Brightly Woven

by Alexandra Bracken

  “What madness is this?”

  “They believed I was the vessel of their goddess, and asked for my blessing,” I began. By the time I had finished relating the story, Hecate’s face had gone stark white.

  “Is there any proof of this?” she asked. “I won’t base the policy of this country on the word of a silly girl.”

  “It’s the truth; ask Oliver,” I said. “This is your chance. If the king really is dead, there’s no reason to go ahead with such a foolish war. Make amends with the queen and find a peaceful solution.”

  Hecate turned toward her desk, lifting a blank sheet of paper. When she looked up, I thought I saw real shame there.

  “Get out,” she said harshly. “I have letters to write.”

  I made my way back to my former quarters alone, wondering if my things were still where I had left them. I had thought about trying to find North, but with men and wizards filling the palace to capacity, it was like searching for a drop of water in the sea. Some stopped to look at me as I passed, but no one bothered me. It was a nice change.

  After a considerable amount of wandering, I found the dark corner of the palace the Sorceress Imperial had assigned me. Unlocked, I thought, thank Astraea.

  Inside, my room was almost exactly as it had been. My clothes were spread out across my bed, washed and folded. I picked up the blue dress my father had bought for me years ago in Provincia, holding it up to the light streaming through the window.

  “It’s like you’ve never seen a dress before,” a voice said from the door. I spun around, to see Henry leaning against the doorframe.

  “That’s my favorite,” he said. “It matches the color of your eyes.”

  He took a step inside and shut the door behind him. My fingers tightened on the dress. I turned my back to him.

  “I need to change and wash up,” I said. “Can we please talk later?”

  “I want to know what’s going on. Why you’re dressed like that. Why you up and disappeared a week ago.” He put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to turn around.

  “I can’t tell you,” I said. Henry was staring at me with those brown eyes. I didn’t want to lie to him, but there wasn’t a chance in the world he would understand what was going on.

  “Can’t, or won’t?” Henry asked. “The last time I checked, we were friends. We used to tell each other everything.”

  “We’re not children anymore,” I said, and threw the dress down on the bed. “You keep acting like nothing’s changed, and you know it has.”

  Henry took a step back. “Nothing has changed, Sydelle, not for me. But I can see that’s not the same for you.” He nodded toward the bracelet on my wrist. “Do I even need to ask who gave you that?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, choking on the words. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t pretend anymore.”

  “Listen to yourself,” Henry said in astonishment. “You’re scaring me. Is this the wizard’s doing? Did he do something to you?”

  “No, of course not!” I said. “Please, you’re making this worse—just go, Henry. Please!”

  “Come home with me,” Henry said. He reached out to take my hands, but I pulled them away. I saw the hurt in his eyes, and it felt like the walls were closing in on us.

  “What’s happened to you?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Everything. I’ve changed. I don’t know if I can go back to the way things were before and be happy.”

  “So you won’t be happy with me, not ever?” I looked up as anger flooded his words. “You know we’re supposed to be together; it’s the way it’s always been!”

  But it was no longer the way it could be. How do you tell someone that he is a part of your past, and not your future?

  “Please go,” I said. When he refused, when he tried to fold me into an embrace, I was the one to leave.

  The door shut behind me, and it felt like a poor ending to a story that had been written long ago in the sands of a yellow mountain.

  The weaving room was deserted by the time I found it, for which I was grateful. The thought of facing anyone, even a complete stranger, was unbearable. I wanted a place to be alone, to work in silence.

  The other women had left the loom up. I rubbed my hands along the length of the cloak as I sat down, the threads smooth beneath my fingers. There was only a little still to be done, but I dove into the work with everything I had. I saw nothing else, felt only the warmth of magic and something else rushing through my veins.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The next day passed as had the day before. The other women came and went, but I stayed behind long after they had gone, for what I hoped would be my final night of work. I poured every wish, every part of myself into each thread. I watched the yarn between my fingers take on a faint glow, even as my bracelet tinkled with the furious movements of my hands. I finished the row I was working on and sat back, a new thought coming over me.

  I retrieved a sewing needle, and before I could begin to doubt myself, I stuck my finger. The droplet of blood, the same blood that had already caused so much strife, welled up against my pale skin. I pressed the finger to the upper left corner of the cloak. The effect was instantaneous—at the touch, the cloak lit up as if on fire, warming beneath my hands.

  If my blood can do this, I wondered, what else can it do? Could it heal the curse of a dead witch, one passed from father to son? Could I give enough of it over time that it would cure him?

  But, more important, would North ever take it?

  Ingredients, plans, and tests flitted through my mind as I wove love—and more—into the remaining threads.

  “Syd?”

  I sucked in a deep breath, rubbing my face. The light in the room was a dull gray—an overcast morning. I had meant only to rest my eyes for a few moments.

  North laughed as he helped me sit up. “Sleeping on the cold stone floor when you have a perfectly good bed upstairs. I was wondering where you had disappeared to.”

  “I’m in hiding,” I said.

  “From who?”

  I sighed. “Henry. We had a fight, and it didn’t end well.”

  “Does…?” North paused, taking a deep breath. “Does he need to be dealt with?”

  I had to laugh. “No, nothing like that. He’s just angry that I didn’t want to go back to Cliffton with him.”

  “Ah,” North said. “Well, I can’t blame you. You’d be depriving yourself of my charming company.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What a loss.”

  “In all honesty, though, I think you should find a way to make amends if you can,” North said. “Real friends are hard to come by, and as annoying as Henry is, he’d throw himself in front of dragon’s fire for you.”

  “And that’s the definition of a real friend?”

  “Oh, yes, just ask Owain.” He laughed.

  “I’ll take that into consideration,” I said. I reached up to brush a splotch of dust from his cheek.

  “I keep forgetting,” he said, pulling something from his pocket. “I’ve been carrying this with me for so long I just got used to having it.”

  In his hand was my necklace. He put it around my neck, still warm from where it had lain against his own skin.

  “The king of Auster is dead,” he said.

  I looked up sharply. “What? You’re sure?”

  “Word came this morning to the Sorceress Imperial,” he said. “You won’t be hearing celebrations in the streets until she deems it the right moment to inform everyone else, though.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it?” I asked. “Not for her schemes, of course, but for the rest of us?”

  North blew out a long breath. “The queen of Auster and the remaining nobles want to negotiate for peace,” he said. “On one condition.”

  I looked at the newly finished cloak, still hanging on the loom. I already knew what they wanted.

  “They still think you’re their goddess,” he said. “What happened on the mountain only proved it to them, ev
en with the king’s death.”

  “How do they know I’m still alive?” I asked.

  “They don’t,” North said, running his hand through my hair. “We’ll find another way.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll go, if it means protecting you and everyone here.”

  He clucked his tongue. “As if I would ever let you do that. We’ll find another way,” he repeated. “Mother is letting me accompany the diplomatic party over to Auster for the negotiations.”

  He turned to look at the cloak. “You’ve been busy,” he said. “What is this?”

  “A gift,” I said. “For you.”

  He pulled off a glove and pressed his fingers lightly against the dragon at the center.

  “It’s warm…,” he marveled, sensing the power woven into it. “But how can I take something like this into duels? I would never want to ruin it.”

  “All the more reason to be careful when you fight,” I said. “Let me get scissors and a needle to hemstitch it.”

  I worked quickly, feeling his eyes on me the entire time.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “In an hour…”

  “An hour?” I said, folding the cloak across my arm. “I thought it would be another few days, at the very least!”

  “The Sorceress Imperial wants to move quickly,” he said. “I think a part of her still hopes these negotiations will break down.”

  The thought came to me suddenly. “But they don’t have to. Do you still think they’ll agree to peace if I’m not part of the treaty?”

  “It’ll depend on a number of things. The queen has prepared a list of terms and concessions that they might agree to, but I’m still concerned.” North ran a hand through his hair. “They’ve lost their king, not their armies or their alliance to Saldorra. It won’t help that we won’t give them the one thing they truly want.”

  “What if you can’t give it to them?” I asked. “What if I were dead?”

  North looked horrified.

  “Figuratively dead,” I clarified. “They couldn’t hold it against you if I had been killed in the avalanche as well.”

  “But where’s the proof?”

  I bent down to pick up one of the longer pieces of thread I had cut away. I smoothed my long hair back, tying it in place. Then the small scissors were in my hand, cutting through my hair before North had the chance to stop me.

  “Don’t—!” he said, but I was too fast for him.

  “This was all Dorwan needed to convince them I was their goddess,” I said, pressing the bundle of hair into his hand. “How do they usually bury their dead?”

  “They don’t,” North said. “They use funeral pyres.”

  “Then tell them you did that when you found me on the mountain,” I said. “Tell them you did it to honor them.”

  “When did you get to be so clever and devious?” he asked. He brought a hand up to my much shorter locks.

  “I suppose I’ve been spending too much time with wizards,” I said.

  “I have a favor to ask of you…,” North began hesitantly. “And you certainly don’t have to. It’s just a stupid old tradition for luck.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Will you come with me to the tents?” he asked. “A wizard is supposed to ask his lady to arm him. For luck, I mean. After that you’ll go back up to the castle with the other women.”

  “Of course,” I said, taking his hand firmly in mine. “I’ll come wherever you need me.”

  North and I twisted to the outer banks of the Lyfe. I held his hand tightly as we navigated the hundreds of colorful tents that housed the wizards and laborers.

  “All right,” he said. “Come on, we don’t have that much time.”

  The supply tent North was assigned to was empty by the time we arrived. Trunks of armor and weaponry were stacked in the center, and though candles had been lit to compensate for the gray winter sky, the tent was still fairly dark and cold. North solved both problems with a simple flick of his old red cloak.

  North and I said nothing as I slowly unknotted his cloaks, catching them before they could flutter to the ground. I handled each piece of the black leather armor with care, making sure it was in its proper place. North helped me with the arm and leg pieces without a word. I could see my own miserable expression reflected in the surface of the mirror across the tent. I fastened the last piece of armor with trembling fingers.

  It was all over too quickly. I gathered his old cloaks, folding them in their proper order, and clipped the new cloak in their place. The vibrant colors I had chosen were dull in the poor light. His hand came up to take mine, but I wasn’t finished.

  I lifted the thin silver chain from around my neck and placed it over his head. The braided silver slipped beneath his armor, out of sight but still there.

  “Keep this for me, all right?” I asked. Astraea would protect him when I couldn’t.

  I stood on my toes again, bracing myself against his strong form, and pressed my lips against the smooth skin of his cheek.

  “For luck,” I explained.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  I waited until he had disappeared completely from the tent before moving. I sat down heavily on the bench, my face in my hands, as anger, love, and fear all fought to rise up inside of me.

  The tent flap banged open. I brought my head up, and there was Wayland North.

  I was on my feet in an instant, but he had crossed the distance between us in two long strides.

  “What—?”

  He pulled me to him, grasping my face between his hands. And then he was kissing me, kissing me so deeply, so fiercely that I could feel my toes curling in my shoes. The world spun away, and it was just the two of us.

  Then it was over. North sighed deeply, and there was that heartbreaking half smile again, the one reserved for times of resignation and failing hope.

  “I’m going to need,” he said, “a lot of luck.”

  When I reached for him again, he was already gone.

  The few women and children who had been left behind by the party of wizards made their way back up to the city’s bridge in silence. Once or twice, someone tried to make conversation, but no one was in the mood to talk. I hung back at the very edge of the group, watching the afternoon light play on the blue-green water of the lake.

  It was ridiculous to be so afraid when they weren’t going off to fight a war. Even so, the party of wizards and diplomats was still in danger. We would all be in danger if the negotiations fell apart.

  “Lass!”

  Owain’s enormous body pushed through the crowds on the bridge. He waved both arms in the air, not stopping until I was at his side.

  “He’s off, then?” Owain asked. He pulled me closer to him as we maneuvered through the lines of people, animals, and carts. There were several more guards at the gate than usual, but they didn’t stop us. Owain seemed to have that effect on people.

  “Wasn’t the Sorceress Imperial closing the city?” I asked. We were wedged between a long line of street vendors and their customers as we made our way up to the castle.

  “Queen wouldn’t let her,” Owain explained. “I’m starting to like that girl. She’s got more nerve than I thought.”

  I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. By the time we reached the marble steps of the castle, night had fallen, and there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To your room, of course,” Owain said. “I’ve got orders from the lad: Do not let anyone in or out of her room until I come back.”

  I groaned. “He didn’t.”

  “He sure as spit did, lass,” he said. “Not even the queen will get through on my watch!”

  But as we turned down the final hallway, it was clear that the queen was a step ahead of him. Her violet dress blended with the darkness, and the dim light caught the strands of gold in her hair. Owain and I watched in silence as she lifted a fist and knocked twice on the door to my quarte
rs.

  “Is there something we can help you with, Your Majesty?” Owain called. There was no hint of friendliness in his voice. I had to push him to the side to see the queen’s reaction.

  She jumped, turning quickly to face us.

  “Oh! Yes, I’m—It’s—I need—” She wrung her hands until they were an angry red.

  “Where are your attendants?” Owain asked, looking around. “Is everything all right?”

  I watched the way her lips pressed together into a white line, the way one hand came up to smooth back her hair, and I knew something was wrong. The queen I had met before had been so self-assured.

  “Did you need to speak to me?” I asked.

  “Yes, in my chambers,” she said tensely. “It is a matter of grave importance.”

  Queen Eglantine motioned us to follow her to her wing of the castle. If her words hadn’t been enough to confirm my worst fears, the large purple beetle clinging to her skirt was all I needed to know who would be waiting for us in her chambers.

  I grabbed Owain’s arm, pulling him down so I could whisper in his ear. “Dorwan.”

  He pulled back, his brows drawing together. Dorwan was using the beetle to track her, I knew, to make sure she couldn’t run away or warn the other wizards.

  The queen glanced back over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide. I wasn’t sure that she had heard me until I saw her mouth the words Help me, please.

  Queen Eglantine’s wing of the castle was unnaturally quiet. The last time I had walked down this hallway, candles had been blazing, servants had been bustling back and forth, and a set of guards had protected the doorway. I saw the busts of past kings covered in the wax of the dripping candles, their vacant eyes following our path down the long hall. Everything was still and quiet, but I sensed Dorwan’s cold aura reaching out to me, licking at my skin. I shivered.

  “You need to get the Wizard Guard,” I whispered to Owain. “Get as many wizards as you can.”

  Owain shook his head, a deep frown on his face. “Are you saying I can’t protect you myself?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want you to,” I said. “He’s a dirty cheat—North barely made it out of their fight alive. Please, just get the Guard and hurry back.”