Page 27 of A Fate Unwoven
Lena’s stomach fluttered at the playful challenge in his eyes. The soft silver glow of his threads were starting to flicker into focus once more, tugging at the magic inside Lena in the same way the forests of Wyrecia had always tugged at her heart.
It was getting harder to ignore them, the threads. The power thrumming through her veins was burning through what was left of her resolve. Beyond the alley, she could feel the threads of the city’s inhabitants, each web calling to the power inside of her. If she reached out her hand, would she be able to feel those beautiful threads beneath her skin? Would they listen to her, as thekoruptedhad?
Stop fighting them,that ancient voice whispered.Stop fightingme.
Who are you?Lena asked the voice again, hating how desperate—howafraid—she sounded.What do you want from me?!
I am like you,the voice replied.Together, we can become what we were always meant to be. You just have to let me in.
No.She couldn’t. Because … because …
Pain sliced through her head as she tried to remember. As she tried to fight against the power spreading through her like wildfire.
“Kelia?” Casimir stepped into her line of sight, reaching out his hand to her.
Lena barely had the awareness to brush off his touch. To stumble away from the glorious call of his threads.
You are strong, Lenora.Her mother’s voice, faint but there, echoed through her mind. A memory of her, holding her close beside a campfire, rocking her slowly as the last remnants of a vision of heretics being burned faded from a younger Lena’s mind.You must not let this power consume you.
Lena held on to the memory and, with every ounce of will in her body,pushedback against the rising pressure of magic in her veins. A wave of excruciating pain shot up her arm, spiraling out her wrist. But … the ancient voice in her mind had fallen silent.
Lena held her breath until finally,finally,the weird internal pressure started to fade. And as it did, she slowly became aware of warm hands on her arms. Of the chatter and laughter of the festival taking place just a few streets away.
All at once she remembered where she was. Her eyes flung open. Casimir was standing right in front of her, and it washishands on her arms. His grip was loose enough that Lena easily broke it, her now-free hands reaching for the space where her dagger usually resided.
“Easy.” Casimir held up his hands. It took Lena a few seconds to realize they were still alone, and that the smuggler’s expression was not one of fear or hatred, butconcern. He doesn’t know.If he did, there was no way he’d be looking at her like that.
Slowly, Lena lowered her hand, leaving her bow where it was. When Casimir seemed satisfied she wasn’t going to shoot him, he dropped his hands and asked, “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.” The lie came out instinctively.
Casimir raised a brow. “That wasnotnothing. I thought you were going to keel over on me.”
“I’m fine. I just … the journey here must have taken more out of me than I thought.” It was a weak excuse, and Lena could tell by the look on Casimir’s face that he didn’t buy it.
He opened his mouth, likely to call her bluff, when the heavyclackof boots against stone cut through the street.
Lena’s head twisted toward the sound just in time to see two city guards heading in their direction.
“We can argue about this,” she hissed, “or you can do what I’m paying you for and get me out of here.”
Casimir looked at the guards, and then back at Lena, before lifting his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Whatever the lady demands. Follow me.”
He darted down a narrow alleyway to their left, his steps quick and silent in the same way Lena’s were in the forest. Clearly, he’d done this before.
Trying to keep her own steps light, Lena followed after him as he led them through so many alleys and back streets that she quickly lost sense of where in the city they were. Gone were the wood and brick houses with slatted roofs and the sounds of the festivalgoers. Instead, they’d come to the farthest part of the city, where the few farmers and millers worked. The wide, muddied area was empty this late at night, with the only other living creatures beside Lena and the smuggler being a few sleeping cows and pigs—and two guards flanking both sides of an opening in the city’s wooden border fence.
An opening Casimir seemed to be headingdirectly for.
Lena came to an abrupt stop. The guards were, thankfully, facing away from them, but they were growing too close for Lena’s comfort. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Getting you out of the city. I thought we’d established that.”
“And you plan to do that by just walking past two guards?”
“No,” said Casimir, flashing her a grin over his shoulder. “I plan to do that by walking past twosleepingguards.”
Casimir only stopped moving when he was a few feet away from the opening in the fence, his hand reaching into one of the many pouches attached to the belt at his hips. And then, in one swift movement, the smuggler raised his hand and threw whatever he’d withdrawn toward the two guards. The sound of shattering glass cut through the air aswhat looked like a small vial smashed, wisps of white smoke curling out of its cracks.
