32. The Spider’s Loving Web
The Spider's Loving Web
She dreamed of wings.
Black, oiled, gleaming in the night.
Of claws and talons.
Of dusky skin and beaded braids.
And eyes.
Deep. Violet. Eternal.
A glaive at her throat.
The Jade Lattice cracking upwards and collapsing.
Ash and dust and screams and blood.
Vargrún’s voice rumbled in her ear—
You should wake, emberling. Before you worry more than just your Resh’Agar. Or should I say—before your vulnerability catches the wrong kind of attention?
She couldn’t wake. Not with those eyes watching her. Not with the promise in them. She knew not what the nature of the vow was. Her death? Her ruin? Her destruction?
She ran and ran, but her feet moved too slowly.
If she couldn’t move, she would be crushed. Glass, crystal, and stone fell from above. The Shields groaned and fizzled. Dying. Leaving Krystopolis in cold and hunger.
He’s near, you know. The one who wears your Silari’s face and calls himself his brother.
Always watching.
Like me.
But unlike my eyes, his linger far too long for all the wrong reasons.
Auryn awoke with a gasp. Images swirled in her mind’s eye—blurred, vague. A warning from a distant sky spoken in a voice closer than her heart. Something reaching out its hand. Calling for her. Violet eyes in the pitch.
She tried to catch the meaning of it, but it slipped through her fingers like smoke. Sweat soaked her brow. Her eyes opened to shadow and softness, and for a moment, she didn’t know where she was.
Then his arms tightened around her, and she remembered everything.
Kailorien.
She was wrapped in him, his chest a wall behind her, warm and solid. One muscular arm curled beneath her head, the other slung across her waist, hand resting just above the curve of her hip. He was heavy, but she’d never really minded.
“Another nightmare?” he murmured, voice low and thick with sleep.
Auryn nodded, pressing her back closer to his chest.
“They’ve been coming often the last few Cycles,” he observed, circling his fingers around her navel. Comforting. Grounding.
She shivered in the chill of the air. The Cycle of Dark was in full swing, and lately not even the Polis-hearths and Regulators in the Lattices could keep up with dropping temperatures.
“What was it this time?” he asked. “Another amorphous shape in the dark?”
“I don’t remember,” she whispered. “But it felt… empty. Like everything had gone quiet. Too quiet. Like a beast in hiding, waiting to pounce.”
He shifted against her, his naked skin smooth over rippling muscle. Brushing aside her silver hair, he kissed the back of her neck. Once. Twice. A lazy constellation of touch.
“You’re safe now,” he said. “Here. With me.”
Her breath evened out. She closed her eyes again, letting the moment stretch.
“Did you dream, too?” she asked, knowing he often did when she had these nightmares.
“Always,” he said. “Mostly about you.”
She frowned and rolled to face him, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I’m serious, Kail.”
“So am I.” His fingers traced slow, lazy circles down her spine. Little by little, her muscles relaxed.
They’d made a quiet ritual of mornings like this for the last few years—stolen dawns in Kailorien’s chambers, each one sweeter than the last. Auryn floated in this pleasant haze for as long as duty would allow. Wrapped around each other. Connected both physically and through the Bond between them.
The thread of it hummed between touches, between breaths. Auryn allowed herself to bask in the quiet. The bed was draped in silken curtains, giving the illusion that the world outside it could wait until she was ready to face its trials.
But it couldn’t wait.
It never could.
With a reluctant sigh, she stirred. “I should go,” she lamented.
“No,” he grumbled into her hair. “You should stay.”
She laughed. “You’re supposed to be reviewing the new Batches of Reskala recruits today. Weren’t you meant to begin training drills last week?”
“I postponed them,” he said, stretching. “I’m allowed to drag my heels now and then.”
Auryn tried to slip from his hold. She made it to the edge of the bed when he playfully tugged her backwards into his embrace. One of his arms wrapped around her waist and the other guided her to turn her head towards him.
“Kail—”
His lips settled over hers. One long, hard, breath-stealing kiss. When he pulled back, the fire in his blue eyes made her weak. His thumb stroked her cheek.
“Don’t look at me like that, starlight, or I’ll keep you from your duties until midday.”
“The Resh’Agar is surprisingly undisciplined.”
He chuckled, then leaned in to whisper in her ear, “and yet my little Sokar is always begging me for more.”
Auryn pursed her lips and nudged at him. He didn’t budge, as expected, so she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Looking down at his bare chest, she frowned.
“Kail,” she said, brows furrowing, eyes taking in the runes etched into his skin. “They’re darker. I swear they’re darker than last Cycle.”
“You always say that.”
“Because I always notice it.” She leaned down and traced the edge of one rune near his collarbone. “I Weave them every night. I know them better than you do now.”
“And what is my Sokar’s concern this morning, then?”
Auryn ran her hands over the full Runesgram, tracing its lines with her Weave. Nothing seemed amiss, and yet…
So dedicated first thing in the morning. Though you still won’t touch me with that delicious mana. Are you afraid I’ll devour you?
She kept working. When she’d explored every one of his runes, she sat up. “You petitioned to delay your next campaign by three full cycles. Kail…are you certain?”
“I’d delay a thousand campaigns for one more morning with you.”
She rolled her eyes, but her blush betrayed her. “That’s not responsible, my Resh’Agar.”
“No,” he agreed, rising from the bed and kissing her quickly, “but it’s true.”
Auryn’s ears were hot. She pointedly looked away when the blanket swished to the ground, revealing his naked body.
Even after all these years, she still couldn’t quite get used to seeing him exposed to the light.
She may have teased him for his lack of discipline, but it was her own desire that unraveled first whenever she looked at him like this—bare, powerful, impossibly hers.
She distracted herself with conversation.
"Did you send reinforcements to the Commons?"
He nodded as he dressed. "The same day you requested it."
Lu’ma padded into the bedroom. With her friend's help, she dressed with swift, practiced motions, checking in the mirror to ensure no piece of her dress was out of place.
"Kail, we need to understand why the Solutus are raiding temples and stealing our citizens in the night."
He paused, glancing at her. "To bolster their ranks. How else would they replenish—" he paused. Softened his words. "When they attack, we do not leave many alive."
His tone tugged at her, and she met his eyes.
Your mantle does not frighten me, my love, she told him through the Bond. The same hands that take lives are those that work to save others.
Their determination grows with each day. The bombings are more frequent. And now they've grown so desperate for bodies that they take the sick into their tunnels.
There is more to it. Why go through the risk of attacking the temples when those they kidnap are doomed to die? And the children…why take them? They cannot fight or even hold a blade. Most are bedridden, hardly able to feed themselves.
She swallowed past the tension in her throat. Past the sorrow that threatened to choke her.
The only way to know for certain is to ask them, and we haven't captured a single one alive. They rune their tongues and kill themselves before we can stop them. From the moment they step into combat, they are fully prepared to die for their beliefs—whatever they are.
Auryn looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes met Lu'ma's briefly.
They call me Enslaver. The few times I've seen them.
They are unknowable, Auryn. Likely sick with the Pale Madness and half delirious from pain and hallucinations. Pay it no mind.
But the thought lingered. It had done so for many years now, ever since she'd first heard of the Solutus and their rebellion against the Doctrine.
Worry not, my love. I will ensure the Commons have increased Reskala patrols. I don't intend to allow those fools to harm more of our people and lead them to their deaths.
I just worry that this war has no end in sight…
Such is the nature of it, Kailorien said. Peace is an illusion, a ceasefire between battles. Even if it lasts for a decade, it is always temporary. If this wasn't the world's truth—he turned to look at her. Then none would need the Resh'Agar.
As Kailorien stepped out towards the bath, she reached into one of his drawers and pulled out her old wooden comb. For now, she left her hair unbound.
A sound caught her attention.
She turned to see Lu’ma placing a scroll on Auryn’s worktable. The look in her eyes nearly caused Auryn to drop her comb. She set it aside and walked to the table, forcing her steps—and her heart—to stay steady. Kailorien would sense it through the Bond if she allowed herself to stress.
At the table, she picked up the scroll and opened it. The symbol of the Sokar was emblazoned within, along with a familiar curved script. The dream from earlier curled low and cold beneath her ribs, its echo suddenly too sharp to ignore.
You see? Did I not tell you he was watching?
Cold sweat broke out around her nape.
She read the words within.
‘Ilphara. We await your arrival in the Vesper Seat.
Leave your Attendant to its duties.’
She handed the scroll back to Lu’ma, watching her tuck it into her violet robes. She let her panic settle while keeping her face stone still. She blocked the Bond from reaching Kailorien. He would likely feel the shift, just not its nature.
“Auryn?” he called from the bathing chamber. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just summons from the Council. You know how I feel when they try to drag me into conversation without notice.”