Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“You can’t get too close!” I protested, even as I drew from the river of silver sparks, drawing as much power into myself as I could. I was going to need a much bigger rope than the one I had used on Grund the ogre!
“I have to,” Bran said, frowning. “The two of you try to give me some cover—like Lachlan said, it’s going to take all three of us.”
At that moment, Mab jabbed at us again. This time I felt the wind of the huge stinger as it rushed past, bare inches from my cheek. She’d been trying to stab me in the eye, I thought, which definitely would have been the end of me.
“Watch out!” Lachlan shouted. The clear crystal at the end of his staff turned a cloudy purple and shot an arrow of emerald light that looked like a laser beam at the huge, hairy body of the Mab-spider.
She screeched and hissed and I saw that Lachlan’s magical dart had hit the mark—there was a scorched spot on the swollen abdomen that was smoking where it had pierced her thick hide.
“Good!” Bran shouted. “More like that, Lachlan. And Emma, try to bind it so I can get in there!”
Gathering all my strength, I threw the magical rope I had woven from the silver sparks around the enormous spider’s body. Mab hissed and screamed and yanked against the binding, trying to break free again. But this time I managed to hold her, though I could feel the immense expenditure of magic draining me. I had never tried magic this big before and I knew I never would again—because if we didn’t win this battle, the three of us would be dead.
Lachlan shot more magical darts at the Mab’s swollen black abdomen and she skittered from side to side, her enormous body darting and bobbing as the tiny, rotten head screeched at us,
“You’ll never bind me! Never—never!”
“Hold her! Hold her steady!” Bran roared.
“All right—I’m trying!” Taking a deep breath, I yanked hard, tightening the silver rope and pulling the spider down so that the head was closer to the floor.
“Now, Bran!” Lachlan shouted, shooting another dart.
Bran rushed forward, his silver sword gleaming and I saw it rise and fall in a short, deadly arc.
The head fell free of the body in a spray of black ichor. It bounced and rolled over the polished, black wood floor until it ended up right at my feet.
“Ugh!” I gasped, jumping back, away from it. Because its eyes were still opening and closing. Though the monstrous spider body was slowly collapsing on the other end of the banquet hall, the head was somehow still alive.
And though it shouldn’t have been possible, it could still talk.
“You think you’ve won!” the rotten head said to me, its cracked lips curling up into a crazy grin. “You actually think you’ve won!”
I just stared at it—what could I say? I was at a loss for words—how could it even talk to me, let alone make sense? Was it some kind of black magic that kept Mab going even after she should be dead?
“You think you’ve won, but you haven’t!” the head said again, and cackled a laugh from its rotten grey lips.
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” I finally got out. “You’re dead—or you should be dead.”
“Oh yes, my dear—but then, so are you!” The sunken eyes widened in evil glee. “It’s just going to take you a bit longer to die, that’s all.”
“What…what are you talking about?” Suddenly I was scared. She was just lying—just saying things to freak me out, I tried to tell myself. But I had a horrible feeling that wasn’t the case.
“Remember that dream you had last night, my dear?” Mab’s rotten head asked me. “Remember the little old lady and the apple? Remember?”
My stomach twisted itself into a fist of dread as the nightmare that had woken me the night before came back to me. The old woman coming through the door in the picture and forcing me to take a bite of the bright, blood-red apple. Surely not—surely she couldn’t be telling the truth!
But there was a burning, bitter taste in the back of my throat that told a different story.
“You didn’t,” I whispered, staring down at her. “How…why…?”
“I knew you’d try to fight to keep your beauty,” the head said, still grinning her crazy grin at me. “But if I can’t have it—neither can you! You’ll be dead by the end of the year, sweet Granddaughter! Enjoy ruling whichever court you choose—you won’t have either very long!”
She started cackling again—a horrible, choking sound completely devoid of mirth. And then Bran’s silver sword came down, slicing clean through and cutting the rotten thing in half, finally shutting Mab up forever.
But though the mad queen was dead, the damage was done. I could feel the burning in my throat and taste the bitterness of the poison she had made me swallow the night before. Deep down, I knew it was already at work inside me and Mab was right.