The second our bodies make contact, he freezes. His eyes, sharp as winter’s edge, lock onto mine.
I’ve never looked into them for this long.
Something shifts behind them, the solid silver turning fluid, bending, tilting—or maybe it’s just the world around me spinning. His wrist is cold but heat from his skin seeps into my hand, spreading up my wrist like an infection.
"Arlet?"
Estela’s voice feels far away, but I can’t look away from him.
"Can someone tell me what is going on?" she tries again, sharper this time.
I rip my gaze from Vann’s, forcing myself to breathe. “Lord Vann seems to want to discuss something better left to a private conversation.” My voice is tight, my fingers still clamped around his wrist.
Together, our small group heads to the area carved out of the back of the weaving room. It’s full of tools, threads, discarded scraps, metal buttons, and a dozen crates filled with other supplies.
I let go of Vann’s hand as Estela turns.
The queen’s face solidifies into something cold. “What was so urgent?”
He shrugs, but I don’t miss the way his fingers flex—how his grip tightens on the gown.
"Do you remember last night," Vann says, his voice calm, controlled—but cutting. "When I found Arlet screaming in the middle of the passageway?"
My breath stills.
Estela’s face pinches in concern. "What?"
Vann lifts the middle of my nightgown, the fabric stiff with dried blood. "I found her outside, standing over a deadaradhlum."
Estela gasps. "Were you attacked?"
I hadn’t even thought about that. My mind races, flipping back through blurred memories, searching for something—anything—that makes sense.
Vann continues before I can answer. "This is its blood. I found her disoriented outside her house this morning, standing over a severed leg. Two nights before, a man named Daniel was seen near her home. I went looking for him today, and he’s gone. I think he brought the creature there. Maybe he poisoned her."
“You don’t think… I attacked the spider?” I ask.
A cold sweat breaks over my skin. My heart pounds too fast.
"Why would we think that? You are not a violent person, Arlet," Estela says softly.
I remember the blood on my fingernails.
"She needs to get out of here and go see Ulla,” Vann snaps, his jaw tight. Then he hands the nightgown to me.
Estela glares at him. "Lord Vann, I think it's best you leave. I'm sure there is plenty that must be done before tomorrow."
Vann’s gaze lingers on my face. He doesn’t speak, but I feel his stare before he turns and strides away.
The second he’s gone, I take a deep, shaky breath and clench my fingers around the nightgown. Estela watches him leave, still frowning.
“He can be overbearing,” she says a moment after. “And forgive me for pushing so hard about the Mating Journey. I didn’t realize how difficult the past few nights have been for you. Are you all right?”
A heavy weight presses on my temples. I need to rest. But my mind is frayed, a live wire ready to snap. I also need to work. There is so much to do. The new program, the blankets, the meetings… It’s too much.
"Arlet," Estela starts, but I barely hear her.
“Sorry. I am fine,” I say a moment later. “And you are right about the Mating Journey. It’s my job as a new council member. I will fill this out and bring it with me.”