Page 59 of A Fate Unwoven
Dimas had barely returned to the gardens since then, and now, as the procession passed the final statue, he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine.
The church was filled with members of the court and representatives from the empire’s most noble families. Dimas had greeted them all over the last few days, welcoming them to the palace and showing them to the guest chambers in the west wing. They all stood as BrotherDunstan stepped through the doors, his boots thudding against the dark stone floor. But it wasn’t the priest they watched as the procession headed toward the farthest end of the hall, where a small set of stone steps led up to a raised platform. No, the attendees of the royal funeral were looking athim.Watching Dimas’s every move. Searching his armor for cracks. He could practically hear their unspoken words, the whispers about the unfit prince without a Fateweaver at his side.
Dimas clenched his jaw.Patience,his mother had always said.A ruler must always have patience.
He’d endured their whispers for over a decade. Surely he could manage them for a few more days.
The soldiers placed the two coffins down at the center of the platform. Dimas took his place at Brother Dunstan’s side, the weight of everyone’s gaze on him making his mouth dry.
“Thank you all for coming,” the priest said, his voice echoing throughout the hall. “Today marks the passing of Emperor Vesric Ehmar and his Fateweaver, Lady Sefwyn. This is a great loss to our empire, and it warms my heart to see so many of you here to pay your respects. Næbya sees your devotion, and it will be rewarded.
“Before we begin the ceremony, you will each be given a chance to present your offerings.”
A scoff cut through the crowd, louder than a clap of thunder during a summer storm, and the familiar ink of shadows began to bleed into Dimas’s vision. Cold sweat trickled down the back of Dimas’s neck as he searched for the source of the noise.
Brother Dunstan spotted her at the same time Dimas did. A woman dressed in a nondescript cotton dress, her features obscured by shadow. Dimas didn’t recognize her as one of the representatives he’d welcomed to Novobyrg over the last few days, and there was nothing on her person to indicate she belonged to a noble family. Yet she stood from the crowd as if she belonged, her narrow chin raised in defiance.
Brother Dunstan’s eyes narrowed. “Declare yourself.”
The woman tilted her head. “You worry about my name, when you should be worrying about your fate.” She cast her gaze around the room, her lip curling with distaste. “Your goddess has forsaken you, and yet you flock to offer gifts in her name. You are all fools.”
Everything happened quickly after that. One second, the woman was standing among the crowd, her shoulders squared and her eyes defiant. And the next, she was being dragged toward them by two of the general’s soldiers.
But it was his uncle who stepped forward, his chin raised in a haughty manor that was eerily similar to his father. “Your words are heresy, and the price for heresy,” he said, staring down his nose at her, “is death. What say you in your defense?”
The woman did not waver. Dimas couldn’t help but admire her resolve—even if it was pointless. She’d signed her fate the moment she’d opened her mouth.
“Do what you wish. Killing me will not save you from judgment.”
His uncle’s mouth tightened. For a brief second, Dimas wondered if he’d actually do it, if he’d kill this woman in cold blood with a church full of people as his witness.
Dimas couldn’t let that happen. If theHæstawere behind the shadows plaguing him, then this was his chance to find out.
“Arrest her,” Dimas said, hating the tremor in his voice. When the guards hesitated, he added, “I wish to question her before her fate is sealed.”
Dimas expected to see fear in the woman’s expression. Everyone in Wyrecia knew the dungeons were a holding ground, a prison meant to detain you until the Fateweaver decided your fate. Most feared the waiting more than the sentence itself.
Yet this woman looked at him and smiled.
“You have no Fateweaver at your side.” She spat at his feet. “Without one, you hold no sway over us. Wedo not fear you.”
Dimas blinked against the shadows clouding the edges of his vision. “Take her.”
He didn’t look up into the crowd as the guards dragged the woman away. He could already feel their eyes on him. Could already hear the fear and doubt in the heavy silence that followed.
You have no Fateweaver at your side.
The woman’s words echoed throughout the church, lingering even as Brother Dunstan continued the service. Dimas clenched his hands into fists, his heart thundering rapidly in his chest. He’d been foolish to think keeping Lenora hidden wouldn’t have consequences. To hope that the people who had pledged their loyalty to the Ehmar line so many years ago would follow an emperor without a Fateweaver for much longer.
He couldn’t wait for Lenora to be ready. Not with the threat of rebellion already at his door. Dimas cast one final glance at the crowd, his mind made up. He would find out what this heretic knew about his shadows, about their link to whatever was happening to his and his Fateweaver’s bond.
And then, when things had been set right, when there was nothing trying to come between him and his Fateweaver, Dimas would reveal her to the world.
TWENTY-SIX
DIMAS
The dungeons reeked of sweat and blood.
