Page 16 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

Tani

T hread Ersimmon held my arm in an iron grip as we took our first step from the ferry onto the jetty of the Isle de Courvin, though I knew it was more for his own benefit.

The moonlight dappled on the waves from the multitude of lanterns, distorting as the water lapped with a slapping noise against the wooden posts.

We had shared our boat with a handful of other passengers; the Thread was disinclined to pay for a private crossing.

The others had disembarked before us and were already nearly onto the island proper, yet we stood still as the Thread regained his pallor.

The journey hadn’t taken twenty minutes, and somehow he already looked green.

Seth gave Ersimmon’s other arm a reassuring pat as the older man held onto me for dear life.

The island didn’t look like much from the pier.

It was smaller than I had realised, much of its breadth taken up by untraversable rocky outcrops and coves.

Its habitation was marked by the many lanterns on its shore and the wide rocky path curling into its depth, but other than the small harbour, there wasn’t much to examine.

When the Thread felt well enough to walk, we made our way over to a portly foreman. I didn’t begrudge our pace, largely out of relief that my mentor hadn’t thrown up this time.

The foreman stood at a wooden plinth lit by two candles and raised his glasses to peer at them. “Spectators, I presume.”

I could see him gazing over my shoulder, and I wondered who he was waiting for at this hour. All the important people must have arrived much earlier in the day.

“Names?”

Thread Ersimmon cleared his throat. “Ersimmon Callanry and Tanidwen Treleftir.”

His voice wobbled, his face still white as he gestured to me. For a man who lived on an island, it was poor fortune to have such a seasick stomach.

We had arrived late by the Thread’s own direction. I didn’t quite understand why, since there was to be a welcome dinner which we would miss in its entirety. He said something about not understanding his artistry, and I hadn’t the will to argue.

The foreman inspected his ledger. “Yes, your fare has been paid.” Then he looked at Seth. “And what of you, boy?”

Seth smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Septillis of Droundhaven.”

The foreman swallowed and closed the ledger. He ducked his head in apology. “Of course, Prince Septillis. Forgive my impertinence. Her Highness, Princess Derynallis, sent word of your attendance.”

Seth gave the man an awkward nod at the mention of his mother.

The foreman snapped his fingers, and a young lad appeared. “My boy will see you to your rooms personally.”

Seth raised a hand. “Please. There is no need. ”

He smiled obsequiously. “I insist.” Then to the boy: “The Cajimearan Suite.”

I bristled at the casual mention of Cajim. It was a centuries-old hurt for my people, and yet the Triad’s siege and subsequent claiming of our city still rankled through each generation. It was still a tale told to every child.

Then, I scolded myself. The Tastelands had Cajim and there was nothing I could do about it.

This was a Triad tournament. My husband would most certainly be from one of these lands, and maybe even the Tastelands itself.

I had to be less obvious in my politics, my sympathies, if I had any chance of claiming my power and having some sort of standing in our world.

The boy scurried and bowed, and my friend rolled his eyes. “I’ll meet you in the morning,” he said, squeezing my gloved fingers with his other hand. “Be careful.”

“I will,” I replied softly, staring up at his concerned face.

“Last time I left you, you were nearly poisoned.”

“The key word being nearly .”

“It’s not funny.”

“Your boy is getting away,” I said, pointing at his supposed escort, already weaving away under the torchlight.

He dropped my hand and cursed under his breath. “Don’t drink anything.”

I laughed as he followed after the boy, glancing back over his shoulder at me in exasperation.

That was the special treatment he had been so desperate to avoid from me. I understood, and smiled as I waved him goodbye, his porter shuffling behind. They were soon lost into the night.

The foreman seemed surprised we were still there. “On with you, then. Your rooms are in the spectator’s wing.”

No escort for us. The Brotherhood had clearly not spent enough coin to earn anything close to a suite .

We walked slowly down the dock, and I glued myself to the old man’s loping gait, using the extra time to stare at the island.

Its flora was similar to that of the Scentlands, its closest neighbour, but there was more green here.

The vines were thicker, the trees lush with too many leaves, the shrubs untamed.

A sandstone outcropping lay ahead; a low cliff, its rock face bare to us as it hid the jewel of the island from my sight like a curtain before a playing troupe.

The arena lay just around the corner.

But there was no use in darting away to catch an earlier glimpse of my Fate’s location.

Thread Ersimmon had not let me out of his sight since the moment I stepped into the seamstress’ shop on the arm of Prince Brascillan.

Not even Seth was permitted to escort me around Lavendell, but somehow, it hadn’t irritated me.

The attempted poisoning had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, and the attention of the Thread gave me a semblance of reassurance over the last two days.

Ersimmon had claimed to know nothing of the plot, and the shock I felt on him convinced me well enough.

Once Brascillan had bid us farewell, the Thread’s first question had been to ask if I had any enemies.

At my raised brow, he had sighed. “Other than most of your unbound brethren, who would see you dead?”

I had responded that there were only six people capable of giving the order, and he had waited for me to explain.

“Before the Ceremony, no one knew my Fate would take me to the Isle de Courvin, and here to Lavendell Point. The merchant’s instruction was given when my Fate was drawn and not before. None of my unbound Brothers would have had time to get the message to the merchant before we arrived.”

He had already started to come to the same conclusion, but he let me continue .

“The only people who could carry the message ahead of us were the six men in the hall that dawn.”

He had leaned back. “You believe this is the work of the Threads?”

“One of you, or the Dragon Prince himself,” I’d replied. “The bound can use the messenger birds. He has his ruby wings.”

He had stiffened, then, and looked at me with piercing acuity. “Do not repeat that to anyone else. I mean it.”

I had listened to him, because it was the first time he hadn’t called me ‘girl’. His questioning had then turned to my perception of Prince Brascillan. He had clearly come to the same conclusion as I had, that Prince Brascillan was apt to win the contest.

Since that moment in the market, I had stayed in the Forebud Hope where possible, with the exception of one further dress fitting where I painstakingly pinned my cloak to prevent anyone from even glimpsing my hair.

Behind us now, our two porters carried our items along the stone path to the arena. One porter carried all of our essentials: a spare cloak, soaps and tools, travelling foods, and indoor shoes. The other, to my embarrassment, was entirely laden with two boxes filled to the brim with dresses for me.

The Games only lasted two days, and yet Thread Ersimmon had paid for five different dresses. I did not protest at the expense, though some of his choices had surprised me. I wasn’t sure if a Thread with so many spans to his name could be trusted with fashion.

A squire bounded past me, knocking my shoulder hard with barely a look back as he scampered around the corner ahead towards the arena. I rubbed the would-be bruise with a grumble, dropping my arm on the Thread. He tutted, and I regained my steady hold on him.

“Do you mean to tell anyone my Fate?” I asked him .

“I expect to announce it at tomorrow’s ball,” he said. “We cannot hide it. On your wedding day, your Fated Mark would tell him the truth of it. Besides, the secret will come out soon, given the Dragon Prince knows. We must declare it, but I want to see how the suitors respond to you first.”

“Respond?”

“I told Prince Brascillan we were attending the Games,” he said. “I advised him that he could entreat you for a dance at the welcome dinner. When you do not show, he will be concerned, thinking only of you. He will surely seek you out at tomorrow’s preliminary bout.”

I frowned. “You think so?”

“He visited the inn three times in hopes of seeing you in the last two days. You have captivated him, somehow.”

“I barely spoke to him.”

Thread Ersimmon chuckled. “And there is your first lesson in winning the hearts of men.”

“Don’t speak?”

“If in doubt, smile in silence,” he said, and he patted my hand. “Tomorrow, I believe Prince Brascillan will offer you some token of his favour. A kerchief or symbol of his house to wear.”

My cheeks heated as I took this in. “That is something.”

“You must not accept it,” he replied simply.

“What?”

Thread Ersimmon shot me a warning look.

I had come to know that look over the last week, and it indicated I’d reacted poorly. I studied his face and asked my question more slowly. “Why would I refuse him? When he may win it all?”

Thread Ersimmon did not reply for a time, and I began to think he would not. We turned the corner, passing the edge of the rocks, and finally, the arena fell into view .

It was a huge sandstone structure with carved arches and intricate pillars decorated with the heads and feet of every animal upon this span of land and beyond.

In each arch was a small hanging fire, casting the building in blazing light, which seemed to stretch high into the night sky above.

From inside, the telltale clamour of revelry sounded.

On its main face, above the many columns, the Five were carved in relief.

I noted Hain the Healer, the Touchlands Founder, standing aside as the other four slew the Oktorok.

Here, he was depicted as Hain the Two-Faced, with one face looking towards the creature, and his legs and second face walking away from the battle.

The Five’s great victory was defeating the creature of this very lake, the monster who spun the world and started the moon and sun’s great and eternal journey across our skies.

Much of the story was untrue, as stories tend to be.

I nodded sympathetically up at Hain as we approached, and the lies the Triad had cast him in.

The Thread squeezed my gloved hand, drawing us to a stop before the looming walls. “You must marry whoever wins. If Prince Brascillan does not win, you can’t have given any indication of affection for him. Tomorrow, you will be a woman of mystery.”

“Will the men not think it an impertinence?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “And that’s your second lesson in winning men’s hearts. To be unobtainable is to be desired by all. By the time I announce your Fated condition at the grand ball tomorrow night, you will already have a list of admirers.”

I shook my head and stared back up at the arena. I had absolutely no idea what I was about to walk into, but worse than that, I couldn’t decide if the man who was leading me towards my Fate was a fool, or a greater genius than I had ever realised.