Prologue
“There have been times in my life when I really needed to evaluate my life choices. This is definitely one of those times. Although if I evaluate them right now, I’m going to realize how dumb I’ve been and then I’ll be depressed. Depression and being wrapped up in a giant ass spider web just doesn’t seem like a good time.” ~ Maddie
Maddie surfaced from a darkness that clung to her like thick oil, her mind slow to unscramble from dreams that felt much too real. She blinked, but the blackness didn’t lift. For a split second, she wondered if she’d gone blind, or if she was still dreaming—caught somewhere between waking and a nightmare. The air was thick—damp, earthy, with an undertone of something sharp and sweet that made her think of overripe grapes and old magic.
Wait. Why on earth would she know what magic smells like? Did magic have a smell? It must or she wouldn’t have just conjured that thought up out of her butt. Maybe her brain was shutting down from being tightly wrapped up in the sticky web and it was causing her thoughts to be completely irrational.
“Or hell, magic just might have a smell,” she muttered to herself.
She tried to move but that simply was not an option. Her arms, her legs, her waist—everything was wrapped, pinned, immobilized. Her cheek was mashed against warmth and muscle, and a familiar, smoky scent threaded through the sour air.
Roan.
Memories crashed in: she was supposed to be meeting the other shamans—her first diplomatic mission as a potential new shaman, the first human. Roan had insisted they start with the Kingdom of Silk, and she’d wondered why, though he wouldn’t say. He’d only told her that Lyric, Silk’s shaman, knew to expect them.
She remembered the journey to the vineyard estate: endless rows of grapevines marching across rolling hills, their leaves heavy with dew and fruit. Spider webs hung between the vines, glistening silver in the sun. Roan had explained, “Webs keep the bugs off the grapes. And it’s very effective.” Maddie had found it beautiful and unsettling, the way the webs shimmered and trembled in the wind.
Roan had been even quieter than usual as they approached the manor house—a sprawling, elegant structure that was in complete contrast to the black curtains that framed the inside of the windows. Its balcony windows were open and the rich fabric flowed out from the slight breeze beckoning them to enter—if they dared. As they stepped through the stunning double doors, the air in the entry hall was cool and sweet, carrying the faint perfume of pressed grapes and polished wood. Everything was dark. The floor was a polished ebony marble. The walls a deep, rich shade of red. The wooden rail of the massive staircase was a dark mahogany, as was all the wood that framed the entryways to other rooms. As her eyes gazed at the dark opulence, shecouldn’t help but feel like the bright exterior of the mansion was a trick to invite and gain the trust of a person to get them to enter. A beautiful trap, much like the glistening, crystal-like threads of a spider’s web.
A servant with an inhumanly smooth gait greeted them. Dressed in a simple black dress buttoned up to the neck with three-quarter length sleeves and a skirt that hit just below the knee, the servant led them through marble-floored corridors lined with paintings of silk-draped royalty and shadowy forests. Maddie’s nerves buzzed with every step, eyes flicking to the corners where she noticed webs clung to the red walls. As beautiful as the place was, the spider webs made the “creep” factor go through the roof.
“We’ll wait for the king and queen in the sunroom,” the servant said, voice as soft as velvet. “Lyric will join you shortly.”
“There’s a sunroom?” Maddie asked, as her eyes widened.
The servant blinked at her.
“I just mean, well, this,” Maddie stumbled, motioning to the atmosphere around them, “doesn’t exactly scream sunny relaxation.”
Maddie wandered to the sunroom’s glass wall. The ceiling was black, which somehow made the light even more illuminating. She marveled at the view of the vineyard beyond, the way sunlight caught on the webs strung between the trellises, painting the air with rainbows. Roan stood nearby, arms folded, gaze never straying from the door.
Lyric didn’t come. Instead, a different servant appeared, in the same black dress the other had worn—her smile sharp, her eyes too dark. “Would you like a tour of the house while you wait? The king is very proud of the new cellars and our silkworks.”
Roan hesitated, but Maddie, eager to see more, agreed. They followed the servant through winding halls, past rooms full ofdelicate glass and ancient books, down a twisting staircase that led to a long corridor lined with black silk-draped windows. That’s when the ambush came without warning.
One moment, Maddie was at the banister, admiring its intricate webwork, despite its creepiness, marveling at how the strands sparkled like diamonds. Next, something cold and sticky wrapped around her arms, pinning them to her sides so fast she barely had time to gasp.
Roan spun, a snarl on his lips, magic sparking at his fingertips. The servant’s face twisted, her true nature revealed—black eyes, too many joints in her fingers. Giant legs exploded from her hips, her legs simply disappeared. From the waist up, she remained in human form, except for an “otherness” that seemed to cling to her. Then, more spider-people stepped from the shadows, their faces masked and unreadable. Their legs moved in the icky way that spiders did, making her cringe.
Maddie tried to fight, but another strand of silk whistled through the air, yanking her feet out from under her. Roan surged forward, fighting like a cornered wolf, but the numbers overwhelmed him. One of the soldiers cracked him across the temple with a web-wrapped staff. Maddie’s scream echoed off the stone walls as Roan crumpled, his eyes rolling back, and then the world snapped to black.
Now, in the pitch dark, her breath stuttered shallow—panic clawing high in her throat. Maddie didn’t enjoy feeling trapped. She didn’t like her limbs being restrained, and with every shallow inhale she felt the panic rising higher and higher. She was in a full-body straightjacket courtesy of some overgrown mutant arachnid. Of all the ways she’d imagined dying, “spider shifter’s lunch special” had not made the bucket list. She tried to cling to the humor of that morbid thought, attempting to calm herself and not have a panic attack that would in no way help the situation.
Closing her eyes and centering herself with slower breaths, she focused on the warm and solid presence pressed to her cheek. His breath rising and falling with a slow, steady rhythm. At least she wasn’t alone in her spider straightjacket. Maddie let out a shaky breath—well, as much as she could with her face mashed into his chest and a mouthful of dust and questionable spider residue. The steady thump beneath her ear grounded her. Roan was alive. They both were. At least for now.
“If I suffocate in here, I’d like my tombstone to read, ‘She died as she lived: mouthy and stuck to the wrong guy,’” she muttered, voice muffled against him.
“You’re not suffocating,” he finally replied, his voice a scratchy whisper, rough edges softened by exhaustion. “You’re just panicking. Breathe slower, and deeper. And how many ‘wrong guys’ have you been with?” There was a bite to his tone that made Maddie want to retreat from him, but since she was literally stuck to him, that wasn’t an option.
“Oh, I’m panicking?” She tried for flippant, but her words wobbled. “I thought maybe I was having an allergic reaction to all this . . . ambiance. And my dating life is not up for discussion.”
He let out a slow exhale that stirred the hair at her temple. “On that, we’ll have to agree to disagree. Rest assured,Nushawani,it will be up for discussion.” The command was gentle, but left no room for argument.
That was too bad for him because Maddie didn’tdocommands. Especially not from a man. Was she a raging feminist? Not-exactly. She’d been raised by a strong, independent woman who’d done just fine with no male persuasion in her life. And Maddie could do the same. And she sure as hell would not be told what shehadto discuss with someone she’d known for only a couple of weeks.
“As charming as that invitation is,” she said in her sweetest voice, “I'm going to decline politely.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel like you’re the one in control,” Roan said, his voice deep and calm. As if she hadn’t just shut him down cold. “Now, if you could just hold that sharp tongue of yours for a moment and let me think.”
