Page 70 of A Fate Unwoven
Dimas fought the urge to shut his eyes. His lungs were suddenly too narrow, the room too small. “Are you sure?”
If Lena had seen theHæsta,it was because her power deemed them a big enough threat to be seen.
Iska dipped her chin. “I’m sure. She described them exactly as they appear in the history books.”
Dimas ran a hand through his hair, not caring about the paint on his fingertips. So much for keeping theHæstaa secret from his Fateweaver.
“How much does she know?”
“Enough. She seemed … eager to help.” Iska paused, expression softening. “I know you’re scared to trust her, Dimas, but she’s really been trying. I understand it’s not my place, but … I think you should tell her about your plans. If Næbya is blessing her with the visions, it has to be for a reason. If she can harness her power, the visions may become clear enough for us to use them to locate theHæsta’s hideout.”
Hope rose in Dimas. The fanatic in the dungeons had taken her own life before he’d gotten a clear answer, but if he could take more of the cultists captive, then he had another chance at finding the truth.
Dimas grabbed his cloak, tugging it over his shoulders with practiced ease, and a small wince went through him at the paint now smeared on the fabric.Vivika is going to murder me.
Ioseph’s steady voice interrupted the thought. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.
Dimas shook his head. “No.” Taking Ioseph would just put Lenora on edge. If he was going to earn her trust, he had to do this alone.
And so, without looking back, Dimas left the warmth of his chambers, and went to tell his Fateweaver the truth.
Lenora didn’t seem surprised to see him.
“Iska told you about my vision, then?” she asked, leaving the door open for him to follow her inside.
In her navy-and-silver night-robe, she looked more like the Fateweaver from history and less like the heretical storyteller he’d met in the woods. Still, there was a stiffness to her shoulders, a careful consideration to the way she walked that reminded him of the wolves he’d seen in the training grounds one winter. Even here, surrounded by luxury, Lenora was prepared to fight at any moment.
He’d only spent a few days in the Wilds, but he could see how living there could harden a person. Make them see everything as a potential threat.
“She did,” he said, ignoring the sudden knot of guilt in his stomach. “Are you … how are you feeling?”
Lena paused, her fingers curling into her palms. A flicker of frustration traveled down the bond. “Tired.”
“That’s not surprising, considering what you’ve been through. Brother Dunstan and Iska tell me you’ve been working hard to control your power.” It was more of a question than a statement.
Lena turned to face him, one shoulder lifting in a slight shrug. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and the crescent-shaped scar on her cheek seemed more pronounced than usual. But her cheeks were fuller, her face less gaunt.
“The training helps. It’s still hard, but it’s … getting easier.” She paused, glancing down at the mark on her palm, as if it held the answer to all her questions. “Iska said that’s what caused the vision.”
He nodded. “Most likely. The stronger Lady Sefwyn’s control became, the more visions she had. They’re a gift from Næbya, allowing the Fateweaver to see her enemies before they act.”
“I know. The story goes that Lady Venysa was shown the battle plans of the first Verlondian queen during the clan wars. That, combined with her ability to manipulate the threads of the soldiers to ensure their victory, made the Wyrecian army unbeatable.”
Of course she’d know that. Despite himself, he asked, “What else do the stories say?”
Surprise softened Lenora’s features. Made her look younger. Slowly, she slid into one of the chairs by the fire, the glow casting her face in shadows. Something seemed to take her over as she spoke, weaving the tale as if she’d been there herself. “They say the visions came before the first Fateweaver even existed, and that they weren’t exclusive to the future. The ability to see the future—and for some, the past and the even the present—was a gift granted to thebodenby the Sisters of Fate themselves.
“When the Sisters and theZværnapriests created the first Fateweaver, it was agreed that each reincarnation would have an affinity for either the past, present, or future, and that they would receive visions as a reward for their faith. The more powerful she grew, the stronger her affinity—and her ability to receive visions outside of her affinity—became, until eventually she would be able to see the past, present, and future as easily as breathing. But if a Fateweaver strayed from her path, the visions would become harder to decipher, and she would slowly begin to lose her mind.” Lena stopped and glanced into the flames, her brow furrowed. “The tale never said why, but knowing what I do now, I assume it has something to do with the Fateweaver’s magic becoming corrupted. Sort of like a … punishment for abusing it.”
The words made Dimas’s chest tighten. He’d always thought the reason he hadn’t received his vision from Næbya was because he was cursed or being punished in some way. That he wasn’t worthy of her blessing. But Lena was receiving her visions now, which had to mean Næbya finally considered Dimas worthy of his title. Together, they could fix whatever had gone wrong in Wyrecia, and Dimas would be able to prove once and for all he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
“So you understand just how important these visions are.”
“I do …” She hesitated, and Dimas felt a flicker of her worry as she finally pulled her gaze away from the fire. “The stories say theHæstahelped the Furybringer in her quest for power. That they used ancientmagics to alter her abilities, and by the end, there was nothing human left in her. Is that … what they want to do to me?” There was fear in her voice, the same kind he’d sensed when the bond had first shown them each other. Except this time,hewasn’t what she feared.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” It felt like a pathetic answer, but it was the only one he had. “But I promise you we won’t let that happen. A unit of our best hunters leave tomorrow at dusk to track down theHæsta’s stronghold, and in the meantime, Brother Dunstan and Iska will increase the frequency of your training. We’ll keep you safe, Lenora. I promise.”
Something Dimas couldn’t name darkened Lena’s features, the fierceness of it rushing down the bond between them, but it was gone before he could study it too closely.
