Page 10 of A Fate Unwoven
“Nothing is impossible,” Ioseph said from beside him, the fabric of his uniform rustling as he tried to get comfortable in the small space. “We’ll find her, Your Highness. I know we will.”
The conviction in his best friend’s voice eased some of the tension behind Dimas’s eyes. When Dimas had been fifteen, and Ioseph Arness—just a few winters older—had been assigned the position of his personal guard, the heir had found it infinitely frustrating. But as the years passed, frustration had turned to familiarity, and now Dimas wasn’t sure what he’d do without Ioseph by his side.
Which was why, as the silence of the carriage closed in around him once more, he found himself whispering, “I’m afraid, ’Seph.”
The understanding in Ioseph’s gaze was worse than pity. Dimas looked away, his cheeks flushing.Pathetic,he heard his father’s voice say.Weak.
But he couldn’t take the words back. Ioseph opened his mouth to say something, his sharp intake of breath slicing through the silence, at the same second the carriage door swung open.
“Your Highness,” Milos said, the formality of his words barely hiding the contempt underneath.
Despite their relation, Milos had never hidden the fact that he considered Dimas as unfit to rule as the late empress, a belief that had only grown in the years Dimas had spent without his Fateweaver at his side. No doubt Milos thought him just as incapable of bringing her home as Dimas’s father did.
Still, the prized hunter was not stupid enough to call him out in front of all these people. He stood stiffly at the prince’s side, the muscle in his jaw fluttering in a clear effort to keep his thoughts to himself.
“We’ve searched the village, and there’s no sign of the girl from your vision.”
I’m too late.
Dimas couldn’t breathe. The walls of the carriage were suddenly too narrow, and his palms were slick with sweat despite the icy storm blowing through the village.
Keep it together!He’d come too far to fail now.
Milos was watching him. Waiting for Dimas to give his next orders. Dimas bit down on the inside of his cheek until blood coated his tongue. Until the sharp sting of pain cleared some of the fog in his mind.
Think, Dimas.
This was the only village left to search. He couldn’t keep hiding in his carriage whilst his father’s hunters did the work. No, he’d come here for a reason. His connection to his Fateweaver had shown him the Wilds for areason.And if he couldn’t trigger another vision, well, then there had to be someone in this fate-forsaken village that knew where his Fateweaver had gone. All he had to do was get them to talk.
“Gather the villagers,” he said, a plan forming in his mind. “Tell them their prince wishes to speak with them.”
Something like surprise ghosted across Milos’s green eyes. But then he bowed his head, said a quick “Yes, Your Highness,” and scurried away toward the village.
Dimas was halfway out the carriage door when Ioseph’s hand wrapped around his arm. Dimas looked back at Ioseph, his stomach fluttering. “What is it?”
“I know finding your Fateweaver is important, just … don’t lose sight of who you are.” The unspoken message beneath Ioseph’s words lingered between them.
Don’t become like your father.
“I won’t,” Dimas promised.
He stepped from the carriage, and the wind hit him with a fierceness that stole the breath from his lungs. He let his gaze roam over the small wooden huts with their thatched roofs, a strange sort of familiarity settling over him. Was this the place he’d seen in his vision? It seemed the farther into the Wilds they ventured, the worse off the people were.
Dimas’s thoughts drifted back to his Fateweaver. To how different their lives were. He had known the luxury of warmth and food all his life, whilst this girl he was searching for had carved out a life in this forsaken place. The vision Næbya had given to him had shown her to be fierce and strong, with eyes as wild as a storm and a constant scowl marking her sharp features. All he’d been able to do at the time was wonder how someone so young had become so hardened.
Looking at the villagers being herded around a derelict wooden well, with their painfully thin faces and grief-stricken eyes, it was easy to see it had been her fate that had made her that way.
We let this happen to her,he thought, his throat suddenly tight.We let this happen to all of them.
An apology lingered on his tongue. But Milos spoke before he could utter it, and the word died on his lips.Stupid.His father’s snarling face flashed in his mind.An emperor does not apologize to those lesser than him.
“You all know why you’re here. Emperor Vesric Ehmar has issued a new law that anyone worshipping the Lost Sisters is to be punished, and that anyone withbodenabilities who has not declared as such to their nearest temple will be detained immediately.” Milos’s hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword, the threat behind the gesture clear: play nice or things were going to get ugly.
Dimas knew about the lives the hunters had taken during their search. Heretics, Milos had explained when the prince had questioned him about it the night before at camp. Each one had resisted arrest. They’d given him no choice. Dimas wasn’t sure he’d believed Milos, and judging by the look of hatred in these people’s eyes, the villagers of Forvyrg were just as wary.
The prince stepped out of the shadows, coming to a stop at Milos’s side. What Dimas was about to do … it was a risk. But it was one he was willing to take if it meant finding his Fateweaver.
“There’s no need to be afraid. I am Dimas Ehmar, son of Emperor Vesric Ehmar, heir to the Wyrecian Empire.”
