CHAPTER 9=The Gilded Cage
They gave her a room. Not a guest room. A suite in the family wing, decorated in neutral tones of grey and cream, with a balcony overlooking the gardens. It was beautiful. It was a cage.
A maid had laid out clothes for her—a traditional gown of crimson silk, embroidered with silver threads in the Wǎngshā spider-web pattern. Beside it, a headdress of jade and pearls that looked heavy enough to break her neck.
There was a knock at the door. Zara entered without waiting for an answer, carrying two glasses of something amber.
"Thought you might need this," she said, handing one to Luna. "It's whiskey. The good stuff. Stolen from my grandfather's private stash."
Luna took the glass but didn't drink. "Is this the part where you convince me this is a good idea?"
"Nope." Zara leaned against the doorframe. "This is the part where I tell you the truth. This family? We're spiders. We weave webs, we trap things, we drink the life out of our enemies. It's what we do. Leo is the best of us—and the worst. He doesn't just trap things. He deletes them from existence if they threaten the web."
"And I'm supposed to marry that?"
"You already did. The contract is binding." Zara took a sip. "But here's the thing about spiders. We're also protective. Once you're in the web, you're family. And we protect family. Even from each other."
"Is that supposed to comfort me?"
"It's supposed to prepare you." Zara set her glass down. "The ceremony is in two hours. The elders will be there. Representatives from the other families will be watching. You'll stand beside Leo, drink the tea, and become Luna Wǎngshā. After that…" She shrugged. "You get to decide what kind of spider you want to be."
After Zara left, Luna stood at the balcony, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of fire. She thought of Carter. Of her mother's betrayal. Of Jett's ridiculous avocado helmet. Of a paper crane folded by a quiet boy years ago.
She had a choice. She could break. Or she could bend. And maybe, in the bending, find a way to become stronger than she'd ever been.
She picked up the crimson gown. It was heavier than it looked.