Page 20 of A Fate Unwoven
The woman’s dark brow arched. “Is that so?”
“Yes, I … I was wondering if you knew where in the city I can find a Raven. I’ve heard they frequent here.” She kept her voice low, a whisper amidst the music and laughter of the tavern. But Lena knew the dark-haired woman could hear her by the way her eyes narrowed. The air around the barwoman glimmered just for a moment, silver threads flickering into the empty space, and pain sliced through Lena’s forehead as she shoved down the urge to reach out to them.
“I’m afraid I’ve no idea what you mean,” the woman answered.
Lena’s heart stopped. Started again. “Are you sure?”
She tried not to let her desperation show, but hopelessness had begun to spread through her chest like wildfire.She’s lying.She had to be, because if she wasn’t, and the Raven really wasn’t here—
The woman was looking at her with a mixture of suspicion and pity.
Lena forced herself to smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just—I’ve traveled a long way, and I—I was told I’d find what I was looking for here.”
For the briefest moment, the woman’s expression faltered. The threads around her flickered like flames in the wind, and Lena’s hope flickered with them.
But then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” Her attention drifted to the door of the tavern, where a group of menwearing city guard uniforms had just come in. Her brow furrowed. “You should go,” she said, already turning away.
Lena didn’t have the strength to stop her.
She didn’t have the strength for anything at all.
Darkness had fallen over the city by the time Lena emerged from the tavern. The streets that had not so long ago been filled with life were now almost empty, the candlelight of makeshift shrines to the current emperor and his Fateweaver were Lena’s only guiding light. She moved without direction, her body acting on impulse. Without her heart to guide her, the only thing Lena knew how to do was run.
This isn’t something you can run from, Lena.
Tears pricked her eyes at the memory of Finæn’s voice. Of his face when he’d found out what she’d become. For so long, Lena had kept her visions hidden from those she loved in fear they would turn their backs on her once they recalled what her abilities meant: that Lenora Vesthir was a descendant of theboden,the first worshippers blessed by the Sisters of Fate—and that she had the potential to become the next Fateweaver.
It was a truth she’d run from her entire life. And when her visions had grown stronger, when the ache in her wrist became too frequent to ignore, Lena had run from that, too. So when Finæn hadseenthe truth, Lena thought she’d been angry with him because he’d wanted her to stop running.
Now she wondered if that anger had been because a part of her knew he was right.
She couldn’t go back to him. Not after she’d left him to pick up the pieces of a situation she hadn’t been brave enough to face. But without a smuggler’s help, there was nowhere left for her to go. She could attempt to cross the sea by herself. Or go back to the forests and prayto the Old Gods that the Fateweaver’s power didn’t drive her insane. Whatever she did, she couldn’t stay here. Not with so many guards and acolytes roaming the streets.
She was just about to turn around and leave the city when the soft scrape of boots against stone filled the air.
Her dagger was drawn in the space of a heartbeat. One second she was standing alone in the middle of the street, her hopelessness threatening to devour her whole.
The next she was pressing her blade to someone’s neck.
Eyes the richest shade of brown Lena had ever seen darkened in surprise. The boy was a fair few inches taller than her, his thick, black hair a mess of curls that fell to his jawline. Even in the low light, Lena was close enough to make out the smattering of freckles across his nose, just a few shades darker than his rich olive skin.
His gaze dropped to the blade at his throat and back up to Lena’s face again. “Is this how you greet everyone you meet?”
“Who are you?” she hissed, pressing her blade a fraction harder against his skin. He didn’t look like one of the imperial hunters, and he certainly didn’tactlike one, but that didn’t mean he could be trusted.
Lena knew that better than anyone.
Even with the blade against his throat, the freckled boy smirked. “The answer to all of your problems.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed. “I highly doubt that.”
“Oh? Well, then I guess youdon’tneed to flee the empire. My mistake.”
Lena’s hand shook, betraying the calm expression she’d forced into place.
“You’re the Raven.”
“The one and only, although if you insist on playing rough, you really ought to call me Casimir.” He grinned. “What shall I call you?”
