A spark in his eyes told me the request threw him, but he hesitantly opened.
“I’ve learned a lot about Vipera in my time here.” I pinched his jaw, tilting it up. “I never expected vermin like you to be useful.” I laughed, feeling the roof of his mouth and pulling a fang forward, putting pressure on it once it was fully extended, watching the muscles of the gum stretch to accommodate. “I could be rid of you now. According to legend, you are unattached. Now you have no Nest, no family, no kin. You see, you may think you are clever for figuring out the bit about my father, but I did some research on you, as well, in recent years.” I paused, pulling harshly on the large fang. “Did you use venom on those orphans, or did you withhold that kindness from them, too?”
He flinched and tore his face away. “They don’t love you,” he spat.
A slow smirk rose across my lips. “Oh? Have you reached your limit, Luka?”
“They only follow you out of fear,” he spat, venom lacing his words. “You spin webs around them and pull the strings; eventually, you’ll pull too hard, and they’ll suffocate under you.”
I lowered myself forward, pinching my skirts neatly so I could see him eye to eye, “Did you know that a certain species of spider will eat her own kind, her kin, even her mates, to make sure she survives?”
Luka’s jaw ticked, staring with exhausted and strained eyes, the whites turning black, and a single drip of blood tearing down his cheek.
I cupped his cheek, smearing the blood across it, touching along the jagged scar. A gentle smile settled to accompany my words. “The arachnid doesn’t have to suffocate her prey for them to know she is dangerous; they need only believe she is venomous.”
I pulled a long hairpin from my hair and dragged it across my palm.
His eyes widened when I flicked my hand, splattering red across his face like throwing pennies for a beggar. “That is the last of my blood that you will taste. The next drop may be accompanied by your own.”
42
THE POISONER
The footpath of the forest was already beaten many times before, though I admit I couldn’t tell if it was others before me or my own trail I’d forgotten I’d taken.
The snow made it so the moonlight was enough for the lorn trail, shining through my damp nightgown. The coolness of the fabric threatened to slow my joints, freeze my bones, to rust me to a halt.
There was a shallow pond just beyond the trees, creating a glass clearing.
In the center was a stag, recently passed as a result of a leg through the ice, broken. He was still warm, judging by the steam that steadily rose, lending his warmth to the sky until he would have no more.
I stepped onto the ice; it was solid. A murky reflection of myself shined in the surface, water weeds and bubbles of air shifting beneath, frozen in their hibernation.
Kneeling beside the stag, I ran my fingers through its hide, petting apologetically as if I could comfort the dead. I could feel its heat radiate through my palms. I could even feel a pumping, a pulsing.
With a sudden surge of force, one hand plunged through the skin, then the other.
Hot. So hot. I’m burning.
The joints in my wrist and elbows thawed, feeling returning to my fingertips, the warmth heating something inside me, a different sensation.
My stomach growled, the smell of tannins and blood overwhelming me like a wet sheet pulled taut around my face.
Inside, I could feel a thrumming. I tore, the wetness making it hard to catch a grip. Finally, I grabbed it, nails dug into it as I pulled.
In my hands was a heart. It was small for a beast of its size, the aorta pushing and pulling as it pumped. The twitches of the organ were slow at first. I brought it closer to my lips; the blood dripping down my elbow was hot, viscous, and thick. As it neared my teeth, it beat faster, faster, two hundred beats in a single moment.
My mouth watered, salivating before finally having a taste. It was a timid bite at first, then a mouthful. It was a flavor like no other, the taste of life. So sweet was the flesh, I couldn’t put it down.
The repast warmed me to my core, the chill fleeing from my body. I smeared it from my mouth to my neck, then over my chest. It was like wearing a blanket, a warm bath, healing in a way I couldn’t ignore.
I plunged my hands back into the chest cavity, feeling for the ribs and cracking one in frustration as I scratched and dug. I bit down on the hide, the skin, the tendons, the organs.
The honeyed flesh was fragrant, but not in the way you would imagine. A complex taste, like wine, the scent of peonies... the skin soft, touchable.
I licked over the skin, not daring to waste a drop, but not wanting to waste the warmth either. I cupped a breast, kissing the skin of the sternum up to the neck.
I opened my eyes: a woman, not a beast.
