Oh god. I stare at the soldier’s grim face, wondering who’s died. What terrible thing has happened…because I know this can’t be good.

“Your Majesty.” He bows his head and sets the trunk on the ground. “We found this left in the bushes by the side gate. It says it should be delivered to Lord Aron’s anchor.”

“Is it a trap? Have my wizards been consulted?” The queen’s voice is sharp and I don’t know if it’s anger or relief.

“It carries no magic,” he says and bows his head. “We looked inside to ascertain this before we brought it in and…it is a man’s head, Your Majesty.”

My stomach churns. Someone’s sent me a head? Whose?

The answer comes before I even reach for the trunk. Oh god. I swallow hard and force myself to get to my feet and lift the lid. I open it just a crack, just enough to see Solat’s sightless eyes staring up at me from his handsome face. There’s blood crusting his hair, and…and I shut the lid again.

Solat.

I close my eyes and return to my seat, hands shaking. I can’t even process this right now. I’m so sorry, I silently tell him. I pray this wasn’t in vain. I pray all of this wasn’t in vain. He deserved better than a brutal, lonely death. I’m not going to remember him like this, I decide. I’m going to remember him as the laughing, flirty man who loved to tell stories in Novoro. I’ll remember you, Solat. You and Vitar both, I promise. “Please bury him,” I say.

The guard hesitates. “The dead—we should burn him, my lady—”

“Then fucking burn him,” I snap. “Just do it respectfully.” I get up from my chair and start pacing, my entire body feeling like a live wire about to spark. This is all going horribly wrong. All of it.

Solat’s dead. Captured by the enemy and they knew he was with me. I want to cry but I’m not sure I have the tears left inside me. I feel hollow.

The newcomer leaves with the trunk, his armor jingling. Kerren moves to my side when I stop in front of the window, and puts a kind hand on my shoulder. “Faith,” he murmurs. “You cannot blame yourself. He knew the risks. He did it because he wanted to help.”

None of us are getting out of this alive. And Solat grinned at me like it was no big deal.

But it is a big deal. I look at Kerren, his kind face, and I wish I could save him. I wish I could save all of them, the men throwing themselves into battle at the gates, determined to push the Adassian army back by meters, as if that will make a difference somehow. As if that’s worth dying for.

I swallow hard and nod, forcing a smile to my face. “Thanks, Kerren.”

“Come,” the queen says, getting to her feet. She puts a hand to her rounded belly. “My son is staying with his nurse this morning. Let us go and see my court wizards and take a look at this spyglass they have made. If nothing else, it will be a distraction.”

We leave the room and our contingent of guards flank us from all sides. I half expect the queen to head to the dungeons or some deep bowels in the castle inhabited by monsters, but instead, we cross over to the far side of the keep, down a well-lit hall lined with chairs. I can see maps on the walls of a room that we pass—a war room, no doubt—and then we enter another chamber that opens up into a large, book-lined study with a kitchen-like alcove. There are bottles and books on every surface, and two men in tiny, wire-rimmed glasses look up as we enter. Immediately, I’m reminded of Omos’s monastery and a surge of homesickness wells up inside me. Strange how I’m homesick for that and not Earth.

“We are here to see the spyglass,” the queen says politely, folding her hands in front of her belly.

One of the wizards bows. He doesn’t look to be older than me, and the beard on his jaw is scruff more than anything else. “Of course, your majesty. We found the details of it in an old book. A curious invention, long forgotten.” With a swish of long, lavender robes, he moves to a table across the room and starts to pick through a clutter of objects. The other wizard continues to work at a table full of bottles, pouring one murky-looking liquid into a flask and frowning at it.

“Here we are,” the wizard announces, and holds out two leathery-seeming telescopes. “We took the liberty of making two based off of the plans, so both the queen and her guest might amuse themselves without having to share.”

Amuse ourselves? He thinks this is a fucking game? “This isn’t for a party game, Harry Potter,” I retort. “People are dying.” I take one of the spyglasses and examine it. There’s a thick, warped piece of glass at each end but it looks about right. “Cool the misogyny for a hot minute, please.”

“I did not wish to offend,” he stammers, handing the queen the other. “Shall I show you how it works?”

Oh dear lord. I bite back a sharp retort. “We’re good, thanks.”

“I…realize there is a war going on, my lady,” he says, inclining his head. “I did not mean to insult. If you both like, I can show you what else we are working on? The ancient tomes have provided fascinating information, and we are working on something I am confident the enemy does not have.”

“What is it?” Queen Halla asks, curious.

I toy with the telescope in my hands, impatient. I want to find a window and start looking for the spider symbol Solat promised he’d use as a signal. Maybe he was able to do it in time.

“The ancients called it Godsfire,” the wizard says, his eyes alight with excitement. “It is a liquid that burns through everything it touches, destroying with a few drops. The ancients would carry it in globes and throw them at the enemy army, turning them to char in a matter of moments.”

Her eyes go wide. I stop examining my telescope and look over at him.

“You made this?” I ask. “This grenade?”

He nods, all pride. “We’ve tested it in small ways, but a vial of it can burn down an entire tent. A full batch could destroy all of the Adassian army.” The wizard holds one vial up, and I can see the dark red liquid churning inside.

“Then make us enough to destroy their army,” the queen says.

“It…is not that simple. We have worked for months just to produce this much.” And he shows us the vial. “It’s small enough to fit in a pocket, but quite destructive.”

A pocket.

Of course.

And suddenly, I know what I need to do.

OceanofPDF.com

79

“Keep looking,”

“I see nothing,” the queen says at my side. “I’ve scanned the entire camp twice, and still I see nothing.”

We stand atop the tallest parapet, spyglasses in hand as we watch the enemy camp. With the spyglass, we can see right into the depths of the distant enemy camp, and the symbols they have written all over their tents.

Nothing like a spider, though, and it’s frustrating.

I know you did it, Solat. I know he succeeded. Isn’t this what the Spidae have been hinting at all along? Everything is coming to this moment, and they’ve pushed and pulled and manipulated us along the way for this to happen.

They won’t check your pockets, you know.

At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. Now, it’s all too clear. I’m both excited and filled with terror.

“I see no spider marking,” Halla says, peering through her spyglass. “Are you certain?”

“It’ll be there,” I promise the queen. “We just have to keep looking.”

We’ve been staring through them for an hour, studying the tents from afar. It’s tempting to watch the battle instead, to watch Aron—either one—hack and slash his way through the men. But after seeing a few close-ups of heads being chopped and necks sliced open, I focused on the tents instead.