Page 14 of A Fate Unwoven
Now the urge to tell someone about what had happened itched beneath his skin. He’d never heard of a Fateweaver being able to reject the bond before, and the knowledge thathisapparently could was doing little to ease the knot in his stomach.
The carriage lurched, causing Maia to let out a groan. Finæn reached out to her, clearly forgetting the rope binding his wrists. A hiss escaped his lips as the material dug into his flesh.
“Are these really necessary?” Finæn asked.
On the surface, Finæn Æspen appeared to be an ally. He’d told Dimas about everything, from the ancient creature that had obeyed Lenora’s command to her plans to leave Wyrecia altogether.
But Dimas couldn’t afford to take any chances.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, pushing aside his guilt. “I appreciate your cooperation so far, but until my hunters return with Lenora and your information is proven true, the ropes stay on.”
Finæn slumped back in his seat, his eyes darkening. Maia stayed silent at his side, but Dimas could tell from the twist of her lips and the stiff set of her shoulders that she was just as unhappy about the situation as her brother.
He’d make it up to them. If it turned out that Finæn could help him convince Lenora that Dimas wasn’t the monster she thought he was, then Dimas would appoint the village boy as a member of her personal guard. He would give Maia a position in the palace. They would never have to know cold and hunger again.
And if he betrays you?a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father’s asked.What will you do then?
Dimas clenched his hands into fists. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Finæn was lying—of the sentence he’d be expected to give. Instead, he turned his attention to the frozen wasteland beyond his window, where the sky was beginning to darken with the promise of an oncoming storm.
“How much farther is the outpost?” he asked.
He’d never experienced one of the infamous western storms himself, but he’d heard about their brutality from the lords who oversaw affairs in the towns closest to the edge of the Wilds. Even with their stone houses and fur blankets, they claimed the storms always left them blue-lipped and starved. Dimas doubted the carriage, sturdy as it was, would be enough to protect them if they got stuck in the middle of a blizzard.
Ioseph pulled out the map from beneath his cloak. “We’re not far. Another half a bell and we should be there.” He glanced out of the window on his side of the carriage, brow furrowing at the darkening sky. “If fate is in our favor, we should make it before the storm hits.”
If.Ioseph said it lightly, as if it didn’t even cross his mind that fatewouldn’tbe in their favor. Dimas knew he should feel the same. That his faith should be stronger than anyone’s. As a Ehmar, he was favored by the Goddess of Fate herself. His bond to the Fateweaver’s power was proof enough of that. But after watching his mother die, he’d found himself questioning the goddess Næbya more and more.
But it was Maia who asked, “And if it’s not?”
She was younger than Finæn, perhaps by a few years. No older than fifteen namesdays. And yet her expression as she said those words … it was the visage of someone who was used to preparing for the worst. The sight was enough to make Dimas push aside his own doubts.
“We will,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Like Ioseph said, we’re not far, and—”
The carriage lurched to a stop, throwing Dimas and the rest of the passengers forward. Maia cried out, and a string of colorful curses came pouring out of Finæn’s mouth.
“What in the Sisters’ name wasthat?” he asked, already moving toward the window.
“I’m sure it was nothing. Probably just a blockage in the road,” Ioseph said, shifting slightly in his seat. “Also, if you value your life, I’d suggest you keep any mention of the Sisters to yourself.”
Maia glared at him, her mouth opening in what was no doubt a protest, but Finæn spoke before she could get the words out.
“There’s something out there.”
Finæn’s voice was quiet enough to send a shiver running down Dimas’s spine. He moved toward the window, his pulse quickening. Outside of the carriage, the frozen plains looked no different than they had a few moments before; endless fields of white snow, towering stone mountains that disappeared into gray skies, and forests of skeletal trees.
“I don’t see anything,” Ioseph said after a few heartbeats of silence. “Are you sure you—”
Something landed on top of the carriage with a heavythump,cutting off the prince before he could finish.
Ioseph pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for the others to stay quiet. They huddled together in the center of the carriage, gazes fixed on the windows on either side.
After a few moments of silence, Ioseph reached for the carriage door, “Stay here,” he whispered.
Dimas’s hand shot out, his fingers curling around the soldier’s wrist. He’d done it without thinking, and as Ioseph’s eyes fell onto his face, the harshness in them softening just a fraction, his cheeks flushed at how foolish he’d been. Out here, Ioseph wasn’t just his best friend. He was a soldier, and it was his job to put himself in danger to ensure Dimas’s safety.
And so instead of begging him not to go, Dimas simply let his hand fall to his side and said, “Be careful.”
Ioseph offered him a small, barely perceptible smile. “I always am.”
