The Story Hunter

by Lindsay A. Franklin

  He wrestled against his shackles, but utter despair had already begun to fill his eyes. “Braith, my love. I’m so sorry.”

  Frenhin snapped her fingers. “Guard, seize the story peddler.”

  Next thing I knew, two strong hands gripped me under my arms and I was pulled from Braith’s side. “No!” I kicked and struggled. “Stop!”

  “You stay.” Frenhin held up both hands, and a sheet of clear strands pulsed through the room toward us.

  My father, Mor, and the rest of my weaver family were pressed against the wall by the nearly invisible web of strands. Frenhin had even pinned some of her guards along with us. I could only watch yet another guard unlock Braith’s irons and yank her up from the floor.

  “Easy, there.” Dray shoved the guard away and hugged Braith to his side. “Come, Braith. I’ll bring you to safety. I’m here. It’s all over now.”

  Braith’s cry rent the air. Kharn’s every muscle strained, his teeth gritted, his cry of frustration enough to pull the stars from the sky.

  Braith fought and screamed and pulled away, but it was no use. She was too weak, the rest of us too helpless, and Dray too determined.

  “Quiet, Braith. We’ll be together at last and put this all behind us.”

  I closed my eyes because I couldn’t watch anymore. But I couldn’t close my ears to Braith’s screams.

  They echoed through the cavern, out the door, and down the hall as Dray dragged her away.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  BRAITH

  Dray pushed Braith into a room. Her throat felt raw from screaming.

  “Enough already.” He turned and slipped a coin to the guard standing out in the hallway. “Guard it well, and there will be more where that came from.”

  Braith shrank away until she hit a—bed? Where were they?

  Dray also seemed to be sizing up the situation. “Well, well. Your mother’s sleeping quarters?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been chained to the wall for days. I never got a tour.”

  But she looked around and saw the embroidered bedclothes, the silver-framed looking glass on the night table, the wardrobe in the corner, doubtless full of expensive gowns. The space was illuminated by torches in brackets all along the wall, unlit oil lamps on tables waiting to add their glow to the mix. Yes, this had to be Frenhin’s bedchamber.

  “Ah, dearest. I am sorry,” Dray said. “That’s all over now.”

  A thousand replies—some of them very unladylike—rolled through Braith’s mind. But she remained silent.

  “I know this was not ideal,” he continued. “This has all been quite the fiasco.” And to Braith’s horror, he pulled off his shirt and began rifling through the wardrobe. “Don’t suppose she would have any men’s clothes in here. I’d kill for something fresh.”

  “Replace your shirt immediately, Dray.”

  “I’m trying.” Then he pulled his head out of the wardrobe to look at her. He snorted. “Really, Braith? Still so demure?”

  Braith eyed the door. Could she run for it? The guard outside would stop her, surely. But perhaps she should try . . .

  “Braith.”

  She started and looked up to where Dray now loomed over her.

  “Please don’t misbehave, dearest. You don’t understand everything that has happened.”

  Braith pulled herself up using her mother’s bed for support. “Then why don’t you tell me what has happened.”

  “Well, I helped those rebel weavers, for starters. They are your friends, are they not?”

  “Yes. They are my friends.”

  “I helped them escape from Urian. I led them north. Brought them here, to Frenhin’s hideout, just as they desired. They would not have found it without me. I even held my nose and allied with Yestin Bo-Arthio.” He laughed briefly. “That has to count for something.”

  “You did all these things so you could kidnap me, not out of the kindness of your heart.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Braith. It’s not attractive.”

  Had he completely taken leave of his senses? How could he see this as anything other than what it was? He had traded her for the friends he’d claimed to help.

  She forced her voice to sound as calm as possible. “You don’t call this kidnapping? I am held here against my will.”

  “Only because you’re confused.” Dray sat on the bed and took her wrist in his hand.

  She strained against his grip, but she was too weak to resist much after days on scant rations. One swift tug and Dray had pulled her to the bed beside him.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I know this has been difficult. Painful. I can only imagine how that must have been, discovering your mother was behind all of . . . this. I did not even know that piece myself until today. But I keep trying to tell you that you’re safe now. I’m here.”

  “I do not need you to save me, Dray. I don’t want you to. I want you to let me go.”

  Dray put his hand on her cheek. “Remember when you visited me in the dungeon?”

  Braith did not answer.

  “Remember—we spoke of my changed heart?”

  She had been a fool.

  “I have done so much good, Braith. Does it not count?” He brushed her tangled hair from her forehead and took a deep breath. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  Braith pulled back, but before she could scramble to her feet, his lips pressed against hers.

  She jerked herself away and jumped up. “No!”

  His brows lifted in surprise.

  She moved from the bed, fear and anger surging through her veins. “I understand you now, Dray. So much better than I did that moment in the dungeon. I thought you had changed, yes. I wanted to believe that was true, and perhaps it was for a time. When you had no angle to play, no advantage to gain, perhaps you had begun to change. But I misplaced my faith. I know now you will never understand how to live without taking what you want, even if it hurts others. And because of this, I could never, ever align myself with you.”

  Dray’s face hardened. “Not align with, Braith. Marry. Those were my terms.”

  Braith’s stomach roiled. “I refuse. I will always refuse.”

  He paused a moment, sighed, then rose and strode past her to the door. At first, Braith thought he might leave. Concede defeat and let her be free.

  But at the door, he stopped and turned. “Is it him?”

  “What?”

  “The blood heir. Kharn.” He spoke Kharn’s name like a curse. “Is that why you will not have me?”

  “I wouldn’t have you anyway, but I do love him.” Braith’s anger surged over her fear.

  “And what does he have that I don’t?”

  “Integrity. Kindness. Compassion. Goodness.” Braith lifted her chin. “A heart.”

  Dray stood still so long he might have turned to stone. But finally, he flashed a humorless smile. “You always were so proud. But you know what?”

  He pivoted and lowered the heavy bolt across the door, barring it from the inside.

  Then he spun and faced her again. “I grow weary of being refused, Your Majesty.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  TANWEN

  “Well”—Frenhin lowered her hands, and the invisible web vanished—“my apologies for that unpleasantness.”

  Naith was clutching the jar of ancient white strands. I stared at it. I had seen what Frenhin was able to do with one such strand. Now she had three more. Anything we tried, any move we made, and she would swallow us whole in a cloud of darkness like the one that took Gryfelle’s life. Or she would fill the room with molten-metal strands like the one that killed Wylie.

  As long as she had those strands, we were helpless.

  Despair edged in on me like black fog at the corners of my vision. I tried to fight it, tried to grasp at some shred of creativity, some wild idea that just might save our lives.

  But there was nothing.

  Plans are a fluid concept, Dray had said. And I guess at some point
, that well finally ran dry.

  I glanced up to find Frenhin standing before me. “Hello, Tanwen.”

  I grimaced and leaned away from her, into the soldier holding me from behind. I couldn’t help it. I felt repelled by her—like a drop of oil in water.

  “Surely I’m not as bad as all that.” She smiled. How could she look so like Braith and yet not? “In time, you will learn to love me, dear.”

  “I’m trying to keep my breakfast down, if you don’t mind.”

  She didn’t pause to consider the insult. She slapped me across the face, and my head snapped to the right. I briefly wondered if she might be part mountainbeast for the strength of her strike.

  Several of the weavers shifted as if they might move to defend me. I shook my head, tasting the blood on my lip. Then I turned back to Frenhin and met her gaze. Wouldn’t let her see me wither.

  “You will learn respect, Tanwen. And, with time, you will love me because of the power I will give you. I will teach you things beyond your imagining.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I have a pretty vivid imagination.”

  “Believe me, the power I offer to you is something you have never conceived of.”

  “It’s not yours to offer.”

  She lifted her hand again, then lowered it. “No. Not yet. Don’t want to bruise your pretty face just now.”

  I tasted my swollen, split lip. “Aye, wouldn’t want that.”

  “You will be my right hand, Tanwen. Together we will subdue Tir, once and for all.”

  Behind Frenhin, Naith recoiled as if he had been the one slapped. “Your Majesty,” he whined.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “What is it?”

  “Where . . . where do I fit into this plan?”

  “Stars’ sake, Naith, is that all you can think about at this crucial juncture? On this, the most exciting, successful day of our entire journey, you wonder what sort of titles and accolades you might receive.” She spoke as if addressing a small child. “You may be my royal tea fetcher. How is that?”

  He shrank away from her sharp words, and the smallest part of me almost pitied him. Such a pathetic creature he was.

  A new guard arrived and cleared his throat. “Master?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s . . . ah . . .”

  “Master!” a voice called from just outside the door. “Master!”

  My heart stuttered in shock. It can’t be.

  Frenhin’s face twisted as she stared at the guard before her. “Let her in, you dolt!”

  The guard nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s just she’s not alone.”

  “Master,” the voice sang, “I brought you presents.”

  I braced myself for her entrance. Tried to prepare to see her in the flesh. But I couldn’t have ever succeeded. Not if I’d had an hour, not if I’d had a year.

  Diggy breezed in, calling this evil, twisted shell of a person Master. Only one word thrummed through my mind, pulsing with every beat of my heart.

  Lost. Lost. Lost.

  I truly had lost her.

  “Diggy?” Mor choked out.

  I fought for words. “Diggy, wha—” But then I froze. Because the “presents” she had brought were following her into the room.

  She held daggers at the throats of two of her hostages.

  And one of those hostages was Brac.

  His gaze found me, and I could practically feel his sigh of relief, even from this distance. “Tannie, you’re alive.”

  “Brac . . .” I tried to understand what I was seeing, but it was too much. I looked at Diggy’s other hostage, and things only got stranger. “Celyn?”

  Celyn En-Rhys, one of my neighbors from Pembrone, offered a sad smile. “Ho, Tannie.”

  And then, as if matters couldn’t stump me more, I realized half the farmer’s guild from Pembrone stood behind them, flanked by guards with drawn swords.

  My knees gave out, and I sagged against the guard holding me.

  Nearly everyone in the room seemed stunned.

  Naith finally broke the silence. “So,” he scoffed, “you truly defected, did you, Brac? I should have known better than to trust you.”

  “Trust me?” In spite of the blade at his throat, Brac spat at the floor. “You never trusted me. You used me. Lied to me.” He swept his gaze to Frenhin. “And don’t even get me started on you.”

  Something in my heart unpinched, and I fought a small wave of tears. There was just something in his tone—something of the boy I knew once.

  It was a nice moment to have before we all died.

  For I knew I would die. Whatever escape Frenhin tried to offer me, I would never serve her.

  “You said you had him well in hand, Naith,” Frenhin growled. “Your incompetence could have cost us everything. Everything!”

  Naith flinched. “But he’s here and subdued, Master. He will not be our undoing.”

  “No thanks to you.” She snatched the jar of strands away from him and set it on a small table near a padded chair at the back of the cavernous room. “Go stand in the corner.”

  Naith looked at her with wide eyes as though he were unable to believe she would humiliate him like this.

  Pitiful fool. He didn’t realize he was the pup she kicked whenever she was angry. And little more. He swallowed hard and then obeyed, disappearing into the shadowed corner and his cloud of shame.

  “Diggy.” Mor’s voice was gentle, yet it carried through the whole room and punched me in every hollow, empty spot in my heart. “Diggy, I’m so sorry I failed you.”

  Diggy studied Mor, then looked away. “You should have come for me.”

  “Yes. I know.” Mor’s shoulders and head drooped as he closed his eyes.

  Was he going to give up? Not even fight?

  “Mor?” My voice came out strangled with tears.

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. Smiled sadly. “Tannie, I’m so tired.”

  And now my heart pulsed with a different word.

  Surrender.

  But we couldn’t. Not yet.

  “Diggy.” I looked straight at her, trying to keep steady and calm. Maybe there was still hope. “Diggy, please don’t do this.”

  She nodded to a guard, then shoved Celyn his direction. She spun one dagger around and sheathed it on her hip. “Too late, Tannie. It’s already done.”

  “You see, Tanwen?” Frenhin was smiling again, and what I wouldn’t have given to knock her teeth out one by one. “Digwyn has come around. Do you not understand what we will be able to do together—you, me, Digwyn, and that one?” She nodded toward Zel.

  Even Zel seemed surprised. “Me? You’re daft.”

  Of course. She had been after me, Mor, and Zel at first because we were storytellers. And now she knew all about Diggy’s gift and had traded out Mor for Diggy.

  “You need all of us,” I said quickly. “Mor and I are the ones who share the link.”

  “Yes, dear, that was the plan. But, as my colleague aptly pointed out, plans are fluid.” She indicated Diggy. “I don’t think we could rest easy with this prize and the sea captain under the same roof, do you? Family is a messy affair. Too much history. So much angst. I tire of it. So I shall settle for one of the children of Lidere. Digwyn’s gift is much more powerful than the link you share with Bo-Lidere.”

  I cast another desperate glance at Mor.

  “No.” I scoured my mind—there had to be something I could say to get her to change her mind. “No, you can’t.” I had nothing.

  Everyone I loved was slipping through my fingers.

  I turned to Diggy once more, a final plea in my eyes.

  She edged backward with Brac, slowly drifting away from us toward Frenhin.

  No . . . not toward. Behind.

  And suddenly, her eyes were clear—not panicked and shifting and wild. She met my gaze and held one finger to her lips.

  Shh.

  And then the tiniest smile.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  DIGWYN
>
  We can’t control the things that happen to us.

  We can’t even decide how those things will shape us. In some ways, we are like ships without sails, tossed about on the waves of life, beholden to the currents and storms that carry us off our charted courses.

  I can’t control what was done to me yesterday or last year or four years ago.

  But I can decide who I want to be tomorrow.

  I am not a result of the things that have happened to me. I am not defined by the ways others have harmed me, used me, broken me. They don’t get to win anymore.

  I decide how to move forward. Tomorrow belongs to me.

  My name is Digwyn En-Lidere, and I choose to die fighting for the people I love.

  I hope Tannie sees me, knows what I’m attempting, understands I’m doing the best thing I can with my final act.

  I won’t make it out alive. For this to work, I’ll have to throw all caution overboard and be as reckless as I like. But it doesn’t matter. I will give the others a fighting chance. Turn the tables. Shift the balance of power. Throw our enemy off course just long enough for the others to make a difference.

  That’s who I want to be. The one who helped them overcome evil.

  Because it all has to be worth something.

  I press my free hand against the farmer’s back, giving him the signal. Almost imperceptibly, he nods.

  He has understood. I see his fingers flick, sharing the signal with the others.

  I pause for one long moment to gauge my distance. I will have a single chance to do this right.

  Yes. It’s time.

  “Now!” I shout.

  Brac grabs my dagger and bolts for the corner toward the priest. The farmers and guardsmen on Brac’s crew draw hidden weapons and turn on Frenhin’s guards. I dive and snatch the jar of strands off Frenhin’s table.

  For ten ticks, it’s like the world is moving underwater. A farmer buries his sword in a guard’s gut. The general jerks away from his captor and draws a weapon before anyone can blink. Mor has not moved except to widen his eyes at me.

  Frenhin’s face twists into an expression like she’s made of candle wax and someone has held her to a flame.