Mated to the Warg (Wargs of the Outland, #1)

Shebol

Rowan tripped backwards as the little queen glided down. It landed with eerie silence, blocking her way out. And there was no way she could reach her mirok sword before that stinger whipped out and stabbed her. She was too horrorstruck to even measure the distance to her sword.

The queen smiled. At least, it looked like a smile. "What are you waiting for?" Its voice was a shock! Almost musical. "Better get going before the scent of spilled blood draws the soldiers in."

"And...you're just going to let me pass?" She tried to swallow, but her mouth was arid, her hands slick with terror.

The creature clicked its pincers thoughtfully. "I suppose I am, yes."

Rowan didn't believe it for a moment. It was playing a fiendish game of some sort. "Why would you do that?"

The small queen shrugged. "If you survive, then you'll have earned an explanation. Until then..." It stilled as though to listen. "You'd better hurry if you mean to save your mate and your pack."

Her flesh twitched. "My pack?"

"Yes," it said, "there are many wargs in the hive just now."

She bit her lip, her gut twisting with indecision. "My pack is here?"

"As I said." Then the queen pointed to the ear holes in its head, walking spindly fingers along the air. "I hear the sound of time running out, you'd better get going." Then it shook its head, its gaze shifting behind Rowan. "Too late."

Rowan didn't dare turn her back on the queen, but the sound of clicking behind her made her flesh crawl. She jolted backward, keeping the queen in her periphery.

Another nursemaid had appeared at the stairhead. Its dull black gaze was tracking the fresh milky blood streaks, where Rowan had slain the one before, from the floor to the window. Her throat closed, a sob threatening to tear out. This couldn't be happening! For a brief moment there, she'd actually had hope. Stomach twisting, she fixed her watery gaze on the mirok fang. Either she reached it, or she'd die trying.

But before she knew what was happening, the queen blurred. It lunged at the drone, spearing it in the head with that long stinger. All done so casually, so swiftly, that Rowan was left gawping, her sword forgotten. Then the queen flung the carcass out of the window, all without spilling a single drop of blood.

That stinger was a pointed reminder that Rowan was utterly defenseless and at this thing's mercy. If it even had any. "How...how can you kill one of your own like that?"

"It's nothing of mine," the queen trilled in amusement. "Now go if you're going, little wargrix."

Shaking, Rowan sidestepped to grab her sword. She dropped down to reach for the egg, too, but not before glancing warily at the queen.

"Take it," the queen said, "it's not my egg." It stroked its pincers in a curious manner. "But why that one, dear?"

"I need..." Her voice cracked and she tried again. "I need a bargaining asset. Something Hessa loves."

"Then, if I were you, I'd take that one." It pointed to a much larger egg.

It was near the bed on a far wall, and there were no other egg sacks around it. It had caught her attention before, but the drone she'd killed earlier had diverted her fully. Everything had avalanched after that. But now she gave it her full attention.

It was nothing like the other eggs. Nor was it part of a clutch. Even the sack itself looked preeminent with its strange white veins spidering down over the rock as though the hive itself was feeding it. No, not the hive... A body.

Now that Rowan was looking closely, she could see the body under all that fungus and web. A mass of moldy flesh lying on the floor directly beneath the egg. The source of the putrescence befouling the air!

"But I warn you," the queen said, "you'll have to kill Hessa, or she'll slaughter you for daring to touch it. No one touches that egg."

Rowan's eyes flared with understanding. "Another queen," she gasped.

"The heir," it affirmed, nodding.

She glanced back at the hideous young queen. "But aren't you the heir?"

Its smile was tight. "Go, take your prize and do what you came here to do." Then it tapped its ear holes again. "Time, remember? You don't have much left."

Now things were starting to make a little more sense. "I knew you weren't helping me out of any human kindness."

The small queen laughed, the sound like snapping ice. "That's because my sire wasn't human, dear."

Rowan hated to think what the other half of this creature was. As if being whelped by Hessa wasn't bad enough. This was all too surreal. Carefully, she began inching around the queen. Having seen how fast it could move, having witnessed the lethal aim of its stinger, she was no longer drenched in cave water but in thick, cold sweat. "If you really want to help me," she said, "you could just kill Hessa yourself."

"I'm not that stupid," it replied, watching as she reached the queen egg.

"Is this...was this...human?" Rowan whispered, fist over mouth.

"Yes."

She slid the ivory sword into her leather belt, tightening the knot so it would hold the weight of the mirok fang. "Was he...the sire of the egg?"

"Yes." The queen cocked her head to the side. "Poetic, isn't it?"

Rowan's belly heaved. Good thing there was nothing but bile in her stomach. When the retching passed, she wiped her brow with a shaky hand and got to work ripping the anchor veins out of the wall. She tried not to think about the man whose bones she was trampling. Tried not to listen to the fungusy squelch underfoot or breathe in the foul rot. But it saturated the air and it coated her tongue, sweet and thick and hot. She stumbled, feeling her stomach jump with nausea again.

The egg began slipping to the floor. She hefted it against her chest and staggered backwards under the weight. She couldn't get away from the body fast enough.

The feeding veins coming out of pores in the pearly shell were torn, but still alive. They were sucking gently on her arm now, tugging at the blood pounding beneath her skin. She shuddered with revulsion, nearly dropping the egg.

The thing weighed as much as if it were made of solid silver. The sooner she was rid of it the better. She hied to the exit, her movements awkward. Once there, she paused under the archway. She faltered as the full scope of her plan came bearing down on her. The next few moments were the most critical of her life. A life that might very well be expunged the moment she reached the top of that sky bridge.

But Maeda was watching out for her. The goddess had sent the mirok. Had she sent the little queen, too?

Her chin lifted as she turned to the queen. "What's your name?"

It was watching her keenly, unmoving. "Shebol."

"I'll be needing something else from you, Shebol."

"My, my, aren't you a bold little thing." For the first time, it looked annoyed. "And quite the talker, too." The small eyes beetled. "Beware, wargrix, for every favor granted, I'll expect one in return."

She couldn't worry about that now. "To catch a queen, I need bait." And her plan hinged on one other crucial detail...

Shebol glanced at the egg. "Yes, I know. And you have your bait."

"But I can't catch my fish without a hook or a line."

"So I've read."

"I'm the hook, Shebol. I just need a line. That's where you come in."

Shebol's pincers clicked together. "Very well." Then she grinned and set to work.