Page 45 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)

Forty-Four

ALMOST INSTANTANEOUSLY, A SERIES OF spectral slicing sounds, like blades carving into stone, echoed around the room.

“Hazan,” Alizeh breathed. “Hazan, look—”

Letters were being hewn slowly into the walls all around them, and in scattered order, like some kind of puzzle. Her friends guessed at the unfinished words as they appeared, as if they might make more sense out loud.

“Threats?”

“Bonds?”

“Salt?”

“Spirit?”

“Womenkind?”

“No, it’s woven kind —”

“I believe it’s spelling woven kingdom —”

“Oh, it’s the prophecy!” said Huda on a gasp.

“But it’s more than that,” said Kamran. “There are new parts to it now—”

Alizeh had only just begun to decipher these words when she heard Hazan call for her.

She spun toward him. “Yes?”

“I only feel you should know,” he said solemnly, “that I think Cyrus is right. About you being born a Diviner.”

“I do, too,” affirmed Huda.

“And me,” said Omid.

Alizeh was shaking her head. “But I might’ve known if such a thing were true. My parents would’ve told me—”

“Your parents told you that you would one day wield an ancient, powerful magic the likes of which the world has never seen. What is that, if not a Diviner?”

“Exactly!” Huda cried. “I knew it, I knew it —”

“I knew it, too,” said Omid.

Deen leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I think we all surmised as much when the Diviners bowed to her at the temple.”

“I didn’t,” said Kamran, who appeared unnerved. “I had no idea—”

“They bowed to you?” Cyrus asked sharply.

“The three of us saw it,” said Omid eagerly, pointing at himself, then Huda and Deen. “The Diviners gathered around her at the temple and didn’t say anything, they only”—he mimed crossing his arms against his chest, then bending at the waist—“and then they just— poof —disappeared.”

Cyrus took a step back, he was so stunned. “Is this true?” he asked Alizeh.

She didn’t know why she felt afraid to admit something so simple, but she experienced a slight tremble of warning when she whispered, “Yes.”

And then, impossibly—

Cyrus laughed .

The sound left his body in a gust of delight, and he pushed his hands through his hair as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

His enormous, unbridled smile was a cruel shock to her system, for it shattered the armor he wore, rendering him glorious in the aftermath.

He appeared at once younger and lighter having set down his shields; and his shining eyes and soft expression were so unaffected that she could see how he might’ve laughed all the time in another life.

Alizeh was mesmerized by this discovery.

She’d never seen him experience a moment of true happiness, and the longer he smiled, the harder her heart broke.

Always, she seemed to be the only one thusly affected.

“It’s not funny,” Huda snapped at him. “Why are you laughing?”

“Are any of us surprised to discover he has a strange sense of humor?” said Kamran.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” said Cyrus, frowning as his smile dimmed, then died out altogether. “I think it’s amazing.”

When he turned to face her, his impassive mask had settled firmly back into place.

She hated it.

“The devil must’ve known it the day you were born,” said Cyrus.

“He realized he could communicate with you because you were naturally attuned to the unseen, already living in balance with the many frequencies of the unknown world. You do it so effortlessly that you’re unaware you’re even doing it.

You cannot know that your experience is unique because you’ve never known another way—”

“Is it really possible?” said Kamran. “Can a person be born magical?”

“I don’t know,” said Alizeh quickly. “And I’m not sure that—”

“You were chosen by the earth to rule a kingdom,” Hazan said to her. “You were physically marked by magic—by the ice that runs through your veins and changes your eyes. You’ve been magical since birth, Your Majesty. It’s the only theory that makes sense.”

At the dubious look on her face, he said, “Have you forgotten that your mother once fished you out of the fireplace as a baby?”

“Is that true?” Omid asked, amazed.

“How many people do you know who are born impervious to fire?” Hazan insisted.

“Or have a natural healing ability,” added Deen.

“You have a natural healing ability?” asked Cyrus, rocking backward.

“I— Well—”

“Yes,” answered Hazan, “and it’s only gotten stronger—”

“But—”

“And didn’t you say that you’ve felt different since arriving at the mountains?” Kamran asked. “That you thought you could feel your magic?”

“I did— I mean, I do, but—”

“We mustn’t forget the fact that her blood runs clear!” Huda chimed in. “Or at least, used to run clear—”

“But I don’t know where any of that comes from,” said Alizeh in a rush, forcing herself to admit aloud the part that scared her. “I don’t know why it happens. I’ve never so much as touched a live crystal. I’ve never conjured anything, never mined magic from the earth—”

“You don’t need to,” said Cyrus.

Heads swiveled in his direction.

“What?” said Alizeh. “What do you mean?”

“I, too, have been trying to fathom where your power comes from, and only now do I think I finally understand.” He hesitated.

“You don’t need to summon your magic from crystals as other Diviners must. It’s true that your power comes from these mountains,” he said, touching a hand to the rumbling wall, where letters were still being carved into the stone.

“But your connection is so organic you need not mine the mineral, lugging large clusters of rock across the map like the rest of us. You need not tear apart the land to receive what’s yours. ”

“I don’t?”

“She doesn’t?” added Omid.

“Alizeh,” said Cyrus, his expression softening. “I suspect you need only call upon magic with intention, and the power will come to you. I believe you have a direct line into the earth.”

This rendered her speechless.

“If all of that is true,” said Deen, “then why must she come to the mountains now? Why undertake this arduous journey?”

“I speak of minor magic,” said Cyrus. “The kind accessible by all Diviners. But this—” He looked around at the changing walls, words forging themselves to life one at a time. “This is a major magic. There’s a specific, ancient strain she’s meant to access here—”

“And we have no way of knowing what kind of power it is?” asked Kamran.

“No,” said Hazan. “No one knows—”

“It’s finished!” Huda cried abruptly. “The poem is finished!”

The cave gave a final rumble, then settled with a groan, exhaling dust. In tacit agreement their group turned about the room, taking it in, briefly struck into silence.

“Miss,” said Omid quietly, “will you read it aloud? I can’t read Ardanz very well.”

“Of course,” said Huda. “If that’s all right with the queen?”

“More than all right,” said Alizeh. “Go on.”

With the flair of an orator, Huda commenced her dramatic reading. “‘Melt the ice in salt,’” she intoned. “‘Braid the thrones at sea. In this woven kingdom, clay and fire shall—’”

“But I already know that part,” Omid complained.

She shot him a stern look, then continued:

“‘Beyond this barren cave, infinite threads are found. All this twisted glory, in braids and binds abound. Innocents torn asunder, kingdoms born of hate. High time to knit together, with every spiral of fate.’”

She finished with a flourish, and Omid cheered. Huda took a small bow. Deen laughed; Kamran frowned. Hazan and Cyrus looked solemn. Alizeh couldn’t help but smile.

And then, just like magic—

The cave around them vanished.