Page 248 of The Spider Queen
“Trying.”
He tromped over to the bed and fell forward. “There’s also one soul that refuses to move on.”
I frowned. “That’s odd. Has that ever happened before?”
“Not that I can recall. It just…hovers there. Waiting. For what, I have no idea.”
“I can search the archives. See if that’s been written about,” I said. “Though I’m still not really sure on the cataloguing system, so it might take me a while.”
“I’d greatly appreciate it.” He scooted up the bed and wrenched the tome away from me and set it aside. He buried his head against my stomach and wrapped his arms around me. “Anything yet?”
“No.”
Apparently Guardian children were mentally connected to their mothers. So far, the tiny seed was quiet, slumbering, growing. When I reached out to my spiders, they pulsed back, letting me know all was well. But there were no words yet. No clue if it was a boy or girl.
“So weird,” I murmured, leaning my head back against the smush of pillows. “Still processing it all.”
“Are you happy, Poppy?” He lifted his head so he could look me in the eye.
“I am.” I cocked my head to the side. “Are you?”
“Yes.”
“But?” I pressed.
“But…my brother’s death is weighing on me.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “I understand. I think we’re both trying to find our places after all that has happened. A few months ago I was a college student. I washuman. I was—”
“In love with a human.” He smiled gently. “You can say it, you know. It’s true.”
“You loved another,” I reminded him.
“Jealous?”
“Jealous would be the wrong word, I think.” I paused. “As you said, we get to spend eternity together. But there were others. Who changed us. Who came before. The past is never really the past, is it?”
He made a noise but didn’t answer.
“We’re doomed to having the same fight over and over again,” I said, injecting a note of brevity into my voice. “I guess even immortals fall into certain patterns of behavior.”
“Who says we’re fighting?” Thane asked.
My hands sifted through his silky strands. “I suppose we’re not really fighting—but there is something we have to discuss.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not useless.”
He lifted his head again. “I know that.”
“Do you?” I murmured. “Then why won’t you let me help?”
“Help with what, exactly? Loading cages onto wagons? Why would you want to do manual labor when you don’t have to?”
“No, I mean”—I sighed in frustration—“I feel…ineffectual, okay? We haven’t spent any time together. You haven’t shown me the fortress yet—”
“There hasn’t been time—and you’re pregnant.”
