Page 186 of Blade of the Nightking

Rìan's eyes found mine again. Urgent.

Now, they seemed to say. But I still didn't know what to do.

With a faint crunch, the blood midge vanished. The Spinner flicked the crushed remains from one of its spindly legs and returned its attention to Rìan.

“Your pain is so delicious. So fresh… So wonderfully alive. It’s been so long… so long…”

Rìan’s fingers stretched toward the knife at his hip once more. And then I understood what he was trying to tell me, what he was urging me to do.

I launched myself at once from my hiding place, wrenching my dagger free and angling the point toward my own heart. “Let him go!”

The Spinner whipped around, its many eyes finding me immediately. For a heartbeat it simply stared, taking in the dagger, my shaking legs, and the terror I was trying desperately to hide. A delighted shudder rippled through its gaunt frame as it laughed.

Then it spat a strand of webbing and dropped, streaking through the trees as it clung to the trailing silk.

I barely managed to hold my ground as it stopped abruptly before me, hanging upside down from the web by a single thread. It swayed gently, its many eyes fixed on me.

“Two,” it breathed. It chuckled low, carrying the scent of wet earth and decay. “As promised.”

“Let him go,” I said again, trying to steady my voice and failing. “Or I'll plunge this blade into my heart.”

The knife tip grazed my skin and a bead of blood welled beneath it. The Spinner hissed at the sight. “Your death means nothing to me. His suffering alone will sustain me for months.”

“If I drive this blade home, your meal dies with me.” I licked my cracked lips. “Our lives are entwined. If one of us dies, so does the other.”

The creature stilled. The clicking started up again at once, fast and furious, like a thousand insect legs skittering across stone.

“Kill yourself then,” it snarled, “I will not release him.”

Shit. It wasn't fooled. It would risk losing us both before it surrendered its meal. It was too hungry—too desperate—to let Rìan go. Not until we were both dead and had nothing left to feed it.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing as I searched for a way out of this.

What had Rìan said about Spinners? They fed on emotion, not unlike my own Eidrae magic, except they preyed only on those they could provoke. Fear. Pain. Feelings that burned hot and fast. But every flame needed fuel, and at the heart of it all was…

My pulse quickened as an idea began to take shape. A terrible idea. The sort of idea that was either going to save us or make everything catastrophically worse.

Unfortunately, it was the only one I had.

“I can make you an offer,” I said.

The Spinner snorted. “Nothing you could offer would make me surrender him.”

“Love.”

The creature froze, motionless. Even the soft clicking in its throat ceased.

Above us, Rìan went rigid.

“Eidra—”

I shot him a warning glare. He glared right back but, thankfully, fell silent.

“It's tempting, isn't it?” I said softly. “You've tasted terror and grief and rage and despair. But have you ever tasted love? If pain can sustain you for months, how long could that kind of joy sustain you?”

Its many eyes remained fixed on me, riveted.

“Years,” it whispered.