Vera always offered to assist Clare into bed, but even after a month at the castle, Clare preferred to do it herself. She pulled the quilt down and slid into the soft bed, yawning before she blew out the bedside lamp. The afterglow of the flame remained in her vision as she blinked and laid against the many pillows, letting the darkness pool around her. She pushed most of the pillows away and curled on her side, her arms stretched out with one hand resting beneath a satin pillow.
Something brushed her curled fingertips.
A chill tracked down her spine. She jerked her hand out from under the pillow, fingers dancing over her prickling skin, but she found nothing.
Rubbing out the uncomfortable feeling, Clare slowly pushed up in the bed. A chill lifted the hairs on her arms. She half-expected to see a deeper shadow in the darkness—an assassin standing over her, dagger raised. Her pulse kicked, instincts screaming. Her palms were braced against the mattress, senses straining against the heavy darkness and oppressive silence.
A gentle tap hit against the smallest finger on her left hand.
Clare snatched her hand away and slid to the edge of the bed, fumbling for the bedside lamp. With shaking hands she managed to light the wick and light flooded the room.
Clare froze when she saw the spider curled beside her pillow.
It was huge. Easily the size of her spread hand and nearly as thick. The brown spider sat so still, yet somehow Clare knew it could move lightning fast. Lungs locked, she slid slowly back, only shifting one muscle at a time. Panic keened inside her. A whimper stuck in her sealed throat—she didn’t dare scream.
Then she felt a horrible brush against her ankle, and she stopped breathing. Terror choked her, because she could feel the long, hairy legs scrape over her skin, moving up her leg.
There was a second spider.
Instinct begged her to kick, scream, shake free of the blankets, but a deeper instinct held her immobile. Fear, yes, but also awhisper of reason that told her one false move could kill her. These spiders weren’t from Devendra, and if they were in her bed—the princess’s bed—she could only imagine the terrible venom they carried.
Trembling, Clare bit her lip until she tasted blood. Her white-knuckled fists were pressed into the bed beside her and her eyes darted between the spider still waiting beside her pillow to her sheet-covered leg, and finally the closed door that sealed her in the room.
“Help.” It was a croak, but even that slight noise made the spider next to her skitter, legs grasping the rumpled sheet.
Tears burned Clare’s eyes and slipped down her cheeks, but she didn’t brush them away. Everything in her world focused on the feel of that large spider slowly dragging up her bare leg. When it reached the slight curve of her knee, it hesitated. The spider’s weight wasn’t much, but it was everything. The spider brushed tentatively at the twisted hem of her nightgown. Clare could actually see the thin sheet rustle as the spider tried to navigate the best way to continue its climb.
From the corner of her eye, the other spider moved. Her heart crashed in her chest and her lungs strained. It was crawling for her fist. She had to move. She couldn’t have two of those monsters touching her.
At the same time the spider’s first leg brushed her knuckles, the spider on her knee slid, dropping off her. It thumped against the mattress, but that was lost in the sound of Clare’s scream. She tore from the bed, ripping away from the sheet and the spiders. Her shoulder slammed into the wall and her bare feet burned against the cold stone floor.
She was still screaming, shoving her hands over her arms, her legs, her hair—she had to scrub the tingling sensations away. Phantom spiders were crawling all over her, and no matter how hard she rubbed her skin, the prickling remained. Breath shuddered out of her, hitching her sobs.
“Clare!” The bedroom door banged open and Bennick’s gaze sliced over the room, snagging on her. Two strides and he was in front of her, grasping her shoulders. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Her hands knotted in his shirt, gripping him so tightly her fingertips were already going numb. Her cry had pinched off, but she couldn’t speak.
Wilf and Venn barreled into the room. Clare knew when they saw the danger, because they both drew up short.
“Holy fates!” Venn cursed.
Bennick jerked his head around, following Venn’s eyes to the bed. His hold on her spasmed and he swore as he twisted back on Clare. “Were you bitten?”
She wrenched her eyes away from the bed and stared into Bennick’s panicked eyes. She managed to shake her head, but words were still beyond her.
His fingers flexed around her arms. “Kill it,” he snapped at Venn.
“You kill it!” he spluttered.
“Venn—”
Wilf shoved around Venn and slammed his dagger straight through the spider’s middle. The many legs jerked, but the spider couldn’t bolt—it was pinned to the bed.
“Ogai,” he grunted. “One bite will kill a grown man.”
Venn’s eyes bugged. “And you just killed it like it was nothing? Are you insane?”
A shiver ripped through Clare and Bennick’s hold tightened, one arm banding around her waist. She couldn’t stop shaking. “Another,” she gasped.
Bennick tensed. “What?”
“There’s another,” she said, speaking past the bile that burned her throat.
Wilf snagged the blankets and ripped them off the bed. As the linen fluttered, his dagger flashed again, slamming down.
Clare shuddered and Bennick cupped her face. “Clare, look at me.” Her eyes slid to his dark gaze. She’d never seen his jaw so rigid. “Are you sure you weren’t bitten?”
“I’m fine.” She sucked in a breath and tightened her hold on his uniform.
Bennick’s hands dropped, but didn’t leave her. They brushed over her shoulders, her arms, her back, checking to make sure nothing clung
