Page 9 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

Tani

“ I t’s time,” Seth said, looking at the first Ergreen sunset of the year. “Are you ready?”

Everyone had come out for the announcement, the courtyard filled with grey hoods and shuffling feet. Whether it was my infamy or the Dragon Prince’s that drew them in, it mattered little. I’m sure they all hoped just as fervently as I did for a Fate that sent me far from here.

“I thought I would be,” I replied, the beads shaking as we stood at the edge of the grouping. “But after that Ceremony, I don’t think I’m ready at all.”

The three death pillars from Harum’s Fate had been pulled down around noon, and I couldn’t see any new scaffold ready.

Not Death, then. The tiny glow of hope that deduction provided was stilled by my memory of the look in Isillim’s eyes that dawn.

Maybe he had carved some other revenge for my snubbing of his path, if he was wise enough to know my intention .

Seth touched my shoulder. He wasn’t trying to share his emotions with me, that wouldn’t work through the fabric. It was purely for support. I realised then I’d pinned all my hopes on being separated from my only friend. Now more than ever, I had no idea what I was doing.

“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

“There’s nothing I can do about it.” My voice sounded terribly defeated even to my own ears, but I had no energy to fake a smile.

The five Threads stepped out from their chamber, and behind them, the Dragon Prince.

Langnathin had changed from the riding outfit he’d worn at dawn.

He looked scarier now, in midnight dress robes adorned with red tassels and his dark hair slicked back.

Behind the Threads, his darkness was a fearsome contrast, with his gaze so punishingly impassive I must have concocted any idea of mirth on his mouth earlier.

My eyes flickered to the sky. I hadn’t seen his dragon again since that moment on the moors, but I knew it was nearby. The unbound around me spoke in hushed whispers of sightings, exaggerating its wingspan and inventing tales of dragonfire. I wondered what it was eating, where it would sleep.

Thread Groulin silenced the boys with a hand. The Thread of Knowledge always led this announcement, regardless of the path of the Brother. “Unbound Tanidwen, come and kneel before me.”

Seth’s hand dropped from my shoulder as the crowd of boys and men parted for me without hesitation. Of course, now they were helpful, when I probably walked towards thirty years of servitude.

I moved through them, keeping my head high even as I heard sniggers and hastily whispered curses. A small wave of gratitude swelled in me then for the Dragon Prince’s unexpected visit, for at least his presence kept my Brothers from outright hostility.

I mounted the wooden stairs to the low dais in front of the South Wing.

The same one that Harum had stood on fifty days ago, and each of my bound Brothers before him.

I kept my eyes on Thread Groulin as I took small steps to the middle, tunnelling my vision on him alone to keep from the prickling sensation of Langnathin’s dragon-red eyes.

Before the Thread of Knowledge, I fell to my knees on the damp threadbare fabric marking my spot, facing away from my unbound Brothers.

He nodded to me, stood like the rest of the five with his hands clasped before him and his hood covering half of his face. In his shadowed gaze was a hint of compassion, even pity, and that was the first time I felt true fear for my Fate. What task was he about to bind me to?

“Before the rising moon of Ergreen, as night falls on the first day of your fourth span, we bind you to this Fate. You have completed the test and agreed to be bound by its result. From this day, you will only unlock the full breadth of your ability when the condition is met. If the condition is never met, you will be bound to it for life, always as you are. If the condition fails, you will be Fate Broken, and you will be removed from the Brotherhood and never welcomed back to Eavenfold, nor given any placement in any court.”

“This is known.”

I flinched as the chorus of men and boys chimed in, louder than I’d ever heard.

“Tanidwen Treleftir, you have on this day been bound to a Marriage Fate,” he said, and my stomach dropped. “You must marry the victor of the upcoming Laithcart Games.”

My ears rang, my mind whirling with shocked torment. If there was surprise, discontent, or laughter, I heard none of it. I only heard the words ‘Marriage Fate’ over and over again. It couldn’t be.

I might have accepted Death more easily than this.

Thread Groulin said something then, but I didn’t hear it. It was only from having observed tens of these Ceremonies that I recalled the next instruction. Rise . I got to my feet, my vision blurry. I blinked back the tears, still facing away from the crowd.

It was then I locked eyes with him, the Dragon Prince. His gaze was cool and assessing as he watched me. There was no sympathy or warmth, only a curiosity.

Thread Ersimmon stepped forwards and touched my shoulder, his tanned face at odds with the rest of the pale council.

His touch was firm, and his look steadier than I’d ever seen it, making him seem younger than the lines on his face would argue.

“I will accompany you to Isle de Courvin. We board the ferry at dawn.”

I nodded, still not processing it all. He would be my mentor now, offering advice to complete my Fate. I imagined what an old scholar knew of jousts and wooing was limited at best.

A Marriage Fate.

I couldn’t fathom it. And yet, it was done, the call was made. I studied the other Threads, but they were largely disinterested. There was nothing now that could be said to reverse it.

If I wanted to claim my full power, I had to marry the victor of a battle of might. Not wits, nor poetry or literature. My husband would be a peacocking third son with an ego and a strong right hook. Every moment I spent considering it, standing frozen on that dais, it only seemed to get worse.

“Turn and face them.” Thread Ersimmon clucked his tongue and dropped his hand from my shoulder. “Chin up, girl.”

I squared my jaw and turned around, meeting the faces of the Brotherhood as they murmured among themselves. I couldn’t find Seth in the overwhelming sea of amused white eyes staring back at me. The first Marriage Fate in nearly five spans, given to the first and only girl.

In the nearly two spans I’d spent on Eavenfold, this was one of the few corridors I had never been in.

It was for guests, and guests to our gusty cliffs were so rare I was surprised the entire hallway wasn’t knee-deep in dust. It warmed me to imagine Thread Isillim pulling the cobwebs off the pewter sconces, even as the beads covering half my face tinkled against one another and irritated my nose.

I darted to the side, stepping into the shadows of a small alcove as boots hit the runner in the left-hand corridor just ahead. It was instinct more than thought, as if I was caught somewhere I shouldn’t be, but I couldn’t help but listen as two voices joined the footsteps.

“The girl will meet you here shortly, we have sent for her.” Thread Groulin’s ragged voice was instantly recognisable.

“And what of your studies of the weapon?” the prince replied. “When will it happen?”

I leaned close to the wall, resisting the urge to peek around the corner.

“Soon,” Groulin said. “Our research suggests a span from now.”

“A full span?” the prince asked. “How is that soon? You told my father this was an imminent threat.”

There was a pause before the Thread responded, and when he did his voice was irritated.

“You are young. You don’t fully understand the pace at which kingdoms work.

For ancient magic such as this, five years is soon indeed.

It will take time to lay claim to the grounds.

The Soundlands are stubborn people, built more favourably for the forest than you. ”

“I will forgive your assertion of my ignorance, Thread,” the prince replied. “I know you’re used to schooling boys.”

“I apologise if my words implied any disrespect.”

The two men paused, and I imagined them puffing their chests like preening birds.

After a small wait, Langnathin spoke once more. “What of the girl?”

“The girl?” Thread Groulin seemed surprised to be asked.

For my part, I only held my breath, curious to know what he would ask.

“Yes,” the prince said. “What will her power be, when it is revealed?”

“We cannot know. Tanidwen uses touch to sense the feelings of others. When her condition is met, she could sense without touch, from a distance. Or her potency will increase.”

He asked the question on my own lips. “Her potency?”

“We have considered,” he said, his voice uncertain, “that she could influence feelings, as well as sense them.”

I swallowed, and the small gulping noise was audible in the silence following the Thread’s theory.

Never before had I heard the Threads discuss what my power may be once my Fated condition was met.

Any time anyone asked, we were dismissed with the same excuses.

That it was unknowable, that only our threaded path could determine our future, that we must walk our Fate’s full length and not suggest what lies beyond the fog of time.

Influencing the feelings of others would be novel.

I’d most likely still have to touch them, but then I could soothe fear, or turn sadness to something brighter.

I wondered, fleetingly, if I would be able to influence my own emotions, or only those of others.

It would be something, to have such mastery of one’s self.

“She could change how people feel?” Langnathin asked.

“It is one of many possibilities.”

“And what of my cousin?”

“He comes along well,” Thread Groulin said. “Do you wish to see him?”