The Shadow Weaver

Prologue

THE KNIGHT

The night the messenger came to my door, there was a frost moon. The king had sent a written command that I was to prepare for a long journey and present myself in the royal chambers immediately.

The deep-blue orb set high in the sky made me uneasy. A second full moon in one calendar month was rare, and according to legend, its appearance foretold impending misfortune.

‘Do you know what this is about, Iain?’ Fergus asked as we left our warm beds and hurried towards the castle together.

Like me, Fergus had dressed in light armour and travelling leathers. His fingers fumbled as he attached a red cape to his spaulders with polished silver clips.

‘I have no idea.’ Without stopping, I tried to adjust the new surcoat I was assigned two days ago. It was ill-fitting and uncomfortable, and I suspected it once belonged to a shorter, slim-built man.

The gold stitching on our matching capes and surcoats branded us as knights. I ran my fingers over the emblem on my chest with pride. The royal insignia was a fist holding a sword inside a handstitched triangle, and surrounding it was a half-risen sun, a lightning bolt and a tree.

My stomach twisted and churned with my supper at our late-night summons.

We rushed down empty castle hallways as quietly as our boots allowed us until we reached two stony-faced guards outside the king’s chambers.

Fergus and I tried to catch our breath while the guards read the king’s message, confirming he had summoned us.

Remaining emotionless, they opened the double doors to a lavish foyer.

The king’s restless footsteps echoed through the room, resonating off the pristine stone floor.

The iron chandeliers, gilded furniture and intricate tapestries enhanced the room’s grandeur – but the king still commanded attention.

His height surpassed most men, and his brawny build only added to his imposing presence.

Before becoming the previous king’s son-in-law and inheriting the throne, he had commanded the army with an iron fist.

Fergus stood at attention by my side as we waited for the king to acknowledge our presence.

The king repeatedly flexed his hands as he paced around the room, occasionally glaring at the opulent black doors across the grand foyer. He halted his pacing and faced us from across the room. I bowed my head, as did Fergus.

‘Your Majesty,’ we murmured in unison.

‘I have an important task,’ the king said as he strode towards us. His movements were jerky, and the agitation in his voice put me on edge. ‘You will undertake this task in complete secrecy. Understood?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ we said, again in unison.

‘I have chosen you both for this assignment because you have no family to question why you left and did not return to Capita. I will reward you for your troubles, enough to start a new life anywhere else. You are not to reveal where you are going or why. Neither of you will ever set foot in this city after tonight.’ The king’s words hit me like physical blows.

We cannot return? I felt beads of sweat gathering on my brow.

Next to me, Fergus shuffled from foot to foot. There was a woman in the castle kitchens he had been courting for months. Would he leave her behind with no word of why?

The king detected Fergus’s distress and fixed his narrowing gaze on the young knight. ‘Remember the oath you swore to me when you became a knight? To give your sword, your life and your undying loyalty to me?’ His demeanor shifted from agitated to menacing as he towered over Fergus.

Fergus nodded vigorously. The eyes of the king bore into the knight’s bowed head, and when he seemed pacified by Fergus’s submission, he continued speaking.

‘The queen had a long, arduous labor and has given birth to twins.’ He spat out the words as if insulted.

‘Both infants are unwell.’ The king circled us with his hands tightly clasped behind his back.

‘They are an abomination. It would upset the queen for others to know of her failure, and it would reflect poorly on our union. They must be quietly disposed of far away from here.’

The king came to stand in front of us once more. My heart hammered against my ribcage as I attempted to appear unaffected before him.

‘You will each take a babe and leave immediately. Neither of you can return to Capita,’ he reminded us.

‘You also will not reveal to anyone you served Capita. For this, you will both be generously compensated. Fifty gold coins to use as you wish.’ The king gestured at a gilded three-legged table where two sizeable coin purses waited to be collected.

It was more than a knight could earn in several lifetimes.

‘The queen’s chamber is through there.’ He gestured towards the ornate black doors with a jerk of his chin.

I had always yearned to be a knight. At eighteen, I had defied my father, a small-town blacksmith, to become one.

He had raised me to be a blacksmith, too, but I had left him and my mother to join the king’s guard, determined that I would become a knight one day.

Now, only a few days after achieving that dream, it was being torn from me by the king himself.

I knew why we received knighthoods so quickly. We were disposable.

What disturbed me most was the queen had only given birth tonight – the king couldn’t have known that the infants were unwell until today. He had chosen us as their assassins before they were even born.

An infant’s cry from the queen’s chamber interrupted my inner turmoil. The king stilled, and the vein at his temple pulsed angrily.

‘Do as I ask, immediately,’ he ordered before storming out the doors we had arrived through only minutes before.

Fergus’s face went slack with disbelief. We looked at the black chamber doors, fearful of what we would find behind them. We could not linger here and keep our lives.

With decisive movements, I grabbed a purse from the table and tied it to my belt. Slower and less sure, Fergus did the same.

‘Iain?’ Fergus looked at me, distressed.

‘You want to live? You do as the king ordered.’ It was callous, but I was in no mood to give comfort.

We entered the queen’s chamber. A grand bed was the centre-piece, framed with emerald silk drapes, but it was the loveliness of the young woman sitting upon it that left me breathless.

She was wearing a delicate lace robe. Long golden hair flowed over her shoulders, and she held a tiny bundle in each arm.

Her face was pale, but her cheeks and the tip of her nose were rosy as though she had been outside on a winter’s day.

I had seen the queen in the finest of gowns – her neck and wrists draped in jewels – but here, like this, unadorned and happy, she was her most beautiful self.

The queen raised vivid green eyes at our entrance, and I watched as her happiness descended into fear. Like a stone, guilt sat heavily in my gut.

Her lady-in-waiting moved to stand in front of the young queen as if she could stop what was about to happen.

Fergus, not willing to sacrifice his own life, moved towards the bed first. He shoved the lady-in-waiting aside and reached for an infant.

To my surprise, as tears rolled down the queen’s cheeks, she gently gave Fergus her child, then laid her elegant hand on his forearm. Her lips moved silently, and Fergus’s eyes glazed over.

I had overheard a rumour from a table of drunken knights that the queen was one of the Cursed. I had never believed it could be true – she was so greatly loved and respected.

An icy shudder surged through me, and I recoiled at the strange tingle at the base of my neck.

I no longer doubted that the golden-haired queen was Cursed.

Her power occupied the air around us, and I could taste it with every breath; a dance of melancholy and sweetness that lingered on my tastebuds.

Fergus straightened with the wrapped infant in his arms, turning slowly as if in a trance. He passed me without a care in the world.

Approaching the ornate bed cautiously, I kept my eye on the Cursed queen, who was still holding one tiny bundle.

‘I won’t hurt your child,’ I promised her.

‘Would you like me to find the babe a safe home?’ The sound of my heart was loud in my ears.

Could she hear my fear too? I waited for her to speak while keeping out of her reach.

My knowledge of the Cursed was minimal, but from what happened to Fergus, it seemed she needed to touch a person’s flesh for it to work.

‘What is your name?’ she asked, her voice sweet and steady over the sound of my racing heart.

‘Iain De Gellar, Your Majesty.’ I bowed my head to her.

‘You promise no harm will befall my daughter?’ Her green eyes glistened.

‘I swear it.’

‘Then come and take my sweet little girl.’ She kissed the sleeping babe’s head and held the bundle out to me.

I hesitated, glancing at the lady-in-waiting, who quickly stepped towards her mistress. She halted when the queen gave her a stern look.

With uneven steps, I moved forwards and took the warm little bundle from the queen’s outstretched arms. I could not bring myself to look down at what I held. Instead, I looked deep into the hypnotic green orbs that seemed to float before me, and the air between us turned bittersweet once more.

‘Iain De Gellar?’ The Cursed queen’s lips did not move, but I heard her speak my name.

‘Yes?’ My voice sounded odd and distant to my ears, as if it were not me who had spoken the word.

There was a strange tingle at the base of my neck again. I trembled as I tried to fight the icy fingers running down my spine, but I knew my fate had been sealed the moment the blue frost moon cast its light upon me.

?