24th Orovost, 998 NE
A gentle knock on the door: tap-tap.
Cull chuckled at him from his pallet, lowering the book that was standing up on his chest. Aramas was sitting there beside the desk, waiting to open the door, but he couldn’t – she usually said his name, but he always let her enter informally.
“C-come in!” he said, trying to keep his voice from juddering.
Cull chuckled again.
Tap-tap.
He stood up, suddenly feeling nervous.
“What…”
He crossed the room and reached for the handle – the instant he had the door open, a flurry of spiny legs vaguely the size of a dog came rolling into the room.
“Holy Hells!” he shrieked as Wendy ran up his body – he wanted to hit her, flail about in chaotic violence, but Fin would never stand for that – he screwed his eyes shut and held his breath – the weight of the gigantic abdomen, the touch of the huge, hairy legs –
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“Fin! Fin!” he screamed.
It scuttled up onto his chest, wrapping its feet around him.
“Fiiiiiiiin!”
“Ari…”
He was breathing heavily, meaning that Wendy moved palpably with every rapid intake of air, only making his skin crawl more and more every moment that passed; he felt like his body was a seething fluid, sloshing from one side of the room to the other.
“Ari!”
He opened his eyes a crack. Cull had sat upright and was as white as a sheet – but why? Cull didn’t even mind the spider, apparently…
“Ari, could she…?”
“Oh,” Aramas’s mouth said. “Oh.”
He understood.
A moment later, he felt his muscles tighten as the realisation hit his body. His body was his own again and suddenly Wendy didn’t matter anymore.
He sagged, stumbling back and sitting down in the chair, helping him bear the encumbrance of the giant spider hugging him.
“She’s – she’s gone, Wendy?” His voice sounded distant, even to his own ears. “Fintwyna… she’s dead?”
“I’ll, er, get someone,” Cull said, rising to his feet, eyes on the spider.
“No,” Aramas said. “No, it’s alright. It’s okay.”
He managed to open his eyes properly, look down at Wendy.
She might’ve been staring back at him, the two rows of four eyes more like unreadable marbles than anything living. She was so still, he’d have thought she’d died too if it weren’t for the glistening wetness of those eyes and the mandibles beneath them.
“Don’t worry, Wendy. It’s okay. You can stay with us. Stay with me, and we’ll get them back. They’ve all got to die. We’ve all got to die.” He repeated the platitudes as he’d been taught them, then flicked his gaze over at Cull. “And now we know who gets to die first – Winterprince.”
* * *