Brightly Woven
Page 57
“I’m sure Father would love to have seen you like this, destroying the country he cherished to take more power for yourself,” North said cruelly. “What a waste—just like it was a waste that he died saving me, correct? Just like I’m a waste, because I haven’t been ranked or done anything with my life. Isn’t that the real reason you’ve been fighting so hard to bring honor back to the family?”
“I knew it was a mistake to send you to Pascal,” she said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have honored your father’s request. I should have kept you here, where I knew you’d be raised properly.”
“We’re not staying in the city,” North said again.
“You will, or I will throw you both in jail,” Hecate said. “You won’t take a step out of the city with that girl before I send every wizard at my disposal after you.”
North looked murderous. “Is that all?”
Hecate sat back down at her desk, picking up a piece of paper. “I expect to see you at the castle tonight for dinner, Wayland. Find Oliver to see where you’ll be quartering.”
“Yes, Mother,” North said mutinously.
He took my hand in a crushing grip and pulled me along after him. I glanced back over my shoulder, unsure if I should say something. I saw Hecate press her hand to her eyes just before North slammed the door shut behind us.
We practically flew down the hallways. I now knew why the wizards around us stopped to stare; it wasn’t simply because of our appearance or the anger radiating off North. It was because North was the son of the most powerful wizard in Palmarta. Everyone knew his story—his past, his failures.
Everyone but me.
I let North lead me outside and around the building, through a small back alleyway, and into a small, neglected garden. There were marble benches and statues, but the fountain in the center of the small enclave was dried out and filled with dirt, and the flower beds around us had withered to brown.
He sat down heavily on the nearest bench and finally released my hand. For a moment I was too stunned to do anything other than watch the labored rise and fall of his chest. I wished I could see his face, but it rested in his hands.
“Forgive me,” he said through his fingers.
I knelt beside him, gently pulling his hands away. “What’s there to forgive?”
“I never should have brought you here,” he said. “If I had been thinking clearly, I would have kept you somewhere safe.”
“And you think I would have stayed there willingly?” I gave him a look of disbelief.
North shook his head. “Of course not. What was I thinking?”
“I wish you had told me about your mother sooner,” I said.
“And what would I have said?” he asked. “Mummy dearest is the Sorceress Imperial, she likes to drag others around by their hair, her husband died as Sorcerer Imperial and left her a powerless widow, and she hasn’t talked to me since I refused to be ranked and join the Guard?”
I shook my head. “You were only a little boy when you finished your schooling!”
North made a face. “I wasn’t a little boy.”
“You were fourteen. She should have supported you, not disowned you!”
I sat back on my heels, studying his face. He wasn’t angry anymore, but there was an unmistakable look of grief about him. Resignation, too.
“I didn’t want that life,” he said. “I didn’t want any of this. I hate this city so much. Everyone here looks at me and thinks that I’m some sort of pathetic degenerate, that I can’t hear them when they talk about how I’ll never be my father, not now, not ever. Can you imagine someone with this curse becoming the most powerful wizard? Everyone respected him, everyone mourned his death. I promised him that I would look after her when he was gone, but she won’t listen. She can barely even look at me.”
I rested my hands against his knees, looking up at him. “Then let’s leave,” I said. “I’ll protect Cliffton any way that I can.”
“We can’t,” he said tiredly. “You heard what she said.”
“Since when does Wayland North give up?” I asked, grabbing his hands. “There must be a way.”
North shook his head. “Syd, I’ve been in jail before for disobeying her, and it’s not something I ever want you to have to imagine, let alone see.”
Dread was twisting my insides, wringing them out until there was nothing left but fear.
“You’ll be safe,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I don’t care what happens to me,” I cried. “I’m worried about you!”
North shook his head again. “Listen to me,” he said. “We’ll both be all right.”
“What about the war—?”
“I won’t stop trying,” he said. “I won’t ever stop.”
He ran his fingers along the bracelet he had given me.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
He nodded, his face turned toward the long shadows of the castle.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By the time we finally passed through the castle gate, the throngs of people gathered in the courtyard were overwhelming. North took my hand after a moment, when it became clear he might lose me in the crowd. We were heading toward the castle’s enormous marble entrance when North caught sight of a familiar face.
“Owain!” he called.
“I knew it was a mistake to send you to Pascal,” she said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have honored your father’s request. I should have kept you here, where I knew you’d be raised properly.”
“We’re not staying in the city,” North said again.
“You will, or I will throw you both in jail,” Hecate said. “You won’t take a step out of the city with that girl before I send every wizard at my disposal after you.”
North looked murderous. “Is that all?”
Hecate sat back down at her desk, picking up a piece of paper. “I expect to see you at the castle tonight for dinner, Wayland. Find Oliver to see where you’ll be quartering.”
“Yes, Mother,” North said mutinously.
He took my hand in a crushing grip and pulled me along after him. I glanced back over my shoulder, unsure if I should say something. I saw Hecate press her hand to her eyes just before North slammed the door shut behind us.
We practically flew down the hallways. I now knew why the wizards around us stopped to stare; it wasn’t simply because of our appearance or the anger radiating off North. It was because North was the son of the most powerful wizard in Palmarta. Everyone knew his story—his past, his failures.
Everyone but me.
I let North lead me outside and around the building, through a small back alleyway, and into a small, neglected garden. There were marble benches and statues, but the fountain in the center of the small enclave was dried out and filled with dirt, and the flower beds around us had withered to brown.
He sat down heavily on the nearest bench and finally released my hand. For a moment I was too stunned to do anything other than watch the labored rise and fall of his chest. I wished I could see his face, but it rested in his hands.
“Forgive me,” he said through his fingers.
I knelt beside him, gently pulling his hands away. “What’s there to forgive?”
“I never should have brought you here,” he said. “If I had been thinking clearly, I would have kept you somewhere safe.”
“And you think I would have stayed there willingly?” I gave him a look of disbelief.
North shook his head. “Of course not. What was I thinking?”
“I wish you had told me about your mother sooner,” I said.
“And what would I have said?” he asked. “Mummy dearest is the Sorceress Imperial, she likes to drag others around by their hair, her husband died as Sorcerer Imperial and left her a powerless widow, and she hasn’t talked to me since I refused to be ranked and join the Guard?”
I shook my head. “You were only a little boy when you finished your schooling!”
North made a face. “I wasn’t a little boy.”
“You were fourteen. She should have supported you, not disowned you!”
I sat back on my heels, studying his face. He wasn’t angry anymore, but there was an unmistakable look of grief about him. Resignation, too.
“I didn’t want that life,” he said. “I didn’t want any of this. I hate this city so much. Everyone here looks at me and thinks that I’m some sort of pathetic degenerate, that I can’t hear them when they talk about how I’ll never be my father, not now, not ever. Can you imagine someone with this curse becoming the most powerful wizard? Everyone respected him, everyone mourned his death. I promised him that I would look after her when he was gone, but she won’t listen. She can barely even look at me.”
I rested my hands against his knees, looking up at him. “Then let’s leave,” I said. “I’ll protect Cliffton any way that I can.”
“We can’t,” he said tiredly. “You heard what she said.”
“Since when does Wayland North give up?” I asked, grabbing his hands. “There must be a way.”
North shook his head. “Syd, I’ve been in jail before for disobeying her, and it’s not something I ever want you to have to imagine, let alone see.”
Dread was twisting my insides, wringing them out until there was nothing left but fear.
“You’ll be safe,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I don’t care what happens to me,” I cried. “I’m worried about you!”
North shook his head again. “Listen to me,” he said. “We’ll both be all right.”
“What about the war—?”
“I won’t stop trying,” he said. “I won’t ever stop.”
He ran his fingers along the bracelet he had given me.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
He nodded, his face turned toward the long shadows of the castle.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By the time we finally passed through the castle gate, the throngs of people gathered in the courtyard were overwhelming. North took my hand after a moment, when it became clear he might lose me in the crowd. We were heading toward the castle’s enormous marble entrance when North caught sight of a familiar face.
“Owain!” he called.
