Page 111 of The Weaver

Glaring at Rekosh, the Prime Speaker released Ahmya, letting her fall to the ground, and rose slowly, menacingly. “Death holds no sway over one such as our queen. Our queen of ash and bone, god of the Tangle and all within it!”

She spun around and bowed reverently; the three vrix accompanying her did the same, and all repeated those words in a devoted murmur.

Our queen of ash and bone.

Only then did Rekosh see what had been behind the four of them all along.

A towering figure clad in polished gold adornments and vibrant purple silk—a skeletal female vrix. Her arms were outstretched, clawed fingers spread menacingly, and her jaw hung agape, revealing her sharp teeth. The black of her empty eye sockets was impossibly deep, brimming with hunger and malice.

The embodiment of death.

“Oh my God,” Ahmya rasped.

Terror’s cold hands closed around Rekosh’s hearts and squeezed, sinking their claws in to sap all the heat and strength from his body.

Zurvashi.

She was here. Somehow, she was here, and…

He drew in a burning breath as his hearts jolted into a rapid, punishing rhythm.

No, it wasn’t Zurvashi. It was Zurvashi’s remains. He could see the dark silk string neatly wound around the blackened bones, attaching them to each other and to a framework of sticks and posts rising from the large, flat stones stacked beneath the skeleton.

“She is more now,” Ogahnkai declared. “Our queen.TheQueen. Greater than the Eight, she is the ruler of all vrix, and our paltry offering shall hasten her return to this world of hide and blood.”

Ahmya turned her head to meet Rekosh’s gaze. Her eyes expressed so much in that fleeting moment. Her fear and uncertainty, yes, but also her love.

That look shattered his hearts and bolstered them at once because it also conveyed a simple but profound understanding.

Rekosh and Ahmya were the offerings.

No.

He could not fail to protect her again, no matter how impossible the situation seemed. Hecould not fail.

As Ogahnkai and her cloth-clad companions straightened, Ulkari pushed herself upright, crushing Rekosh beneath her weight. No sooner was she off him than he was hauled up off the ground by the Claws who’d come to her aid.

He bent his wrists sharply, seeking the damaged rope with his long claws, oblivious to the pain of the angle.

With his head up, he could now see what lay before the skeletal shrine. A square pit, three segments across and twodeep, filled with branches and twigs. Beneath the fresh wood was a layer of gray soot, ashen lumber, and charred bones he could only hope had belonged to animals.

The clothed males strode away from the pit to retrieve a large basket filled with dried leaves, grass, and fronds.

“Today, my queen, your will is done,” Ogahnkai called, spreading her arms wide. “Two of your enemies face your justice.”

Moving in unison, the males threw handfuls of kindling into the pit. Dry as it appeared, it was likely to light quickly.

“Do not do this,” Rekosh said, voice steady despite his breaths coming increasingly quick and shallow. “You will regret it.”

One of his claws caught the rope and dragged across it.

With a quiet sound of discomfort, Ahmya rolled and rose onto her knees.

“You are in no place to make threats,” Ulkari grated from beside Rekosh.

“It is no threat. Only truth.”

He heard the clinking of gold as Ulkari shifted, and he braced himself for another blow.

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