Chapter 21
Ikar
Icurse when I realize she’s seen my mark, but I have no time to consider the implications now, and neither does she.
“Can we not do this right now?” I ask through gritted teeth as I strain to hold my upper body high enough and simultaneously force the dagger through the fibrous, surprisingly dense thread that has seemingly been wound around my lower legs at least a billion times.
I tried to pull magic to tear it apart with strength, but not one of the thick ropes broke. There’s not enough lucent here without Vera’s help. I’ve never been caught in a velvet widow’s thread, but it’s worse than I ever imagined.
“A little lucent might help,” I call sardonically.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me when I arrested you!” she hisses from below, unwilling to wait for this conversation.
And apparently unwilling to lend me lucent.
I continue sawing at the threads feverishly. “Why would I have done that?” I grunt as I press even harder, and a thick bunch finally loosens.
“I think that’s obvious,” she spits.
“You don’t understand any of this,” I growl.
“On that we can agree.” Her voice is as cold as an ice-crusted lake.
Finally, I cut through the largest portion, leaving only my ankles still wound tight.
Rupi still perches on the edge of my boot, quilled up and looking ready for a fight.
The ominous popping sounds closer. I give an extra push and grab on to the hanging bit of thread, my muscles resisting like flames beneath my skin at the deep stretching I’m unaccustomed to.
I thrust the knife quickly into the last section, slicing through the remaining thread, and keep a firm grip on the thread now hanging loosely above me so I don’t fall on my head.
Rupi takes flight as I let go and land in a crouch beside Vera, grabbing both our swords from the ground and shoving hers into her hand.
It takes a moment for me to gain my balance as the blood rushes from my head, and when it clears, I glance at Vera to make sure she’s prepared to battle our way out.
But instead of choosing a defensive position, her weapon before her, she looks at me like I’m a deathstalker and she’d rather side with the velvet widow in front of us.
The spider lunges, and Vera finally does something besides stare at me with abject horror. She darts to the right, her movements mirrored in the numberless reflective eyes.
I take a swipe at one of the jointed legs, and the spider hisses and comes at me instead, grazing my arm with its pincers, but I move quickly, and finally feel the rush of lucent magic from Vera.
I pull it quickly to increase my senses and speed while seeing it as a good sign she doesn’t want me dead, at least.
I scan the length of the spider, calculating the best way to kill it when I hear smaller skitters—many of them.
Vera shouts from somewhere in the cave and whatever she’s done draws the widow’s attention once more.
It shifts its velvety body to investigate, and I spot her swinging wildly, slicing through wave after wave of baby velvet widows.
Rupi swoops down to attack, her feathers still spread out in her quill form, and punctures the tiny arachnids until they stop moving.
I’m impressed by the tiny bird; she’s more formidable than I’d have ever guessed.
The small purple spiders rise almost to Vera’s knees, pincers opening and closing ferociously, but their attack can only be described as disorderly.
I take advantage of the widow’s distraction to use one of its long thin legs to swing onto its back, then waste no time thrusting my sword through the top of its head.
It jerks, skitters from side to side momentarily, then falls in a quivering heap.
I jump down to the cave floor, intending to help Vera and Rupi with the continuing wave of miniature widows swarming her.
“I don’t need your help!” she shouts as she stabs one, flings it against the wall of the cave, and goes for another.
From the look in her eyes, it’s what she’d like to do to me, as well.
“I know.” And I mean it.
It appears she can be quite fearsome when she’s angry, but it doesn’t stop me from jumping in to help.
As I do so, almost methodically swinging my sword against these small enemies, I also battle confusion.
One of the first conversations we had was about her dislike for kings…
but she knows me now. We’ve traveled together for weeks, even visited her family.
I have to believe that her reaction is simply born of habit.
If we can just get a chance to talk, she’ll understand. I hope.