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Brightly Woven

Page 52

   


I cast a sidelong look at North, but he didn’t seem surprised.
“We’d better head into the city,” he said. “They close the gates at nightfall.”
“I’ve got Vesta and a wagon ready, though I feel bad about making her haul the three of us,” Owain said.
“Not to worry,” North said. “I’ve got a horse we can hitch up. It’s tacked up around the corner, brown with white spots. Go ahead. We’ll catch up in a moment.” North nodded in the direction, and the larger man set off.
I had just enough time to change my clothing before Owain came to find us again. North took my bag as we walked out into the daylight. The wagon that Owain had scrounged up was covered with a patched sheet of linen, but the wood of the bed looked distorted and cracked.
North set our bags inside the wagon and turned back toward me expectantly.
“Your book is in my bag,” I said. “I didn’t lose anything, I swear.”
“No…I know you wouldn’t,” he began. “But where’s your loom?”
“I had to use the wood for something else,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’s…all right. I don’t think I’ll have much time to weave in Provincia anyway.”
North held my arm; the expression on his face perfectly mirrored the pain in my heart.
I hauled myself up into the back of the wagon. North climbed in stiffly, dropping onto the floor next to me. He took the book from my bag and placed it in his own. But when his hand emerged, there was a small velvet bag resting in it. He extended it toward me, unable to mask the slight flush of color high on his cheeks.
“Open it,” he said.
“What is this?” I asked warily. The wagon lurched forward.
“You aren’t one for surprises, are you?” asked North, exasperated. “Just open it!”
I gave him one more suspicious look before I untied the drawstring.
The three blue crystals slipped easily from the bag, attached to a small silver chain that coiled in my palm. A bracelet, I thought. The round crystals glowed like tiny stars.
“When did you…?” I mumbled. My mind had turned to sap. “I don’t…Why…?”
North scratched the back of his head, looking away from me.
“Do you like it?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve had it for a while, but I was waiting for the right time to give it to you. This isn’t the right time, but I’m not sure what’s going to happen over the next few days.”
“Why are you giving this to me?” I brushed my fingers along the silver chain.
“Partially as an apology,” North admitted. He smoothed the hair away from my face. “I know it won’t replace your loom, but I swear I’ll build you a new one even better than your last.”
“This is too nice for me,” I protested. “It must have cost you so much….”
“May I?” he asked, opening the clasp. When he fastened it around my wrist, an overwhelming feeling of warmth raced through me.
“Thank you,” North said. “You are the only reason I’ve made it this far.”
“That’s not true at all,” I admonished him. “You probably would have run into much less trouble without me.”
“See, that’s the funny thing about trouble,” he said, grinning. “It tends to find you when you go looking for it, and I’m always in the mood for a little.”
Exhausted from the journey, I fell asleep in spite of the constant jarring of the wagon. When I woke again, the sun was setting, and North was sitting up front with Owain.
“I’m glad I almost punched you in the face that night for stealing my ale, lad,” Owain was saying. “Lost an ale but gained a friend. I’m sorry I let you down in delivering the message.”
“No, it was unfair of me to ask you,” North said. “I knew they’d be difficult. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Owain said. “Think about how unexciting my life would have been without you. No adventures, no dragons, only catching petty thieves here and there to stay afloat.”
“Well, we should be there in just a bit,” North said. “I can smell the Lyfe from here.”
“Have you told her yet?” Owain asked. “Warned her, I mean, about the other wizards?”
North shook his head but said nothing.
“You know, lad,” Owain said, snapping the reins, “finding girls as brave as dragons and sweet as flowers ain’t so easy anymore. I thought Vesta was the last of them. Clever, generous—”
“Stubborn, frustrating,” North finished.
“Ah, then, a perfect match,” Owain laughed. “She’s the only one I’ve ever seen kick that sorry bottom of yours straight. Promise me you’re not going to let her slip away.”
North glanced over his shoulder. “I won’t.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I don’t know what I was expecting of Provincia, but now that I was standing directly in front of its famous walls and four high towers, I was wholly underwhelmed. Even the tallest spires of the castle were smaller than I had imagined.
The city, and the castle within it, sat on a small isle near the shore of the great lake, the Lyfe. A stone bridge stretched over the water, providing the single point of entry aside from the shipping gates. I pulled back the flap of the wagon’s cover to see the large wooden ships docked at the famous south gate, but the tents and fires were the first things to catch my attention. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of tents in every shape and color on the mainland, just out of the lake water’s reach. The surrounding forest seemed to have been recently cleared away to accommodate them. I asked Owain what they were doing there.