the fire. There was only me or Nerys or Isolde for company. I know of my choices, his company was my preference. Though I intended to rise, I never cleared the chair.

Brynmor turned a circle to lay at my feet. His wide yawn made me think he’d pushed the canis too far while leading Murdoch on a merry chase. Good. I hoped his soul shared its exhaustion.

Coaxed by the crackling flames and the promise of dreamless sleep, I let my eyes close.

Bump. Bump. Bump.
I jolted awake, grasping the cleaver’s handle.
Bump. Bump. Bump.

“Don’t you hear that?” I asked the canis snuffling at my feet.
“Brynmor?”

I got my wish. His adventures had tired him body and spirit. Our connection remained silent.

Weapon in hand, I eased around the chair, toward the door I’d locked when the hiss of dying embers woke me earlier. Straining my senses, I heard shuffling steps and a huffed feminine sigh. Drawing on my connection with Vaughn, I settled into a light meditative state and tested the aura pacing outside the door. Teal impatience clashed with hopeful white. Female for sure. Nerys.

Bump. Bump. Bump.
The flat of her palm slapped the door.

“Give me…a moment.” I forced the words before she left, or worse, roused Vaughn.

His strength soaked into me, and I shrugged off the floating sensation making my head light.

Once I threw the lock and cracked the door, Nerys stumbled inside, knocking us both to the floor. My tailbone throbbed, and from the corner of my eye, my chair’s soft cushion taunted me.

“Are you all right?” Nerys stood and offered me a hand. “I thought I heard something. I was leaning against the door when you opened it.” Her high-pitched tone alarmed me. “I was eager.”

“So I see.” Her cheeks were flush and her eyes merry. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“I didn’t realize you were in the kitchen. I checked Vaughn’s—your—bedroom, but no one answered and I thought perhaps you and…” More red crept up her neck. “Well, um, in any case, I didn’t want to disturb you.” She clasped my hands. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know how I’d last the night. Such news I have, and no one to share it with.” She inhaled, drew herself up to her full height. “The dayflower oil is working. The others are coming around. Fevers are breaking.”

“That’s wonderful.” Pain forgotten, I let her hope fill me. “How are the untreated?”

“They’re the same as they were last night. The sweet oil changed nothing.”

“In that case, I’d like to examine patients in the first and second rooms. As long as there are no unanticipated side effects, we can dose those in the third room.” Assuming improvement was shown all around, I would send Lleu for my personal supply of oil and continue their treatment.

“There’s just one thing.” She cut me off in the doorway.

Merriment dashed at her tone. Of course overnight success was asking too much.

“Do you think you could help me?” Her gaze touched on the room behind us. “Room one is hungry. They’re asking for food. I thought perhaps a broth, but I’m the worst cook, and whoever manned this kitchen has long since gone.” She stepped aside. “I believe he was one who left us.”

Eager as I was to see the results, food was a priority. “They’re safe to be on their own?”

“I’d rather they not be.” She picked at her nails. “I think someone should remain with them.”

Meaning she expected me to cook while she played nurse. She had one foot out the door.

“Go on, then. Leave the door open, so I can vent some of the heat.” I’d have to stoke the fire to get it hot enough to boil water. Vaughn had said to help myself, but I’d chosen sleep over a meal.

“Your efforts will be much appreciated by those not forced to eat my cooking.”

I caught the back of her blouse. “Can you show me where the good meats are kept?”

“What you need are bones. That much I do know.” She began a thorough exploration of the kitchen. “At home they’re usually in the…” She pried a cabinet with a sticky door until it gave a suctioned pop. “There we are. Oh. You’ll need herbs. I know I saw them.”

Rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep from them, I mentally sorted recipes adaptable for meat.

“Is there a fresh source of water here?” I hadn’t thought to ask if what I’d seen and used was jarred or drawn that day. I assumed the latter because the liquid was cool and crisp, unscented.

Nerys pushed on a panel resembling the rest of the cabinetry, but it swung wide into a small courtyard. “The pump is here. If you’ll pass me those pots, I’ll fill them for you before I leave.”

“I would appreciate it.” I entered the courtyard and followed a well-worn path. Lush smells I associated with growing things made my stomach rumble. Crammed into a series of raised beds, I found the cook’s herb garden. Or what was left of it. The vegetable plants were ripped from the bed and stripped to nothing. The herbs fared slightly better. I picked what was usable and sighed.