The sun shone over the Cortanis estate, dispelling all traces of shadows. Berrick approached this vision slowly, afraid his presence would cause the peace to crumble. He wanted to believe in the tranquil picture before his eyes, but he could still feel the spiders' touch on him. Even though they were gone, he feared the webs they left behind.

For this reason, he approached the house of his old friend with both trepidation and joy. Marim, his precious child, was safe inside the mansion. That alone was worth the sharp ache in his leg and the knowledge that somewhere out there, he had unleashed horror on someone else.

I protected my family. Let others worry about their family, I'm done with that life. Never got me anywhere.

Encased in this world of sunshine where no shadow lurked, she was safe from monsters. He wouldn't watch her lowered into worm ridden soil. She was all that mattered now, not law, not tradition... nothing.

Across the grass, Marim dashed. As if to drive even the murky doubts, Berrick tried to hold at bay her smile blazed. Even from a great distance, she was marked by her hair which caught the sunshine and cradled the glow close. She ran with the freedom and carelessness of childhood but a new grace flowed in her movements.

The vision of her in the sunlight, so like and so unalike, her mother stopped Berrick entirely. He simply watched her move. He could almost see Polly and Petyr carved in the beams encasing her.

His joy was short-lived. As soon as Marim stopped in front of him, her face glowing and coated in sunshine, he realized. Perhaps, it was something to do with the flickering shadows that played over her, but on nothing else. Or her hand which hovered unconsciously where it never had before.

Berrick knew without a doubt and with no proof that Marim was with child.

"Hello, Father," Marim said. Her voice was liquid sunshine, and it rolled off of him.

Questions formed on his lips, alongside accusations of hate for the cursed spiders. It took all his strength not to ask her. Not to demand if the suspected pregnancy was, in fact, true. Not to ask if the father was the spider. She didn't know. Could not have been so happy if she had known. She would be ashamed as any girl of good family would be found in her condition out of wedlock. She would doubt her reception even with him. He did not want to shatter what little peace she had left. For there could be no hurried marriage, no covering this up.

The father had left the world already, and even had he been present and willingly asked for her, Berrick would not have let Marim wed Halis.

I could take care of it. The herbs aren't hard to come by. Marim never even has to know. The weight of infanticide was one she wouldn't have to bear, he would carry it for her. This he was certain was an act Polly would never forgive him for, the killing of an infant. He would take her blame. She'd made her choices in spite of him.

"Father?" Marim cocked her head. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." He reached out and caressed her cheek.

"You were gone so long."

"It's over now."

"They're free then," Marim said. "Come inside."

Berrick followed her with leaden footsteps. How much did she remember of that night?

"Please, speak to the count. Darith," she looked back over her shoulder at the word. Her face suffused with love, "should see you as well. He'll want to know how your travels went."

"Will he know already?"

"As I do? Bits and pieces only." She turned and brushed her lips over his cheek. "It is alright, Father. Memories fade and grow soft with time. Soon they'll be far away, and we can all forget them."

Marim's hand trembled and she clutched at her dress to hide her fear. Despite her words, she knew as well as he that not all memories faded. She clung to his arm, glancing at an empty corner, terror making her grip too tight.

Inside the house, the halls had livened up since the last time Berrick arrived. The servants bustled about. The only banners that hung were of the family crest. Waiting there near the door, alerted by Marim, stood the count and the countess. There was a vague medicated look about their eyes and their strained smiles.

Berrick clenched his fist. Something, anything to strike would have been appreciated.

Marim set her soft hand over his fist. Would the spider baby hold on even if he offered a remedy? Would it cling like a parasite to her insides?

He barely heard the half-hearted greetings of his old friends. He certainly did not hear his own answers until they said something that mattered.

"Did you find your revenge?" the count said.

"Darith's revenge," the countess said. Her lips were a hard line. "Our revenge."

"Father sent the culprits far away. We need never worry about them."

How strange that somewhere during this whole process Marim had learned to dissemble. Her half lie was meant to placate and protect. Only Berrick didn't want her fragile protection. He wanted to suffer because he had failed her. He had failed them all.

"They live," he said.

The countess glared. Without a further word, she walked up the stairs. She turned to the left. Darith's new quarters were to the right. Marim's shoulders stiffened and Berrick wondered if she noted the direction as well. The countess's anger was over a son she no longer had; not for a son harmed.

"Darith will want to know," the count said. There was no anger in him, at least not for his friend. Count Cortanis had never wanted revenge. He wanted to forget.

The count motioned with his hand. Marim and Berrick ascended the stairs alone.

"The countess will warm to Darith soon," Marim said. "It's hard for him being alone. They'll see that soon."

The countess warm? Not likely. He recalled the first time he met the woman. He'd invited the couple over to Polly and his home just outside the college grounds. They showed, the count jovial as ever and settled right into a conversation with Polly about which of the off-Yahal conveniences they would miss when they returned home. The countess however, sat stiff in her chair. She was a lovely woman but the air had been chillier near her, and her voice was a cold snap.

Still it was her who had found a way for Polly and Berrick to return to Yahal. He'd despaired of it when job offers came in. Nothing was available on Yahal. But with the pull of a few strings, the countess made room for her husband's college friend. And he and Polly had happily said goodbye to the off-world conveniences.

It wasn't until later that Polly began to resent the restrictions.

Berrick clenched his jaw as well as his fist. These were things Marim should never need to know. How could any mother care more for a line of descent than her child? Only, had he been any better? He'd run off for revenge rather than staying with Marim. It hurt to see your child in pain. He understood better than he'd like why Darith's parents wouldn't visit their son, and Berrick doubted if they would change.

Marim opened Darith's door and slid inside. Berrick followed with a sinking heart. He didn't want to meet with the sullen teen. Another pair of eyes that knew what they should not was hardly what his guilty conscience desired.

Darith sat up in his bed. Somehow, despite being bed-bound, he was the same prideful, angry youth that he'd always been. Where Berrick expected wreckage, he saw strength. Good. Here, at least, is something that had survived the spiders.

"Marim, will you be good enough to leave your father to me?" Darith asked.

Berrick almost smiled, a warmth pervaded the sinking inside him since seeing Marim. In all the years of watching Darith grow, Berrick had never heard Darith speak so softly or respectfully to a woman. Darith had finally found something he cared about as much as himself. Berrick was happy for them.

Then he remembered what their lives were to be. Darith was a cripple and would never properly take a wife. Marim was cursed by the spiders' touch, and unless he could find the strength to do a dreadful unforgivable thing, she would never be anyone's wife.

His unformed smile left his lips by the time Marim left the room. The two men regarded each other across the lavishly furnished room. Wilted flowers swayed in the breeze from the open window, and the tissuey drapes billowed, making soft flapping sounds. Berrick did not know how to judge the man-child in this nest. Whatever Darith saw, he must have found satisfactory because he nodded and then said the last thing Berrick had expected.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of her."

"Marim."

"Who else? We are, neither of us fools, so let's not play games."

"How can you take care of Marim?"

The words were cruel, but Darith did not flinch. Instead, he smiled, the smile one would award a slow child.

"You know that already."

And Berrick did know. Darith saw the same thing growing inside Marim that Berrick did. In a way, Berrick had been blind too. The solution to both Darith's and Marim's problems rested with each other. All he needed to do was guard them and see them safely through it.

"Yes. You have my blessing."

Not exactly the way a father dreams of betrothing his daughter but better than the alternatives.

***

The direct sunlight, even coupled with a chill wind, lifted Darith's spirits. Other than the whistling air and Gretta's crunching footfall behind his wheelchair on the path nothing disturbed his thoughts. This was the first time he'd dared to leave his room and the fact the world remained reassured him.

Gretta swept up beside him, her parasol shading both of them as she twirled it.

Darith glanced back at the house. What was Berrick saying to Marim? How was she taking it? Doubts clouded his mind. Was he doing the right thing? Maybe even pregnant, she could find a better husband than a cripple... and he might have convinced himself if he hadn't seen how she glanced at the shadows and the tendrils of black that sometimes flooded her eyes.

Will I even get to see her before Berrick takes her home?

How will I sleep with her gone?

The garden had thinned with fall but the line of shrubs they passed behind was still plush and green. Gretta swung her curls over one shoulder and ran her free hand over the foliage.

"Didn't expect to hear from ye," Gretta said.

The cover of green grew taller, obscuring the mansion so that Darith could almost believe himself in private with her.

"I've had time to think and my situation has altered." He halted next to a garden bench and waited for Gretta to sit.

"Yer situation seems the same to me." She closed her parasol and leaned it against the bench before selecting a spot on the bench to sink onto. "Ye mean ye changed yer mind about it."

"No." Darith glared at her.

Gretta pursed her lips and motioned for him to continue.

"I mean it has changed. Does your offer stand? My request is not a small one."

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