Not in the mood? Not in the fucking mood? I’m hurt, but it quickly passes. This isn’t Aron. Something’s wrong. Something’s different about him and it’s worrying me. Aron has been in the mood ever since we first made love. Sometimes I wake up to him pushing between my thighs because he doesn’t want to wait until morning for me to wake up—and I love that. I wake up to him kissing me or going down on me because he loves my taste. The man loves sex.
How can he not be in the mood? He’s always in the mood.
I study him for a moment longer, then suggest something I think will break him out of his funk. “So when we get to Yshrem, what’s the plan?” Talking war strategy with the men always makes him light up. If nothing else, it makes him talk, sometimes endlessly. Right now I’d be happy to let him fill my ears about troops and battle plans if it means he’ll just talk to me. “Carry on as we have been? Or amass an army to take out your opponents? Do you think we’ll need to fight our way there?”
He shrugs.
He fucking shrugs.
That’s the only answer I get.
This is…not my Aron. Something’s definitely wrong.
I pat his arm and move away, heading back inside. I turn and look at the man standing on the balcony, just in case he’s messing with me, but Aron continues to stare out at the gray waters, seeing nothing.
And suddenly, I know what this is. I know exactly why he’s like this…but I need proof.
Fear makes my heart thump loud in my chest. I hitch up my skirts and storm my way up the ramp. I walk slow at first, but as the path winds around the tall tower, I start running. By the time I reach the room of the webs, I’m at a full-blown sprint.
One of the Spidae is there, gazing up at the web. He looks the same as he always does—long white hair, long white robes—and I don’t know if it’s one I’ve met before or a different one. It doesn’t matter. I rush toward the web. “Where’s his strand?”
The Spidae doesn’t ask for more details than that. He knows what I mean. He gives me a look that might have something like pity in it, and then strolls forward, gesturing at another section of the web. I follow him, moving in close. As I approach, each strand seems to take on its own individual life, and out of the cluster, I see the shining golden strand that has to be Aron’s. I lean in, studying it, making note of where it crisscrosses with other threads, and continue to follow it into the weave.
There are three strands…or there should be. I see the one that is Aron—my Aron—intertwined with my own. I follow the others instead. Two of the strands have moved closer together, so close they were almost interwoven. Now, one hangs loose, broken free from the web itself.
“One of his Aspects is dead,” I murmur, as if saying it aloud confirms it.
“Yes,” the Spidae moves to my side. “Killed by another, it seems.”
I stare at the two closely tangled threads. Hedonism and Apathy moving together. Now only one thread remains. I turn to look at the Spidae. “It’s Apathy that died, isn’t it? Someone killed his anchor?”
He inclines his head. “He is gone. Aron is re-absorbing him. His personality will be different for a few days.”
I know that. I do. Didn’t we go through this with Liar Aron? But my heart still hurts. I ache for the Aron that’s gone—even though I know he has to go—and I’m a little afraid that only one Aron remains.
Hedonism.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter.
“Aron has many flaws, but that is not one of them,” the Spidae says in that cool voice of his. “Have you made your decision?”
I clench my fists, straightening. “What decision?”
Instead of answering me, he walks slowly behind the web, and my skin prickles. I know where he’s going. Reluctantly, I follow, and I see the second web—the Earth web—and my strand, stretched taut across the two. Is it just me, or are the few threads that are pulled tight between the two webs—displaced people like myself—fewer in number than before? Or is it my imagination?
“Have you decided if you wish to return to your world or stay with Aron?”