Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“You are hungry.” When I nod, he continues. “Why do you not eat?”
As if I’ve had a chance? It’s been a whirlwind ever since the Spidae arrived in Faith’s quarters and declared they needed an anchor of their own. I don’t think my head has stopped spinning for a single moment, even though I know I’ve sat in this bath for at least an hour. There’s too much up in the air for me to relax. But I gesture at the spiderweb-covered walls. “I know there is food in the pods, but I have no knife to open them. And it doesn’t feel right to go around prying things down.”
“Why not?”
“This doesn’t feel like my home.” I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. “You pulled me here and didn’t allow me to get my things or visit my friends one last time. Now I’m in a chamber that has no windows or doors. It feels like a cage.”
“But…it is safe.”
“How safe do I need to be? Other than Aron’s party, you’re the only ones here!”
The Spidae blinks at this, as if it genuinely did not occur to him that I might not enjoy a room that’s like a tomb. “You would prefer different quarters?”
“If it’s not too much to ask, I would like a room with a window. I’ve always wanted one, and if I’m going to be spending the rest of my life here, I would love to have a view. As for a door…it’s a necessity for me. I can’t travel through spiderwebs like you can.” I hesitate and then add, “Unless you want me in one room and only one room.”
“This is your home now. You should come and go as you please.”
It doesn’t feel like my home. It doesn’t feel friendly at all. But I manage a small smile at his polite offer. “Then will you show me around? How things are laid out? So I’m not afraid?”
He blinks, the movement slow and thoughtful and somehow meaningful, even as his body remains completely still. “I will escort you, yes.”
I beam a smile at him. “Thank you. I would love that.” I stand up in the tub, water cascading down my body, and hold a hand out, indicating he should hand me the towel waiting nearby.
The look he gives me is quizzical again, and it’s clear he doesn’t grasp what I’m asking for. He also can’t take his eyes off my naked, wet body, and I suspect that seeing me in the flesh is very different than seeing me via my thread.
“My towel?” I ask sweetly. If I think of the three of them as untried virgins, then perhaps I can gain control of the situation. Perhaps I won’t feel so lost if I have even the tiniest bit of power. As it is, I feel rudderless.
I can’t even pray to the gods for guidance. They’ve all been cast down except for the Spidae, and I’m serving them.
The god picks up my towel and hands it to me, a curious expression on his face. He watches intently as I wrap it around my torso and step out of the tub. I loosen my hair, letting it cascade over my damp shoulders, and then begin to dry my limbs off. I lift one foot onto the edge of the tub and smooth the towel over my leg, glancing back at the Spidae. He hasn’t moved from his spot, watching me with a fixed, burning gaze. “Do women ever come to this place?” I ask him.
“Rarely.” He continues to stare at my leg. “Most of the supplicants we receive are of the male persuasion.”
It makes sense. Women don’t have the freedoms that men do. A woman traveler alone is nothing more than a target, and it occurs to me that if I ever wanted to leave, I’d be that lone woman traveler. Hot panic flashes through me, and then subsides again. I can’t leave anyhow. I’m tied to them. Anchors endure unimaginable pain if separated from their aspect, and I have three aspects.
Even if I change my mind, I’m stranded here, so I have to make the best of it. I bite my lip, and then glance over at the man standing in my room. He seems to be fascinated with my bared limbs, and when he reaches out, I hold still. He only brushes a bead of water off my skin, though, and then rubs it between his fingers.
“Do gods bathe?” I ask, suddenly curious.
He shakes his head, a slight frown on his face. “Why would we?”
I shrug. “You have a tub here.”
“It seemed like a thing to have,” he comments. “I have seen them in mortal homes.”
Ah. I wonder how much of what is here—the tower, the rooms—is mimicry without understanding. I suppose that’s a question for another day. I towel my skin off and then pull my dress back on, tying the laces under the bosom to tighten everything back into place, and then slip my shoes on. “Sorry,” I say as I turn back to him, realizing I’ve just made a god wait on me. “It takes a little time to get dressed.”