The whelp grabbed my hand.

The room was washed in red. The smell of death thickened the air.

Courtiers were thrown about, their bodies in various twisted states of agony.

They were all dead, with eyes and mouths opened in terror.

Crawling over them were thousands of spiders. The hissing came from the sea of tiny bodies as they scrambled in a wave over their feast. They covered nearly every last inch of the room, and as my eyes followed them up the wall I stifled a scream when I saw bodies encased in silk hanging from the ceiling.

On the platform where the king's table normally sat, Interra and Amatha were lounging in gorgeous wedding gowns, unaffected by the arachnids. They moved their arms as if directing the wave, and I could see thick webbing dangling from their fingers, the same material that encased the victims above.

Behind them was the last living human in the castle.

The king was tied to his throne with silk, which held him as securely as the thickest rope and wrapped his body from ankle to shoulder. He writhed and screamed to no avail, and there was blood on his face from a wound sustained somewhere on his head. Above him hung the tapestry, and I realized that the image it depicted was a replica of the carnage in the hall, with every body placed in the exact same position. The only thing missing from it was the multitude of spiders crawling over the court's corpses.

The tapestry itself looked alive, for spiders continued to pour from it in waterfalls of black and brown as their eggs hatched between the threads. When they moved through the weaving, their legs shook the yarn, making it appear as if it were shivering.

The whelp and I stood, awestruck by the horrific spectacle, until attention was called to us by the doomed king.

"Boys!" he cried. "Help your king!"

At once the hissing stopped, and the eyes of the twins and their hoard turned upon us.

This was my death, I knew it in my heart. I would leave the world fighting, but I would never taste freedom again. I would die just like the prince, smothered and hot.

But the twins smiled at me, and the spiders kept their distance. Their eyes moved to the whelp, and Interra and Amatha regarded him with curiosity.

Interra spoke first, and when she opened her mouth there were four sharp fangs nestled among her teeth.

"What do you think of our wedding, Josiah?" She waved her hand toward the savagery. "Isn't it wonderful?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"You look more beautiful than I imagined," I answered with as calm a voice as I could muster.

The twins blushed and curtsied.

"What about our children?" Amatha said. "Are they not precious?"

The spiders appeared to shiver at her compliment.

"They are..." I couldn't find the proper word to lie with. "There are a lot of them."

"They will not hurt you," Interra explained, "as long as you wear our protection."

"Do you still have it?" Amatha asked. "We did warn that you would need it."

"I have it," I said and pulled the vial from under my shirt to show them.

"Very good," Amatha cooed.

"The king was right about it," said her sister, "it's a token of our love. Proven here, I think, to be invaluable."

"T-thanks," I squeaked.

My eyes moved to the floor, and I spotted the bodies of Roland and Odd Gran, clinging together in death, their faces contorted in agony.

"Forgive us for not coming to rescue you," Interra said. "We did intend to release you from the dungeon after the wedding."

"We wanted to spare you from witnessing what happened here."

"You spared the king, too," I said after finding my voice, motioning to the man on the throne.

"For now," Amatha replied with a sharp smile. "But one must have dinner before dessert."

"Foul wretches!" screamed the king to his brides. "Loathsome, vile demons! I'll have you run through with a sword and crush your spawn with my boots!" He turned back to the whelp and me and his tone became pleading. "I command you to aid your king! You cannot abandon me! Kill these monsters!"

"Hush," Interra hissed, "the boy would never harm his friends. Right, Josiah?"

I shook my head. "You two were the only people who were kind to me. No, I wouldn't betray your friendship."

"We knew you were special from the first night," Amatha said. "Do you remember it? The dance of the queen entangled by her enemies?"

"I remember."

"We mocked you for thinking it was sad, and for that we are sorry."

"Sorry that we had to mask our respect," added Interra, "for it was you alone who saw the truth. You alone lamented the fate of our mother."

"Your mother? She was—the queen?"

They nodded in unison.

"Murdered by her cruel enemies. And who was the one to lead them?"

They turned to the king.

"Your grandfather," Interra said, "drove his sword through her heart."

"She was damned," the king spat, "all your people were. He did the right thing in putting her down."

"Enough," Amatha snapped. "This court will no longer hear your despicable words."

"You were the infants who escaped into the world," I said with a gasp. "You were lost."

"And we found our purpose," Interra replied. "We took vengeance on those who destroyed our home."

"Piece by piece, kingdom by kingdom, we've spent our lives seeking justice."

"This is not your first conquest?" I asked.

"And not our last," Amatha said. "This is merely one stop on a long path of revenge. We will continue, from throne to throne, until every one of mother's murderers—and their descendants—has paid for her death."

"But the king said he won you from another kingdom. How can that be?"

"An illusion, created to attract the lust of greedy men. He conquered that kingdom after we had taken it down."

"You! Whelp!" the king called to the boy beside me. "Have I not you treated well? Have you not lived in luxury? I saved y—"

"He has no reason to be loyal to you," Interra snapped at the king. "He was nothing but a toy for your cruelty." She turned to the whelp. "We saw you in your private moments. Your kindness was extended to even the smallest of creatures."

"We have a mind to spare you," Amatha continued, "just as you spared others. What is your name, child?"

The boy shrunk, frightened and slightly embarrassed to be the sudden center of attention. "I'm...the whelp."

"Your real name?"

"I don't have one. I'm just the whelp."

Amatha frowned. "That won't do. The castle is falling, and with it, your time as a slave for royals. You will need a name."

"I don't know any...my ladies."

"May we give you one?" Interra asked.

The whelp stood up straight and nodded.

"Then, by the order of the queens of this kingdom, you are given the name of Phelan. We hope you honor us by accepting it, and wear it with pride for the rest of your days."

"Phelan," he tested the word. "I like it!" 

"May you never again suffer the whims of cruel kings and princes," Amatha said. "Walk closely with Josiah and keep your hand in his until you are out of the castle. The shield that protects him will protect you."

"Thank you," Phelan and I said together.

The twins dipped into a graceful curtsy. "Go, and be free."

We took great care not to step on the spiders as we made our way out of the dining hall. The multitude sensed our movement and pulled away to form a clear path for our feet. As we moved, the king begged us not to leave him, or to send help once we left the castle, and when we did not answer he cursed us for our insolence.

At the door, I turned for one final look at the twins.

They were approaching their last victim with menacing grins.

"Goodbye," I called to them.

"Goodbye, Josiah the wolf," Interra said with her eyes still on the king.

"Don't look back, only ahead," Amatha warned.

I obeyed her, and as we passed into the courtyard the agonized scream of a dying man echoed from the castle.