A Time of Dying (Araneae Nation) (12 page)

“Here you are, and here you will be outfitted.” Stefan’s scarves slid over me like serpents.

“You’re blind,” I pressed. “How can you design or produce a gown?”

Chin angled upward, he huffed, “My mind’s eye sees perfectly well, thank you.”

“Leave him be. The paladin wouldn’t send us to an incompetent tailor.” Murdoch pulled the leather through his fingers. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve done measurements before, for armor.”

Clapping his hands, Stefan groped the nearest table until he found a corner of torn paper and the nub of a clay marker. He then directed Murdoch in how to properly measure the female form.

“More cushion in their tops and bottoms,” he chimed. “Not so with your guards. Females are not so different from males. We swath them in silks, but those jewels, the gold, it is their armor.”

I might have been more interested in Stefan’s musings from a philosophical standpoint if he appeared aware of when he was engaging or repelling us, when he made sense versus none at all. From a voyeuristic standpoint, I might have even valued his insight into my body, had I not been dissected before Murdoch. It was awkward having his hands move with such familiarity over me.

Though I blessed the gods a thousand times that it was his touch and not Stefan’s.

“That will suffice,” Stefan said a lifetime later. “I will see you tomorrow. Shoo now.” Numbers in hand and fabric under his arm, the odd tailor dismissed us without ceremony.

I rushed from his shop back into the street, earning a few interested stares. Much like Lleu, I wagered these males were desperate for healthy females. I was not the striking beauty my cousin had been. I was not plain, but not lovely either. I was simply Kaidi. These males were not drawn to me because I was attractive, unless their desperation had made my ability to breathe desirable. It was a disturbing realization to have while standing in a city populated largely by males, that I was as much a commodity here as I had been at home, though for a different set of reasons.

“Are you hungry?” Murdoch lifted his hand in greeting to one of the gawking males.

I pressed a hand to my stomach. “Stefan’s company cost me my appetite.” He was such a strange person.

“There’s a pastry stand not far from here,” he coaxed. “Sweet cakes and mince pies.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I could not predict Murdoch’s moods. They seemed to shift with the wind.

Looking pained, Murdoch asked, “Do you have an inkling how Lleu spent his morning?”

I framed my answer carefully. “I have a vague idea.”

“Allow me to enlighten you. It appears that you met Adeline over breakfast. There was some altercation no one seems to recall the specifics of, that ended with her swearing she would never serve you in her kitchen.” He let me absorb that. “Lleu convinced her you were my ward. And as your guardian, Adeline holds me responsible for your behavior and likewise refused me a meal.”

“She can’t treat you that way.” I frowned. “Vaughn would never allow her to slight you.”

“He won’t know if I can help it.” He sounded resolved. “He has enough on his mind.”

If I had my way, his paladin would have even more to occupy his thoughts.

“Then I will speak to Adeline on your behalf.” I could be persuasive when I chose.

“Is that wise?” He rubbed his jaw, which still boasted discolored splotches and scabs.

It hurt me as much to see the reminders of what I had done as it must hurt him to wear them.

“I will be gentle with her,” I promised. “She will be made to see reason.”

“Sure you don’t mind?” His uncertainty softened the painful knot ever present in my chest.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” I slid my arm through his. “Where is this pastry stand?”

“Just ahead.” His arm folded against his side and drew me closer. “I can already smell it.”

Inhaling brought me the scents of unwashed bodies and rot. I coughed against my shoulder.

He glanced at me. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Short inhales were key until we left the denser areas.

His fingers skimmed my jaw. “Perhaps it’s wiser to return to the towers.”

“What?” I needled him. “Did Vaughn not approve this stop?”

“No.” Murdoch halted in the middle of the street. “He didn’t.”

I leaned against his hand. “I was teasing.”

“Is that how you see me?” He withdrew. “Do you think I must be spoon-fed direction? That I am unable to make my own decisions? There is loyalty and then there is foolery. I am no fool.”

I took a step away from him. “I didn’t mean to imply you were. You serve your paladin—”

“As I served his mother before him.” His shoulders tensed. “Not all of us are as fortunate as you. We can’t all command our destinies. Some are trapped by necessity or are scorned by fate.”

“Which are you?” I asked with unexpected boldness. “Has necessity trapped you?”

His answer was the start of a tic beneath his eye. “I have no regrets.”

Grasping my elbow, he spun on his heel and began the long and silent return to the towers. I hadn’t meant to offend him, but we seemed doomed to misunderstand one another’s every word.

Murdoch thought me master of my own fate? Did he then consider himself a slave to his?

Chapter Seven

“You can’t enjoy reading that,” a teasing voice murmured at my ear.

I startled when an unfamiliar male thumped the cover of
A History of Cathis
.

“Actually…” I met his mocking gaze and managed to surprise us both by admitting, “I find it quite fascinating.”

“You don’t have to lie for my benefit.” He flashed his fangs. “I’m no Mimetidae to care.”

Without turning my head, I scanned the room. Upon our return to the towers, Murdoch had left me alone with only a guard outside the door. I had taken the initiative to sit at his desk and read through the first chapters of the cherished history book he had attempted to share with me earlier.

I hoped it might help me understand him and his clan better.

The detailed sketches of the Tower Square’s layout, well, those were an unexpected boon.

“You’re no Mimetidae, either.” He lifted the braid hung over my shoulder. “I like blondes.”

Jerking my hair from his grip made my scalp sting. “Where is Murdoch? Or Lleu?”

“Murdoch is in a meeting with his paladin.” He rolled his shoulders. “Lleu’s in the kitchen.”

I noticed how he spoke of both with easy familiarity. “Who are you?”

“Manners,” he said with a grin. “I owned a few before coming to Cathis.”

I was quick to point out, “Location does not affect one’s ability to be polite.”

“Are you certain of that?” He scattered a few sheaves of thick paper across Murdoch’s desk.

“Don’t touch his things.” I straightened the mess and slid the book out of his reach.

The male tapped the end of my nose. “I will touch what I like, how I like, when I like.”

I placed a hand on his chest. “Is that so?” He nodded that it was. I slid my hand lower, to his belt, where I closed my hand over a slim knife meant for eating. My brief fight with the clasp on top of the handle ended in time for me to slide the blade level with his crotch and apply pressure.

His brow creased. “That’s a very dull knife.”

“Then it’s well suited to its owner.” I tightened my grip. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“I am Bram of the Theridiidae.” He scowled. “I’m here because Murdoch ordered me to be.”

“Bram.” A memory clicked into place. “You’re Lleu’s replacement.”

“That was Murdoch’s intention.” He stared at the knife. “I’m reconsidering the assignment.”

“You could have told me who you were when I asked the first time.” I lowered my weapon.

“But where’s the fun in that?” He took a careful step back. “Besides, you need me.”

“Hardly.” I could take care of myself.

“You think not?” He leaned against Murdoch’s bureau. “Have you seen the grotto?”

“No.” But now I had seen drawings of its layout, sprawling far below the Tower Square.

“Then my warning carries less weight than I had hoped.” Bram opened a drawer I was quick to slam shut on his fingers. “That was uncalled for.” He sucked their tips. “Now, as I was saying, the grotto is a dank and filthy place I’ve spent much of the last two weeks patrolling. I would not recommend paying an extended visit. To avoid that fate, I will keep you on your best behavior.”

“It sounds as if you’re hoping to use this assignment to avoid the grotto. In that case, you’re the one who needs me.” Perhaps Bram’s desire to avoid patrol might prove itself an asset to me.

“There are three males Paladin Vaughn trusts to see to your care. One is with him now. One is in the kitchen and, last I heard, he’s forbidden to visit you alone. The third stands before you, grateful he wore leather riding pants today.” He eyed my hand and the knife. “If you manage to run me off, then Murdoch will be forced to place you where you won’t need constant attention.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me.” He wouldn’t dare. Not so near Hishima’s arrival.

“Tell me what he’s done to arouse your blind allegiance so that I might inspire it in others.”

“He is kind even when he should be cruel.” I lifted Murdoch’s book and held it tight against my chest. “Even when he acts cold and heartless, there is restraint in his touch and in his words.”

Bram tapped his bottom lip. “Restraint usually leaves fewer marks.”

I touched the fading scab at the corner of my mouth. “It was earned.”

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Was the knife you buried in his back also earned?”

“You should ask Lleu sometime.” While they gossiped, I could enjoy a moment of privacy.

“I did ask him.” At my surprise, he chuckled. “When Murdoch said you had plied Lleu with your feminine wiles, I had high hopes. I asked Lleu about you. Although he leapt to defend your honor, he mentioned your obsession with the plague. Even in that, you and Murdoch are suited.”

I ignored his jibe. “Murdoch is fulfilling a task set before him by his paladin.”

“Do you think he has any hope of succeeding?” he asked frankly.

Sudden dullness in his eyes, a flash of pain that echoed in my heart, quieted my smart reply.

“If he looks hard enough, he’ll find what he’s after.” I added, “I would rather he didn’t.”

His slow nod conveyed perfect understanding. “I heard Titania was struggling to recover.”

Despair mantled my shoulders. “Rebuilding is hard when so few have heart for the work.”

“In Siciia…” He averted his face. “I apologize. I forget myself sometimes.”

Siciia, home of the disgraced Theridiidae. How miserable it must be to hurt for a clan others openly despised. His pain was stark in his face. I ventured, “To speak our hearts is to heal them.”

“What of those with no heart left?” He still refused to hold my gaze. “How do they…?”

“They survive.” My hand went to my chest. “They live for all those who have died.”

“So much death.” His voice rasped. “Who can live that well for that many?”

The faces of my loved ones blurred past my mind’s eye. Laughter, smiles, singing, dancing, that was how I remembered them. They had lived well. They had been loved and loved in return.

“No one person can,” I told him. “We must each keep alive the sparks of our loved ones.”

In my heart, those vestiges of my kin shimmered as fervent stars set in the glittering night sky.

I was lucky in a way, I supposed, to have such memories to treasure. But as I was blessed, so was I cursed. The remembrance of my aunt’s sparkling eyes dulled to Maier’s milky-white orbs.

Swallowing through a tight throat, I fought back the surge of other memories, worse memories.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I rubbed my eyes. “I read for longer than I’m used to.”

Bram made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat.

“Was there a reason you chose to announce yourself just now?” I edged around him, careful to remain out of reach. His knife’s hilt was worn smooth. It fit my hand well. I decided to keep it.

He followed me, keeping an eye on his blade. “The Lady Isolde wishes to speak with you.”

An audience with Isolde made me glad I held a knife. “Did she tell you why?”

Hints of his wry humor crept back into his tone. “I am but her humble messenger.”

“Where did she ask me to be brought?” Isolde’s chosen location would determine whether I asked Bram to locate Murdoch for me or if I dared to attempt the meeting with Bram at my back.

“The garden.” He rolled his shoulders. “I tried to dissuade her but…”

“I’ve met Isolde.” Once was enough for me. “She acts as though she is still maven here.”

“An illusion her son affords her.” Bram sounded too sympathetic. “After her fall from grace, Isolde offered herself as an advisor to Mana. Regardless of the fact Mana is the niece of a maven, she was raised as a healer, not to rule, and she has a tender heart. Isolde is…not ruling alongside her son—Mana does have the final word in all clan matters—but Isolde retained certain privileges.”