Braith fought to tamp down her horror. How could her mother’s tone be so dismissive? So casual?
“And what of the future?” she finally asked.
Frenhin smiled. “Well, darling, before this recent upheaval, my list was about complete.”
“List?”
“My revenge list. It seems a tad childish now, but I was still a child when I made it. Every person who crossed my family, every person who mocked my father, supported the king’s decision, or welcomed that Meridioni trash into what should have been set aside for us. Each of those names made my list. And it took me thirty years, but I had just about done it.”
“You said it was just about complete. And now?”
“Now, sadly, the list is growing again. For a while, Yestin Bo-Arthio was the only name left. If I’m being honest with you, my dear—and believe me, I have been honest with you lately—I thought one day I might find his bones somewhere and cross his name off at last. I did not truly believe he was still alive until I saw him in the flesh. But no matter. He is alive, and I shall remedy that eventually. Him, and the others who have crossed me.
“I think it might give me even more pleasure to watch these troublesome rebels die than it did to eliminate the courtiers around Caradoc’s table.”
Braith pressed her lips together, afraid to draw fire toward her weaver friends.
Frenhin laughed suddenly. “You know, it feels good to tell you all of this. You would not believe how heavily it weighs to hold such secrets for so long.
“No one knew until recently.” Frenhin’s eyes lit up. “Except the handful of servants and contingent of guards who live here in this secluded place—my Craigyl staff. But with the rest of my allies, I kept my identity secret, even from my closest advisors. My closest confidants. Even your father did not know.”
And she was proud of the fact. Proud of her cleverness. Her deception.
“You were the voice Father heard in his ear all the time,” Braith said.
“Yes.” Frenhin shook her head. “His belief in the goddesses was rather easy to exploit.” She apparently misread Braith’s expression of disgust. “Yes, he was a fool, I know. I didn’t marry him for his brains, after all.”
“No, I don’t suppose you did.”
“And now that Gareth is gone, it is time to pursue the throne more openly. I would offer you a seat at my right hand if only you weren’t so very you.”
Braith remained silent.
“My marionette is in place in Urian,” Frenhin continued. “Soon I will step forward and reclaim the throne. And finally, once and for all, I will make sure I am too powerful ever to touch again.”
Braith looked at her mother for a long moment. “When you say touch, you mean hurt. You want to be so powerful that no one can ever hurt you or take anything away from you again.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Frenhin’s icy stare dripped with venom, but only briefly. A controlled mask slipped back over her face. “It does not bother me to have you make such observations, Braith,” she said calmly. “You always did see things I wish you weren’t able to.” She glanced at Braith’s chains, almost as though to confirm they were still there, holding this dangerous young queen in her place. “I’m almost ready to strike, but I must be invincible first. My plan was brilliant last time. This time, it must be unstoppable.”
“And how do you expect to gather such power?” Braith asked. “Every ruler has weaknesses. Everyone can be touched—hurt, if you will. No army in history was ever as invincible as you describe.”
“No army in history had the weapons I am gathering.”
“There is no amount of steel that will—” But Braith stopped short because suddenly she realized what her mother was after.
She wanted others like herself.
“You sought to suppress the weaver gifts when Father ruled, not because you believed they were intrinsically wrong but so that you might be the only one to control them. And now you wish to . . .”
Frenhin waited a moment, but Braith couldn’t bring herself to finish.
“Yes, Braith. I wish to build an army of strand-wielders.”
Captain Bo-Lidere. Captain Bo-Awirth. Zelyth, the farmer. Karlith, the colormaster healer. The poor, sick girl they had hoped to cure—Gryfelle. The Meridioni scholar, Dylun. The former guardswoman who had called Braith a princess, even when Braith had not felt she deserved it—what was her name? Yes, Aeron.
And, of course, Tanwen En-Yestin, daughter of Frenhin’s most frustrating opponent. Tanwen would be quite the prize.
“They will never help you.”
Frenhin chuckled. “Oh, I believe they will. I will offer them power deeper and stronger than they have ever imagined. They won’t be able to resist. They may be brave to the point of stupidity, but they are still human. As you said, everyone can be touched.”
Braith closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.
Leverage. Personal weaknesses.
If Frenhin knew the weavers’ personal weaknesses, Braith could only pray that they weren’t human, somehow. That they would be able to resist when few others could. That they would be able to fight all their natural instincts and every selfish desire.
And for the first time since Braith had found herself chained to this wall with her world turned upside down, she despaired of hope.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TANWEN
During all my mornings heaving my breakfast over the side of the Cethorelle, I never imagined myself longing for a ship. Back then, those few moons ago, I’d only yearned for dry ground beneath my boots.
But as the men paddled two riverboats against the current of the Endrol River, that is exactly what I wished for. A ship with sails I could fill with wind strands so it might bring us up the river faster. Every moment we battled the current in broad daylight was a moment we risked discovery, and that knowledge set my nerves on edge.
But Father didn’t seem to believe we would be captured.
We had slipped away from the docks along the north side of Urian without being noticed. We had made it to the Endrol, following Dray’s step-by-step directions, and about that time, one of the palace pigeons had tracked us. Cameria and Jule had found each other. They would be leaving the next morning with any of the refugees who wished to travel to Pembrone. Jule and his men vowed to protect the refugee party and stay with them as long as they were able.
I watched Father as he read the note. I could tell he was trying to figure out what their chances were. How would they get the survivors from the palace? How would they escape from Urian? How would they travel all the way to the Eastern Peninsula?
“We made it out,” I’d offered to try to bring a little hope to his worried expression.
Father had looked at me. “I think we made it out because the steward allowed us to.”
That idea sank to the bottom of my stomach like a basket of river stones.
It made sense. And it meant we had a little freedom to move without Brac’s goons at our heels. For whatever reason, Brac and whoever was helping him didn’t mind if we slipped away from Urian and went on our quest to find Braith.
Which meant she was either dead or we were walking right into a trap.
Probably both.
And still, we continued on up the Endrol, because that seemed to be how we lived. Tiptoeing to the edges of cliffs that sane people avoided and diving right off, headfirst.
“We could stop at Ashton for supplies,” Father said from the other boat.
Dray shrugged. He sat on the bench across from me, apparently unconcerned that Dylun and Mor were doing all the work of pulling our boat upstream. “Ashton is fine, if you like. Pick a river city. Any river city.”
Mor grunted from his place at the oars, but he didn’t comment. It wasn’t worth it. Dray was revealing the information we needed one tiny piece at a time—wisely, if you asked me. I would have had no qualms about throwing him overboard if we got all the information we wan
ted out of him.
“I’d like to go to the Corsyth,” Warmil said. He was in the boat with Father, but we were traveling close enough that we could hear each other speak.
“The Corsyth?” Father hadn’t been to our forest hideaway, but naturally I had told him all about it.
“Yes, sir. I would like to see Aeron.”
Of course. Aeron was there with Karlith.
“Aye.” Father furrowed his brow.
“And I’d like to give Karlith the chance to come with us, if she likes. We’ve never left either of them behind on a mission this big before, General. It doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Karlith is as expert a folk healer as I’ve ever seen. And En-Howell is a fine soldier.” Father stopped rowing and turned toward Warmil. “But do you think she will be able to travel with us?”
The stitched-up stump where Aeron’s leg used to be came to mind, and I brushed away the gruesome memory. It was a wonder she hadn’t bled to death when they cut it off on Kanac.
“I don’t know, sir,” Warmil admitted. “But I would like to give her the chance to refuse.”
Father nodded.
“Though I am uncomfortable with some of our present company,” Dylun interjected with an irritated glance in Dray’s direction, “I would not turn down the opportunity to—ah—deposit some things in the Corsyth for safekeeping.”
The cure box, of course. I tightened my feet around the box that rested between my boots at the bottom of the boat.
Dray couldn’t know what was inside. But if he had half a brain, he would realize it was important to us, the way Dylun had barely been willing to part company with it.
And Dray certainly had at least half a brain.
I looked up to find him watching me, a smug little smile tugging one side of his mouth. “I don’t care what’s in there. I assure you.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I shot back. He had practically read my thoughts, but I knew I was no genius at hiding them.
“You don’t need to trust me,” Dray said to Dylun. “Just remember that we have a common goal at the moment. I have no desire, nor reason, to hinder you.”
“We could blindfold him,” Mor suggested.
Dray shrugged again. “Whatever you wish.”
“Then we can get supplies in our usual place,” Zel said from the other boat.
He meant Bowyd, the town just on the edge of the Codewig Forest where the Corsyth was hidden.
“Whatever you wish,” Dray repeated. “Though I should remind you there are no secrets between us now.”
Diggy snorted. “I’m sure that’s not true.” She scooted closer to me on the bench and glared at Dray. “You tell a lot of lies.”
He laughed like he truly was amused. “Frankly, my dear, I hardly notice anymore. You get used to it after a while.”
“I’m sure you do,” Diggy retorted.
But his smile only grew. “You really despise me, don’t you? That hardly seems fair. We just met, little one.”
I put my arm around her shoulders, as if I could shield Diggy from his smugness.
But she didn’t shrink away. “You’re a taker,” she said. “I’ve known men like you—too many to count. You don’t know how else to be, just like your lying tongue doesn’t know how else to speak. You take and take and take because that’s all you know. That’s who you are.” She looked toward the water. “If we’re smart, we’ll smother you with a pillow in your sleep.”
Dray glanced at me for half a moment, then studied Diggy as if trying to dismantle her mind.
Good luck, Sir Creepy.
We passed the many docks of Ashton on our right just then. Not much looked different than it had any other time I’d passed this way. It seemed incredible to think that Brac—my Brac Bo-Bradwir of poky Pembrone—sat on the throne in Urian and the docks of Ashton couldn’t even be troubled to look different on account of it.
It wasn’t too much farther to the little spot along the north bank of the river where we usually pulled our boats ashore and hid them in the bushes, then hiked to the Corsyth. Half an hour, maybe. So Dylun and Mor wrapped a strip of cloth around Dray’s eyes, though if he was good at tracking time, he could work out where we stopped.
I hoped he was telling the truth about not wanting to hinder us, though I had to wonder how long that would hold out, even if it were true.
My heart fluttered when I saw that spot on the bank come into view. A lifetime had passed since I’d first been to the Corsyth—at least it seemed so. It was the place where I’d begun to find myself. Where I had figured out who I wanted to be. Where I had begun to learn what mattered to me.
The men, except blindfolded Dray, climbed from the boats and started to pull them onto dry land. Once our boat was fully ashore, Mor pulled the strip of cloth from Dray’s eyes—a little roughly, perhaps.
Then Mor removed his leather gloves and rubbed his palms, wincing. “That rowing isn’t kind to my hands, no lie.” His smile flickered as he extended his hand to help me over the side of the boat.
I took it. Immediately, our gifts linked.
Gold ribbons snaked from his fingers across my hand and wrapped around my forearm. The strands lifted me from my feet. I glided up and over the side of the boat, then the strands set me gently ashore, about a breath from Mor. Brisk-leaf paste and shave oil and the slight scent of sweat glistening on his forehead invaded my senses.
I stepped away and nearly fell back into the boat, except that my hand was still firmly clasped in his.
He helped me find my balance, looking sheepish. “Oops. I forgot.” He released my hand and replaced his gloves.
Dray snorted. “Cethor’s tears.”
I expected him to mock our awkward—yet painfully obvious—attraction to each other, but he didn’t. Instead, his observation brought back the fear of what we already knew.
“No wonder the Master wants you two,” he said. “You’d be terribly useful. Pray you don’t fall into that iron grip. If you do, I promise you’ll regret it.”
Diggy cocked her head to the side. “Well, that’s the truth, at least.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TANWEN
I paused just before we reached the edge of the Corsyth. It couldn’t be seen yet—the location had been selected too carefully. You couldn’t see it until you were in the middle of it.
But I could feel it. I could sense the magic of a thousand strands, the art of half a dozen weavers I loved like family.
I stood there, soaking it up for just a moment, and I could swear a gloved hand brushed mine.
Then came Father’s beckoning. “Come, Tannie girl.”
I followed him and the others through the curtain of moss and into the forest wonderland.
And there was Karlith. She gasped when she saw us. “Thank the Creator!” Then she burst into tears. “Oh, you’re here! Thank the Creator above.”
She hurried toward us but came up short at the sight of Zelyth leading a re-blindfolded Dray by rope-bound hands.
“What’s happened?” she breathed. “What is this?”
“I’m not a what, I’m a who, thanks.” Dray frowned. “Kindly take off this blindfold now, if you don’t mind. I’ve caught quite enough brambles in my trousers for one day.”
Karlith looked at Warmil. “Captain?”
“We had no choice. I’ll explain everything after . . .” He trailed off as Aeron emerged from behind a cluster of trees.
She stood as tall as she ever had. On two legs, somehow, though her movements were a bit halting and jerky.
Warmil stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak.
Aeron smiled, a little pained, but mostly proud. “What do you think?” She bent over, her dark hair falling across her face. She lifted the leg of her trousers to reveal . . .
I leaned closer. “It’s wood.”
“Aye.” She grinned. “We had it made in town.”
She lifted the fabric further to reveal beautiful flowers carved into the wooden leg.
Either she or Karlith had painted them, for only a colormaster could have brought wooden flowers to life in such glorious detail. As Aeron rolled her trousers just a bit higher, she revealed active strands swirling around the place where her stump met the false leg.
“It hurts a little still,” she said, lowering her trouser leg again. “But I’m getting better walking on it.”
Warmil uprooted himself and caught up Aeron into his arms, clearly restraining himself from twirling her around. But only just.
“Um, excuse me?” Dray again.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He was as trying as a tattlebird.
I yanked the blindfold away while Zel untied his hands. “There,” I said. “Happy?”
“I wouldn’t say that’s the word for it.” His gaze landed on Warmil and Aeron. “Well, isn’t that precious.” Then he looked around at the color-smattered trees and twinkling lanterns. “This is . . . different.”
“Warmil,” Aeron said, eyeing Dray, “what’s going on?”
Warmil took a few moments to explain to Aeron and Karlith all that had happened—and how it had come about that we had Dray Bo-Anffir traveling with us.
Of all people.
“I’m coming with you,” Aeron said as soon as Warmil had finished.
“Aeron, I don’t think—”
“I’m coming,” she said firmly. “Why do you think I had this made?” She tapped her leg. “I’ll not be left here, Warmil. If you leave me behind, I may as well have died on that island.”
Warmil and Father shared a glance. Father relented. “If you think you are able. And that you will not slow us down,” he added, but his voice was kind.
As far as Braith’s life was concerned, time was probably not on our side as it was.
“I will not slow the group down.” Aeron nodded once. “We only got the leg this morning, and already I’m improving my speed.”
“We will be glad to have you back, En-Howell.” Father clapped her on the shoulder. “We’ll need to gather supplies in town before we travel to”—he gestured to Dray—“wherever he is taking us.”
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