Page 12 of A Fate Unwoven
“And what will yourhelpcost?”
The crowd of villagers before Dimas was no longer looking at him. Instead, their attention had turned to Finæn and the girl at his side, regarding them with a scrutiny that hadn’t been there before. The girl grabbed onto Finæn’s wrist, her eyes wide and pleading, and something in Finæn’s expression shifted with the slightest hint of hesitation. Of guilt.
But then the boy took another look at the soldiers still at Dimas’s side. At the hands resting on the hilt of their swords.
“A position in the royal guard. And a place in the palace for me and my sister. I’d say that’s a fair trade for a heretic as … unique as this one.”
He knows.
Dimas’s palms grew slick beneath his gloves. Somehow this boy knew why he was really here, who he was really looking for. Would he reveal the truth if Dimas didn’t agree to his terms? There were already rumors of a heretical cult rising up somewhere in the north; if the people knew the empire’s future Fateweaver was on the run, it could cause a full-on rebellion.
He couldn’t let that happen. He would find his Fateweaver, and he would prove to his father—to everyone—that he was worthy of being emperor.
“Tell me what you know,” he said.
FOUR
LENA
The forest welcomed Lena back with a sigh.
Some of the tension in her shoulders lessened as she disappeared deeper into the embrace of the trees, their twisted branches stretching over her like a shield, the ground beneath her boots hard with frost. Even so, Lena’s footsteps were silent, the touch of someone as familiar with the darkness of the forest as it was with her.
This washerterritory, and if the Fist were stupid enough to follow her here, then she would be ready for them.
She kept her pace steady, allowing her senses to attune to the familiar sights and sounds of the forest. The whistling of the wind. The gentle whisper of leaves across frozen earth.
Crack.
Lena froze as the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping beneath someone’s foot cut through the silence, sending the birds that had been resting in the safety of the trees soaring into the dark sky above. Her bow was drawn in the space of a heartbeat, an arrow nocked a half breath later. She pressed her back flush against the nearest tree. Took abreath as she recalled her mother’s lessons.Patience. Do not loose your arrow until the last possible moment, and it will fly true.
Lena released her breath, senses sharpening in the way they always did during a hunt. There were at least three sets of footsteps, each heavy and clumsy, a sure indication they weren’t used to the uneven terrain of the forests this far west. She might have been outnumbered, but she had the advantage.
Her palms grew slick with sweat as she waited for them to draw closer. She’d never taken a human life before. She didn’t know if shecould.The first time one of her arrows had found the heart of an animal, she’d spent weeks picturing its face. The way the light in its eyes had faded like a star swallowed by a stormy night. She’d eaten the meat to honor its sacrifice. Had watched as her mother cleaned and tended to the fur, turning it into blankets for the children of a nearby village. That deer had died so their people could live.
She’d hunted and killed dozens of animals since. It had gotten easier, over time, to ignore the childish part of her that wanted to weep for them. To tell herself, over and over, that it was for her people. Would she be able to do the same when the faces haunting her at night were humans?
The footsteps were closer now, loud enough that they drowned out the thumping of her heart. Her fingers tightened around her bow. These men weren’t innocent. For years they’d hunted down any who spoke out about their goddess. And if they found Lena, they’d take her tohim.
Three more seconds and she’d need to fire.
Two.
One—
There was a flash of movement to Lena’s left, a great, hulking shadow amidst the darkness of the trees. Her breath caught at the familiar glint of bone-white limbs covered in patches of inky black fur.Wylfen.
She knew by the sharp ache in her wrist that it was the same wolf-like creature she’d commanded in Forvyrg. It was a certainty thatthrummed through her like a song, ancient and sure. And just as sure was an instinct that the beast was on her side.
Her attention shifted to the three men in the woods. To the silver swords in their hands, sharp and bright against the backdrop of ash-gray trees. Thewylfenhad seen them, too. Its white, milky gaze latched onto them with intense focus, its legs twisting into a predatory crouch.
The arrow was still in her grip, ready to fly. She could aim for the closest soldier. Take him out before he even knew what was happening whilst the creature from her mother’s stories took on the other two. It would give her time to escape before the rest of the hunters came looking for their friends.
Or she could warn them. She would still have time to run, to lose them in the deeper parts of the forest, and at least they’d have a chance to survive.
Lena’s arm trembled from the strain. Time slowed before her, and the air around the soldiers started tochange,the shadows fading as dozens of silver, shadowy threads wavered into existence. They were the same threads she thought she’d imagined around thewylfen, the same threads that had appeared between her and Finæn just before she’d left. Only this time, when Lena blinked, they didn’t disappear. They wove between the hunters like a spiderweb. Faint, butreal.
The threads of fate.
