Page 17 of A Fate Unwoven
Dimas opened his eyes, his attention drifting over the wooden walls and the old, crackling fire pit in the center of the small outpostthey were now huddled in. After a quick sweep of the area, Ioseph had declared that the back door had long since rotted shut and there was only one way in and out of the place. Ioseph sat guarding the front door now, his back against the wood, whilst Finæn and Maia were huddled as close to the fire as they could get. Neither of them were restrained—not after what had occurred out in the Wilds.
“If we want them to be our allies,” he’d whispered to Ioseph whilst they’d approached the snow-covered outpost, “then we have to treat them as such.”
They’d barely spoken since then, too cold and exhausted to do anything but try to warm themselves by the fire Ioseph had managed to get going in the soot-stained hearth. Maia had spent most of her time glaring at nothing in particular, whilst Finæn had sat stoically beside her, refusing to leave her side even when it was clear most of her anger was aimed at him.
In the tense silence, Dimas found his gaze drifting to the body in the far corner of the room. Aldryn’s face and chest were still covered by Finæn’s cloak. The garment hid the worst of his injuries, but it did nothing to distract from the unnatural stillness of his limbs. Limbs that, the second the storm passed, they would set alight along with the rest of him, allowing his soul to return to the source of the world itself. Ioseph had reassured Dimas it was the best they could do for him given the circumstances. That taking Aldryn’s body back to the palace, where someone might see it—and the mark on Aldryn’s head—was not an option. But it still felt … wrong.
The wooden walls of the outpost suddenly seemed too close. All Dimas could picture was that fate-damned symbol again, raw and bloody against Aldryn’s pale skin. The phantom taste of blood coated the back of Dimas’s throat, growing stronger with every moment that passed.
Dimas rose to his feet so quickly that Ioseph drew his sword.
“Your Highness, is everything alright?”
“Yes, I … no …” Dimas paused, breathing heavily through his nose as he looked from Ioseph to the curious faces of Finæn and Maia. “I just … I need some air.”
Ioseph sheathed his sword. “It isn’t safe out there.”
“Then come with me.” Dimas was already pulling on his cloak. He’d been using it as a makeshift blanket, and the fabric was crumpled and stained with dirt. He began trying to smooth out the creases, hoping some of his nerves might disappear with them.
“Your Highness, I—”
“I’m not asking, ’Seph.”
The words came out weaker than he’d intended. He’d never been very good at giving orders, especially not to his best friend. He was aware of Finæn’s and Maia’s watchful gazes. Of the suspicion in their eyes. He hadn’t told any of them about the vision he’d had of his Fateweaver just before they’d left Forvyrg. The urge to tell Ioseph about it had eaten at him for the entire journey. The soldier knew almost as much about the bond as Dimas did. Perhaps he would be able to help him understand how Lenora had resisted him?
If only his cousin Iska were here. If anyone would have a theory about why Lenora had been able to push him from her mind, it was her. Milos’s elder sister, Iska, was an acolyte of theZværna, the empire’s holy Order, and had spent most of her life studying everything there was to know about the origins of the Fateweaver.
She was also the only other person beside Ioseph that Dimas had confided in about the shadows in his mind. About his fears that he was not worthy to be emperor.
Ioseph must have sensed his desperation, because the soldier’s jaw clenched in the way it normally did when he was holding back words. “Fine,” he breathed, nostrils flaring, “but not a single foot off the front veranda. And if there’s any sign of danger, you are to return insideimmediately.”
Dimas nodded. He could have reminded Ioseph thathewas the prince, and that he was the one who should have been giving orders,but it wouldn’t have done any good. This was just Ioseph’s way of expressing his worry.
“Not a foot off the veranda, I promise.” Dimas offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile before turning his attention to the two siblings in the corner. “We’ll return shortly.”
Maia didn’t so much as blink. If he was honest with himself, he was concerned with her the most. Finæn had betrayed Lenora willingly—although why, the prince still wasn’t entirely sure—but he got the feeling that Maia would do everything in her power to keep his Fateweaver from his grasp.
She sees me as a monster.
The thought made something cold twist in his stomach. He’d known, coming into the Wilds, what the people here thought of his family. Of him. But knowing and seeing were two very different things.
He turned and strode out of the outpost and onto the covered platform. Ice-cold wind bit at his cheeks and numbed his lips. He sensed Ioseph behind him, watching his every move as always. He was as aware of the soldier’s presence as he was the rhythm of his own heart. Had been for as long as he could remember.
“Milos and the rest of the hunters should have arrived by now,” said Dimas.
“The storm may have slowed them,” Ioseph replied, staring up at the darkening sky. If he was worried about the events that had happened out in the storm, his expression didn’t show it. “Or perhaps they sought shelter. They’ll be here, Dimas. Don’t worry.”
Dimas. Not Your Highness. Not when it was just the two of them.
He took a breath before saying the words he’d been longing to say since they’d left Forvyrg. “I saw her. Lenora.”
“When?” There was no judgment in his friend’s voice. Only genuine curiosity.
“Just before we left Forvyrg. It was—she wasdifferent.”
Dimas didn’t know how else to describe it. He’d imagined the moment of his first shared vision with his Fateweaver more times than he could count, and in it, she had always welcomed his presence. Welcomedhim.In all of his daydreams, he’d never imagined she would look at him the way she had. As ifhewere the enemy.
“She fought against the bond,” Dimas said. The memory of the hateful look in her eyes had him sucking in another lungful of icy air. “She pushed me out of her mind, ’Seph. Just shoved me out like I was nothing. And there were … shadows. Like the kind I see when I have my … episodes.”
