Bound to the battle god

60

I don’t know how long I’m out of it, I only know that when I wake up, I’m fucking starving. I’ve never been so hungry in my life. Ugh. I would straight up murder someone for a cheeseburger right about now. My stomach growls as I open my eyes and blink at my surroundings.

“Faith?” A low voice murmurs.

I turn my head, and I’m relieved that it’s tiring to do so, but it doesn’t feel like so much effort that I want to just go back to sleep. I look over at Solat. His jaw is covered in a scruffy almost-beard that wasn’t there before and there are rings under his eyes. At my side in the bed, Yule

“I’m so damn hungry,” I whisper.

Solat grins, his mouth crooked, and reaches over to a nearby table. It’s full of dried meat and a couple pieces of fruit, next to a waterskin. I’m guessing that’s his meal, but he takes the plate and offers it to me. “Do you want broth?”

“Nope.” I grab at one piece of fruit and eat it, bitter rind and all. Then I grab another, and another, and I’m shoveling food into my starving mouth, washing it down with his waterskin. I’ve never been so ravenous, and I know it’s because of the bond. I have to eat twice as much as a normal person to fuel my body now that I’m tied to Aron, and I’m guessing I’ve been unable to eat for a long, long time.

“You might want to slow down. You’ll make yourself sick,” he cautions.

I might—I’ve been sick before, but this time it’s different. Somehow, I know the food will stay down. My body is craving this and it’s different than when it was in the desert. Right now there’s a bottomless pit inside me that needs to be filled. Even as I polish off the last bit of meat, I’m still starving. I still need more. It’s like a drop in the bucket. I drink the last of the water from his skin and lick the top. “I need some more.”

“You…do?” He looks shocked. “You just ate all my rations for the day.”

He doesn’t get it. None of them do except Aron.

Aron.

My mind flutters with vague memories of him. Of Aron’s nearness even when I was sick. Of him being in my bed and holding me against his chest, rocking me. Taking care of me. Brushing my hair back and caressing my face. Speaking in a low voice of endless things I don’t remember, just that he was speaking, as if he knew I needed something to focus on to bring me back. That he needed to be with me.

My heart squeezes with affection, but he’s not anywhere to be seen. “Where’s Aron?”

Yule

Solat watches her closely for a bit too long and then looks over at me. “Last I saw him, he was arguing with one of the spider gods.”

I swallow hard. “Spider gods, huh?”

“One of the three Spidae, Lords of Fate.” His mouth flattens and he doesn’t look thrilled. “We are at their mercy here in the tower.”

I’m not afraid. Aron wouldn’t put me in danger. I just need to know what’s going on. What he’s found out from the Spidae. What happened back there on the lake. I get to my feet and nearly collapse again. My legs feel as unsteady as a newborn foal’s.

Solat is immediately at my side, holding me up. “You’re supposed to stay in bed, Faith. I’m to watch over both of you, protect you with my life.”

“Protect me from what?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“I thought we were safe here?”

“I do not think there is a safe place anywhere in this world,” Solat says, the words so solemn and ominous I’m surprised they came from him. He’s the lighthearted one.

For the first time, I look around at my surroundings. “Are these bad guys?” I ask hesitantly. Because this doesn’t look like the home of the “good guys.” It’s a stronghold of sorts, but not like any I’ve ever been in before. Aventine was dirt and soldiers and crowded, clustered buildings. Katharn was hovels on top of hovels atop the bones of what had once been a magnificent city. Novoro was an opulent keep in the mountains, with rock and stone everywhere.

This is…almost blank. It’s like there’s no personality in these walls. They’re stone, but such a smooth, u

Even the bed itself is u

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 in the center of the tower itself. Here, the spiderwebs are so thick that I can’t see the stonework, and it feels a bit like I’ve walked into a cocoon. The music starts again, the notes not a melody but still somehow beautiful, and I realize that the center of the room is a gigantic, glowing spiderweb made of millions of strands. Unlike the walls, these glow and hum with life, and they don’t seem to be co

I’m drawn to it despite myself, fascinated at the hum, at the gentle glow. As I move closer, I can see the individual threads. There are thousands—no, millions—of them here, all interweaving and crisscrossing without a distinct pattern. Each thread looks slightly different from the others, with this one darker and smudged, while another glows with brilliant light. Fascinated, I reach out to touch one of the brightest strands.

“Do not do that,” a cool voice echoes in the room.

Goosebumps prickle up and down my back and I straighten, quickly turning around. As I do, I see a man standing in the doorway behind me. The spiderwebs along the wall shiver and something twitches, and I get the impression that I just missed seeing the world’s biggest spider. Gross.

“I’m sorry, I thought I was alone.”

“I know.” He stares at me, but even as he does, I get the impression he’s not seeing me, which is strange. It’s like he’s only turning toward me out of courtesy.

There’s no denying he’s beautiful, though. The man wears a long, colorless robe that flows to the ground and pools at his feet. The sleeves are long and his hair is equally as pale and long. The face that stares out at me has bright, u

I turn away from the musical web, unsure if I should extend a hand or what. “I’m Faith—”

“Yes. I’m aware.” He blinks slowly, as if unaccustomed to it. “Are you looking for your strand?”

My strand? What’s he talking about? I can’t tell if he’s accusing me or trying to be friendly—he’s so emotionless it’s hard to decide. “I actually was looking for something to eat.” I smile at him. “You must be the Spidae.”

I mean, there’s really no one else he can be, and I feel stupid the moment I say it aloud.

“I am one of three, yes.” He blinks slowly again.