A Hint of Frost: Araneae Nation ( Book One) (8 page)

My fingers brushed my thigh, where my quiver should be. Cramped tunnels meant no room to pull a bowstring. Even my silk trick depended on leverage and surprise, neither of which I’d have if I ran headlong into company in the same tunnel. At least we’d both be disadvantaged.

“This is a mistake,” Armand groused as he lifted me, lowering me into the tunnel.

“If it is, it’s as good as made.” Henri guided my hands and feet onto the rungs and then total blackness enveloped me. Chills swept over my skin. My sister had used this tunnel. Had she given us a single thought as she crept into the night with her…lover? I didn’t know what he was to her.

Inhaling a last breath of clean air, I climbed into the void and let earthen scents enfold me.

Henri was right. My arms and legs faltered after crawling through his tunnel. While I imagined a male might wriggle through, he wouldn’t thank whoever had set him to the task. The walls were close and the air damp, but the path was packed hard and well-traveled. Pascale must have gone this way more often than we’d guessed. Either that, or Henri had spent an inordinate amount of time crafting a passageway whose primary function was to remain hidden and unused.

Blinking as currents swirled about me, I sneezed when dirt blew up my nose. I inhaled fresh air in greedy pulls until realizing I shouldn’t smell grass and sunshine down here. Without light, I missed my cue and hit the end of the tunnel face-first. Cursing alleviated the worst pain.

Groaning, I reached over my head and located the hatch. A hard shove cracked it open, and it fell aside, giving me room to stand for the first time in an hour. Clean air rushed over me, raising chills as winter’s breath whispered over my skin. Above me, dawn’s reds and oranges saturated the sky. Climbing hand over hand, I breached the surface, eager to be bathed in light.

Though my eyes burned, I recognized this place. No wonder the tunnel ran so long and the ladder stretched so high. Stumbling on weakened legs, I collapsed in a heap while surveying my surroundings. Henri had dug a passage clear to the base of Mount Ereac. From this vantage, the whole of Erania spread before me. She was beautiful despite the wintry mantle she wore, her face kind in spite of the black stone walls looming above her brow, stretching far as I could see.

Our markets and summer spinning rooms were empty, closed against the harshest part of winter. No travelers dared venture so far north for our wares when we went to ground for safety.

The harsh clime was one reason Araneidae nested below the city. Only our clan and their spouses were allowed access to the clan home, although my parents had several personal guards.

To think all these years we’d welcomed Theridiidae into our home. Their presence was tolerated because a second generation union between our clans was mutually beneficial. We’d given them the chance to learn our ways, our home, our clan, and this was how they repaid us.

I blamed the biting winds for the tears blurring my view of the landscape as I sealed the hatch. Wishing for better concealment for the entrance, I trusted Henri to have locked his end.

As I glanced away, a quick glint caught my eye. The length of my arm away, I spied a button covered by gold fabric shining in the sun. I picked it up gingerly and turned it in my hand. It was cold, which felt too final somehow. I didn’t like it. Before appraising it again, I warmed it in my fist, squeezing until the pointed edges bit into my palm.

Hidden in the pattern were Pascale’s initials. This button had come from her coat. I knew, because the work was mine, and I’d given her the coat as a gift. The addition of her initials had struck me as a perfect way to nudge my extravagant design into excess. Rubbing my thumb over the top of the button, I recalled there were more than a dozen sewn up either side. How clever I’d imagined myself to be at the time, before I’d worn my fingers raw with all the intricate detailing.

How clever I’d always imagined myself to be. I supposed it was time I proved it.

On closer inspection, the button appeared to have popped off her coat when she crawled from the hatch. Or at least that was my assumption based on the frayed bit of string stuck to its backing. After that, it must have rolled to its final resting place, where I’d found it. When I shifted to search for more clues, I was rewarded by the glittering appearance of frost footprints.

Where dew had settled on dead grass, hints of ice had formed. Amid the sparkling blades, footprints identical to mine had crushed a clear path leading toward the old vineyard. Heart in my throat, I shoved to my feet and followed. Faster and faster, I trailed after my sister. Rational thought fled as her strides grew longer and I struggled to keep pace. Had she been chased? Why had she run? Lungs screaming for mercy I refused to grant, I pushed harder until I’d cleared the vineyard and reached a small hill dappled with trees. I shivered, unable to resist the urge to turn.

Here, my view of the vineyard was unobstructed. Here, I had a perfect view of the hatch.

When I glanced down, the single set of footprints had vanished into the trees. Though my pulse still raced with the urge to chase the ghost of my sister’s presence, entering the forest alone was insanity. True fear for Pascale mantled my shoulders, dropping me to my knees in the grass.

Hard evidence crushed any doubt I’d had her note wasn’t written in earnest. Kellen must have exited another tunnel, and they’d used this spot for meeting. She’d gone with her Theridiidae.

Gods have mercy on her.

“What are you doing so near the wall?”

A Mimetidae warrior stood to my right with his hand on the hilt of his sword. I gained my feet in an instant. He wet his lips, and the sheen of moisture froze there. His eyes were curious, but his hunger was unmistakable. I saw now I’d been foolish to wonder at Rhys’s hungers. He had never appraised me this way, as if I were…edible. All at once, I was both relieved and unsettled.

Fingers numb, I readied a thread. Or I hoped I did. I couldn’t risk a glance to be sure.

“I came in search of my sister.” No harm in an honest answer.

“You’re the Maven Lourdes.” He sounded thoughtful. “Rhys said we were to find your missing sister and return her.” He assessed me. “I’d wager by the dirt on your clothes and face, you sneaked past our guards somehow.” His eyes glittered. “I’d bet your partisan has no idea you’re up here, alone with the likes of me.” He laughed. “Shame what the Theridiidae did to you. I bet Rhys will mourn you right proper when I drop the remnants of your body at his feet.”

His was not subtle as far as threats went, but his bald statement made it most effective.

“The Theridiidae are archers. They use poison-tipped darts.” I backed up a step, hoping to put a tree or five between his hungry grin and me. “He’ll know they wouldn’t eat flesh they’d poisoned. It would be suicide.” I shuddered. “Besides, Theridiidae aren’t cannibalistic, like you.”

He bared his fangs, licking the tips as he allowed himself a slow perusal of my body. I was grateful again Henri had lent me his coat, so all my more interesting parts were covered.

“Who said anything about eating?” He swiped a hand down his face, and gods I hoped he wasn’t wiping away saliva. “Well, all right, maybe a taste.” He slid the same hand down his shirt as though he were smoothing wrinkles. “I find innocent females, such as you, are all the sweeter on the tongue after they’ve been…” his gaze dipped to my breasts, then lowered, “…tenderized.”

His sword forgotten, he reached behind him, and the leather of his belt creaked. When he brought his hand around, a short mace was clutched in his fist. Spikes jutted from the spherical head, and I realized why the manner of my death mattered little to him. Bludgeoned to a bloody pulp, I’d be left a meaty corpse so pulverized a bite or two taken from my hide could be missed.

I backed when he advanced. “Rhys will kill you for this.” I hoped he made it hurt.

“He’d have to know, then, wouldn’t he?” He twisted his wrist. “Your people are safe. They’ll stay safe until Isolde gets the armor she wanted. After that, you’ve another sister or she has a niece who can wed one of your brothers.” He shrugged. “Plus Rhys has sampled you.”

“He’s my partisan.” Indignation warred with fear and won. “Our affairs are our own.”

“I’ve heard it said Rhys the Cold despises women—their heat burns him, threatens that wall of ice he keeps between him and the rest of the world.” He grinned. “I’ll wager he didn’t lay a finger on you.”

I swallowed and broke eye contact.

“He didn’t, eh? Figures. How’d he resist?”

His tone had changed, lulled me. So when he charged, I spooked and bolted straight into the trees without a second thought as to what I knew prowled the forest beyond this small copse.

Dead limbs slapped my face as I ran, slicing gashes unable to bleed for the cold.

When I’d planned my escape, my goal had been simple. I wanted to see for myself where my sister had gone. My mistake was in assuming the Mimetidae would let me be if we crossed paths. At worst, I expected to be dragged before Rhys, where I’d explain myself. I’d been a fool.

Banishment to the spinning rooms was a milder fate than the one I’d created for myself. My estimation of my cleverness had been generous. My reality, though, was lacking.
I should have gone for Rhys
. I’d rather he picked my motives apart than this male pick me from his teeth.

I stumbled, and pain seared a red-hot seam from my shoulder to hip. He must have swung his mace. Pumping my legs harder, I couldn’t dwell on how my misstep had likely saved my life.

Ahead, an overturned tree’s blackened limbs stretched toward the sky. I leapt the trunk and circled, keeping the tree between the Mimetidae and me. His face was flush, but instead of aggravated, he appeared invigorated by the chase. With brute strength, he slammed the mace through the thickest part of my cover and splinters flew. With a grunt, he crashed to my side of the tree.

Panic stripped me of all logical thought. I doubled back, jumped the trunk and circled as he laughed and gave chase. His strike from above had snapped the limbs below and made a gap between the trunk and the ground. As I ran, I measured the hole and decided I’d fit through it.

Heart pounding and lungs burning, I’d made myself drunk from the circular path I’d trodden over and around the tree. He had only to outlast me, and he showed no signs of slowing.

Was this it, then? I’d die alone in the forest to a chorus of my own screams?

When I jumped the trunk this time, my knees buckled and I went down hard. I had enough of a lead I was able to roll beneath the tree when he would have caught me. Thick curses shouted over my shoulder fueled my tumble forward. When I hit a tree’s roots, I pushed to stand when all I wanted was to lie still and find my breath. Turning so fast I wobbled, I located him.

In his mad dash to finish our race, he’d lunged beneath the tree. He remained stuck there.

“You’re clever, you are.” He cast me a wink as he grunted. “I fell for your trick.”

I hadn’t enough air in my lungs to inform him he’d fallen for no trick of mine. Panting, I stared in the direction we’d come from. Muscles in my legs screamed in protest as I shifted my weight. “I’m going to leave you now.” I stepped forward, limping. “No one has to know of this.”

His bark of laughter rang loud. “You do that.” His arm disappeared by his side. “Run to Rhys. Maybe you’ll reach him.” Before I blinked, he loosed a silver dagger. It sank deep in my side. “I’m betting you won’t.” His smile broadened and his struggle renewed. “I bet you don’t.”

My hand shook as blood spilled through my fingers. “You’re not going to let me go.”

“Now why would I do that?” He glanced up at me. “You’re exhausted. You’re bleeding. You’ll die from exposure if you risk this weather any longer. You may as well sit on my sword.”

His sword
…it remained sheathed at his hip…
my salvation
.

I forced my trembling limbs to work and climbed to the other side, where the Mimetidae male’s boots had dug furrows into the ground. Careful of his legs, I had to stomp his arm and keep pressure on it as I worked the weapon free of its hilt. Scrambling back out of his reach, I tested the weight of the sword, the second I’d held in as many days, and deliberated over my options.

I had only one if I wanted time enough to reach the city, reach Rhys, in safety.

My grip was so tight my fingers went numb. I shut my eyes and spoke a prayer.

Climbing over the tree a final time, I stood just outside of his reach and lifted his sword. I pictured Rhys. If only I had his strength and his skill…if only I had him here, if only I’d listened.

Muscles in my arms trembled and burned as I accepted my role as executioner.

My eyes closed.

“Lower the sword.”

I peered into the forest but saw no one. Heady relief threatened to crack me. “Rhys?”

“Give it to me,” he coaxed by my ear.

Heat sizzled between us, left me sagging against him, limp and his to command. When he reached around to disarm me, he brushed the dagger, no doubt frozen in place now. Though I’d thought I was numb, I felt that excruciating touch. Tensing my jaw, I caged the raw scream I refused to gift the male at my feet, but a pained whimper escaped through my cracked lips.

“For all that is merciful.” He’d felt it.

“It hurts.” It was a stupid thing to say, as though a blade stuck in my side should feel any other way.

“Gods be damned,” he growled. His warmth left me, and my teeth began chattering. He spun on the male who’d ceased his struggles beneath the tree. “You did this to her.” A ripe curse fell from his mouth as the male acknowledged what he’d done without remorse. Rhys lifted his arm and curled his fingers in a silent signal. His men bled without a sound from the shadows.

Brackets lined Rhys’s mouth and aged him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, again stupidly.

He ignored me in favor of addressing the pinned male. “Trefor, you were warned. Yet you still allowed your flesh addiction to thrive, heedless of the repercussions.” He glanced up, meeting the gazes of his rapt warriors. “Let this serve as a warning to you all. We consume our enemies’ flesh after battle to gain their strength.” He snarled. “We
do not kill for sport
. Nor do we allow flesh hunger to drive us. When we partake of an enemy, we are asking the two gods for their blessing. Ceremonial offerings are meant to please the gods, not to nourish our bodies.”