a window to be seen, and the bed Yulenna and I slept on is the only furniture, other than the camp stool parked next to the bed.
Even the bed itself is unnatural. It doesn’t look like a normal mattress, but a large, puffy cocoon of…something. Like a cloud of cotton that’s been draped with our familiar blankets. The cotton reminds me of the boat, actually, but I’m not sure why.
I take a step forward, working on regaining my balance, and this one’s easier than the last. I’m wearing one of my Novoran nightgowns, with a furry hem and a long, wrap-around length. I hold it tight against me so I don’t flash Solat. I’ve been asleep long enough that my hair is dry, my clothes are dry, and my nails are longer. Jesus. No wonder I’m stiff.
Several more steps forward, and I make it to the wall. I place my hand there, only to draw back in surprise.
The walls are coated with spiderwebs.
This close up, I can see there’s a fine layer of webbing covering the stones. I look up and they stretch to the webby ceiling, and along the floor. I glance over at the bed again and wonder if it’s made entirely of webbing, too. And the raft…
I shudder.
“Faith,” Solat says, moving to my side. “Please return to bed.”
“I’ll be fine.” I shrug off his arm before he can help me. “Aron would be hovering if I was in danger, wouldn’t he? We’re safe here.”
Solat gazes at me with solemn eyes. “He’ll kill me if I let you leave.”
I shake my head. “No, he won’t. We’ll tell him I didn’t give you a choice. That I insisted on finding a bathroom and then a kitchen.” Neither of which is entirely a lie.
Solat doesn’t look as if he believes me.
“I won’t let him kill you,” I reassure him. “We need all of the guards we have.” Especially now that Vitar’s gone. I swallow hard. Poor Vitar. He wasn’t my favorite, but he didn’t deserve to die being eaten by a giant worm in a lake.
The lake.
I think of Aron, the way he floated above the water, seething with rage. He didn’t look like my Aron then. He looked like a very angry god…and he almost killed me. I need to talk to him. I don’t remember much about the last few days that I lost to healing up from whatever he did that flattened me, but I know he’s got to be upset and stressed. I want to reassure him that I’m okay. That I’m more resilient than he gives me credit for.
I part the cobweb draped over the doorway and peek out into the hall. It’s empty, and so I step out, ignoring Solat’s protest. The need to find Aron is throbbing through me, almost as overwhelming as my hunger. He’s a craving, and I wonder if it’s a natural one or more of our strange bond. It doesn’t matter either way.
I move down one hall and then another. There are no stairs, just a gradual elevation as the hall twists along the edge of the tower. Occasionally, I’ll pass by a cobweb-covered parapet that leads outside, but I don’t go out there. There’s nothing inviting about it, and all it shows me is that we’re very, very high up. I pass a few doors, but when I try the handle, they’re locked, so I keep going, hoping for something new. All I see are more cobwebs, in some places so thick that they look like clumps or bubbles.
No spiders, at least.
Not yet, my brain helpfully reassures me.
I go endlessly up the empty hall as it winds up the length of the tower, and just when I’m about to turn around and find Solat, I hear something. Humming. Not like an electrical hum, but the faint strum of a million harp-strings played a great distance away. Curious, I pick up the pace, and up ahead, past two more twists of the hall as it winds around the great length of the tower, I see an archway. There are no doors, just more of the thick cobwebs that hang over the place like curtains. But behind them, there’s a faint golden glow, and the melody of all those strings.
So I part the “curtains” and go inside.
The room itself is much bigger than it seemed in the narrow hallway. The ceiling slopes up so high that it’s hidden in shadow, and the room’s walls are completely rounded, as if we’re