9. Before Reign of T（error） #2
Tarantula snapped his head around. Crack-crack-crack. A dozen icicles snapped off tree branches, magic pulling them up and around his shoulders. They pointed directly at me, sharpened ends twirling. I raised my arms up, shielding Squire.
The attack didn’t come.
Instead, Aleksander slumped low in his saddle. My bone hilt protruded from the base of his neck. His vertebrae: severed.
That was too easy.
Apprehension built.
Aleksander toppled off his mount, limbs splaying as he hit the ground with a sickening crunch. The dire horse neighed as it bucked and kicked. A head rolled across the snow.
“Oh no,” Squire hooted quietly. Mom yelled on Tarantula’s shoulder, the sound muffled behind the gag.
It wasn’t Aleksander.
A woman stared up at me.
The golden Royal Mage mask rolled off like it had never been affixed properly. Time stopped. Blond hair spilled out, the ends dyed bright pink. Pretty green eyes were frozen wide, blue lips open in a silent scream as a thick chunk of ice protruded from her mouth. She’d already been dead.
No.
Please . . . no.
Aurora.
White-hot relief filled my chest that they’d chosen her and not Mom.
Then a wave of anguish nearly brought me to my knees.
She didn’t hear me say “I love you.” Hot tears streamed down my face, freezing painfully as I choked on uncontrollable sobs that exploded without thought. I never got to say goodbye.
Leaning over, I threw up violently.
Ice daggers hovered, spinning in a silver haze around Tarantula as he tilted his head to the side, watching me with confusion. Unidentifiable emotions flashed across his eyes. His rows of earrings clattered together.
Everything slowed as I comprehended their depraved deceit, starting back with Mrs. Sheridan. Tarantula had kidnapped Mom, knowing I would come after her, and Aleksander had stayed back with Pestilence, waiting until I left, to steal Aurora.
A setup.
Psychological warfare.
Squire panicked, shrieking as Tarantula took a step toward me, icicles spinning lazily with magic. He opened and closed his mouth like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Rule of survival: When bested, change the terrain.
Turning, I sprinted deep into the cover of the forest. The trees were my only protection from his magical weapons. They will not win. They already had because Aurora was dead. No, they haven’t. Mom still lived. I’d misjudged the parameters of the game we were playing.
There were no rules.
“Wait,” Tarantula called out with a dark rasp as he followed me into the forest.
“Murderer,” I screamed, voice catching on sobs.
I glanced back at him through the tears. Ice hovered around his shoulders, glittering silver.
Grief sharpened into rage as tree branches smacked my face. Squire screeched where he balanced precariously on my shoulder.
Tarantula’s stalking you.
Kill him first.
Long, awful minutes stretched as he followed after me while he held Mom hostage over his shoulder. His boots crunched against ice, and the biting scent of his magic filled the forest. He wasn’t even trying to be quiet.
I ran faster.
He followed, gaining.
Squire cawed with terror.
“Fly away,” I begged him.
“Me can’t.” Squire trembled as he pressed close, his voice small with fear.
That’s it.
I was no creature’s prey, let alone this man’s.
Turning, I dug my numb fingers into my holster. The forest stilled. Tarantula approached, only a few paces away. He’d gained significant ground and oozed controlled satisfaction. Metallic magic glowed around him in a blinding haze.
No one man should ever wield this much storm magic.
I ran straight toward Tarantula, flinging my dagger. Squire screeched. A thick chunk of bark ripped off a tree and flew in front of Tarantula’s neck, blocking my dagger, which sank uselessly into the snow.
But I’d already leaped.
Arms outstretched, legs straight behind me, I slammed into Tarantula’s legs.
He groaned with . . . pleasure? I must have imagined it.
Mom screamed behind her gag as he dropped her, grunting in surprise as we plowed down onto the forest floor, rolling.
Wings flapped violently. “Me a pacifist,” Squire screeched (unhelpful).
Fists and knees flew in a white blur as we tumbled through the trees.
I stabbed down with another dagger, for Aurora, clipping Tarantula’s thigh. Blood splattered. Long fingers wrapped around my throat, slamming my head back against a tree trunk. His fingers spasmed as he shuddered, inhaling loudly. Squire fluttered away, rising to the treetops.
Tarantula tried to straddle me, but I still had my knife, swiping. I stabbed, clipping both his arms as he bellowed and released my neck.
Dark maroon sprayed between us.
He stared down at me, chest heaving.
Magic replaced where his hands had squeezed, stealing my breath as I threw myself at him. I didn’t need to breathe. I had rage.
He grabbed my dagger hand, twisting my arm behind my back, yanking me to my feet. I screeched, kicking and bucking. He roughly pried the weapon out of my fingers. I flinched, waiting for the blow. He threw my knife to the side, and it shattered against a tree trunk.
With his grip tight on my wrist, and my arm still wrenched at an unnatural angle, he stepped close into my personal space. His chest pressed against mine as he bit down on his full lower lip.
His platinum mask reflected my bloody tears. Flames of magic steamed off his head. Looming over me with his deranged size, he pulled my wrist down farther, arching my back at an awful angle.
“Tell . . . Aleksander,” I said through gritted teeth. “Zora said . . . kill . . . himself.”
“Do not worry yourself,” Tarantula said quietly, his foreign accent straight from my nightmares. “Thou will get to deliver that message in the flesh.”
My heart stopped.
“What—”
“He commanded me to tell thee . . .” Tarantula leaned closer as his other hand cupped the back of my neck.
“This is his warning. If thou keep hiding behind walls in the North . . . he will take your mother from thee.” Spider legs flexed on his jaw.
“Do not try to deceive him. The Crimson Army’s no quarter will not protect her. After all, she’s too old to enlist.”
“I’m not hiding,” I said automatically.
“Leave the North,” he ordered. “Leave her behind, and he promises he won’t harm her.”
“And where would I go?”
“Anywhere else.”
“Why?”
“He did not say.”
“Why would I trust his word?”
“It is all thou have.”
I swallowed a scream of frustration. “Tell Aleksander . . .”
He waited for me to finish, leaning closer to hear better. I slammed my knee between his legs.
He swore and shifted, but I’d expected it and stomped my boot down on the top of his foot. He shouted, his grip loosening for a split second. I unsheathed a dagger with my left hand and stabbed.
We both stared down at the hilt protruding from the middle of his stomach. Tarantula took a step forward, lunging for me, but I’d already backed out of his range. He staggered, tripped, and leaned against a tree trunk as he heaved, staring at me, his blood melting the snow.
“Tell Aleksander I admire his royal picture.” I tapped my nose. “His face looks great . . . Love the asymmetry. Now his outside matches his inside—hideous.”
Icicles trembled as magic gusted. They broke from a tree branch, hovering dangerously in the air, but then they fell, shattering at his feet. His magic failed him. “Aleksander shall make thee suffer for this,” Tarantula groaned, sliding down the tree and collapsing.
“No—he won’t. Because I’ll make him suffer first.” I kicked him in the side with all my strength, needing to hurt him for Aurora. His head lolled, and he didn’t even grunt in pain.
I screamed with frustration, turning in a circle, his threat ringing in my ears. Hopeless, tears still streaking down my face, I didn’t know what to do.
A muffled sound echoed.
“Mom,” I said as I turned and fell to my knees beside her. I cut apart the rope that tied the furs around her, then pulled down her gag, running my hands everywhere. Miraculously she appeared unharmed.
“Zora, baby,” she whispered hoarsely as she coughed and reached for my face with a trembling glove. “Aurora.”
“I know.” My voice cracked as I pulled off my outer cloak and draped it around her shoulders, not listening to her protests. Quiet descended as the wind died. Sparkles drifted through the air. The magical ice storm had ceased like it never existed.
A twisted nightmare.
Tarantula sat slumped over, unconscious with pieces of snow drifting around him like glitter.
Instincts screamed at me to grab Mom and run as far away from him as possible, but I hadn’t survived this long by listening to fear.
My thoughts raced. His capture could be useful to me, but I wanted his death more.
Creeping over, I unsheathed a dagger from my boot and studied his messy blond curls streaked with strands of gold.
I yanked his head up by his hair. His scarf unraveled. What in the knighthood? His neck was covered in an overlapping cicatrix of jagged scars.
He’d been mutilated.
Awareness dawned. I pulled him up higher, exposing his protruding Adam’s apple.
Up close, the incredibly detailed spider tattoo appeared to crawl across his jaw.
With steady fingers, I pried off the top of his mask, which was practically welded to his face.
Royal creed be damned. Finally it pulled away.
He had a crooked nose; a wide, angular jaw; razor-sharp cheekbones; full crimson lips; sunken eyes ringed in dark purple circles; and golden eyebrows, arched elegantly.
Curse it all.
Bark dug into my palm as I gripped a tree, holding myself upright. Everything was so much worse than I’d originally thought. Leaning closer as if hypnotized, I inhaled his awful, deadly scent.
The face staring up at me looked similar to Aleksander’s on the bridge, but it was so different at the same time. A much more manly, attractive version lay before me. Tarantula was rumored to be the Emperor’s cousin.