Page 57 of Nightingale

Would Castil kill him?

He might if he ever found out that he had his fingers in Vrea before Castil did.

There was a gnawing bit of regret for his actions with her, mostly for the reason of his brother’s quiet affections for Vrea. He hadn’t intended on seducing her, or sleeping with her for that matter. Not previously. But now it was clear that she desired it and he couldn’t turn it down. Not when there was a sapling seed of interest for her in himself.

Rian wanted to see how she broke atop him, what noises she made when he moved inside of her, how she gripped him at the very end. He wanted to hear his name on her tongue again, even if it was a selfish reason.

She didn’t want Castil, she wanted him.

Twenty Eight

Vrea could cut the anticipation with one of her knives because it was thick and heavy, like a drowsy-drugging flower that created an induced dream-like state. Sparkling opium powder might have helped ease her unnatural unsteadiness at the situation that unfolded before them, even if she hated things like that. But when the powerful sense of anticipation and fear was loaded into the space between them all, humans and creatures alike, it was enough to make her head swim.

She could sense it from the Moordian Prince, from both of the horses. The entire area was eerie, bedecked in massive silken webs that stretched from the peaks to the crumbling ground. They were large enough to cover Vasthold from head to toe, with some to spare after. They ran along the corridor of rock, tumbling downwards in spiralling strands of spooky silk. If the light caught ahold of them from a certain angle, they shimmered with a decrepit silver that sent shivers into her cells.

In a different scenario, without the gargantuan arachnids lurking below in the tunnels, it might have been quite stunning.

Rian avoided stepping directly into one, lifting his gait to not accumulate the sticky substance before urging Kohl to do the same. There were patches of dirt that bore no webs, whilst others were loaded in the spindly thread. Small creatures were stuck in certain spots, in all forms and sizes and stages of life. Fliesin the top left corner, missing a wing and an eye from previous snackings. Ladybugs with their spotted shells as they buzzed and hummed in any attempt to free themselves. Tiny dragonflies that struggled with every bit of their long-proportioned bodies to break away before they became someone’s lunch.

Notsomeone’s.

TheBlacklegs.

Vrea had seen rough sketches of them from the expanse of her mother’s library, witnessed the horrific retellings of men who had survived the caverns and lived to tell the tale. Unless one faced them themselves, it was impossible to tell what was true and what was not. Until she’d laid her eyes on one herself, Vrea hadn’t believed in the wild plains-cats of Niroula. Massive beasts with padded paws that held gnarly talons that could maim with a single swipe.

And those had been startlingly accurate to the renderings. Which meant that the possibility of the Blackleg drawings for size, could be accurate.

From everything she’d read, she didn’t want to be here at all. There was nothing good about the giant arachnids, not even the silky threads they wove together like a sentient loom with eight eyes.

It was nearly impossible to gain any of it, to take it for themselves and use it for clothes and supplies. The spiders were notorious for keeping it to themselves, for protecting it like it was one of their own children. Though, according to rumours, the arachnids ate their young. Perhaps their self-spun silk was valued at a higher cost, considering that the tales said the monsters killed for the spun wefts.

Something they shared in common.

Getting rid of the weak.

At least her family wasn’t forced to eat them.

She prayed to the seven heavens that no one would see them,that the spiders would remain in their caves and leave them alone. The very last thing she wanted was for a sound to erupt across their cavernous homes and for the giant eight-legged insects to come crawling out to inspect.

Rian and Vrea were more than halfway across the Blackleg Caverns and other than the webs and a couple decomposing corpses in the shards of stone, there was no sign that the spiders even existed. There were no screeching arachnids that shot across the canyon, nor bone-chilling clicks to be heard. There weren’t even any creeping legs to be seen with vicious pinchers to follow.

Vrea inched forward, ready to get this part over and done with before they encountered a single spider, no matter the size. She normally had no issue with them but there was something about this place that created a coiling horror that rotted any of her confidence away.

Onyx skittered with a snort, huffing hot air by her shoulder. She whinnied, trying to tug her reins free which only caused a neigh of protest.

Rian turned into a block of ice, whipping his head around to them. His eyes were wide, wider than the moon and his rich skin was pale. His gaze snapped around them, finding everything as a focal point until it landed on her and she felt the chilling dread that filled him.

“We need to go,now.” He urged and his fingers wrapped around her bicep in a way that wasn’t tight, but wasn’t suggestive.

Too late.

It was too late.

A horrible roar cleaved the silence in two, followed by a scratching that stabbed right through her system. Something crawled in the darkness of the tunnels as several hundred smaller shapes darted across the valley. They ran in sidewayspatterns that spooked the horses as they broke free and into a run down the rest of the path. Rian shouted and began to chase after them on a swift foot, running as fast as possible. She followed, unwilling to be left behind as whatever woke up from the bleak caves.

The earth shook with a mighty force as the tunnels rumbled. Then a dark mass of legs and curved pinchers hurdled out, letting out a terrible noise that turned everything to liquid inside of her.

Her stomach and her bowels.

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