Page 23 of In Death’s Hands (The Threads of Fate #1)

Sighing, I take the last few steps to him and grab the sticks from his hands. I separate them, noticing the frown on Nathan’s face, and rub them together to make them smooth before gently taking his hand to wrap his fingers around the sticks. He jumps slightly at the contact but lets me guide him.

He still seems dubious when I grab my own and dig in to the delicious caramelised pork.

He goes for the rice container—rookie mistake—and struggles to pick up anything.

His scowl grows deeper and deeper until, losing control, I burst out laughing.

He looks up quickly, frustration replaced by surprise and what looks strangely like awe.

Unnerved, I avoid his stare and get up to find a fork, which I quickly hand to him before going back to my own dinner.

He clears his throat. “Thank you.”

I nod, still refusing to look at him. I don’t know what this knot in my stomach is, but I’m sure it’ll go away soon.

We eat quietly, the silence only broken by the scraping sound of our utensils against the cardboard boxes.

It’s not really awkward, but my head is focused on all the things I still don’t know, and I can’t seem to relax.

I’m wondering how to broach the subject again, considering all my previous attempts have been met with evasions, when he starts talking.

“It’s okay for you not to trust me. I haven’t done much to convince you otherwise.

” I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.

“No. Saving you doesn’t count. It can never count,” he adds, looking at me.

“When I found out about all your accidents, I knew something bigger was amiss. I…” He swallows.

“My boss trusts me to get to the bottom of this situation, and I need to figure it out.” The desperation in his voice makes me think that something bigger is in play for him.

Why would he be so desperate to figure out why little old me has been having shit luck her whole life?

“When the Novensiles came after you, I started to wonder if you had anything to do with them and what happened to us. If our… issues could be linked.”

I’m still not following where he’s going with this.

“That’s what I wrote to Thalnus. That’s what Turan delivered.

Not the specifics, but enough to get him to meet us.

We have strained relationships with… almost everyone,” he admits, running a hand through his hair.

“And as Turan pointed out, we need help, and they’re the closest thing to allies we have. ”

He nods at my incredulous expression. He got stabbed, and they are people he considers allies? I wonder what type of relationship he has with the others…

“I had an added motive in choosing to reach out to him. As the head of Blue Depths, Thalnus has a keen understanding of how the Order flows in the human body. I wanted to know if anything was wrong with you, if the Order was still moving through you like it should.”

“What is this Order you keep talking about?”

He shifts on his seat to face me fully. “The Order is what you would call God, I think. The one energy from which everything flows. The Tapestry is akin to your destiny. We all have a predestined path starting well before birth.”

“Even you?” I ask, interrupting him.

“Even me. Even Turan, Thalnus and all the others like us. Our path runs slightly differently from yours, but we still have a purpose that is nearly impossible to deviate from.”

So… not impossible. It seems important, somehow, and I make a mental note of it.

“How is it enforced? Like, if I don’t like my path, and choose to do something else, what will happen to me.”

Something flashes in his eyes but is gone before I can put a name to it. “Well, you wouldn’t know what your path is. You wouldn’t know to deviate from it. For humans, it’s like this unknown force guiding you throughout your life.”

“It’s not the same for you?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. You have the blissfulness of ignorance. We know our path from the start. It’s both a relief and a prison.

To know what you are meant to do but not having the joy to discover it or the freedom to evolve from it can feel stifling at times.

At least, that’s how I feel; not many among my kind feel that way.

“As for the consequences of deviating from your path, there aren’t enforcers the way you’d imagine. There’re no police locking you up, for example. The Fates are the ones weaving the will of the Order.”

My eyes widen and I get up, trying to move some of the tension out of my body.

Maybe him being so secretive is a good thing in the end, because if he dumped everything on my lap, I’m pretty sure I’d pass out.

“The Fates are real? Like in the myths? That’s the Tapestry you’re talking about?

I thought they were the ones deciding the fate of the world. ”

“Despite what Turan said, your myths tend to have seeds of truth in them. Humans are more perceptive, more intuitive, than they think. They just bury it all under a mountain of pain and distractions. The Fates aren’t the ones deciding, although they have some freedom in the weaving process.

The Order makes its many designs known to them, and they weave the Tapestry accordingly. ”

“That seems like a lot of work.”

He laughs. I would too if I could wrap my head around it all.

“It is. And it is not. For each living entity, they weave an energetic cord. I won’t go into too much detail—simply because I don’t know it,” he adds quickly when I start protesting.

“But your legends are right about them being three beings and weaving. However, they are not all women, and they don’t weave a physical tapestry. ”

I sigh, shaking my head.

“What?” he asks with a confused look.

I get up from the kitchen stool and start pacing. “The more you tell me, the more questions I have.”

“Ask them.”

I huff a laugh. “And you will answer them?”

He nods. “As much as I can.” There’s a guarded expression on his face, but it somehow manages to appear genuine and eager.

He’s so confusing I turn to look out at the city streets.

I can still see a few cars driving by down below, friends heckling one another as they enjoy their Thursday night out.

Thursdays are Joana’s date nights, so instead of following her to the newest fashionable spot in town like most evenings, I’d normally be battling my loneliness on a comfy Chesterfield couch at Grapes & Pages, drinking a glass of pinot while losing myself in someone else’s issues.

I may not be lonely now, but I am struggling to grasp everything that happened today.

It’s still vividly replaying over and over in my head, as if looking for a way to be understood, to make sense.

And now, with what Nathan has shared, I feel even more on edge.

There’s a buzzing beneath my skin that has nothing to do with the adrenaline I felt today, and everything to do with the mundane veil of my life tearing apart.

“Who are the Fates then, if they’re not women? ”

“We only remember the barest details about them, but we know that the powerful trio is made up of a female, a male and a being that is both and neither. They are balance, in everything they are and do.”

“What do you mean, from what you remember?” I ask as I turn to face him again. “You speak both as if you know them and as if they’re a myth for you too.”

Nodding slowly, he answers me quietly. “That’s where things get complicated.”

“Oh, we’re looking at complicated in the rear-view mirror.”

There’s a slight tug at his lips before he turns serious again.

“You know that we woke up in that cave, without memories. But we do know a few things, enough to function. Call it atavism, inner truth, intuition. Whatever name you want to put to it, the result is the same. We know the Fates exist the same way we knew what roles we had to carry in this world. The same way you know how to breathe. But as…” He hesitates for a second, looks at me deeply and takes a breath.

“As Death’s assistant, I can see that they are real. ”

“How?”

“I see their threads.”

My breath gets stuck in my lungs. “You see their threads?”

He nods. “When someone is dying, their threads will shine brighter, making them unmistakable before they disappear.”

I feel something big coming and lean against the windows. Their coolness allows me to ask the next question. “Can you see them all the time, or only when someone is close to death?”

“They’re not as obvious if the person is not close to their end. But yes.” He nods, his eyes anchored on mine, watching my every reaction. “If I focus, I should be able to see them.”

I swallow, panic grabbing at my throat and begging me not to ask the next question. “Can you see mine?”

He starts shaking his head and my knees weaken. He seems in pain himself but still answers, “No.”