Brightly Woven (32 page)

“Nowhere is really safe,” I said. “It would be better if I went. I can find my way home from Saldorra.”

But I couldn’t go home—I couldn’t go anywhere I would put people in danger. I didn’t have the same insane thoughts the queen had about destroying Auster. I didn’t want to hurt
anyone
, not if I could help it, but I didn’t know where I could go so as not to be a menace to others. There wasn’t any order or sense left for me, just the realization that everything was different. An unnameable feeling welled up from deep inside of me and stole the breath in my lungs.

“Ewald’s going tonight or tomorrow, isn’t he?” Elema asked after a moment. “I’ll watch supper if you take her over to speak with him now.”

“Of course,” Ben said. “Let me get my cloak and we’ll go.”

I gave Elema a grateful smile, and she squeezed my arm reassuringly.

“I never thought—” I searched for the right words. “I don’t know if there’s any way that I can thank you for what you’ve done.”

“You know how these things come around,” Elema said. “All good favors are returned in the end.”

“Ready, Sydelle?” Ben asked as he fastened his cloak around his neck. “The markets are busy this time of day, so stay by my side.”

The markets were far more crowded than they had been earlier. I trailed behind Ben as we fought our way down the street. He drew me forward, passing out apologies to those we brushed by. As we approached the end of the street, the simple silk shirts and dresses of the Austerans gave way to the deep crimson of soldiers’ uniforms. They marched down the street, knocking on doors and stopping every other person to question them.

Ben kept his face impassive and the line of his lips hard. If he suspected I was behind the sudden flow of soldiers into the town, he never suggested it.

“Are we—?” I began, but no sooner had the words left my lips than I was pulled back.

“A good attempt,” said a familiar voice behind me. “But how could you be so cruel as to leave your people, my Great Lady?”

Dorwan’s pale face was ghostly against the sea of blood-red uniforms. He stepped forward, throwing back my hood. The noise in the market died away.

Ben’s face disappeared as the ring of crimson soldiers closed in around me, a shield against the sudden outcry of prayer and song. Hands reached out to touch my face, my hair, my arms.

No
, I thought, squeezing my eyes,
no
…

“It’s a beautiful thing, is it not?” Dorwan said, close to my ear. “To be worshipped and feared?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I
was returned to the same room as before. The old woman was there waiting for me, kneeling beside my empty bed. She formally introduced herself to me as Beatrice Hostenham, my humble and obedient servant, and I instantly regretted taking her cloak.

“I’m sorry for the way you’ve been handled, my Great Lady. I begged the king to awaken you, but he refused for so long—oh, please, please spare us.”

I stared at her helplessly. “I would never harm you.”

“When you left, we all feared it was because you were displeased,” she said. “But I knew you would never abandon us, not ever.”

I said nothing as she gently guided me behind the room’s dressing screen. Her dark hair was marred by thick strands of gray, pulled back into a tidy bun. She was wearing a red dress, embroidered with golden snakes.

“There’s to be a formal welcoming ceremony for you,” she said, tugging my gown over my head. “Don’t worry, my Great Lady; only our kind may enter the great hall. We did not mean to offend you with the presence of an Astraean, but the wizard was part of the legend of your retrieval.”

“Yes,” I said, seizing the chance. “Please keep him away from me.”

“As you wish, so it will be,” Beatrice said. She took the discarded clothes away, leaving me shivering and huddled behind the screen. A moment later she returned with a pile of folded silk robes. She unfolded a heavy gown. This one was the same shade of red as her own dress, crimson as blood, with the same golden snakes lining the hems. It was a beautiful piece of work, but I wanted nothing more than to rip it off my shoulders and throw it into the fire.

“I’ll do your hair now, my Great Lady,” she said, taking my arm.

“Please stop calling me that,” I said, distressed. “Just call me Sydelle.”

“As you wish, Great Lady Sydelle,” Beatrice said, placing the chair in the middle of the room. “Please sit; I have much work to do.”

Beatrice began by wetting my hair. I started to tell her what a terrible idea it was even to attempt to restrain it, but she actually began to hum over my protests. I lost track of the time I sat there, suffering silently, as the old woman pulled all the curls and kinks from my hair, leaving it perfectly smooth.
I brought my hand up to touch it, wondering what sort of miracle she had performed.

“You have beautiful hair,” Beatrice said. “No one in Auster shares your color. The Book spoke of many signs, including your hair. ‘Tresses the shade of my fiery spite,’ it said.”

I wanted to scream.

She twisted half of it up, pinning it in place with little golden clasps and flowers. The rest was left down, much longer than I remembered it being. Beatrice finished by sliding a golden diadem through my hair, allowing the long red veil attached to it to flow down the length of my back to the floor below.

There was a looking glass beside my bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to look.

“It really is you,” Beatrice said. “My Great Lady, thank you. You have given me the highest honor in allowing me to care for you.”

“No,” I said. “Please, don’t thank me.”

She bowed in front of me again and held out her arm. “The king has asked this humble and obedient servant to accompany you to the great hall.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I was no goddess, but for my life, and for all the lives I had left behind in Palmarta, I could at least pretend to be. And maybe…maybe there was a way I could twist the impossible situation to my advantage. Dorwan thought himself exceptionally clever, but he had neglected to include my will in his plan.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered.

“You will be celebrated and loved,” Beatrice said, not realizing I hadn’t been speaking to her at all.

Beatrice brought me past the servants and commoners who lined the pathways to the great hall. I was led through pristine corridors, every stone evenly spaced, the marble floors shining with the light of the sun. Outside, the mountains surrounding the palace rose for miles on end, the blue of the Serpentine Channel blocked by their massive shapes. The final bridge on the palace grounds had been built seemingly between two mountains; it reached high into the air, toward the heavens. For a moment, I thought the bridge was carrying us over the clouds.

The hall itself was filled with light, striking and new compared to the dark halls of the palace at Provincia. The men and women were silent, kneeling as I passed them. I refused to be afraid, not when I knew the consequences of my uncontrolled emotions. If I could stay calm, I could get through this. The night before, I had dreamed of destroying the palace and every city in Auster in a fit of rage, but now, after seeing the faces of the kingdom, the idea left me horrified.

The doors to the great hall opened, illuminating the streamers of red and gold falling from the ceiling. An array
of foreign flags was interspersed between the banners, each bearing the symbol of the snake.

Beneath them, hovering anxiously at the edges of a long crimson carpet, were even more Austerans. They fell into a hushed reverence when Beatrice and I stepped through the door. Even the king and queen stood, making their way toward me down the long aisle. Beatrice backed away, releasing my arm.

“No!” I whispered, reaching for her. She merely shook her head, giving me a small smile.

“My Great Lady,” the king said, kneeling in front of me with his queen. “Your servants welcome you.” He dwarfed his wife, though in my hazy half-waking dream I had believed him to be much larger. The queen was fair-skinned, but wore her crown atop a cluster of night-black curls.

“Has Beatrice treated you well, my Great Lady?” the king asked, rising. “We had hoped to spare your wrath in allowing you to rest.”

“She has been a great help,” I said, forcing the quiver out of my voice. As we approached the thrones, an elderly man in golden robes stepped out from the crowd and walked behind us. The scepter in his hands glinted with the light streaming in through the enormous windows.

The king and queen left me standing as they reclaimed their thrones. Five men stood behind them, and as I passed, each slid a gold medallion over my head. I glanced down, reading the names and crests of the countries engraved deeply in
them—Auster, Saldorra, Ruttgard, Bellun, Libanbourg—all of the Salvalite nations in the world. The old man, obviously a priest of some kind, bowed deeply before unrolling a long scroll at my feet.

“The alliance has been assembled,” the king said. “We have been brought together to further your cause, through sword and strife, blood and battle. All we ask for is your blessing.”

“All of you?” I asked faintly, looking down at the scroll, a map of the continent. I had seen a near-exact copy of it in North’s messy scrawl as he presented the information to his mother, only Palmarta did not exist on this map. The borders of Palmarta had disappeared, as if the small country had been swallowed whole. I took in every line with a sharp sense of dread, but an even sharper eye.

“Your blessings?” the king asked again.

“How can I give you my blessings,” I began, steadying my voice, “when I do not approve of this war at all?”

The representatives of the other nations crowded in, their voices leaping forth in protest. The king held up a silencing hand, his face red as he turned to the priest.

“The scriptures said we would have to bring her into the world slowly,” the old man said. “She knows not what she says.”

I recognized my mistake immediately. Losing the king’s trust and faith would also mean losing my life.

The king gave a curt nod. “Continue with the ceremony, then.”

When the priest spoke, it was in a language I had never heard before, a tongue that sounded like the groaning of an old wagon. His words were deep and lyrical, thundering through the great hall. The spectators, as well as the king and queen, responded in turn. I strained my ears, trying to catch a familiar word.

The priest turned back toward me expectantly, touching his scepter to my forehead. The king lit a small stick of incense that burned with the smell of jasmine and sandalwood and held it out to me. I opened my hand to take it from him, but his other hand closed over mine. The priest began his strange speech again, waving his scepter above our heads twice. I would have dropped my hand from the king’s sweaty grip had the priest not suddenly wrapped our joined hands together with a long, golden string. Suddenly the priest stopped speaking. All those in the hall turned their eyes toward me, the priest leaning forward as if to say it was my turn.

I nodded slowly, biting my tongue. That seemed to satisfy the two men, who broke out into smiles that turned my insides to stone. What exactly had I just agreed to?

I maintained my composure through the rest of the strange ceremony; they seemed to find it appropriate that the vessel of their goddess was reserved in both her words and outward affection. When the cord unwrapped itself from our hands like a snake, I snatched my hand away, withdrawing it into my cool, dry robes.

Men and women were allowed to approach us then,
stooping to place small gifts at our feet. At least, I assumed they were gifts until the king turned and spoke to me.

He waved his arm over the piles of fruit, weapons, and tools that surrounded us. “These are the requirements for your miracle, my Great Lady,” the king said. “The Book mentioned the weapon you would construct for us from these parts. Everything is here.”

I stared helplessly at the floor, feeling the pull of panic. There had to be a way I could play this.

“I claim no such power,” I said. “You have misread the Book.”

“My Great Lady,” the priest said, his eyes narrowed slightly, “I assure you that we have interpreted the Book correctly. Please bless us with your power.” I heard the crowd murmur.