“Frustrated, he kicked his one thin blanket onto the floor, swung over the side, and dropped onto his sleep-tender bare feet. Straining his arms toward the ceiling, muscles quivering back to life, he stared at his bedroom window. The solid sheet of spider silk was backlit by the morning sun, and the whole room glowed silver. The weave was tight, complicated, and perfect. Cyrus stepped forward, squinting. There was a design in the center, the ghost of an image, embroidered with silk on silk—the s...hield and boxing monkey of the Polygoners. Cyrus smiled. “Tigs, you see this?” He looked at the other hammock. Antigone was gone. Once he was in the living room, Cyrus heard the rush and rattle of water through pipes in the floor. On the other side of the wall, he heard the shower bleat and hum. A muffled yelp told him that his sister was braving the water too soon. Cyrus dropped into the armchair and looked at the windows and the fireplace. The weave of the silk was a little different on each one.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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