Before Sylvus can mock me, I stubbornly override my reflex and place my palm deliberately against the fabric.
My eyes flutter shut instinctively, turning off visual stimulus to free up processing power. There’s a strange feeling, like being between awake and asleep. My mind flickers with a half-remembered dream, and in that dream the contract is executed exactly as I requested.
I can feel the magic shifting and sliding, almost like a curious snake, prodding around without malice. Everything settles as it hits a certain part of my brain, and there’s a sudden rush of trust and comfort, as if the person with whom I’m contracting is a dear, close friend who would never wish me harm, and not this smug asshole.
I tentatively lift my hand—the feeling of trust and affection vanishes. Then I place it against the silk again, and I feel compelled to give Sylvus a hug.
I pull my hand away again. “That’s weird.”
He wobbles his head again. “You don’t have to sign it.”
I scoff. “I’m not quittingnow.” I decide it’s the bit of silk—the magic of the contract itself—that I trust, not Sylvus. That was the whole point of this hare-brained plan, anyway. And I know the contract magic is legit. Arachnoids are common throughout the planets of the ICSS, and the vast majority of contracts are executed this way. They’re truly binding on a metaphysical level, tied to the very stuff that consciousness, free will, and intention are made of.
It hardly means Sylvus is benevolent. It just means this contract suits our respective desires.
“Alright, how do I sign this thing?”
“Blood.”
I take a steadying breath. “Okay, you got a knife or something?”
He laughs again.
I glare. “Aaaand you were joking. Aliens aren’t supposed to be sarcastic. You’re supposed to be all literal and obtuse and stuff.”
“You’rethe alien.”
I click my tongue and sigh.
He gestures at the silk. “Just touch it and focus on your consent. I’ll do the same. You’ll know when it’s done.”
I reach out and press my palm to the iridescent surface, closing my eyes. That slithering sensation returns. There’s something new—something both cool and warm, foreign yet familiar, making my hair stand on-end and my skin tingle.
Sylvus’s consciousness, I’m assuming.
Emotions roll through me, induced by the contract’s magic. Reservation and release, fear then comfort, excitement and relief. It’s as if the magic is running scenarios, testing me, assessing the truth of my intent. It all happens so quickly I can’t tell what I’m even reacting to. The loss of control of my own mind makes me nauseous, yet at any moment I could lift my hand and end this.
I don’t.
There’s an odd sensation of something tightening around my wrist—real and yet not.
Everything fades.
When I open my eyes, the intricate silk is gone from the table. Instead, there’s a gossamer tattoo around my wrist, shifting iridescent in the light.
Sylvus sports a matching one.
“So… that’s that?” I ask.
“That’s that.”
Triumph briefly flickers through me. I’ve done it—I’ve secured my future. I’ve been so laser-focused on getting here without being caught, on executing the contract, that I haven’t really thought about what comes next.
And as soon as I do, my cheeks blaze their hottest yet.
“So…” I clear my throat. “When do you… uh… want to…start?”
A wicked grin crosses his face, sending my chest tight and my heart pounding.
