Obsidian Ridge - Jess Lebow [59]
Vasser nodded. "That is what I am telling you."
"She…" The reality of the situation hit King Korox, and a heavy pang of guilt set in. "You're telling me she's innocent?"
"Not entirely," said Vasser. "She is guilty of stealing candlesticks and bits of silverware from the princess's chamber."
"I was going to repay her. As… as soon as I had the coin." Genevie held her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry, my lord. I'm… I'm ashamed of what I have done, and I should be punished."
The king was completely deflated. "I am the one who should be ashamed." He dropped to his knees in front of the handmaiden. "You're not the Matron, are you?"
Genevie shook her head. "No."
"Your only crime is that you tried to help your sick grandson."
The half-elf nodded, not looking at him.
The king tried to take her hand, but Genevie flinched away.
Korox's heart sank. He had never done anything so vile as this before. He had never acted in a manner so unbefitting a king. He no longer felt as if he deserved all of his riches and power. If Bane were to appear before him and demand that he turn over all that he had, he would do it right now, without complaint. Nothing he could ever do, no matter how much good it would bring, could possibly make up for the thrashing and accusation he laid on this poor woman today.
He pulled his hand away from the half-elf. "I know that what I have done to you is wrong. And I am certain that my apology does not excuse me for my behavior. Nor, I suspect, will it make you feel any better." He paused. "But I give you my apology all the same."
Getting to his feet, the king stepped out into the hall. "Get her a healer, right away. And send a message to the temple of Ilmater," he said to the wizard who had been summoned to ward the room against magic. "Have them send a high priest to cure Genevie's grandson. Whatever it costs, no matter the expense, I will pay for it personally." He glanced back into the lightless chamber Vasser was helping the old half-elf get to her feet. "And I want her to have a bodyguard. For the rest of her days. No one will ever be allowed to lay a hand on her in anger, ever again."
Chapter Eighteen
The Claw sneezed. The dust in the room was making his nose itch, and he scratched it with his shoulder, rubbing the tough cloth up under his mask. The blades on his gauntlets made some of the simple things quite a bit more difficult, but it was something he'd learned to live with.
There were three passages left in the crossroads after the hallway collapsed. The silver needle pointed to one on the Claw's fight. Eager to get out of the dust cloud, he turned and followed the compass.
The passage emptied into a much larger room. A series of large stone pillars, each the same distance from the next, dominated the space-all of them radiated out in circles from the center of the chamber. There was a crack in the ceiling, out of which a purplish glow emanated.
As he walked deeper into the room, the silver needle moved, pointing farther to the right. He must be getting close! Weaving his way around a pair of pillars, the Claw stopped in his tracks. The bulbous body of a gargantuan spider blocked his passage.
A cold chill ran down his spine. He tried to shake it off, but it was followed by another, and then another. There was no getting used to it. He hated spiders, and this was the biggest one he'd ever laid eyes on.
From where he stood, it looked as if the creature was jammed in place. It held perfectly still, not twitching so much as a leg. Moving to his left, he watched the needle on the compass as it swung again, pointing right at the spider.
A cold chill gripped the Claw, squeezing his stomach with fear. He continued to circle around, his hands gripped tight, hoping he wouldn't find what the compass was telling him he would. Slipping around another pillar, every hair on his body stood on end-a second huge spider.
Just like the first, its body was seemingly trapped between two pillars. It too held completely still, not a twitch, a tap,