Page 30 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)

Twenty-Nine

ALIZEH WATCHED, DISTRACTED, AS A moth fluttered desperately around a flickering lamplight.

A roaring fire blazed in the hearth behind her, toasting her limbs nicely as threads of conversation coiled about her head, though Hazan’s voice had begun to siphon off at the edges.

She felt her grip loosening around the Book of Arya, which she held clutched to her chest. They’d been in deep discussions for hours and hours, and she stifled a yawn before lifting her gaze toward a bay of darkened windows, glimpsing the moon.

She didn’t even notice when her eyes closed.

“Your Majesty?” said Hazan. “Are you asleep?”

“No,” she said, her eyes opening on a sharp breath. “Of course not.”

Hazan and Kamran exchanged a look.

The two of them had been assigned the biggest dwelling: the lodgings that might’ve been hers.

Theirs was a delightfully refurbished coach house—with high ceilings and large carriage doors—warmly appointed with thick rugs and cozy furnishings.

There were two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a sitting room braced by a towering fireplace.

As these were the only private accommodations on offer with a large enough seating area, it had been delegated by default as a meeting room—for they had a great deal to meet about.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Kamran was saying, sighing as he looked upon everyone assembled. “Deen still needs a bit more time to recover, in any case—”

The apothecarist shook his head, looking tired but more like himself. “I’m well enough, really. Please don’t pause any aspect of your plans on my account. I can feel the last of the poison leaving my body.”

Alizeh sat up straighter, fighting sleep. “I wish it were that simple, but we can’t leave the outpost at all yet, can we?” she said, glancing at Cyrus for confirmation.

“It’s too soon,” affirmed the king, though he didn’t turn to face her.

He was sitting at a stiff chair by one of the windows, staring into the dark.

“I’d like to be certain we haven’t been followed, and I fear we’ll need to give it a few days, at least. My dragons will be keeping watch, invisible, just beyond the protective enchantments, heading off any threats should they arise.

They’ll let me know when it’s safe for us to attempt an exploratory mission into the mountains. ”

“Excellent,” said Huda, her voice hushed. Omid had dozed against her on the little couch, and she gently drew her hand along the boy’s hair as he slept. “And how do they intend to do that?”

Now, Cyrus did turn. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your dragons,” she said. “How will they let you know when it’s safe?”

“Yes,” said Hazan, shooting him a cryptic look. “Do share with us how your dragons intend to advise you, in exacting detail, when and how we should approach the mountains.”

Everyone stared at Cyrus.

“As I said.” He seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “They’ll let me know.”

Alizeh tilted her head at him. “You mean they’ll send up a signal of some kind?”

Cyrus looked at her. Then looked away.

“You have quite an unusual relationship with your dragons,” said Kamran, his expression thoughtful. “I never knew a royal dragon that took orders so well. They’re usually belligerent, demanding creatures, and the king himself is almost never involved in their care—”

“They’re only belligerent and demanding,” said Cyrus with some heat, “when their needs are overlooked.”

“It is curious,” said Deen, peering more closely at the king, “how you’re able to command a fleet without the traditional tools of a dragon keeper.

You don’t even seem worried that they’ve taken up positions in the mountains, unchained.

What’s to keep them from tiring of the situation and abandoning us? ”

“They won’t abandon us,” said Cyrus.

“Yes, so you say,” Huda pressed, trying not to wake Omid as she spoke. “But how can you be certain? They’re not known for their loyalty. They couldn’t possibly be satisfied—”

“Oh, just tell them,” said Hazan, who’d begun flipping a dagger in his hands. “This is becoming tedious.”

“Tell us what?” Alizeh asked, feeling agitated. “Hazan, why is it that you know more about Cyrus than the rest of us?”

Hazan only raised an eyebrow at the king.

Cyrus sighed. “I can speak with them,” he forced out.

Silence fell.

Alizeh’s breath caught.

The fire popped in the hearth.

“You can speak with them?” said Huda. “With your dragons, you mean?”

“Yes.” Cyrus was looking at the wall.

“You mean you have conversations with them?” Alizeh ventured. “As you might with a person?”

“Yes,” said Cyrus again, softly this time.

“How?” demanded Kamran, who couldn’t hide his astonishment.

“You lot keep forgetting,” said Hazan, “that he spent seventeen years training at the temple.” Hazan finally ceased flipping his dagger only to glance at Cyrus with faint amusement. “He can communicate with creatures the way Diviners can. Silently.”

Huda gasped.

Alizeh stiffened.

“You can mind-speak with dragons ?” Huda said, agog.

“People, too,” said Hazan.

Cyrus turned sharply to Hazan, shooting him a withering look, but Hazan’s smile only strengthened.

It was notable to Alizeh that Hazan seemed to enjoy taunting Cyrus, and more notable that Cyrus almost seemed to allow it.

She’d seen enough of the odd camaraderie between the two men to understand that Hazan trusted Cyrus—at least to some degree—and now it was clear that Cyrus had confided things in Hazan.

That, in fact, they were both hiding things from her.

No—worse—

They were keeping each other’s secrets.

Alizeh felt something then that came dangerously close to jealousy. The heft of it left her breathless.

“That’s incredible,” Deen was saying, dumbfounded. “I’ve never heard of someone outside the priesthood capable of such things. The art of silent communication often takes decades to perfect—and speaking to animals is an entirely different level of complexity.”

“He was one of the youngest students ever to advance so quickly,” said Hazan, who recommenced flipping his blade.

“I was recently informed that Tulan has more magic in its mountains than most empires on earth—and because of its abundant resources, many travel from all over the world to study at its temple. It’s a highly competitive program with a very low acceptance rate.

The fact that Cyrus was even allowed to take preliminary vows at eighteen was a rare honor—”

“How do you know so much about him?” Alizeh demanded, unable to subdue her feelings. “Where did you get this information?”

There was an uncomfortable moment of quiet.

Finally, Hazan planted his dagger into a worn side table with a resonant thwack . He said, “After Cyrus performed the blood oath, I went to see his Diviners.”

“What?” asked Kamran. “Why?”

“I wanted to know whether there was anything to be done to ameliorate the situation.” Hazan glanced up at Cyrus, who was still staring darkly out the window. “While I was there, I took the opportunity to ask them a few questions.”

“I still can’t believe they granted you an audience,” said Cyrus, his irritation audible.

“Well.” Hazan took a deep breath. “As we all know, Diviners are incapable of telling a falsehood. And perhaps you’ve not noticed,” he said to the group, “but even Cyrus, unfinished as he is, often struggles to say anything but the truth. The conversations were”—he paused—“illuminating.”

“And why have you not shared the contents of these conversations with me?” Alizeh said with poorly veiled anger. “Why did you not think I should be privy to the things you learned about the man I would marry?”

Suddenly, Hazan wouldn’t look at her.

“Because, Your Majesty,” he said after a moment. His toned had softened. “You are oathbound to kill him, and your heart is tender.” Now he did look up, locking eyes with her. “I didn’t see the point in humanizing him. I feared it might make you suffer.”

“But—”

“ Enough ,” said Cyrus. “Please. I’d like to move on from this topic.”

Alizeh watched his chest lift unsteadily, his jaw tensing as he shifted in his seat. She felt shaky as she looked upon the king. Her heart was pounding ever harder, her thoughts disturbed.

She wanted to cross the room to him.

She wished she might unlock his chest, push apart the curtains of his ribs, take a closer look at his heart. She feared, with ever-increasing terror, that she might find it forged from something finer than gold.

“Hazan,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, “is this what you meant when you said he was repulsively humble ?”

Hazan did not answer her.

Cyrus would not look at her.

She was going to scream.

“Perhaps we should adjourn for the evening,” said Deen, looking around warily.

“I concur,” said Hazan.

“But wait—” Huda looked abruptly up at Hazan. Omid twitched in slumber, and she lowered her voice. “It’s just occurred to me: if he can talk to animals, maybe you were right. Maybe all the creatures at the palace—”

“Have we not exhausted this subject?” said Kamran, sounding frustrated.

“Why do we waste so much time being astonished by his feats of magic? Seventeen years at the temple is certainly enough to gift anyone a few tricks. The fact that he nearly became a Diviner fails to be impressive when we are constantly reminded that he is condemned by the devil—”

“ I couldn’t agree more ,” said Cyrus sharply.

Another silence fell. The fire continued to crackle.

“Right,” said Kamran after a moment. “Well. I don’t know how I feel about you agreeing with me—”

“Are we done here?” said Cyrus, nearly rising to his feet.

“Haven’t we discussed everything there is to discuss?

We’re at an impasse. The Book of Arya has granted us a vague map with a vague starting place for our search, but there’s little else to pore over, since the object will not offer another clue until the entrance has been found. ”

“That’s true,” said Alizeh. “Each page should unlock successively, as almost a series of puzzles.”

“But the diagram indicates so little,” said Huda. “And the mountains are colossal. Even were we able to narrow our search down to a single peak, I can’t imagine how we might find the entrance quickly. It might take us weeks and weeks.”

“It certainly might,” said Hazan, his mouth setting in a grim line. He glanced out the window, at the moon and the dimly lit cascades in the distance. “I never thought it would be a simple task, but I fear the search is far greater than we realized.”

“It might not be so great,” said Alizeh, whose anger had begun, slowly, to ebb. She looked up at the group. Bit her lip. “Perhaps— That is, I think I might be able to feel it.”

A third silence overcame them, followed by a rush of sound from the hearth as a log collapsed on the grate.

A breath of ash exhaled into the air.

“What do you mean,” said Hazan carefully, “that you might be able to feel it?”

Everyone turned to look at her.

Even Cyrus was staring at her now, and the full force of his attention was so rare and powerful it startled her.

“I don’t know,” she said, searching the embers as she gathered her thoughts. “It’s just that I’ve felt a bit different since we landed here. I’ve been waiting to see whether the feeling will pass, but it’s only gotten stronger—”

“A feeling?” asked Huda. “What kind of feeling?”

“It’s a sort of … uncanny sensation,” she explained with a frown. “Almost a hum, a soft vibration. I feel it mostly in my hands, and at the base of my throat. Sometimes in my chest—”

Huda gasped.

“By the angels,” said Hazan, thunderstruck. “It’s beginning.”

“What’s beginning?” asked Kamran.

“Your magic,” Cyrus breathed, stunned.

Alizeh looked up to find him studying her so intently she heated under his attention, her body awakening as if he’d touched her.

“I’m afraid to believe that might be it,” she said, turning her eyes to the book in her hands. “I want to believe that’s what’s happening. The trouble is”—she looked up—“I once lived here, near enough to these mountains, and I never felt this way.”

“How old were you then?” Cyrus asked.

Alizeh stiffened, for she understood his question at once. “Not yet of age,” she said softly.

“You couldn’t access your magic until you turned eighteen,” said Hazan. “Is that right?”

She nodded. It was for this very reason that her parents had kept her in hiding. They’d been trying to protect her from external threats long enough for her to come of age—

“And you’re nearly nineteen, now, aren’t you, dear?” asked Huda. “Perhaps the connection grows stronger—”

“But this isn’t—it can’t be my promised magic, can it?

” she said, lifting a hand to her throat.

Even now she could feel the tingle of sensation, her pulse racing.

“This—whatever this is—is just a feeling.” She twitched the blanket around her shoulders then, shifting against the fireplace.

“My true magic can only be released to me by trial within the Arya mountains—”

Huda gave a sudden scream, and Omid, who’d been sleeping soundly beside her, woke up flailing. “What happened?” he gasped. “What did I do?”

“Your book,” Huda cried, pointing behind her. “Alizeh, your book—”

Everyone but Deen had jumped to their feet in alarm.

Alizeh spun around.

Flames leaped in the hearth, snapping angrily, and she followed everyone’s eyes to the source of their collective horror.

The Book of Arya had fallen—with a terrible thump—into the fire.