“Our queen,” the spider said. “We wait for Her Dark Majesty to return at last.” “Not—not Erawan?” Servants to a dark crown, Houlun had said … The spider spat, the venom landing near Sartaq’s covered feet. “Not him. Never him.” “Then who—” “We wait for the Queen of the Valg,” the spider purred, rubbing against the carving. “Who in this world calls herself Maeve.”
