Page 69 of A Fate Unwoven
Ioseph came to a stop behind him, his leather and soap scent tickling Dimas’s nose. Something fluttered low in Dimas’s stomach, and he was glad of the darkened room when his cheeks flooded with heat.
“Perfect is overrated. The court seemed satisfied with Lady Lenora, and all the foreign dignitaries appear eager to pledge their allegiance after your coronation.”
“Notallof them.”
The Verlondian ambassador still hadn’t agreed on Dimas’s terms for a trade agreement, claiming that the only way Queen Anja would ever allow Wyrecia access to therazeniyestone was if Wyrecia agreed to let her people worship the Old Gods and remain an independent kingdom. It was something the church would never agree to: worshipping any deity but Næbya was heresy to them. But with the return of theHæsta,Dimas found himself entertaining the idea. If the cult was looking to resurrect the Furybringer, as the fanatic at his father’s funeral had implied, then his Fateweaver was at risk of corruption. Having access to therazeniyestone would be an invaluable fail-safe should Lenora succumb. Although Iska and Brother Dunstan reported she was making good progress in her training, her magic was temperamental and her control too fragile.
Ioseph’s huff pulled Dimas from his deliberations. “Ambassador Korvus will come around. Your terms are fair. In time, he’ll realize his country’s best chance lies in aligning itself with Wyrecia.”
Dimas set down his paintbrush, turning away from the dark swirls of forest and shadow he’d created to face his eldest friend, his stomach fluttering as he discovered just how close Ioseph actually was. It was the first time they’d been alone since they’d returned to the palace, and the memory of their almost kiss spread warmth through his veins. And by the way Ioseph’s eyes darkened, it was clear the guard was remembering it, too.
They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, lips close enough that if Dimas leaned forward just a fraction, he could close the distance he’d been keeping between them for so many years. He could, just for a moment, know how it felt to want and be wanted in return.
But when he tried to close the gap, tofinallycross that line, he found himself frozen. Because despite what his heart was telling him, his mind knew that once that moment was over, things would never be the same again.
“ ’Seph, I—”
“I know.”
The look of understanding on Ioseph’s face made Dimas’s heart ache. He deserved more than what Dimas could give him. More than kisses in the shadows and an emperor fated to always put the crown first.
It took every ounce of willpower Dimas had to step away. To put that distance back between them. And when he next spoke, his voice came out rough and shaky.
“Milos and a few of his hunters will be leaving the city tomorrow at dusk to search for any more sightings of theHæsta.If we can get proof they’ve truly returned, then perhaps it’ll be enough to stir Queen Anja to our side. TheHæstaare a threat to more than just Wyrecia.”
“Telling Ambassador Korvus is a risk,” said Ioseph, falling into the role of soldier as easily as slipping on a cloak. Dimas knew he was doing it for him, that this was what he’d wanted, but it still stung. “He could use the information against us, tell his queen that we’re vulnerable. It’d be the perfect opportunity to launch an attack.”
“Not whilst we have Lenora.” It came out surer than he felt.
How she managed to control her magic in the coming days would determine Dimas’s next steps.
“Do you think we should tell her about all this?” asked Ioseph, voice quiet.
“Not yet.”
Dimas chewed on the inside of his cheek, the sight of the darkness surrounding the thread between them flashing behind his eyes. He’d thought about telling her before the mourning ball, but fear had stolen the words from his throat. Fear that, despite the fact that she washereand learning to take her place as his Fateweaver, Lenora would decide to align herself with their enemy. Or worse, that she somehow already had. He’d seen the way her eyes shone when she grew angry, the way she struggled to contain her power. He was certain the only thing keeping her from losing control was the bond they shared.
And if theHæstatruly were interfering with it, Dimas wasn’t sure how much longer the bond would be enough, on its own, to keep the worst from happening.
He turned back to the painting he’d been working on, his stomach twisting as he took in the inky scene. Now that he’d seen the forests of the Wilds for himself, experienced their untamed beauty and the mysteries that lingered within, his paintings seemed like nothing more than cheap imitations.
A sharp, delicate knock sounded from his door, followed by a soft, “It’s me.”
Iska.
Dimas’s stomach twisted. His cousin never visited him outside of their formal meetings and scheduled meditations unless it was urgent. Was something wrong, or had Iska finally found some information that would help them get to the source of theHæsta’s presumed interference with his and Lenora’s connection?
He crossed the space to the door, fingers smudging gray paint on the silver handle as he pulled it open. Iska’s pale face came into view, her green eyes a shade darker than usual. She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, expression as set as the statues she prayed to. Dimas closed the door behind her, heart hammering in his chest.
“What happened?” He knew Iska had been training with Lenora during the early evenings, testing the limits of her power. “Did Lenora …?” He couldn’t finish the thought. Fear turned the familiar shapes of his room into hazy shadows.
“She had another vision.”
“What did she see?” Ioseph said, his voice low.
Fear darkened Iska’s gaze. “TheHæsta.”
Ioseph swore under his breath.
