Page 15 of A Fate Unwoven
He ducked out of the carriage with a predator’s grace, barely making a sound. The carriage door clicked shut behind him, leaving Dimas alone with the two villagers he’d taken into his custody.
“What was that about fate being on our side?” Maia mumbled.
He turned around to face the siblings, who were still sitting on one of the plush carriage benches with as much distance between them as possible. It seemed even being stranded in the middle of the Wilds during an impending snowstorm wasn’t enough to soften Maia’s anger toward her brother.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dimas said, because it seemed like the right thing to say.
Finæn’s eyes darted toward the window. “Look, if you just untie me and give me a weapon, I can help fight whatever’s out there. If it’s anything like that thing we saw in Forvyrg, you’ll need all the help you can get.”
Dimas hesitated. If he untied the siblings, there was a chance they would escape, leaving him with no leverage over Lenora when his hunters returned. But if he didn’t and one of Wyrecia’s ancient creatures was lurking beyond the carriage doors, then he was putting all of them in danger.
He knew what his father would say.An emperor’s faith is his greatest weapon.Even without his Fateweaver at his side, Dimas should have been the first one out of that carriage, his sword drawn and a warrior’s cry on his lips. There should have been no doubt in his mind that he would emerge victorious against whatever foe awaited him.
But his father was not here, and the thought of going out there alone—of not being able to help Ioseph if he was in trouble—had him reaching for the ornamental dagger at his belt.
“Do exactly as I say,” Dimas said, sawing through the rope binding Finæn’s wrists. The village boy nodded, his eyes darkening, his lips parting. It was the same look Dimas had seen in the eyes of dozens of recruits over the years. He turned toward Maia, who shoved her wrists forward with an impatient thrust.
“No, she stays here,” Finæn said, ignoring the hateful glare she sent his way.
Dimas froze with the dagger hovering inches above Maia’s rope. Finæn had told Dimas how the creature they’d encountered had knocked her down, and even though Maia claimed their village healer had declared the injury to her head minor, Dimas couldn’t risk her losing consciousness in the middle of a fight.
Dimas pulled back from the girl. “I’m sorry,” he offered, before turning his attention back to Finæn, who seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at Maia’s seething face. “Let’s go. Stay behind me and stay quiet.” Dimas had never given battle orders outside of a training field before. It felt strange, as if he were playing a part in some kind of play. The thought took hold, and as Dimas reached for the carriage door, he imagined himself not as a scared prince, but as a valiant, faithful emperor.
“Wait,” Finæn whispered. “I need a weapon.”
Ioseph had taken Finæn’s hatchet before allowing him into the carriage. It was now tucked safely into the soldier’s belt alongside his sword. The idea of a weapon in Finæn’s hand wasn’t one Dimas liked; untying him had been a risk he’d been willing to take, but arming him …
“You’ll get one if you need one.”
Once Dimas had seen what they were facing. For all he knew, Finæn’s story about the Corrupted was just that—a story, meant to trick and frighten Dimas into trusting his claims. Finæn huffed but said nothing. He simply stood at Dimas’s back, waiting to follow the prince into whatever situation awaited them.
Steeling his nerves, Dimas pushed open the carriage door, being careful to make as little sound as possible. He needn’t have bothered;the wind was a howling, living thing, smothering any other noise with its screams. There was no sign of Ioseph as Dimas stepped out of the carriage, his boots crunching in the hard snow. Finæn dropped down beside him, and Dimas tried to ignore the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears as the two of them crept alongside the side of the carriage.
It was too quiet. Even with the howling wind, there was a strange, unnatural stillness to the air. The same kind of stillness Dimas always experienced whenever he visited his mother’s tomb. As if, just for a moment, time itself had come to a complete stop.
Dimas drew his sword. He didn’t like to fight, but as heir, he’d been trained by some of the best fighters the empire had ever seen. He took another step forward, and then another, slowly inching closer to the front of the carriage.
A figure appeared in the dim light. Dimas raised his sword, his heart a wild thing in his chest.
“It’s me,” Ioseph said. Dimas peered up into his face, trying not to panic at the haunted look in his best friend’s eyes. “I told you to wait in the carriage.” Ioseph looked past Dimas to the figure standing behind him, his lips tightening at the clear lack of rope around Finæn’s wrists. “You untied him?”
Dimas ignored the question. “What happened?”
Ioseph hesitated just long enough for Dimas to know the next words out of his mouth were going to be a lie. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. The storm will be here soon. You should get back inside—”
“Is that blood?”
There was a small smudge on Ioseph’s left cheek. The soldier reached up to brush it away with a gloved hand, his lips parting in an answer Dimas didn’t wait to hear. All his life people had shielded him from the truth, treating him as if he were glass. And where had it gotten him? He was about to be emperor, and he was stranded in the middle of the Wilds without a Fateweaver at his side.
No more.He brushed past Ioseph with single-minded determination, the front of the carriage barely three feet away.
“Your Highness, please. You don’t need to see this.”
“Yes,” said Dimas, “I do.” He hadn’t felt this certain since he’d made the decision to track down his Fateweaver. He knew, somehow, that no matter what choices he’d made in the past, he was always going to end up here.
Ioseph must have sensed the conviction in his voice, because instead of arguing, he simply fell into step at Dimas’s side. “Alright,” he said, lowering his voice so only the prince could hear, “but the village boy shouldn’t be here for this.”
Dimas glanced back at Finæn, who was standing silently a few feet behind them. Leaving Maia alone in the carriage had been a risk, but with her hands bound and a blizzard on the way, he doubted she’d try to run. But leaving them alone together …
