Honeycomb by Joanne Harris (book series for 12 year olds .txt) 📕

think your prisoner may be the lost groom of the Spider Queen, whose gaze is keen, whose reach is long, and whose web reaches into all Worlds but one.”

The Moth Queen took a sharp breath. “You really think it could be him?”

The shaman nodded. “My Lady,” she said, “I believe we have found the Spider King.”

74

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HE

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PIDER

K

ING

There is a tale, of how, long ago, the Spider Queen fell in love. In those days, her kingdom was not as vast as it was to become, and her web reached only to its borders, instead of far beyond the Worlds. In those days she was very young, and beautiful, and wilful, and spoilt, and more than a little naïve. And the object of her affection was a visiting Prince from the distant North; older and more experienced, and therefore irresistible.

The courtship was brief, and one-sided. The Spider Queen was besotted. Neither the advice of her Chancellor, who cautioned her against making too hasty a choice, nor the words of her Chief of Police, whose earnest enquiries had failed to reveal the lineage of the newcomer, caused the Queen a moment’s pause. Even the fact that the Prince’s face was always concealed behind a jewelled helm—a marvellous helm of a thousand eyes, that gleamed with secret intelligence—did nothing to dissuade her. The Prince was all the more alluring for his air of mystery.

After less than a week, the Queen announced her betrothal to the Prince, as well as her decision to make him King, with powers equal to her own, and not, as custom dictated, Prince Consort.

“My love and I shall be equals,” she said. “We shall share the Spider Crown and make all decisions together.”

Once more, the Spider Chancellor tried to warn his mistress. But the Queen was determined. The royal couple were wed in nine days; she resplendent in her train of silver-spangled spider-silk, he handsome in his armour of hand-stitched dragonfly leather. But the bridegroom’s face remained hidden, as it had been throughout all their courtship, beneath his helm of a thousand eyes.

It was partly this mysterious aspect of her new consort that had first attracted the Queen, and now she imagined their wedding night with a girlish eagerness.

I will take off my wedding gown, she thought, and there, in the moonlight, piece by piece, I will remove his armour and his helm of a thousand eyes, and look into his face, and at last, I shall see my beloved.

But when the time came, the bridegroom said, “Have patience, my love. My helm of a thousand eyes sees beyond our kingdom. Let me wear it a few days longer, and I will ensure that no danger will come to threaten our future happiness.”

The Spider Queen was touched at her new husband’s concern for her safety. She was a strong and independent Queen, and the novelty of seeing herself perceived as a fragile, vulnerable creature was strangely intoxicating. And so she continued to tolerate her husband’s helm of a thousand eyes, until, after twelve whole days and nights—blissful in all ways but one—she finally grew impatient.

Surely, one glimpse of my beloved will not endanger the kingdom, she thought. And that night, she crept to the bed of her bridegroom while he was sleeping.

The Spider King was lying in his four-poster bed of gossamer silk, hung with curtains of the finest gauze. Through the curtains, the Queen could hear the sound of his breathing, soft as thistledown. One hand lay on the bedspread. One dappled shoulder, too, lay bare, and the helm of a thousand eyes glittered in the moonlight. The Spider Queen put out her hand—and just at that moment, her husband turned, murmuring softly in his sleep, and she saw against his skin the red-and-black marks of the Harlequin—

For a moment, the Queen stood frozen with dread. Young as she was, she already knew the Harlequin’s reputation. Devious, treacherous, hungry for power, its kind were masters of disguise, travellers through Worlds and Time, and charm was their greatest weapon. Now she could see clearly how, in the guise of the mysterious Prince, the creature had managed to insinuate itself, first into her own heart, and then onto the throne of her kingdom. And then she realized—too late—that thanks to her pride and stubbornness, if she were to meet with her death, the Harlequin and its descendants would rule forever in her place.

Now the young Queen understood how she had been deceived from the start. She saw how the Harlequin had assumed the pleasant disguise of a stranger, hiding its markings beneath its clothes; its eyes beneath the jewelled helm. She understood that she would be in danger if the Harlequin awoke and saw she had discovered its ruse. And so she crept back to her chamber, and spent the rest of the night awake, wondering what she was to do.

She could not bear to call her guards. They might keep her safe from the Harlequin, but if she revealed the treachery, then everyone would know how their Queen had been deceived, and that would be unbearable. On the other hand, she could not tolerate the thought of the interloper by her side for a moment longer. The thought of it there, on the Spider Throne, clothed in the flesh of one of her kind, feeding on her people by stealth, filled the Queen with horror.

And so as soon as dawn broke, she called her Court Physician, complaining of a sickness. The Physician, seeing her pale and wan, agreed that she was gravely ill, and she kept to her bedchamber all day, curtains drawn, cocooned in a shroud of spider-silk.

Her new bridegroom expressed concern and came at once to her bedside. “What ails you, my darling?” he said.

From her cocoon, the Spider Queen watched him; eyes narrowed in silent rage. Beneath the silken coverlet, she began to spin a thread, lighter than thistledown, stronger than steel. Quickly and nimbly she spun the thread,