Brightly Woven

  “This man is a liar,” I said to the king, and the reaction was instantaneous. “He may be a wizard, but he is certainly no prophet. He found me in Provincia, saw the color of my hair, and decided to use both of us to his advantage.”

  I relished the look of alarm that stole across Dorwan’s face when fifteen firearms and even more swords were turned in his direction.

  “A lie,” Dorwan said, raising his arms slightly in surrender. “Your Majesty, I can prove her power.”

  “Take him!” the king barked, waving the soldiers forward.

  “They’ll kill us,” Dorwan said as the soldiers came closer. “They’ll kill us, you foolish little—”

  He reached into his coat for the talisman waiting there, but even in my heavy robes I was faster. I shoved him as hard as I could; he stumbled back into the approaching soldiers, who pinned his arms behind him and forced him to the ground.

  I was his curse now.

  “Sydelle!” he snarled.

  “Good-bye, Dorwan,” I said. “Good riddance.”

  He saw my plan in my eyes: I would take down this mountain and everyone on it—the king, his men, but, most of all, Reuel Dorwan. And if I couldn’t escape the destruction, so be it. At least the war would be over before it had the chance to begin.

  “Take the girl, too!” the king shouted. I heard, rather than saw, a few of the soldiers rush toward me. I held out a hand to stop them.

  “Don’t touch me,” I said calmly.

  I closed my eyes again, taking a deep breath as I searched for the magic that had once held so much fear for me. Magic is a tool, Pascal had said. Wizards open themselves up to it.

  I focused not on my fear or my sorrow but on the world slowly spinning beneath my feet, on the anger I felt inside of me. I thought of those who had wanted to use me, who had thought I was a pawn in their games, and let myself feel every lick of disappointment and fury. This time, I knew how to control my powers. All along I had been feeling, and those feelings had driven the storms and quakes. Now, as the torrent of emotions passed through my heart and out into the world, I felt the familiar warmth of magic rise up with me.

  I seized the connection. A thousand threads of light in every color appeared in my sight, rising from the ground. The warmth began to work its way through every vein and sinew in my body. A light breeze of cold air caressed my cheek, but I hardly felt it. Instead, I focused on the sound of it, strengthening it, pulling on it as if it were tangible. My fur cloak blew up and away with the force of the new wind, fluttering down the slope of the mountain.

  A startled cry went up behind me as several of the horses spooked. I did not relent. I felt the spark of magic the moment my fingers brushed the ground, and a great shudder ran through it at my touch. I dug my fingers into the soil and pulled on it as hard as I could. The force of the ensuing quake rattled every bone in my body.

  I heard the thunderous roar of the snow at the top of the mountain as it came barreling down toward us. The king’s soldiers scattered, trying to break the bucking horses free from the carriages.

  “Your Majesty!” one of them shouted. “We must leave—”

  The king did not acknowledge him. He held out his hand, palm up, with a reverential expression on his face. A light spray of snow fell down over us as the mass of it barreled through the line of trees above us, groaning and straining like a living beast.

  In that moment my connection to the world snapped, and the only thing I was aware of was the voice in my head whispering urgently, Run, Sydelle.

  I ripped the diadem and veil from my hair, leaving them for the snow to claim. The shuddering ground made it hard to climb over the jagged rocks and upturned trees. My long skirt gathered around my knees, the beautiful red fabric torn and dirtied as I cut through dead brush and rocks. All I could feel was the burning of my lungs and the beating of my heart. Nothing else touched me, not the cold against my bare skin nor the branches and rocks that cut my arms. Nothing.

  I was running, but not fast enough.

  The snow picked up momentum as it barreled toward me, forcing me in the direction of a cliff. I looked back and forth desperately for a way down that wasn’t as steep, but the cliff seemed to line the entire face of the mountain. From my position at its very edge, I could see the blue water of the channel over the line of trees.

  The drop was hundreds of feet below, but I lurched forward again, unwilling to surrender to the snow. I fell to my knees, crawling over the edge of the cliff. My feet slid against the rocks, trying to find purchase as my hands clung to a long tree root. I scraped my chin against the hard earth, my hands slowly slipping with the force of the quaking ground. I clenched my teeth, ignoring the mass of white barreling toward me, and forced myself to continue climbing down.

  “Sydelle!”

  My head turned toward the direction of my name. It wasn’t possible.

  “Syd!” Again, over the roar of the avalanche. “Syd, jump!”

  I risked a glance down, looking back over my shoulder to the slope below, scattered with men and women in familiar black uniforms. Standing at the forefront were two dark-haired men, looking up. They were hundreds of feet below me, but there was no missing North’s distinctive stance and unusual cloak.

  “North!” I screamed in warning.

  “Jump!” He yelled back. “JUMP!”

  And because I was out of time, because I felt the ground begin to shift beneath me with the river of snow, I did. And I flew.

  At the moment my feet left the rim, North threw up his cloak, and something caught my body and eased my fall. I fell slowly, slowly—without even a sound. The roar of the crushing snow gave way to perfect silence. There was a wall of wind carefully lowering me when I should have been plummeting. I almost laughed in exhilaration, but I forced my eyes to stay focused on North’s determined face, coming closer by the second. His arms were reaching up toward me, straining. Several of the other wizards seemed to be helping him guide me down, but even more kept their eyes turned up to the tide of snow that hurtled over the rim.

  Time sped back up, and so did my fall. I fell onto North, my arms wrapping around his shoulders. He used the force of the impact to drop us to the ground, bringing his red cloak up in one fluid, sweeping motion and pulling it over our heads. A moment later, the rest of the Wizard Guard unleashed a firestorm above our heads, incinerating the snow until only steam and air remained. I felt the cold water raining down around us. It soaked through North’s thin cloak, but neither of us cared.

  His arms came around me tightly, crushing me to him. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his face buried in my hair. “Syd, did they hurt you?”

  I couldn’t say a single word; I clung to his neck and tried to breathe.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  We stayed down until the plummeting water ceased and the ground stilled, and only then did North drop the protective red cloak. I winced at the shock of cold air, and my legs buckled beneath me.

  “It’s okay, you’re okay,” North said, scooping me up into his arms. I pressed my face against his shoulder as he wrapped the cloak around us for warmth. It covered us like a wet blanket but dried quickly with its own natural heat.

  “Take her back to the ship,” Oliver said, coming to stand next to us. “We’re going to search for survivors.”

  “It was me,” I whispered. “I did this.”

  North’s arms tightened around me. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it was,” I said. “I did it on purpose.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oliver and North exchange a look. In the end, Oliver merely nodded, summoning a few of the other wizards around him. They drew out their talismans and, in the next breath, disappeared.

  “Hold on,” North told me, replacing the red cloak around us with his black one. I nodded and, for the first time, savored the feeling of our fall through space.

  My body jarred with the heavy thud of North’s boots against the ship’s
deck. Several of the sailors around us looked startled at our sudden appearance.

  North ducked, squeezing us down the narrow staircase to the hull. The space was dark and cramped. North sat against the wall with a long sigh and pulled me onto his lap, once again wrapping the red cloak tightly around us.

  “Where are we?” I asked again, suddenly exhausted.

  “We’re just off Auster’s coast,” he said. “It was too far for us to twist safely from Provincia. We had to sail most of the way.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “The moment we came close to shore we all felt you, burning like a star on the mountainside. You drew us to you.”

  “Dorwan,” I began, pulling away. “He was with me on the mountain—I don’t know what happened to him—”

  “What in the seven hells was he doing there?” I saw North’s face glower in the darkness.

  “He told the king I was their goddess,” I said. “When I didn’t understand their ritual, he asked that I be allowed to prove my power.”

  “And you did,” North finished.

  “On my own terms,” I said. “I’ve never wished this on anyone, but I hope he’s dead, and I hope he suffered.”

  I felt his hand come up to stroke my hair softly.

  “I hope so, too,” he said. “If he’s alive, Oliver and the others will find him.”

  “How did you manage to get Oliver to come along?” I asked.

  “I’ve been wondering that myself, actually,” he said. “When the queen sent him away, Oliver came and got me immediately. I think he felt guilty for letting it happen, to be honest. He may not like me, but he’s not a beast, and he knew you were innocent.”

  I pulled back from him, studying his face. “About before…I was angry,” I whispered. “If it meant saving your life, you know I would give you whatever you needed.”

  “Don’t say that, and don’t apologize,” he said gruffly. I felt him shift slightly beneath me. “I deserved it, every last word.”

  I pressed my lips against the line of his jaw softly, not pulling them away until I felt the tension there slowly abate.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered again. It was his warm breath on my face that made the moment real; it was the light touch of his fingertips on my neck that nearly reduced me to tears. I tilted my face up expectantly.

  The sound of two dozen boots raining down on the deck above us broke the spell. A moment later, Oliver appeared on the steps, his shape outlined by the setting sun.

  “Wayland!” he called.

  North cleared his throat but made no movement to stand, let alone move. I let my head rest against his shoulder once more.

  Oliver stumbled around the crates and bedding, stopping short of us. Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes widen at the sight of us.

  “We could only find guards and broken carriages,” Oliver said. “Who else was there?”

  “The king,” I told him. “A few of the nobles and priests…and Reuel Dorwan.”

  “So he is involved?” Oliver asked North. “It wasn’t some lie you spun to avoid the war?”

  “Do you really believe I would do that?” North asked, and there was real hurt there.

  Oliver looked away. “I checked the records. I wasn’t able to find any trace of him, let alone track his movements.”

  “He’s not a ranked wizard, so there was no trace spell placed on him, remember?” North said. “You were there when he confronted my mother about it, weren’t you?”

  “That was justified,” Oliver said. “He was raised by hedge witches. His ranking is forbidden in our code of laws.”

  “It’s more important you try to find him now,” I said. “There’s a chance he didn’t make it off the mountain at all.”

  “And you’re positive the king was there?” Oliver pressed. “This may change everything.”

  I nodded.

  “Only if he’s dead,” North said. “If Dorwan was there, I doubt he would have let the king die. Not when it was advantageous for him to keep the king alive.”

  The thought was almost soothing to me, as if the lives of a few men being saved by Dorwan made me any less of a murderer. Of a monster.

  I ducked my chin against my neck and closed my eyes. North seemed to sense my thoughts, because his hand came up to press my face against his shoulder once more.

  “You did what you had to,” he said. “You’re alive and we’re together again. That’s all that matters to me.”

  “I wish…I wish there could have been another way,” I mumbled. “None of those men were like Dorwan.”

  “The other way would have been death as well, only it would have been yours,” Oliver said. “And that’s no more honorable than what you did.”

  North and I were silent.

  “And in any case, if the king is dead, the war will be over before it even began,” Oliver said.

  I felt North nod once before resting his cheek against the top of my head again.

  Oliver hesitated a moment before leaving. “Are you going to…put it back on?” He looked at North, lifting his wrist slightly. I felt North shift beneath me, and I realized what he was asking.

  “Yes,” I said. “He’ll put the bracelet back on.”

  Oliver relaxed. “I’ll be on the upper deck, then.”

  “Commander Swift,” I called as he began his ascent up the staircase. “Thank you for coming.”

  He shrugged halfheartedly. “I didn’t come for you. I came for my friend.”

  I waited until Oliver was gone before looking up into North’s face.

  “You don’t think he meant the queen, do you?” North said. “Because that would ruin a rather touching moment.”

  I elbowed him. “When things settle down, you should try talking to him again.”

  He leaned his head back against the wall.

  “And I do want my bracelet back,” I told him.

  “I can hardly believe that,” he said.

  “You gave it to me.” I could still picture it in a coiled heap on the floor of the queen’s chamber. “Of course I want it back.”

  “With or without the magic?” he asked.

  I bit my lower lip. “Either way you think best,” I said after a moment. He reached into the pocket of his trousers, retrieving the thin chain.

  “Just to hide your magic,” he promised, fastening it over my wrist. “To contain it. I’ve added a clasp, so you’ll be able to take it off if you need to.”

  He drew me closer to him once more, his fingers stroking my loose hair. The boat released a beastlike groan as the anchor lifted from the water. We felt the exact moment the wind caught our sails and set us in the direction of home.

  I let my eyes drift shut, perfectly at ease. For a moment or two, I thought North might have fallen asleep.

  Just then, he whispered in my ear.

  “Syd,” he said. “What did they do to your hair?”

  After less than a day at sea, we reached Provincia. We landed in the courtyard of the palace, at the bottom of the stairs. The Sorceress Imperial was pacing the length of them, accompanied by a few members of the Wizard Guard. I remembered standing there several days earlier, seeing the queen for the first time. It seemed like a distant memory now.

  Before she could say a word, I held up the bracelet for her to see, and she nodded in acknowledgment. I wore borrowed trousers and a shirt that North had scrounged up, but the Sorceress Imperial’s extravagant robes no longer had any effect on my confidence.

  “I need to speak with you,” I said. “Immediately.”

  North looked at me in surprise, but Hecate’s face did not betray her curiosity. After a moment she nodded again.

  North took a step as if to go with me, but Oliver held out an arm and blocked his path. I cast a reassuring smile over my shoulder at him as we walked up the steps into the castle.

  We made our way through the long halls and winding staircases in silence. The castle felt different to me now, subdued and dark. Everything i
n Auster had been so bright and clean, so well cared for, that in contrast Provincia seemed in danger of collapsing under the weight of dust and grime. How had the city—the kingdom—fallen into such neglect?

  The interior of the Sorceress Imperial’s quarters was sparse, decorated only with maps and shelves of musty old books. She sat down in a leather chair, never taking her eyes off me. I sank down onto a settee. A portrait of a dark-haired family—a husband, wife, and their mischievous-looking son—looked down on us from the fireplace.

  “I have very little time to waste on you,” Hecate said sharply. “If you’re expecting some sort of apology, you should realize how blessed you truly are that I haven’t had you killed.”

  “What would killing me solve?” I asked bitterly. “I’m surprised you won’t just throw me out to the battle, hoping I destroy Auster without harming Palmarta.”

  “Keeping you alive poses more of a threat. I only allowed them to go after you so Auster wouldn’t use you against us,” she said.

  I shook my head, my anger building as she continued.

  “Having you here is an even larger risk. If any one of us were to obtain your blood, he would become the most powerful wizard alive. You do know what you are, of course, but you have no idea what your presence does to the balance of magic in the world. In the past, jinxes have always been put to death for this very reason.”

  “So why am I still alive?” I asked. “Why not kill me now and take the power yourself?”

  Hecate held my gaze. “Why did you wish to speak to me?”

  “I have information for you about Auster,” I said.

  “You and my son have already provided me with information.”

  “The situation has changed,” I said. “The king may be dead.”

  “What madness is this?”

  “They believed I was the vessel of their goddess, and asked for my blessing,” I began. By the time I had finished relating the story, Hecate’s face had gone stark white.

  “Is there any proof of this?” she asked. “I won’t base the policy of this country on the word of a silly girl.”

  “It’s the truth; ask Oliver,” I said. “This is your chance. If the king really is dead, there’s no reason to go ahead with such a foolish war. Make amends with the queen and find a peaceful solution.”