Chapter 64
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Briar
As I stalked toward the dining room, my anger grew with every step. Knox never believed me when I told him that I’d never betrayed him. He claimed to believe me now, but he still doubted me. He’d proven it by turning on me the second the roses started dying.
Maybe it was his fear of me trying to escape that drove him to be a rash asshole, but that was no excuse for blaming me or my potions. He wanted to be angry at me. It was easier for him to feel that emotion because I was a reminder of a better time he wished to forget.
He couldn’t have known how my mother learned of our plans; I hadn’t until now, but I was his mate and the one who loved him, even if I was a caster. His years in the harem broke him, and my mother fucked with his head; I understood that, but at one time, he’d loved me and I’d loved him.
He should have had more faith in us.
No one noticed when I stepped into the dining hall. Knox sat at the far end of the table; the others were all gathered around him. Their heads were bent close as they tried to formulate a plan.
When I stormed toward them, Knox looked up, and his scowl deepened. He sat back in the chair, and the others all looked at me as I stopped beside the table.
“Can we help you?” Knox inquired.
The frigid tone of his voice only served to enflame my wrath. When I set the metal container on the table, Gizzi scrambled up to sit beside it.
I set the bowl down for him, but he didn’t dunk his head again. He still had to be sore, but his attention remained solely on Knox as Zephyr hovered nervously over my shoulder.
“I know what’s killing the plants,” I stated.
A murmur ran through the group as Knox lifted an eyebrow. “So, now you know what’s causing it?”
Gods, how I yearned to punch him in his too arrogant face.
“Yes, now I know,” I bit out. “And I also know how to stop it.”
Knox stretched his long legs before him and clasped his hands on his stomach. He didn’t believe me; I saw it in his eyes. “Well, don’t leave us in suspense. Please, enlighten us.”
“When I show you what’s in this container, I expect an apology…
for everything. I expect you to say sorry for believing I was the one who told my mother everything, for locking me in the tower, for the way you’ve been these past few days, and for being an all-around giant prick all the time. You will apologize for all of it.”
I didn’t add that I also expected a lot of groveling, but I did. He’d treated me like shit, and I wouldn’t easily forgive that. We might never be able to fix what was wrong with us, but an apology was a good start.
Knox’s casual posture vanished, and he sat forward in his chair. “Do you have a miracle in that fucking box?”
“I have the answer.”
I slid the top open and pulled out the spider. Holding it by the abdomen, I avoided its burning secretion as I set it on the table.
They all leaned closer to examine it before confusion marred their faces. They looked from the spider to me.
“What does a silkfang have to do with any of this?” Dromon asked.
“They can’t hurt anything,” Lyra said.
When the spider tried to scamper away, I captured it again. Its overlong legs continued to paw the air as it kept trying to run, but it wasn’t going anywhere.
“You know what a silkfang looks like,” I said to Knox.
“I do.”
“You know every marking on them.”
“Yes. They were all over the tunnels in No Man’s Land.”
“I remember, but did you learn their markings?”
His head tilted to the side as he stared suspiciously at me. “I did. I was curious about them as a child. They’re a fascinating species.”
“They are a very interesting species,” I agreed. “They do a lot of good in the kingdoms; much of our clothing comes from the material they create.”
“What’s your point?”
I held the spider out to him, keeping its abdomen hidden. “Does this look like a silkfang to you?”
Knox stared at me before shifting his attention to the spider. He sat back again. “It’s a silkfang.”
“Is it?” I murmured as I lifted the spider to reveal its abdomen. “What about now? Does it still look the same as a silkfang?”
Again, Knox held my eyes before looking at the arachnid again. He looked bored until his eyes settled on the snake and moon etched onto its stomach. A gorman always bore the marks of whichever caster created it, day or night; it was impossible to miss this one.