Page 93 of A Fate Unwoven
Back beneath the church, Dimas had told Ioseph that Næbya would protect him. But if that was true, then why was he still so afraid?
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” he said, clenching his hand into a fist to stop himself from running it through his hair.
“The ceremony?” Ioseph asked.
“All of it. The ceremony, Lenora …me.How am I supposed to rule this empire if I can’t even control my Fateweaver?”
It was a question that had been plaguing him for weeks now, ever since he’d realized Lena might always be everything he’d feared she’d be: unstable, afraid.
Angry.
Her time at the palace had helped. Or at least, he thought it had. Up until he’d seen the look in her eyes as that cultist had nearly goaded her into using her power to do the unspeakable.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Ioseph said, and when Dimas didn’t reply, his guard’s fingers cupped his chin, tilting his head toward him so that he had no choice but to meet his steady gaze.
Dimas swallowed the lump in his throat. “How do you know?”
“Because I knowyou.You think your compassion is your weakness, but it isn’t. Youcareabout your people, Dimas, and that is what makes you more worthy of ruling this empire than anyone I know.”
Ioseph brushed a finger against Dimas’s cheek, gently wiping a tear. And for the first time in his life, he found himself wishing, just for a second, that thingswouldn’twork out tonight. Because if they did, and he and Lenora were deemed worthy of their roles, then Dimas would be expected to marry a lord or lady of high society, and these moments with Ioseph would be lost.
It was the most selfish thing he’d ever thought, but right then, with Ioseph staring at him as if he was something precious, somethingworthy,Dimas knew he didn’t have the strength to pull away. Whatever happened tonight would determine who he was going to be for the rest of his life. Emperor or heretic. Success or failure. This was the last time he’d ever have the chance to freely choose the man hewanted.
And he was not going to waste it.
He closed the space between him and Ioseph slowly, lips hovering close to his friend in a silent question, giving him the chance to pull away if he decided he didn’t want this. Didn’t wanthim.
But then Ioseph was kissing him, his hands sliding up from his cheek to curl into his hair. Dimas had kissed other boys before, servants and visiting nobles’ sons, but it had never felt as familiar, asright, as kissing Ioseph.
The guard pushed him up against the nearby chest of drawers, his tongue slipping through Dimas’s lips to tangle with his own. There wasnothing gentle about it; it was the kiss of a man who knew this night might be the only one they had left, and Dimas was more than happy to match Ioseph’s hunger. If this was all they had, he was going to make it count.
Not breaking their kiss, Dimas untucked Ioseph’s tunic from his breeches. Ran his hands along the hard planes of his stomach.
Dimas’s toes curled when Ioseph let out a soft groan. The guard broke away from Dimas’s lips just long enough to tug off Dimas’s shirt. To stare, wide-eyed, at the pale expanse of his bare chest.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
And then he was kissing him again, feeding the fire inside of him with every kiss, every touch, and as Ioseph began trailing kisses down his chest, all Dimas knew was that if this was how it felt to be set aflame, then Dimas Ehmar was happy to let himself burn.
Roston was waiting for him when he left his bedroom.
Dimas has done his best to smooth out his crumpled ceremonial outfit and readjust his hair, but heat still crept up his cheeks as his uncle gave him a quick once-over. Ioseph had left him half a bell ago, his guard duties ahead of tonight’s ceremony calling him away far sooner than either of them had liked, and despite how much Dimas missed his steadying presence at his side, he was rather glad Iosephwasn’tleaving his rooms with him. He didn’t think he’d be able to focus on anything else if he was.
He cleared his throat and bowed his head in greeting. “Regent.”
His uncle returned the gesture. “Your Majesty. You seem … content.”
A blush he hoped his uncle couldn’t see crept along Dimas’s neck. “Ah yes, well, it’s hard not to be. I’m finally going to solidify my bond with my Fateweaver, and after tonight, theHæstawill hopefully no longer be a problem.”
Roston’s shoulders tightened at the mention of the cult. “Hopefully …”
“What is it?”
Dimas knew his uncle well enough by now to know the hesitation in his voice wasn’t a good sign. During his time with Ioseph, the shadows at the edges of his mind had receded, burned away by the intensity of his feelings. Now they crept back in, curling around his thoughts like mist before a storm.
“I wasn’t going to tell you this until after the ceremony, but … we found something in the home of the heretic’s ally. A coded letter, written in the old language. The contents suggested that theHæstamay have had a hand in blocking your connection with Lenora. That they found a way to … interpret the vision you were meant to receive on your fifteenth namesday.”
The vision that would have shown him who his Fateweaver was. The vision he’d always feared he’d been too unworthy to receive.
