Page 74 of The Salvation

“Very shrewd indeed.”

She turns away, skittering through a wide passageway between more walls of spider silk. I lengthen my stride to keep up with her. Spider silk is the strongest substance in the world and why she could form a whole world with the threads.

Necrosyne leads me into another room—smaller than the courtroom. But unlike the others, most of the objects are not formed of spider webs. Instead, real ones have been scattered across the room and in the center of the room...I shiver at the open coffin with more objects, all of them regal or royal in nature.

“Of course, you must know of all three objects, child of scars,” Necrosyne introduces the final trial. “What you do not know is that I took the eyes from the jewel of the crown and placed them in a different object.”

My heart plunges to my stomach. No, lower. It’s weeping and curled up in the fetal position on the ground. My blood turns cold.

“My riddle is this.” She approaches me from behind, and I flinch at the fur prickling my back, as if she knows I will not win this time. “Adorned by the faithful, a symbol so divine. Worn in reverence, a beacon that does shine. What am I, worn by both humble and grand, in sacred halls or held by a sovereign hand?” She pauses, her eyes pivoting to the scene. “You must choose the right object. Your little rook fox will stay with me, otherwise, it would be cheating. If you fail, you and all your pretty scars and stories belong to me.”

I have no doubt what will happen to me should I run out of stories. Glancing down at Jinxy, at his head tilted and eyes glassy and hopeful, I take a deep breath and slowly step into the room to begin the trial.

How amI supposed to guess? How can I possibly know with such a vague riddle? Something divine, worn by sovereigns, or humble? Something that shines? At a mere glance, it could be anything.

Clutching the other objects to my chest, wondering if they will help me, but knowing they likely won’t come with inner radars to find their third companion, I measure my footsteps by my heartbeats. And the blood hammering in my ears.

I take in a scepter of silver. A gold-plated rose. Velvet robes of pure scarlet. A royal pendant with an insignia. A large emerald ring with a seal. A candelabra with blood-red candles. Royal armor with a crest etched into its center. A moonstone orb encased in gold. A silver cross with bloodstones.

My breath catches in my chest because the crown Merikh spoke of is also here—the one of fangs, bone, and a bloodstone in the center of the diadem. And lanterns, scrolls, treasure boxes, and even a choker of fangs.

Repeated clicks of Necrosyne’s mandibles echo in my ears, but I don’t turn back. Every second is precious. My life hangs in the balance of each moment.

With the objects in one hand, I tremble, fingers hovering new ones. What do I expect? Some magical spark to sting my skin with the answer?

The erratic pulsing of Necrosyne’s abdomen is like the ticking of a clock, winding down to my fate. My fingers approach the crown, wondering if she’s tricking me. Half my gut instinct says she wouldn’t lie while the other half tells me it could be reverse psychology. But logic and rationality have never been on my side.

The silver cross twinkles, winking at me from the center of the coffin. I think of Merikh and his silver cross. Am I seriously going to choose an object based on Merikh’s cock cross? If intuition is any sign, it has saved me in the past.

As the sound of her staccato clicking, her pulsating abdomen, and malevolent leg tapping all increase in tempo, resounding in my ears and vibrating into my body, I snatch up the cross and rush back to the entrance. Heart in my throat. Pulse shredded in my veins. Breath shriveling in my lungs.

Neocrosyne’s eyes gleam. She glides into a gentle arch and tenderly strokes the side of my body with her spindly leg. “You failed, child of scars.”

I buckle. And fall to my knees, dropping all three of the objects. Her name thunders in my mind, but it escapes my throat in the weakest of whispers. “Aislynn.” Tears clot my eyes. What will happen to my daughter now?

Perhaps three heartbeats after my whisper, perhaps less, Necrosyne rears up on her back four legs, roaring, spitting venom. I roll away, grabbing the chalice and knife as quickly as possible.

“What did you do?!” she roars, shaking her legs.

I don’t get to answer. I choke on a gasp as she snarls and unleashes her silk, rapidly spinning it around my figure. Trauma of feeling trapped, ensnared with no escape, relives itself in my body. Jinxy yips and growls madly, running back and forth, but I’m relieved he doesn’t try to attack the spider.

I can’t move a muscle in Necrosyne’s steely cocoon as she wraps me, snarling and clicking her jaws. The chalice and dagger press so hard against my chest, I can nearly feel the bite of the blade and the chalice cracking. Any moment now, she will sink those jaws into me, paralyze me with her venom, and bite my unworthy head off.

A desperate sob breaks escapes my throat as she turns me around and screeches, “Where is the damn crown?”

My heart melts in my chest, and all my nerves attack me for being such a fool to rely on my intuition over my gut instinct.

“You said you took the eyes out of the crown...” I murmur, knowing it’s probably the wrong thing to say.

She spits in my face, and I wince from the hot spray of the venom, hoping it doesn’t paralyze my facial muscles. “I put them back,” she hisses. “Now, what did you do with the crown?” She sinks the claws of her legs into the cocoon, and I swallow a hard knot of fear from how the points prick my skin.

I shake my head, opening my mouth to reply.

“I have the crown!” Qora shouts from behind us, and Necrosyne turns, her claws still embedded in the cocoon. I lock eyes with my sister as she raises the crown eyes, the bloodstone glittering as it catches the light of the spider’s eyes. She grins to say, “Now...let go of my sister.”

“It seems you left out a key piece of your story, little scarred one,” Necrosyne scoffs at me, but her claws hook deeper, and I gasp as they sink deeper, shedding blood. “This was her test, her trial, Shadow girl. Not yours,” she spits at Qora.

Qora stands proud and tall, gripping the crown hard enough to leave its prints in her palm. “Nowhere did you specify thatonlyQuintessa could complete the trial. I share the same blood, and while I may only hold a Shadow of a twin soul to her half-one, our bonds are unbreakable. Besides, shouldn’t it impressthe Queen of the Hollows, the infamous spinner of worlds, that I used my wits to outsmart your challenge?”

---