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There’s probably a savior of the Bridge, a hero for the worlds of the living and the dead to celebrate in this story of a legendary queen in the making.
But it sure as hell isn’t me.
16
ROSEMARIE
THREE OF CUPS: KEEP LIFE HAPPY BY MAKING IT A PARTY
(But Don’t Let a Killjoy Party Crasher Steal Your Sweet Sparkle)
“Arms up,” the Spidress orders in her clicking language, and I immediately raise my hands high in the air. She’s still taller than the tippy tops of my middle fingers, this giant spider who had to duck to get through doors built for gargoyles. Years of trying to keep people happy in my realm pay off with me rushing to obey rather than think about who—or what—issues the commands.
Black with a red bodice, the Spidress stands on six legs and treats the other two like arms. I’m not counting the claw-looking appendages near her mouth which are as long as my shins. The size of a truck, she’d star in a monster movie marathon back home. Yet here, she’s the most sought-after tailor, spinning fabric wanted by everyone in the Borderlands and beyond according to her apprentices.
When I opened the door to find her, I’d shrieked so loudly that Huey had poofed into a supersized ball of feathers and Darok the orc had been ready to fight an oncoming horde.
“Stop your screeching,” Rona had said in a no-nonsense tone. “Leave the screaming to the banshees before you upset the Spidress. She’s here to help.”
I’d snapped my mouth shut, not wanting to offend anyone.
Only in the Borderlands could we discuss giant spiders and banshees like they’re the norm and I’m the oddity. I dropped to my knees to gather my tarot cards and cover my shock and shame, but the Spidress had called out for me to rise in her clicking voice before ordering her helpers to pick up my scattered cards.
Apprentices who looked like fairy tale creatures carried trunks, boxes, and reams of fabrics, beading, and thread. I spotted lamb faces, floppy ears, cricket limbs, and a quick-moving centipede who collected my cards with long, spindly legs. I couldn’t keep up with all the new faces and species so I stepped out of the way to stand beside Rona.
“You’d best follow them to the great hall, mistress,” the brownie finally said when most of the apprentices had gone through. “She’ll spin you a wardrobe worthy of a queen. When you speak to her, concentrate on the center two eyes on her top row. It’ll save you the headache of trying to meet eight eyes.”
“What about her eight legs?” I asked. “Any of those I shouldn’t stare at?”
“Hush,” Rona said with a chuckle—as if I’d been teasing instead of terrified. “Off with you.”
I swallowed my fear and headed to the massive room with a fireplace, large windows, and a hardwood floor covered by rugs. Rona brought a meal for our orc guard and platters of fruit, bread, flowers, bugs, and goo. I plan to stick to the orange slices and other food I recognize once my fitting is over, but everyone else snacks when they’re not busy doing their boss’s bidding. With Huey sitting quietly on his perch and the orc eating as if taking in dinner and a show, the Spidress can’t be too much of a threat.
I stand with my arms reaching above my head as an apprentice with long fuzzy ears and a twitching nose wraps a shimmering length of silver fabric around me.
“No, no.” The Spidress waves an arm. “Save the silver for accents. For the main attraction, she must have something brighter, bolder like the stones around her wrist or the colors in her tarot cards.”
“Something as beautiful as she is.” Jace’s voice rumbles through the room, and my heart leaps at the sight of him.
“You’re awake,” I say, then blush for stating the obvious. Except some small part of me had worried when I’d watched the twins turn to stone that I wouldn’t see them alive and moving again.
Jace walks to stand next to me. “Are you well, my queen? Anything I can do for you? Get for you?” Taking my hand for a kiss on my knuckles, the sneaky gargoyle runs his tail under my skirt and up my leg. “Say the word, and it’s yours.”
“Cheeky devil.” The Spidress chuckles. “You might as well come in, Atticus. Lurking doesn’t become you.”
Atticus comes through the doorway, delivering a quick bow. “Welcome,” he tells her. “We are happy you changed your mind.”
“Thank your housekeeper,” she says in her clicking voice. “Rona can be most convincing.”
Atticus studies me as if checking for injuries. Or to see if I’m planning to bolt? Who knows with him. “You are well?” he asks me. His voice is low, rough, and entirely too seductive.
“I didn’t string her up in any web,” the Spidress tells him. “But you’re interrupting, gargoyle. Stay out of the way and silent unless spoken to if you want my help.”
Brave woman to stand up to Atticus. Even more shocking? He only nods as if he expected her admonishment. As he passes me, his wing brushes my hip, and a shiver runs through me.
Forget the fancy wardrobe and fairytale dressmakers. Give me more of this delicious feeling that the twins send running through me.
Out of all the weird in this world, I’ll never get used to these two gargoyles treating me as if I’m everything they’ve ever wanted. Whenever either of them touches me, the energy between us crackles as though magic pulses in the air. I’ve gone from invisible to having a spotlight shone on me in a way I couldn’t have imagined. I’ve known them for such a short time, they turned to stone all day, and yet I missed them.
