by Alex Bledsoe
“There never really is a spider, is there?” Liz said. “I mean, there’s nothing to that story. Whether or not a poison works has nothing to do with seeing the source, right?”
“Right. The spider is only in their mind. Like Gerald’s jealousy.”
“But the web can cover a lot of ground,” Liz said sadly.
“And a lot of time.”
“You’re mixing your metaphors,” I pointed out. “Yeah, well, your royal roots are showing.”
“Not royal.”
“Then what?”
“I’m just a sword jockey with a big vocabulary.”
“Not only a vocabulary,” she said with a wink. “Want to find an inn and do some more interrogating?”
“You bet. I’ve got tons of secrets.”
We continued on, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It was a beautiful day, and the sun shone through the trees like the bright promise of a future. It shone for Mahnoma and Altura, too: a joint future, inextricably linked, as they should have been all along. No spiders in anyone’s cups anymore.
BOOKS BY ALEX BLEDSOE
Blood Groove
The Girls with Games of Blood
The Sword-Edged Blonde
Burn Me Deadly
Dark Jenny
Wake of the Bloody Angel
The Hum and the Shiver
