• • •
By our seventh day in the desert, I understood why Edan despised it here. Every breath stung my lungs, and my skin burned so hot it was agony to even move. Edan had become brutal about rationing our food and water, which confused me. I’d seen the powers of his tablecloth. I could have imagined buckets and buckets of crisp cool water. Anything to quench my thirst.
“Must we conserve water like this?” I pleaded.
“Magic is scarce the deeper we go into the desert.”
“Will it get better?”
“Mostly.”
Mostly. I rubbed my neck, which was tender to the touch. My head hurt, and my throat yearned for water, but I refused to show weakness. I wouldn’t slow us down.
So it surprised me when, a few hours before dusk, Edan declared that we would stop and make camp. He was usually adamant about traveling until nightfall.
There was nothing special about where we were. As far as I could see, there was only sand and more sand, but something had made Edan perk up.
He fished in his satchel for an empty jar.
“What’s the jar for?” I asked. My voice was unrecognizable. Dry and crackly.
“Spider hunting,” Edan replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Golden wheel spiders are extremely rare, but I have a feeling luck is on our side.”
“How will we find one?”
“By being observant.” He lay on his stomach, scooping up a handful of sand and letting it cascade through the seams of his fingers. “We’re getting close.”
“You might as well look for a needle in a pile of straw.”
“Leave it to me, then.”
I shielded my eyes with my hand. The sand was hot. “You’re going to get burned if you stay there for long.”
“I don’t burn,” he said. “But you do.” He reached into his satchel for a tiny lidded pot and tossed it my way. “It’s salve. There isn’t much, but the heat will get worse before it gets better and you’re not used to the desert life. Put some on and wrap your face from the sun. Trust me, it’ll help.”
The salve smelled like coconut, with honey and a hint of rose. Gingerly, I rubbed some on my nose and cheeks. My discomfort melted away. Itdidsoothe my burns. I pursed my lips, touched. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said with a wry grin. “It’s more for me than you. I’d rather spare myself the sight of your face blistering and filling with pus.”
“Oh, you—” I thought of a thousand names to call Edan, but as I saw the corners of his lips lift mischievously and his eyes sparkle that deep blue I secretly relished, none made it past my lips. So I huffed and stalked off to set up my tent.
“Make sure you apply it every morning and night,” he called after me. “I don’t want to travel with a mummy.”
• • •
A little after sunrise, Edan prodded me awake. Something squirmed in the jar in his hand.
I waved him away with a shriek. “What are you—”
“It’s a nocturnal spider,” he interrupted. “While you were sleeping, I was working.”
I rubbed my eyes, now seeing the spider in the jar. Spindly legs, milky white fangs, and a bulbous body nearly as large as my palm.
Edan set the jar on the ground. The spider blended perfectly with the pale yellow sand.
“A golden wheel spider,” he said. “Aptly named for the way it spreads its legs and cartwheels across the sand. It’s fast.”
He casually slid the jar under his arm. “You’ll need to spin its silk,” he said. “I’ll show you where its burrow is. If you see any of its brothers and sisters, don’t touch them. The bite is lethal.”
