Page 47 of The Blood Queen

“The hell I can’t,” he says immediately, his eyes flicking over my shoulder. “I’m currently judging them for exactly how they look, and they look like—”

One of the spiders taps on my protective bubble. It’s so small I wouldn’t notice if it didn’t tickle my magic. A few more cluster around, all clearly—and politely—trying to get our attention.

This makes all coherent thought leave Samson’s brain, and he just sputters.

Must be an English thing. Everyone in Scotland knows spiders are good luck. Although to be fair to him, I do know a few other souls who’re afraid of the wee darlings. Even regular spiders are good luck, and these are the Faerie Queen’s own companions.

They’ve kept vigil over her shrine for centuries.

There are quite a number of spiders now. Dozens have drawn up to the protective bubble I’ve made, and hundreds—thousands—more lurk about the throne room. But these spiders are all watching us, waiting, not aggressive at all, just patient.

They want to chat.

“I’m going to lower the protective bubble,” I tell Samson.

He squeaks.

I pat his cheek. “You’ll be fine.”

Before he can muster up the words to protest, I let my magic fall away.

Immediately, the spiders swarm. Samson makes a gargled, strangled sound, but he still makes a valiant effort to rush in front of me to protect me.

“Don’t squash them!” I say.

The spiders, thankfully, have the sense to leap up, jumping onto Samson’s trousers and skittering over my skirts. And Samson, whether because he’s listened to me or is frozen in fear, stands still as a rock.

“Alyth,” he says in a strained voice.

The majority of the spiders have leaped over to me, although a few linger on Samson’s shoulders, crawling into his hair.

Hundreds of spiders adorn my skirt like glittering jewels, blue and red and green and white, their legs sparkling in the ethereal light cast by magic. They start up the bodice of my gown, forming neat little lines that encircle my waist, trailing over my chest like a sash. Their legs tickle my skin as they dance over my bare arm. I lift my hand, and one walks over my wrist, toward my knuckles. I hold out my finger, and the little beastie crawls to the tip of my nail and then launches itself to the ground, a thread of gossamer connecting my finger to its body.

Carefully, a thousand spiders swishing with my dress, I take a few steps forward, following the spider silk.

Another spider breaks free from the rest, crawls over the back of my hand, and launches, casting the thread out, each strand of spider silk enough to move me a few steps in the direction the spiders want me to go, forming a trail for me to follow.

“Alyth?” Samson asks, his voice strangely high.

“They’re leading us somewhere,” I say. More spiders launch from my fingers, the sticky web meshing, pulling me forward.

“Do they have to be all over you to show you where to go?” Samson asks.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Sort of tickles.”

Samson makes an inhuman sound, but he follows right behind me.

The throne room is vast, bigger than the great hall at Stirling Castle, and while spider-wrapped cocoons of fae creatures are scattered about, the spiders lead us through a path that takes us around a table tipped on its side, a harp with cobwebs instead of strings, a huge clay pot with the remains of a dead tree inside. I briefly try to inspect these objects. Are any of them the Red Cap weapon that destroyed the Faerie Queen? But since the spiders are obviously leading us elsewhere, the items are probably nothing.

“Who are all these people?” Samson asks. He can’t seem to stop looking at the cocoons; he trips over a chair, and the spiders all click in annoyance at his clumsiness.

I cast a look around, but I’m far more focused on where the spiders are leading us. “People closest to the queen, no doubt,” I say. “Lovers, loyalists.” I shrug.

“Fools,” the spiders whisper, their voices echoing. Fools. Fools. Fools.

“What does that mean for us being here, then?” Samson asks. “We fools too?”

“No,” I say. But what did the spiders mean? These were allies to the queen, and the spiders were her friends. Were these people fools to try to save the queen? Or was there something else?