Page 172 of The Princesses of Ruin
Her forelimb moves across the surface of the dark pond she’s told me never to touch, and images come alive within it. There is a two-leg man with black hair and scarred skin. He lays down, eyes closed, in a space that is strange to me.
The Spider Queen smiles and wetness falls from her two largest eyes, the blue ones. I use my hand to brush the wet away.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Tears,” she says. “I’m crying. It can mean that I’m sad, or happy, or sometimes frightened.”
“What are you?”
She looks at me. “All three.”
She passes the bundle of the daughter into my grasp. It’s warm and smells of blood, but something else, too. I don’t understand the scent.
“Hold her close. Do not drop her.”
“I would never drop the daughter,” I say.
“Nyxari,” she says, stroking a black finger down the child’s cheek. “That’s her name, if he asks.”
“Nyxaaari,” I repeat.
“Yes,” she says, fondly.
The Spider Queen steps over the water, her limbs stretched out on either side. She tilts us until down is in front of us, and up is behind. She removes a small, glowing rock from the silken pouch on her hip and dips it into the water. The array of colors ripples out from the point, and suddenly, the air changes. The water is an opening just big enough for me and Nyxari.
She wraps a silk lasso around my abdomen and lowers me through the worlds. The air is colder here, and so dry. It smells like him, and some part of it smells like the Spider Queen. There are so many things I don’t understand, so I try not to focus on them, only the man.
I land on the ground and it’s solid, but soft. I climb the apparatus he’s on and stare at him. He’s unconscious, and not rousing, so I press my forelimb into his leg.
He jerks upright, a sharp thing in his hand.
Nyxari screams and I shield her from the weapon, covering her body with my own.
The man breathes heavily, his air stained with something sharp. He rubs his eyes and follows the line of silk up to the ceiling. When his gaze returns to me, his eyes are wide and glistening with the wetness the Spider Queen said was sadness, or happiness, or fear.
“The daughter,” I say, revealing a little bit of her to him.
He sets the weapon aside and leans forward, reaching for the bundle. I pull her away and hiss. I don’t understand why I do this. I was instructed to deliver her, and he’s reaching out to take her.
He moves slower the second time, and I release the child into his arms.
She’s crying, and so is he.
“Nyxari. Her name,” I say.
He glances at me and then pulls the daughter closer to his mouth. His lips pucker and he presses them to Nyxari’s forehead.
I jump down and move toward the opening back home.
“Wait,” the man says, reaching toward me with pain in his scent. “I want to come with you.”
Why would he question the Spider Queen’s choice? He must not understand.
“There is no future for her there. Raise her here.”
“Then…when she’s raised, I want to come with you,” he says.
“Why?”
