Chapter 16 Dimas
SIXTEEN
DIMAS
His Fateweaver was close.
Dimas couldn’t sense her in the way he was supposed to, but now that she was nearby, he could feel the hum of her magic in the air, like a storm brewing on the horizon. It was a power he should have been drawn to, but as Dimas watched the tree line, all he felt was dread.
It was … strange. His father had never really spoken about the bond he shared with Lady Sefwyn, but Brother Dunstan’s teachings had always described it as something divine, something beyond human connection that only an Ehmar emperor and his Fateweaver could feel.
As a boy, when he’d been alone and frightened of the shadows in his mind, he’d imagined what it would be like to have someone to confide in.
Someone who would stand by him no matter what.
He wasn’t foolish enough to think Lenora would be that for him.
He’d given up on the fantasy of the connection his ancestors had with their own Fateweavers on the night he’d failed to receive his promised vision, and any hope he’d held on to had disappeared completely the first time Lenora had looked at him with fear and hatred in her gaze.
No, he and Lenora would never be friends.
But perhaps they could be allies.
He stood beside the old watchtower they’d chosen as their camp, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.
Ioseph had insisted he wait inside until Finaen returned with the Fateweaver, but Dimas had refused.
He wanted to be there when Lenora arrived.
To show her that despite his trickery in getting her to meet with him, he was not her enemy, but her equal.
His gaze drifted toward the door of the watchtower.
Maia AEspen sat inside, unbound but guarded by Milos.
The young girl had said nothing since Finaen had agreed to use her as bait, instead choosing to silently glare at anyone who came near her.
He needed Lenora to hear him out, and this was the only way he could ensure she would.
Maia had simply turned her back on him, and Dimas hadn’t been able to get rid of the heavy feeling in his stomach since.
Something pulled Dimas’s attention toward the horizon, where two figures were walking steadily toward the watchtower.
He felt a flood of power as his Fateweaver drew closer.
From this distance, he couldn’t quite make out the features of her face or the details of her clothing, but he could sense her quiet anger, simmering like a fire waiting to engulf anything that came into its path.
Shadows flickered at the edges of his vision. He sucked in a deep breath, hands clenching into tight fists at his side. He couldn’t afford to fall apart now. If Lenora saw how weak he truly was, how unworthy of his title, he’d never convince her to take up her role at his side.
It didn’t take long for Finaen and Lenora to reach the tower. This close, the hum of her power was almost unbearable. She came to a stop a few feet away from him, her gaze finding him fiddling with the sleeves of his coat.
A rush of emotions hit Dimas like a storm. Anger. Anxiety. Fear. The force of them made him want to look away. To cower from the sheer intensity of the woman standing before him.
But he was to be emperor, and emperors did not cower.
“Hello, Lenora.”
The Fateweaver’s expression darkened. “Where’s Maia?”
“She’s safe. You have my word.”
“I want to see her.”
When Dimas paused, Lenora lifted her chin, the hum of her power vibrating through his bones.
Before, he’d only felt slivers of her magic through the connection they shared, its strength weak whilst the bond between Lady Sefwyn and his father was still in transference.
But standing before him now, her magic was so raw, so primal, that it set Dimas’s teeth on edge.
This was the uncontrolled power his father had warned him of.
The kind of power that, if left unchecked, could bring Wyrecia to its knees.
He needed to get Lenora on his side. Now.
“Ioseph.” It was all he needed to say for the guard to retreat into the watchtower.
Ioseph returned a few moments later with Maia at his side, her green eyes blazing with pure defiance. That defiance softened when she saw Lenora, and Dimas imagined it was only Ioseph’s presence at her side that stopped the young girl from running into her friend’s arms.
“I was never going to hurt her,” Dimas said, voice low. “I needed to get you to meet with me, and this … this was the only way to ensure you would. I didn’t want to resort to such drastic measures, but we’re running out of time.”
Lenora’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Dimas paused, considering what to tell her.
In the end, he decided to go with the truth.
“Your power is … unpredictable. Most successors to the Fateweavers’ magic undergo years of training before receiving their abilities, but you have had none.
The bond between us offers you some protection, and once the Rite of Ascension is complete, that protection will grow, but if you don’t learn to control your power, it will consume you until there is nothing left. ”
He left out the part about the Haesta. There was no point bringing up that particular piece of information until he knew more about their motivations.
Lenora’s jaw tightened, the first sign his words were making an impact. Hope flared to life in Dimas’s chest. I’ve almost got her.
“There’s still time,” he said, taking a cautious step toward her. “Come with me to the imperial palace, and I’ll ensure you receive the training you need.”
His Fateweaver hesitated, her hands clenching into fists at her side as something unreadable passed over her features. “If I come with you, my friends will be safe?”
“Oh, we’ll be safe,” Maia interjected, “my brother made sure of that.”
The Fateweaver stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“He made a deal,” Maia said before Finaen could answer, her lip curling. “He agreed to help the prince find you in exchange for a position in the royal guard.”
The look that crossed Lena’s face made Dimas’s heart ache. “Is that true?” she asked, her voice deadly quiet as she turned to look at Finaen.
Finaen winced but held his chin high. “I did it to protect you.”
“How could you—”
“Enough!” Dimas held up his hand, cutting off whatever Lenora had been about to say. His Fateweaver was on the edge of losing control already; if she fell now, there would be no chance of getting her back.
Lenora turned her furious glare on him, her usually stormy-gray eyes flashing an unearthly silver.
“We’re wasting time,” he said, softening his voice. Ice-cold fear pooled in his stomach. “Your power is already unstable. You feel it, don’t you?”
For a moment, he thought she was going to deny it. To fall off the edge and into oblivion right there before them all. But then the silver in her eyes faded, and she gave a single, cautious nod.
“Yes.”
He let out a breath. “I can help you. I promise I can. All I ask in return is that you take your place as my Fateweaver.” He took a hesitant step toward her, afraid one sudden movement would shatter the fragile truce he was starting to build. “Do you accept?”
For a moment, Dimas thought she was going to refuse him. The hum of power around her surged, and for the first time, Dimas could see the threads surrounding her, surrounding them, a tapestry of the world’s past, present, and future before his very eyes.
They blazed to life as Lena lifted her head, as she stared into Dimas’s eyes and said the words that would change their fate.
“I do.”