Chapter 29
Revna
S?ren was the first to speak. “You’re lying.”
The queen laughed. “No. Haven’t you noticed there’s more than blood to Revna’s Lurae? She can sense heartbeats, stanch bleeding—and see the threads of souls themselves. Just like you, S?ren. Because her Lurae is life and yours is death.”
My hands shook. I tried to keep my eyes from flicking over to where Frode’s body lay, but it was impossible.
“The story I told of Aloisa is truth,” the queen continued. “Aloisa pulled her friend from the lake, and when she emerged, she had a Lurae. But that isn’t all. Callum had perished, and Aloisa used her abilities to resurrect him.”
If what the queen said was true…
“Why would you want me to resurrect Frode?” I demanded. “What does my brother being alive do for you?”
She put a dainty hand over her heart. “You wound me with your presumptions, Your Highness.” I raised a brow, waiting.
Finally, she sighed. “The idea was a trade-off. I have told you about the ability you possess, and now your brother’s body is here, ready to be revived.
In exchange, I only ask that you first help me raise someone I have lost.”
S?ren stepped back to stand at my side. “You haven’t lost anyone.”
“And how would you know?” she snapped. Her demeanor changed quicker than I thought possible, like she’d been hiding her anger just beneath the surface, where it waited to snap.
“I had a husband once. Someone I would have done anything for. And just because you don’t know about it, I must be lying?
” She tsked with disgust. “I thought you of all people would understand the pain of losing those you love.”
I wrapped a hand around S?ren’s wrist to keep him from lunging. He certainly looked like he might. “So what if we’re Aloisa’s heirs?” I argued. “It doesn’t mean we’re actually capable of resurrecting anyone.”
“You haven’t tried.” She set her mouth in a firm line.
“I ordered one last task before I sign our treaty. Resurrect my husband—prove you’re capable.
Then, and only then, will I agree to peace with your country.
And afterward?” She gestured to Frode’s body.
“Consider what a gift my tutelage will have been. You can resurrect anyone you want.”
Once again, Bhorglid was used as a bargaining chip against me. If it were anything else being offered to me in return, I’d scoff. But…
Frode.
“I had S?ren dig up your brother here as an offering.” The queen didn’t move her eyes off me, gauging my reaction. “Assuming bringing my husband back to life goes smoothly, you could resurrect Frode immediately.”
I thought about Jac, exhausted from pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
Of Volkan, who’d been pestering me to tell the truth since the beginning of my ruse.
Of Freja, who had lost her real father to the man standing next to me—and her adopted father figure, too.
She didn’t even know. Not yet, at least.
I thought of running a country alone when this was all said and done. When S?ren was off on his journey to find Sonja, Volkan was back in Faste, and everyone else was sick of me. Would Astrid stick around to prevent another assassination attempt? No; she would go with Freja.
The crown was heavy on my head. Not for the first time, I wished I could take it off—wished I could leave the expectations and the needs of everyone around me and disappear into the wastes until I was ready to return.
I didn’t have that luxury, though.
I squeezed S?ren’s wrist. Saw a muscle work in his jaw.
He knew what I was going to say, what I was thinking.
I found myself wishing I could communicate mind-to-mind with him.
Reassure him that I wasn’t interested in doing anything else with our combined Lurae abilities.
No hidden fairy-tale villain lived within me—once Frode and the queen’s husband were breathing again, I was content to leave the rest in their graves.
He ran his free hand through his hair and said, “Fine. How do we even go about it?”
The queen beckoned us over to Frode’s body. I approached, staying carefully at the end of the table near his feet. Any closer and I would have to close my eyes or be forced back to the last time I saw him.
S?ren glanced at me, concern written on every one of his features. I knew what he was trying to ask: Are you sure?
I nodded and hoped he understood my silent answer. Yes. I’ve never been more certain.
“The prophecy spoke of threads,” the queen began, her eyes alight with an excitement I’d never seen in her before.
“Each living being is made up of a soul thread. You have been manipulating them. S?ren’s Lurae allows him to cut soul threads and see threads of those who have passed on.
All you have to do is access the amalgamation of threads from those who have passed on, identify the thread of the person you’re resurrecting, and bring it back to this world. ”
“Simple,” S?ren muttered.
“Can you do it or not?” the queen asked coolly. “If not, I can find a new general to help us decimate Bhorglid.”
“When were you married?” S?ren replied, crossing his arms. “You took the throne of Kryllian twenty-six years ago, at the age of eighteen. Were you wed in childhood? There are no records of a king consort during your rule at any point.”
“You don’t believe me.” She pursed her lips. “I kept my husband secret to allow him some semblance of privacy. Surely you understand that.”
“Then how do you know so much about soul threads? The prophecy wasn’t detailed enough to tell you all of this. And I’m a scholar—I’ve studied every book in the Kryllian palace library and have seen nothing describing this kind of magic so thoroughly.”
The queen wore a pitying expression. “Oh, S?ren. Of course you’ve read all of the available manuscripts. But I would never be foolish enough to allow you unfettered access to everything. I’ve removed volumes many times over the years.”
S?ren opened his mouth to argue, but I laid a hand on his bicep.
The deeper we dove into the semantics of it all, the more I worried the queen would change her mind at any given moment.
I understood his endless questions—I had my own.
But my heart pounded with the surety that the longer we waited to begin, the further Frode’s life was slipping from my fingers.
“Maybe we figure out if resurrection is even possible before we get caught up in the details. There’s a chance this doesn’t work at all. ”
The queen narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything. S?ren nodded, his wariness easy to see. “Step away,” he said. “We need space to work.”
Anja clenched her jaw but acquiesced. “As you wish. Records of Aloisa’s life speak of all the threads being golden. My husband’s soul, however, is red. That is the one you’ll want to bring with you. I’ll be on the other side of the room.”
Her heels clacked on the floor as she left. S?ren leaned down to whisper in my ear. “The prophecy. Was it about this?”
I took a shuddering breath. “I think so.”
Beware: weaving is a careful art. Those fragile threads care not for unwinding.
We stared at each other for a long moment. This was a crossroads, I knew. But I was also certain of the path I had to take. Regardless of any ominous warnings given generations ago.
S?ren must have seen it in my eyes. He didn’t press any further. Instead, he said, “We need to reach the Tapestry if we have any chance of this working.”
“I know.” I grimaced. “I want to try. Even if it doesn’t work.”
“Do you see any threads? In Frode’s body or anyone else in the room?”
I took a deep breath and focused, pushing away my worry and stress until there was room in my mind for nothing but calm focus. Deep within me, my lullaby began to sound. I opened my eyes.
“I see yours and Anja’s threads, but that’s it,” I said to S?ren. “I’m assuming you don’t see any either? No ghosts nearby?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure how to use my Lurae with yours unless I’m killing someone.” His eyes flickered toward the queen, and despite the circumstances, I suppressed a smile.
“Maybe…” I chewed my lip. “This will sound strange. But your thread has always seemed different than the others to me. I wonder if it’s possible to take part of your soul thread and use it to weave the Tapestry?”
S?ren blinked. “Yours looks different to me, too. It’s worth a shot. You try it on mine first—your Lurae will have less dire consequences if something goes wrong.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but for Frode I would try.
I reached out tentatively with my Lurae, the thread of awareness stretching from me to S?ren.
Instead of tugging it in one direction or the other, I put all my focus toward unraveling it.
I turned it over in my hands, examining it for a separation point.
There. I narrowed my eyes, leaning forward to brush the thread with my fingers. It parted slightly and I exhaled with relief. Just as I’d suspected, it was two threads twisted together. I unwound it, pulling one part over the other again and again until the threads were nearly entirely separate.
S?ren inhaled sharply. “I can see a thread. Connecting us.”
My eyes met his, full of trepidation and wonder. “Just one?”
“Yes.”
“Point to it.”
S?ren obliged me. The thread on my left was visible to him, which must mean…“I think that’s the one we use to access the Tapestry. The other is your soul thread. I’m going to try pulling it to see what happens.”
“Go ahead.”
I tugged carefully, wincing as I prepared for one of S?ren’s bones to crack or for pain to shoot across his face. But instead, the thread fell gently into my hands, pooling there in a puddle of gold. I gaped.
S?ren stepped forward, examining it. “It’s still attached on your end. I think I need to…” His voice trailed off and his face turned concentrated, his hand moving in a slight sweeping motion as he cut it from me.