“He is puzzling, to be sure.”
“Yes. Just when I think I’ve decided what I’ll—”
A knock at the door interrupted her. She raised an eyebrow.
Cameria moved quickly. “I will answer it.”
Braith waited. This time, she did not pick up a book. She strained toward the door to catch any words she might.
Yes. It was his voice. “Good morning, Cameria.”
“Good morning, Sir Kharn.”
Cameria had certainly changed her stripes! Now he was Sir Kharn. Inexplicably, it made Braith smile.
“I’ve come to escort Braith to breakfast.”
And then, there he was in the sitting room, bright as the sun. “Good morning! You look especially beautiful today. That color suits you.”
Braith glanced down at her dress. “It’s black. I’m in mourning.”
“No one mourns quite as beautifully as Braith.”
Braith rolled her eyes. She seemed to do that a lot around Kharn. “Honestly.”
“Yes, honestly. You truly look lovely in black.” He offered his arm. “Might I escort you to breakfast?”
Cameria nodded discreetly, and when Braith still didn’t accept Kharn’s arm, she spoke. “We were just about to go down to the dining hall.”
Braith shot her a quick glare.
“Excellent.” Kharn nodded to his arm. “Shall we?”
Braith stifled a sigh and took it. They moved from her front room into the hallway.
Kharn set off down the hall at a measured pace. “I’m afraid I’ve developed a liking for that tea of yours, Braith. If I spend all my fortune on coconuts, it will be your fault.”
“Will it? I rather thought you would blame the coconuts for being so delicious.”
He smiled. “Perhaps I should.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cameria, then turned back to Braith. “Forgive me for the question, Lady Braith, but do you discuss politics with your friend?”
Braith frowned. “Pardon me?”
“Politics. I know you and Cameria are close, but that does not always mean one is privy to the queen’s business.”
“I hide nothing from Cameria. Though I’m not entirely sure Tir’s politics or what my friends are privy to is your business.”
“I didn’t mean to pry. It’s only because I wished to talk to you about council.”
“Oh.” Braith stopped and turned to face Kharn. “What about council? You may speak freely in front of Cameria.”
“I thought perhaps you would like to discuss strategies for the food crisis in the Wildlands.”
Braith blinked in surprise, then narrowed her eyes at him cautiously. “In the Wildlands, you say, but the crisis extends all over Tir.”
“And your father’s solution was to levy heavier taxes each year.”
“That was not even an attempt at a solution, Sir Kharn, and we both know it.”
“No, indeed. Personally, I am not concerned with your father’s policies at present. I wondered if you had any ideas to solve the problem at hand. I do, and I would be happy to give them.”
Braith paused and looked at Cameria. “We were just discussing the possibility of subsidizing some fishing endeavors. There is no shortage in the sea, and perhaps that could be enough to fill the gaps in our food supply.”
Kharn considered this. “I think it has merit. But it is a temporary fix. It is possible to overfish the ocean. It isn’t much of a problem here because our diet doesn’t include much fish, but it is an issue for most island territories where they rely heavily on the sea and do little farming.”
Braith eyed him. “And you learned of such things hiding on your secret farm?”
“No.” He smiled. “I learned these things as the nephew of the king. The youngest son of the youngest brother doesn’t get much training, mind, but I always did well with such studies.”
“How fortuitous. And what are your ideas, Sir Kharn? You said you had some.”
“Bellithwyn has some fascinating theories about crop rotation and nutrients. Different plants use different elements of the soil. The Bellithwynites have done extensive research and come up with planting schedules for all sorts of climates. Perhaps we might send an ambassador and ask for assistance in learning these methods and for a copy of their almanac. Or perhaps a thousand copies,” he added lightly.
“That is an idea,” Braith said.
Kharn’s mouth twitched. “You sound surprised. The Minasimetese have farming machinery far more advanced than ours. Of course, there is the age-old problem of getting the reclusive Minasimetese to allow us on their island so that we might learn from them. But perhaps your emancipation will help that.”
Braith regarded Kharn for a long moment in silence.
He waited, then grinned. “What?”
“You . . .” Braith looked to Cameria for help, but the maid seemed to have found something very interesting on the sill of the nearest window. Braith stifled a sigh. “Well, you’re standing here in my palace.”
“Yes, but also my palace, depending on how you look at it. Shall we duel for it?”
“That isn’t funny.”
“I thought it was a little.”
“Honestly.”
“My apologies.” He gestured for her to continue. “Please, proceed.”
“Well, you’re standing here with me. Discussing the realm.”
“Yes?”
“Is this appropriate?”
“Is it inappropriate?”
“I think it may be.” Braith looked again to Cameria for help, but none was forthcoming.
“What about this is inappropriate?” Kharn inquired. “If I may ask.”
“I’m the queen,” Braith replied crisply. “You wish to depose me. You have a claim to the throne. We haven’t sorted through that matter in the least, and yet you want to strategize solutions together. That seems appropriate to you?”
Kharn shrugged. “I respect your ideas.”
She stared at him. “I don’t know how to argue with that.”
Kharn grinned. “Good.”
“You . . . frustrate me.”
“I’ve noticed.” Kharn nodded down the hallway. “Shall we? I promise not to discuss any matters of state until after breakfast.”
“How generous.” Braith resumed walking toward one of the staircases.
“Or I’ll wait until council, if you prefer.”
Braith halted again. “What?”
“Council. I’ll be there. I’ll stand in the gallery if you don’t want me at the table right away.”
“I . . . no, you may sit at the table.” Braith wasn’t sure what she had just agreed to.
“Thank you—that’s kind of you. I know we must get this sorted.”
“Um, yes.”
“But for now, we’ll just have some tea and enjoy breakfast.”
“You and the tea again.” Braith shook her head. “You have an obsession.”
They strolled in silence the rest of the way to the dining hall, and Braith’s thoughts were a jumble.
Hopefully she could right them by afternoon council. Council. Where Kharn Bo-Candryd would be at the table.
And Braith had absolutely no idea how she felt about that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
TANWEN
Mor and I never did have tea or anything else at Mho’s, the pub on the Daflin docks. He and Jule had decided to dock for just a day before we made way again—just enough time to replenish our stores and make a few small repairs to the ship. Then we were off, down the Tirian coastline, around Meridione, a one-day stop in Bordino, then back into the open sea. We had charted a course for Minasimet, way out in the Menfor, and if the winds were in our favor, that trip would take ten full days.
The winds agreed with our plans, and Minasimet had been sighted now.
No one said it aloud, but I knew what was prompting the haste. In the four weeks since we left Paka, I had experienced one episode per week, and half a dozen little memory bubbles had popped. The rocks of my min
d were beginning to slide all over the place.
And that was to say nothing of Gryfelle’s ever-weakening state.
I avoided asking questions as though touching the answers might burn me.
How long had it taken Gryfelle’s body to begin to fade? How many moons had the rocks slid from her mind before she didn’t remember her loved ones anymore? At some point she had forgotten her feelings for Mor, but it seemed the unpleasantness of her childhood remained. Would that be first to go for me?
Or had I lost it already?
Best not to ask. Best to keep moving forward on this quest and pray there would be hope for us both by the time we completed our task.
And as I stared up at the island that seemed to be one solid mountain, I wasn’t sure we would be able to. No wonder the Minasimetese had been able to keep outsiders away for centuries. Instead of a beach, there was a wall. Instead of land, craggy peaks. Instead of a harbor, a huge sea gate.
With guards perched atop.
Though the Haribians hadn’t met us with warmth, this island was infinitely more foreboding than Haribi with its wide-open, sun-kissed plains. We were well into the first moon of autumn now, and I could already see snow capping the Minasimetese peaks in the distance, beyond the barriers of the island.
“We’ll never get in,” I said to Father. “Unless you have an old friend lounging about that tower there.”
He looked up at it grimly. “I doubt it. I’ve never set foot on this island. And that’s only one of my worries.” He glanced at me restlessly.
“I’m fine, Father.” It sounded hollow, even to my own ears.
“No, you’re not.” He watched as the sea gate and the armed tower grew closer. “The list of concerns grows daily.”
“Does it?” I frowned. Seemed we had been in the same spot for a while now.
“I sense something.” His voice was distant. “Sometimes, I swear I can almost see it, then it’s gone.”
“See what?”
“I’m not sure. But I can feel it.”
I shivered.
He cast a rueful smile my way. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound so grave. I’m not used to sharing my thoughts.”
I almost hadn’t noticed, so gradual had it been, but the rasp in his voice had lessened. His sentences were nearly always complete now. Least as complete as mine, anyway.
“You’re doing better,” I told him.
“It is a challenge.” Then he stared into the distance again. “Do you ever feel we’re being watched?”
“Well, I do now.” My gaze darted all over, and I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders.
“General.” Mor’s voice preceded his arrival.
I turned to see him approaching with Jule. Jule nodded up at the tower. We were now close enough to count the men—and their arrows. “What are your thoughts, General?”
Father drew a long breath. “My Minasimetese has never been good. I have no friends here, but perhaps they know our names.”
Mor nodded. “Perhaps they will take pity.”
“Pity on us?” I folded my arms. “You know what we look like, don’t you?”
The men turned to me but didn’t answer.
“Exactly like a bunch of pirates.”
“But we’re not.” Mor sounded a little wounded. “We’re flying under the Tirian banner.”
“But we’re obviously not queen’s navy. You’ve got women on your crew, and strictly speaking, we have been traveling around the world pillaging things.”
Jule grinned. “Suppose that’s technically true.”
“Borrowing, more like,” Mor insisted. “Borrowing for a very just cause.”
“All right, Captain.” I nodded up at the towers. “You explain that to them.”
“My grandmam was Minasimetese, you know,” Mor said.
“And mine was a fluff-hopper.”
“I’m serious.”
I eyed him. “Truly? I guess that’s where your dark hair came from. I assumed you had Meridioni in your line somewhere. Do you speak Minasimetese?”
He snorted. “Do you speak fluff-hopper?”
I shrugged.
“I’ll have to give it a try, then,” Father said. He called up to them, “Suru!”
“Tachi hanu!” came the rather angry-sounding reply.
Already this wasn’t going well, and my father’s face confirmed it.
“He’s telling us to go away. Where’s Dylun?”
“Here.” Dylun stepped forward. “But I don’t know that my Minasimetese is any better than yours, General.”
Father tried again. He called to the guards, but I could tell the language didn’t sit comfortably on him. How would he ever be able to explain our situation? Where would he drum up the words for curse or ancient cure, or anything else that might inspire them to open their gates to us? And really, wouldn’t they be a little daft to do so, even if we had the perfect explanation?
Dylun tried when Father seemed to be getting nowhere, but somehow, he made it worse. He looked at my father, eyes wide. “Did I say something insulting?”
“Seems so.” Father shook his head. “But I’m not even sure what.”
“Sugatok kara koti!” With that shout, the guard who had been speaking drew his bowstring and loosed an arrow.
Straight at me.
Time seemed to slow. Father turned with his arm extended, as if to knock me to the deck, out of harm’s way. But before he could manage it, Mor grabbed my wrist. When we touched, a shell like a bubble of shimmering glass formed in front of us. It was only for a moment, but long enough to deflect the arrow. It just missed Dylun on the ricochet, then sailed overboard and into the water.
After a breath of stunned silence, Mor whirled and yelled at the guard, “Hey!”
But he was still holding on to me. All it took was that one word, and a blast of hot energy shot out from our connection. It volleyed, faster than an arrow, toward the guard on the tower and smacked him in his armed chest. He toppled out of view.
I stared in horror, half expecting to see his body tumbling into the water off the other side of the tower. But he reappeared, clutching his chest and coughing.
He had only been knocked on his backside. Thank the stars.
Everyone aboard ship seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the guard appeared to be fine. Everyone except Father.
A look of dread realization crossed his face.
“Father? What’s wrong?”
“You’re a weapon.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“You and Bo-Lidere. The link. It makes you twice as powerful, and already you were formidable.”
Mor looked as confused as I felt. “Are you saying they won’t let us in because they think we’re a threat? Because of our weaving abilities?”
“No.” Father shook his head, almost like he wished he could just invite us inside his mind rather than having to find the words to explain. “Tannie, they’ve been following us.”
“They . . . the guards?” The more he tried to explain, the more puzzled I grew.
But then he looked at me again, and something clicked.
“The presence you felt,” I realized aloud.
“Yes.”
“You think they’re after me and Mor? Because of the link?”
“Yes.”
Ice spread down my spine. “So, they have been watching us.”
“Not just watching. Hunting.” Father’s mouth tightened into a thin line.
“How do you know?”
He nodded over my shoulder. “Because here they are now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
TANWEN
I spun around so fast, I nearly fell over.
Yes, there was a ship—far off, a mere speck on the horizon. But zooming closer was a wave of something. I strained to see it better and took a halting step toward . . . whatever grew nearer with each passing moment.
“Strands,” I said, but I couldn’t quite comprehend it. “Those are strands
.”
Indeed, the wave looked like it was made up of ribbons of night sky and tendrils of smoke and rivulets of molten metal. And they were racing across the ocean toward us.
Father didn’t waste another second. He whipped back toward the guards. “Miu? Sa, watachi ni rete kasai. Mohi anate kereba.”
“What did he say?” Mor asked Dylun, watching the approaching wave of strands in disbelief.
Dylun glanced between the guards and the strands. “He told them we’re all in danger if they do not let us in.”
And the guards seemed to be considering it. They spoke among themselves, occasionally gesturing toward us or out into the sea. The torrent rolled ever closer.
“Please!” I called out helplessly.
“Tannie, stay close,” Mor warned.
He pointed. One strand was ahead of the rest, just about to the rail of the Cethorelle.
Then the sea gate began to move. It was a wonder the hinges worked or that the guards even knew how to get the blasted thing open.
The gates began to open inward. But slowly.
Too slowly.
The strand in the lead—a perfect ribbon of starry-midnight sky—had reached us. And it was headed straight for my father.
He drew his sword, and so did Warmil and Aeron, but to what end? Would they cleave a ribbon of night in two?
“No!” Without thinking, I thrust my hand forward, and out came a beam of sunlight. It swallowed the night strand, and both disappeared with a pop.
Father grabbed my shoulder. “We have to get inside.”
I looked back at the wave—nearly to the ship. There were too many strands. I could never hope to fight them all. Even with every weaver aboard battling them one at a time, we would be overtaken.
“Captain!” Wylie shouted. “Tannie!”
I spun. One of the crewmen had a strand of night wrapped around his ankle. Wylie and another sailor gripped the man to keep him from being pulled overboard.
I shot a ray of sunshine their direction, and the night retreated for a moment. Long enough for the crewman to reclaim his leg and scramble away. But the night strand didn’t disappear this time. It was like I’d only hit part of it.
A crash on the deck startled me. Claws with ropes attached had anchored themselves to the ship. The Minasimetese had the gates open, and they were pulling us inside.
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