Chapter 17 Lena #2
Dimas and Ioseph exchanged a silent glance, and then Ioseph was leading them through a small side door in one of the towers.
Someone had lit an iron sconce at the bottom of a set of spiraling stone stairs, but otherwise, the space was gray and cold, a far stretch from the beautiful courtyard just a few feet away.
There was nothing of the decorative palace here.
No silver paint or beautiful flowers. It was a place meant for moving through the shadows unseen, and as they ascended, the stone seemed to whisper their breaths back to them.
The hairs on the back of Lena’s neck prickled the same way they did whenever she was alone in the woods. As if someone, something, was watching her. At least in the forest, she had the trees for cover. Here, there was nowhere to hide.
“Are you alright?” Finaen whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“Do you care?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Every time she thought about what Finaen had done, the threads of everyone around her would flare into existence, and the Fateweaver’s power would rise up in response. It was exhausting, and Lena wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep fighting it.
“Of course I care.” Finaen’s voice was strained. “Lena, I only did what I thought—”
“AEspen,” Dimas interrupted, “this isn’t the time.”
They’d come to a small break in the stairway, where Ioseph stood beside a wooden door half hidden in shadow.
Dimas grabbed one of the lit sconces from the wall.
The light from the flames illuminated his too-pale eyes, bringing a hint of color to his almost translucent skin.
He was so … delicate. So not at all what she’d imagined the son of one of the most brutal emperors in Wyrecia’s history to look like.
But just like the bright flowers in the palace courtyard, Dimas’s delicacy was nothing more than decoration, and Lena would be a fool to think otherwise.
Sweet chamomile blanketed Lena as Dimas opened the door. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness of the hallway beyond; tapestries woven with shades of silvers and blues hung from the stone walls, each one depicting a scene from one of the few old tales still legal in the empire.
The tale of the first Fateweaver.
They told the story in the same way the empire always had. A girl chosen by the Zvaerna, a peaceful smile on her face as the eldest Sister of Fate, Naebya, blessed her with a great power. The same rage that had filled Lena during her dream at the smuggler’s home rose at the sight of them.
She forced herself not to look at the tapestries as Dimas led them down the hallway, his threads a constant, flickering glimmer in the air. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought him almost as anxious as she was.
After a few more silent moments of walking, of passing locked doors that Lena longed to peer behind, they rounded a corner into a separate corridor. A thick, navy carpet ran the length of the floor, its edges embroidered with shimmering silver thread.
There was only a single door here. Its wood had been painted the same midnight blue as the rug, and in the center was the symbol that now marked Lena’s wrist.
“These are the Fateweaver’s quarters,” Dimas said, as if the symbol hadn’t given it away. “You’re free to rest for the evening. I’ll send someone to attend to you.”
No. If Lena was going to have any chance at finding the hidden chamber Venysa had mentioned, she needed to be alone. She feigned a yawn, letting down the wall she’d been trying to keep up between the bond and her emotions long enough for the prince to feel her exhaustion.
“I’ll be fine on my own. I just want to get some sleep.”
Dimas paused, threads dancing. “I understand. However, I insist that you at least bathe before retiring for the evening. It’s been a long journey.”
Unable to come up with a reasonable excuse to deny him, and deciding she’d make less of a mess rummaging through her chambers without mud caking her skin, Lena relented. “Fine.”
“Of course. Ioseph will remain outside should you require anything. Finaen, Maia, come with me.”
“Where are you taking them?”
Either Lena’s fear was clearly written on her face or the prince had felt it through their bond, because he said, “There’s no need to be afraid.
” The too-charming smile he gave was no doubt meant to reassure her, but instead it just made her want to punch him in the face.
“I’ll show Finaen to the barracks and take Maia to the royal healer, as I promised.
They’ll be safe.” Before any of them could argue, the prince bowed low at the waist in a show of respect that caught her off guard. “Good night, Lady Lenora.”
The title made Lena’s stomach churn. Dimas waited a moment longer, as if hoping for a response. When she gave none, he simply rose to his full height and turned away from her, his cloak billowing behind him in an unseen wind.
Maia gave her a small, reassuring smile before trailing after the prince. Finaen followed after him a heartbeat later, and as he disappeared into the shadows once more, Lena had the sudden urge to call out to him. To ask him to stay.
His steps faltered, as if he, too, was hoping she would.
Lena held back the words. It was her feelings for Finaen that had allowed him to so easily manipulate her. She would not give in to them again.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
Without another word, Lena turned her back on Finaen and entered the Fateweaver’s chambers.