Chapter 19
Ikar
Ilean back against a fallen tree, sitting in sparse grass and dirt before a crackling fire as I repair one of the many tears in my leather armor and deliberate over the next day’s direction.
According to a journal kept by one of my grandfathers many years ago, if all goes according to plan, we should find the nymphs in a day or so.
I tuck the journal safely in a pocket of my trousers.
Even with the gloam, we’ve made good time.
I pull a sturdy thread through the largest of the tears, neatly stitching it back together.
Vera sits across camp rebraiding her hair while watching Rupi hop about in the dry dirt, her beak moving in quick, jerky movements as she devours a small spider.
She hops again, leaving small puffs of dust as she goes in search of another.
For a moment I allow my gaze to linger on Vera as she tilts her head forward to braid the back before she brings the tail of it forward to finish.
I smother a grin. We’ve spent enough nights together that I know that no matter how tightly she braids it, by morning it’ll be loose.
I drag my gaze away, feeling too warm as I watch her prepare for bed.
Instead, the thought that has occupied my mind for the majority of the day returns to the forefront.
I recall the moment I met her, the way she reread the list of names.
I know in my soul she knows something. I’ve been biding my time, knowing that as long as she believed I was a criminal I would never get an answer.
She trusted me enough to uncuff me and sign my contract.
And now she knows I’m an officer. I don’t know what else to do to earn her trust. Will she ever answer my questions?
I have a feeling the answer is no… but why?
She still refused when it came up a couple days ago, and that conversation led to a fight, and then, somehow, a near-kiss.
The stubbornness in her gray eyes, the set of her perfect lips…
I silently groan and clench my jaw. I can’t do anything to mess this up, including falling in love with her.
Correction: Falling in love with her more than I already have.
I swallow uncomfortably as I remind myself that the reason I hired her is to help me get closer to finding my future wife.
“When do you think they’ll be back?” Vera asks, looking around our small camp with a crease between her brows as the shadows thicken.
“If there’s anything to hunt in the vicinity, Rhosse’ll find it quickly,” I reassure. But even I don’t like our group separated in this forest—especially after the encounter with the wolves.
Vera nods and begins a game of catch with Rupi and her favorite seeds.
I find myself so distracted by the openness on her face that I look down to find my last two stitches are now quite crooked.
I flex my jaw in frustration and begin the work to fix it, but before I can even get the first one out, I feel the tingle that ushers in the molten hot burning when another piece of my mark turns black.
I suck in a silent breath and hold it for the duration—sweating and tense when it finally stops.
I won’t be able to see how much of it has turned until we get back, and I don’t usually keep track of when this happens, but I feel like it’s increasing.
“Your shoulder pains you again?” Vera asks, tilting her head and eyeing me closely.
“I’m fine.” I force my shoulders to relax and hope she doesn’t press the subject.
I’m reminded of how she caught sight of my mark paining me when I was her bounty, and it seems she’s more aware than ever. She looks at me a moment longer, then appears to accept my response and returns her attention to Rupi.
I stare through the spindly tops of the trees, catching sight of the second sun beginning to set.
With the further blackening of my mark, my thoughts turn to my kingdom and my father.
He was a good man, an honorable king, and well-loved by our people, but the way he did things won’t work anymore.
I recall the disapproval shown by the low kings at the last council and cringe when I think of how they’ll react when they hear of my wedding and bridging with a Black Tulip.
All I can hope is that they will see the needed changes and the good a Queen of the Night will bring our kingdom and offer their support—same for the citizens who’ve been taught to hate the Black Tulips.
It will take time, I’m sure, for my people to adjust, but if things go according to plan we’ll have plenty of time after we bridge.
I find myself habitually scanning the forest between stitches.
My magic usually alerts me when gloam creatures are near.
I sense them, but it’s difficult in a forest such as this where gloam is, literally, everywhere.
So when I hear a few quiet clicks that don’t fit with the forest around us, I tense, listening.
My first instinct is to protect Vera, but I hesitate to alert her unnecessarily.
What if it’s nothing? Many of the sounds in this forest are concerning and don’t amount to anything.
After hearing nothing further, I relax the smallest bit and return to repairing my armor—a little faster now with the urgency to get it back on. Vera is still distracted, now sitting in patchy grass while Rupi hops over her legs, appearing oblivious to my concern.
A series of unsettling clicks meets my ears, and my eyes rest on the shadows just behind Vera.
Do they appear deeper than they should? I squint as I search the darkness.
It only takes seconds for me to recognize what it is.
Is it too much to hope that we aren’t its target?
My heart drops. We are not the target; Vera is.
The deepening darkness of the twilight sky helps hide its large form in the trees.
It seems as much as I can sense it, it seems to sense my recognition, and immediately eight long legs skitter across the earth, the only sound the popping of its oversized joints as it scuttles toward us.
I attempt to pull magic to increase my eyesight, but find that there’s no lucent to pull without Vera’s help.
I curse. For some inexplicable reason, the woman attracts trouble like no one I’ve ever seen, and I feel the strongest drive to keep her safe, to sacrifice myself for her, even.
More than I’ve ever felt for an individual person.
I regret tossing my armor to the side, but if I have to choose between armor and sword, it’ll always be my sword.
So when the velvet widow jumps, without a second thought, so do I, brandishing my weapon and blocking Vera with my body as my weight falls on her.
Her yelp of surprise is muffled beneath me, combined with a smothered smatter of panicked cheeps from Rupi.
I feel the instant when my sword and the spider’s pincers simultaneously find their mark.
I pull the magic that Vera offers as my sword slides into its underbelly at the same time its venomous pincers strike the vulnerable flesh at my neck.
The spider hisses in pain, and I shout as an excruciating burn runs through my bloodstream while the venom does its work.
I yank my sword out, attempting to get another stab in, but within seconds, my grip loosens without my permission.
My arm falls to the ground, limp, my sword hitting the dirt with a dull thud.
In mere seconds, I’m completely paralyzed.
My throat tingles and numbs, and I try not to panic when it feels like I may even suffocate.
The spider backs up for a moment, and I think that maybe my single stab took care of it, and I only need to wait for the paralyzing venom to wear off—I thought wrong.
The spider visibly regains its strength and returns, this time with rope-thick spider silk wrapping efficiently around my ankles, feet, and calves.
Vera squirms out from beneath my dead weight with a rumpled Rupi perched on her head, her feathers askew, eyeing the spider’s backside with wariness. She promptly flutters into the nearby treetops while Vera kneels beside me and holds my face in her hands.
“Why aren’t you moving?” I can sense her panic, and her high-pitched whisper-yell has caught the spider’s attention. It pauses its wrapping of my limbs.
I can’t respond. My vocal cords won’t work. But my eyes still do.
I attempt to look to the side to motion for her to run before the spider turns around. She must get the message because she’s up and running in a second, disappearing into the darkness.
The spider continues twining her rope silk in layers until it reaches the backs of my knees, then I’m hoisted into the air by my feet, dangling like a lifeless piece of bait.
I swing from the widow’s thread, arms swinging uselessly above my head, and watch our camp disappear from view while hoping that Vera makes it without me.