The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(53)
The women smile at her and clap their hands, or stretch their arms in the air as she talks, waving them about with excitement.
“We are spiders,” she calls out.
“Whom others can’t see,” the women chant back.
“But they will feel our bite.”
“They will heed our lessons,” they all reply in unison, then assume a tight formation, arms at their sides.
“And experience our venom,” Lady Arane says with a smile. “We’ve been at this work for years, and both of you have just reluctantly woken up and discovered us. Lady Surielle?”
The woman from the dirigible steps forward and bows.
“Lady Surielle is my first disciple. The most agile. The one with the sharpest teeth.” Surielle bows farther with Lady Arane’s compliment. “Surielle, go and prepare my boat.”
Surielle stands, her expression surprised. “Perhaps they need more time in the dungeons, my lady?”
Lady Arane pats Surielle’s shoulder, while she holds my gaze. “I think after a tour of our humble abode, they may be ready. We’ll dine on board. They will need further sustenance to ask all the questions they will need to have answered before they join our cause.”
Surielle nods and leaves Violetta to watch over us, her gaze a hot poker fresh from tending a roaring fire.
I turn my back to her, unable to withstand her glare, and wish there was a way to explain what happened that night. Or better yet, a way to erase what happened.
“This is a bad idea,” Edel whispers to me.
“What choice do we have?” I reply. “We must hear them out.”
“What if they aren’t who they say they are?” Her white cheeks hold a deep pink flush.
“Then we’ll try our luck with the Goddess of Death’s caves.”
Edel holds my gaze. “We can do it.”
“I know. We can do anything together.” We nod at each other, then turn to watch as a sleek boat slices through the blue-green waters like a black fish. It reminds me of one of the Palace River canal boats but is large enough for a full staff.
“Come,” Violetta orders.
We walk down the pier and step into the boat.
Under a dark canopy, modest cushions rim a decorated table. Sea-lanterns and fire-lanterns knock into one another. A staff of women sets out plates of food—a rainbow medley of sliced vegetables and fresh fruit, a few wedges of cheese, and a small basket of steaming shrimp.
“How did you get all this food down here?” I ask.
“We have figured out ways to survive. With a little hard work things grow in the darkness and the fruit of the sea can be lured into these waters and caught in traps,” Lady Arane replies. “With limited resources, the most interesting things can be born.”
We all settle at a low table, sitting on plush cushions.
“If I remove the cuffs around your wrists, will you promise to behave?” Lady Arane asks. “I doubt you’d want one of my ladies to hand-feed you.”
I nod.
“The question was mostly for the blond one,” she says with a wink.
Edel grunts. “Fine!” Her face seems paler, her lips reddened from biting them with hunger and anxiety.
Lady Arane orders the cuffs to be removed. My wrists are grateful to be released. Bruises ring them, dark as the sangsues. Edel and I immediately start to eat.
The boat snakes along the cave river. The rock ceiling crests over us, boasting bright renderings of a night sky. The paintings of all the stars twinkle as if they’re actually there. To the left and right, homes are carved into the sides of the grotto; tiny pinpricks of light escape small windows. Women wave and salute at our boat as we pass.
“Everyone who lives in the Grottos takes a vow of simplicity,” Arane tells us, sitting back with a cup of tea. “No lavish clothes, shoes, or homes. No decadence, luxury, or excess. We only have what we need. We share most items as a community. We work hard to ensure all are taken care of.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Since I was a young woman. I wanted to be the Minister of War, but was passed over for the position. I fell out of love with the world above and found this community—”
“So, you don’t change yourself? Ever?” Edel interrupts.
“We have developed ways to cope. Eye drops to dull the redness. Powders to soften the hair so it’s manageable and able to hold on to dye. But we remain gray and proud. We want to reset the world. Change how it deals with the realities.”
I hear Maman’s words: “The favorite shows the world what is beautiful. She reminds them of what is essential.”
“With Queen Sophia the usurper in power, we will never stand a chance at this. We’re using the Spider’s Web to influence popular opinion and seed the idea that we don’t need to be so intent on escaping our natural forms.”
The boat pauses at a pier.
“Come and see.”
We leave the boat. Lady Arane leads us along a small incline. It empties at a set of dark curtains embroidered with spiders. She pulls them back to reveal a small room of silkscreens and strange, hulking apparatuses made of wood and brass and bolts.
“What is this?” I ask, gazing all around, my heart lifting with unexpected awe. House-lanterns sail about, illuminating all sorts of instruments—stamps, quills, calligraphy brushes, tiny letter blocks, wooden frames, and color vials. A wall of glass inkpots shimmers, the animated liquid glowing and clawing at their sides, desperate to escape.