Page 62 of A Fate Unwoven
Dimas didn’t have a response to that. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. He should tell her that it was what Næbya wished. That if the people of the Wilds—herpeople—agreed to worship Her, then they wouldn’t have to suffer. It was what he should have said. It was whathis fatherwouldhave said. But all Dimas could think of at that moment was his mother offering to pay for a poor villager’s boon. Of the people in the Wilds, gaunt and malnourished, looking upon him with hatred in their eyes.
“You’re right,” he said, “and maybe I—maybewe—can change that. But not if we end up going to war.”
Lena was studying him, her brows lowered, and for once Dimas didn’t try to hide his feelings from her. For once, he let all of his guilt, his shame, hisconfusionrise to the surface.
For once, Dimas let himself be his mother’s son.
Lenora looked away from him, silence falling between them as she stared out of her window at the landscape beyond, and for a moment Dimas thought she was dismissing him. But then his Fateweaver let out a single, almost defeated sigh.
“Alright, then,” she said. “Let’s go prevent a war.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
LENA
The dress Vivika chose for her was like nothing she’d ever seen.
Every detail, from the silver threads lacing Lena’s forearms to the almost metallic-looking corset cinching her waist, had been chosen to make a statement. To show the citizens of Novobyrg that their Fateweaver was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Her train of skirts dragged along the floor as she walked, the silver shimmer woven into the fabric giving it the appearance of starlight on a clear lake. Like every outfit the royal tailor had given her so far, the dress made Lena feel beautiful—and powerful.
It was a dangerous feeling, but it was one she needed if she was going to get through tonight.
Iska and Brother Dunstan had spent most of the afternoon going over her breathing exercises, letting her take a break just long enough for Vivika to take a few hurried measurements. The entrance to theZværnaacolyte’s hidden room remained closed, the faint symbols engraved into the stone door catching Lena’s eye whenever she approached the chamber. Thanks to her ongoing lessons with the High Priest, Lena hadmanaged to get close enough to it without doubling over in pain or, thank the Sisters, triggering her connection to Dimas. She’d spent most of the evening wide awake, trying to decide if it was worth going down there with Maia asleep in her room. In the end, the thought of Maia waking up and following Lena down into the tunnels had been enough to make Lena stay put.
Not that she’d have been able to do much if Lenahadgone down there, anyway. Lena was no closer to translating the symbols on the door to the acolyte’s hidden chamber than she’d been when she’d first discovered it. But the Rite of Ascension was now less than two weeks away, and if the mysterious note left for Lena meant what shethoughtit did, she didn’t have time to waste. She would get this ridiculous ball over with, and then, once she was safely back in the Fateweaver’s chambers, Lena could get back to focusing on severing this damned bond.
For now, though, she had to play her part. Ioseph walked a few steps ahead of her, his usual uniform replaced with a navy-and-silver regalia that brought out his rich, dark skin. Lena had caught Dimas staring at him more than once as the prince had gone over their plan, his cheeks flushing whenever the guard caught him looking.
Ioseph came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and, after peering out of a small crack in the door, gestured for Lena to follow him.
They emerged into a large, grand hallway, the sconces on the walls bright with recently lit flames. Dimas was already waiting for them, standing a few inches away from the closed throne room doors. Next to him stood Brother Dunstan, Iska, and two other people she didn’t recognize.
The first was a slender, broad-shouldered man in a sweeping navy cloak, his dark hair cropped close to his head. The royal symbol was pinned to his chest, marking him as a member of the Ehmar family.This must be the regent,she thought, remembering Iska’s lessons. With Vesric Ehmar and his wife dead, the only other living royal left beside Dimasand his cousins, Milos and Iska, was Vesric’s younger brother, Roston, who was officially in charge during Dimas’s absence.
“You must be Lady Lenora,” the regent said, dipping his chin and placing a hand flat against his chest. The gesture was meant to be one of respect and reverence, but on him, it held the faint undertone of mockery. “I am Regent Roston Ehmar. It is an honor to finally meet you.”
The regent’s gaze fell on her, and something in Lena’s gut twisted as she forced herself to smile. She was saved from having to reply when the second stranger, a dark-haired woman with sharp green eyes, spoke.
“It is an honor to meet you, Fateweaver Lenora. I am General Alræn.” The woman bowed her head. “Your arrival has been a long time coming. I hope you’re ready to serve your people.”
The woman’s accent was stronger than most of the people Lena had met at the palace. She was tall and well-toned, and there was a faint smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. If it wasn’t for the military uniform she wore with such pride, Lena might have even considered her attractive.
Lena lifted her chin, not needing to fake the sincerity in her voice when she gave her answer. “I am.”
There was a moment of heavy silence. There was no way the general could know the double meaning behind Lena’s words, but she held her gaze a fraction too long, her threads flickering wildly in the air around her. As if she were choosing whether to question her Fateweaver or to keep her thoughts to herself.
“Everything is prepared for your arrival,” Dimas interrupted. “The court has gathered in the throne room, and each of the noble families who reside in the city or nearby are in attendance, alongside ambassadors from a handful of our neighboring empires.” The prince’s anxiety stretched through their bond, churning Lena’s stomach. “Are you ready to do this, Lenora?”
She didn’t have much of a choice. If she refused, she’d lose what little trust she’d managed to build with the prince. Trust she’d need if she was going to have to trick him into breaking their bond.
“I’m ready.”
Lena’s heart was a thunderous thing in her chest as Dimas nodded, and with one final glance at the regent and the general, he ordered Ioseph to open the throne room doors.
Lena hadn’t been in a crowd since leaving Deyecia, and the sudden flood of dozens of threads had her power surging in her veins. Even with the calming tonic Lena had asked Iska to provide, Lena’s chest still tightened. The rumbling of the crowd and the pattering of footsteps around her faded away as Lena fought against the pull—the need—to bend the threads of everyone in the throne room to her will.
She sucked in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs until the burning in her chest overtook her fear.I am in control,Lena thought, willing her power to settle as she released her breath. She still hadn’t mastered Brother Dunstan’s techniques well enough to brandish her abilities at will … but the exercises helped Lena keep her magic—and her bond to the emperor—at bay.
