A Hint of Frost: Araneae Nation ( Book One) (17 page)

I woke in darkness so absolute my view mirrored the one behind my eyelids. Twisting my arm behind me, I touched cold mattress and realized the bed was empty but for me. “Rhys?”

“It’s time to go.” His voice came from the blackness to my right. “Mana just left.”

“Why is it so dark?” I knew the Salticidae used torchlight to illuminate their city.

“Old Father has proclaimed tonight a blessed night, and Sikyakookyang ordered a ceremonial blackout. Only light from the moon and the clan’s bonfire is allowed.”

“Is this their way of welcoming you home?” Pushing myself upright, I swung my legs over the bed’s edge and groped the floor until I found my discarded boots, then tugged them on.

“No.” His sigh heralded bad news. “Blessed nights are rare. I’ve only seen two during my years here.” His voice neared while his silent footsteps reminded me how lethal he was. “Only when the Salticidae call upon the two gods are such measures observed. Kokyangwuti will be mentioned and her gifts to their clan honored. Tawa will be named and his blessing requested.”

I recalled Sikyakookyang wanting to speak with me. “Do you know what this is about?”

“I have an idea.” He clasped my hands without fumbling and pulled me to my feet.

My nape prickled. His night vision was much keener than mine. I wasn’t afraid of Rhys, but my awe returned in a rush of memory. How moonlight had bathed him the night we met. How he handled his sword as if the blade were an extension of his arm. How gracefully he dealt in death.

I frowned. “Should I assume your vagueness means you’d rather not answer?”

His finger traced the curve of my neck. “I’d rather not frighten you without cause.”

“Because hearing you’re concerned isn’t frightening in its own right,” I groused.

His breath fanned my face, a too-late warning before his lips covered mine. “Blessed nights are attended only by the war council. I’m sure you noticed the Salticidae paladin is of the Deinopidae clan. Did you not wonder what led a clan of farmers to wed their maven to Chinedu?”

I tasted him again. “I assumed for the same reason I bound myself to a mercenary.”

“Follow your own logic.” His voice turned cool as his warmth receded.

I pitched forward without him for balance. At least my sight had adjusted enough I made out the heavy leg of a bench placed at the foot of his bed and didn’t trip as I regained my footing.

“My clan is wealthy. We required protection and loyalty that could be bought.” I winced as I said it, but it was true and I couldn’t take it back. “The Salticidae are farmers.” Clearing my throat, I forged ahead. “What use are game hunters in Beltania? There is no sizable wildlife here.”

Their awe of our ursus proved how unfamiliar locals were with large, predatory animals.

“That’s the question.” He sounded thoughtful. I sifted through shadow to find him leaned in the doorway, watching me. More chills tickled my spine. “I was unable to attend my cousin’s thread binding, so I missed the whispers as to what prompted such an odd match and why she wed so quickly.”

Sikyakookyang was his cousin? Since Mana was as well, who was Isolde to them? Was she a distant relation as well as a maven in her own right? She must be. Her people were of the north. Rubbing my arms, I warded off the chill of suspicion that Rhys would purposely mislead me.

“You’d never met Chinedu before today?” Perhaps that explained his earlier reticence.

“We’re acquainted.” He shrugged. “The Deinopidae make fine weapons.” He tapped his sword hilt. “They make a living by hawking their wares to the mercenary crowd in Cathis.”

I bit my lip to keep from apologizing. Regardless of what resulted from our match, I had approached Isolde because I trusted her clan’s poverty would keep them honest in their dealings with me. A defenseless maven is a dead maven, and I traded heavily on the hope Isolde’s love of my mother would protect me. All I knew of her clan I’d heard secondhand, so I had prayed their reputation as efficient killers and merciless protectors for the right price was truth and not hype.

So far, I had not been disappointed. Their skill made them worth their weight in gold.

Careful of my steps, I nudged Rhys aside and headed into the night. Wan light bathed the city as smoke from a large fire tickled the moon’s underbelly. Stars winked encouragement as I left my brooding partisan behind me and called upon memory to guide me back to the clan home.

The roar turned deafening the closer I came to the bonfire. The bustling city streets from this morning sat empty. From what Rhys had said, most of the Salticidae were tucked safe and sound in their homes, though I’d bet a yard of my finest silk they peeked through windows and pressed their eager ears to their doors. After all, they must be as curious about this blessed night as I was.

“Maven.” Mana approached me from flame-cast shadows. “You look well-rested.”

“I’ve never appreciated a cool bath and a warm bed quite so much.”

“Travel wearies the soul.” She touched my arm. “Come, the council is waiting.”

Her mention of the war council made me eager to locate Rhys. Whatever the reason for this gathering, I didn’t want to face his peers alone. I needn’t have worried. Rhys took my elbow and led me down several clay steps set into the baked earth. Each step we took fanned the width of a circle and made for stadium seating around the central hub. Fire licked the sky from its pit.

Sikyakookyang and Chinedu sat on low stools closest to the flames. Several of her clansmen rested on the steps at her back along with others I pegged as Deinopidae by their dark skin and broad features. Old Father presided over the gathering from an ancient chair that found its match in the equally wizened clan elder. Vaughn rested on a pillow, and two more awaited us.

“You look well.” Sikyakookyang’s voice held humor despite her serious expression.

“Thank you.” I began to have an inkling of how unkempt I’d appeared upon arrival.

“I’m pleased you could join us tonight.” Chinedu addressed the skies rather than me.

Still, I answered, “It was my pleasure to accept your invitation.”

“Your mother’s influence shines through your manners.” Sikyakookyang looked upon me kindly. “We were saddened to hear of her death and of your father’s as well. You have our sympathies.”

“They were young as far as clan heads go,” Chinedu said. “How did they die?”

Rhys barked something from beside my elbow, slipping seamlessly into their tongue.

Intervention came too late. My mind pitched back to the night my world was forever altered.
Sightless eyes…blackened skin…the stink of rotten flesh…
My empty stomach roiled. I sank to my knees, bracing on my palms to keep from toppling forward as heated air licked at me.

Familiar boots came into view. Rhys dropped to his knees at my head, bent to my ear and whispered, “Show these warriors no fear. I know you’re unwell, but you must rise.”

Nodding, I swallowed the bile coating the back of my throat and put my feet under me without his assistance. I rested a hand over my stomach. “Forgive me. Circumstances forced us to share our supplies with the ursus in order to reach your city in good time. I fear I haven’t eaten in more hours than is wise.” I touched Rhys’s forearm in thanks. “I’m feeling much better now.”

Sikyakookyang worried the band around her ring finger. Either she was nervous about the outcome of our meeting or she was embarrassed by my collapse. Considering they’d ambushed us with ceremony rather than the meal we’d expected, I bet on the former. For his part, Chinedu appraised me with renewed intensity, as if I’d done something worthy of his particular interest.

“My apologies, Maven Lourdes.” Chinedu leaned forward. “My wife has much to teach me in the way of manners.” He glanced at Rhys. “I’m used to dealing with heartier stock.”

Unease crept across my skin. The Deinopidae in the shadows drew nearer in response to Chinedu’s barb. I got the impression they were meant to intimidate, but after enduring the Theridiidae’s treachery, I was in no mood to be tested. “I am of the Araneidae’s heartiest stock.”

“No one here contests that.” His smile turned sympathetic.

It took every ounce of my will not to bare my teeth and hiss as he insulted my clan, my parents. This was why Rhys meant the difference between my clan’s prosperity and their demise. No one believed an Araneidae capable of defending their own. We were viewed as spoiled and wealthy, polite guests and good friends to have in lean times, but no one respected us. That was about to change. “I am weary in heart and body, but my mind is sound. You will not call me to attend a meeting held in the dark of night and expect me to stand by and hear my clan slurred.”

Rhys touched my elbow, but I shook off his warning.

“Maven Sikyakookyang, as the blooded clan head of the Salticidae, you are responsible for your husband’s sly tongue.” Down by my side, a silken thread eased from my fingertip. “Our clans have long been allies. I would hate for one male’s disrespect to cost us years of friendship.”

Before she formed an answer, her paladin guffawed. “It’s so like the Araneidae to threaten with their purse strings.” Contempt dripped from his words. “You would cut off your nose to spite your face. Your people depend on ours for fresh produce during the long months when your ground is frozen hard and your people hide from nature’s fury. Yet
you
threaten
us
?”

The truth of his words renewed my anger. “You think you are the only southern clan whose dry seasons might be eased by Araneidae gold?” My laughter was brittle. “When the rains refuse to fall and your crops wither and die, what then? You ask your neighbors to the north for a good-faith loan to keep your people fed and your city thriving.” My voice lowered. “I’ll have no trouble replacing your produce, but will you have the same ease replacing gold from my purse?”

“Enough,” Sikyakookyang snarled at him. “This is not a merchant stall in Cathis. This is the sacred fire circle set to burn on a blessed night. You will not haggle over treaties already made or insult those we count among our friends by whispering insults from the side of your mouth.”

Chinedu appraised her with a thoughtful tilt of his head. He spoke, words low and strange in their intimacy, before stroking her cheek with dark fingers. While keeping his gaze on her, he said to me, “As I said, my wife has much to teach me. I truly meant no disrespect. I apologize.”

The tense knot loosened in my chest. “Perhaps we both made much of so small a slight.”

“No.” He traced patterns on his wife’s cheek. “You were well within your rights. I was rude. I am what a lifetime spent among mercenaries has made me.” I had the feeling he was apologizing more to her than he was to me. “I appeal to your heart, Maven, when I ask for your leniency. I will not abuse our friendship again. I know you understand the difficulty of meshing two lives and two clans in the name of progress.” His expression gentled. “And of love.”

Sneaking a glimpse at Rhys, I was reminded how difficult life was when Araneaeans from different walks of life found they shared the same path. Love might smooth bumps along the way, but stones often littered the start of such roads. Careful lovers overstepped them. This exchange proved Chinedu shared the same tendency as I to stumble and need a steadying hand.

I found myself unable to fault him for failing when I saw the evidence of how hard he was trying to fit into a diplomatic role when nothing in his life would have prepared him for one.

“Let us begin again,” I found myself saying. “You have anointed this night a blessed night and gathered your clansmen. What is it you seek to gain by including us in your council?”

Old Father cackled. Wrinkles hid his eyes, and I’d assumed he slept. “Kookyangwhoya has met his match in you.” He shifted in his seat and indicated the pillows beside Vaughn. “Sit.” His staff tapped idly. “We must talk, but first, we will eat. The hour is late and so is my dinner.”

Portent made my appetite languish, but hunger soon consumed my dread.

Rhys guided me onto the pillow farthest from Vaughn. I was grateful to escape dealing with him while this somber gathering commenced. Rhys sat between us, but his brother leaned around him. “Tell me, have you tasted dragon?” He smirked. “No? You’re in for a treat.”

“May the two gods be merciful,” I uttered beneath my breath. As introductions went, this was not one I’d anticipated. Salticidae were strict vegans. Slaughtering a farm animal was their only means of providing food for the carnivorous Deinopidae, but my mouth soured.

“Come now, Maven.” Vaughn clicked his tongue. “Your partisan enjoys it well enough.”

Looking to Rhys for guidance, I hoped for once Vaughn was telling the truth. Much to my dismay, he clenched his fisted hands as though imagining they circled his brother’s throat.

Staring into the reddish-gold heart of the fire, I steeled my gut for what lay ahead. I’m not sure what worried me most, that I was about to eat dragon, or that I was too hungry to care.

Vaughn’s scowl weighted my fork on each trip to my mouth. Closing my eyes, I took another bite and pretended to savor the
unique
flavor. “Mmm. You were right. This is a treat.”

“You act well.” He pointed his fork at Rhys. “Your talent will serve you in his bedroom.”

Rhys tensed, but as the three of us were the only ones in hearing distance, he made no move to defend his pride. I’d noticed how he guarded himself in the presence of others, but not with his brother in private moments. I wondered if he didn’t care, or if he was simply used to the constant abuse.

“You’re cruel.” I appraised Vaughn. “What has your brother ever done to earn your scorn?”

Lifting a clay goblet, he drank long and deep, then smashed it in the fire. “He was born.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. Other questions perched on the tip of my tongue, but Rhys pressed a finger to my lips. From the corner of my eye, I saw Old Father shifting in his seat and waiting for the rest of us to take notice. I quashed my curiosity for the moment and listened.

“We are all children of the two gods, whether we practice their faith or not.” Frailty lent his voice an ethereal quality. “We all heard the story of creation at our mothers’ knees, whether we chose to listen or not.” He rapped his walking stick twice. “We have lived in an age when the old ways, the old stories, are dismissed as
folklore
.” He spat to his right. “That time has passed.”