Brightly Woven
Page 71
The markets were far more crowded than they had been earlier. I trailed behind Ben as we fought our way down the street. He drew me forward, passing out apologies to those we brushed by. As we approached the end of the street, the simple silk shirts and dresses of the Austerans gave way to the deep crimson of soldiers’ uniforms. They marched down the street, knocking on doors and stopping every other person to question them.
Ben kept his face impassive and the line of his lips hard. If he suspected I was behind the sudden flow of soldiers into the town, he never suggested it.
“Are we—?” I began, but no sooner had the words left my lips than I was pulled back.
“A good attempt,” said a familiar voice behind me. “But how could you be so cruel as to leave your people, my Great Lady?”
Dorwan’s pale face was ghostly against the sea of blood-red uniforms. He stepped forward, throwing back my hood. The noise in the market died away.
Ben’s face disappeared as the ring of crimson soldiers closed in around me, a shield against the sudden outcry of prayer and song. Hands reached out to touch my face, my hair, my arms.
No, I thought, squeezing my eyes, no…
“It’s a beautiful thing, is it not?” Dorwan said, close to my ear. “To be worshipped and feared?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I was returned to the same room as before. The old woman was there waiting for me, kneeling beside my empty bed. She formally introduced herself to me as Beatrice Hostenham, my humble and obedient servant, and I instantly regretted taking her cloak.
“I’m sorry for the way you’ve been handled, my Great Lady. I begged the king to awaken you, but he refused for so long—oh, please, please spare us.”
I stared at her helplessly. “I would never harm you.”
“When you left, we all feared it was because you were displeased,” she said. “But I knew you would never abandon us, not ever.”
I said nothing as she gently guided me behind the room’s dressing screen. Her dark hair was marred by thick strands of gray, pulled back into a tidy bun. She was wearing a red dress, embroidered with golden snakes.
“There’s to be a formal welcoming ceremony for you,” she said, tugging my gown over my head. “Don’t worry, my Great Lady; only our kind may enter the great hall. We did not mean to offend you with the presence of an Astraean, but the wizard was part of the legend of your retrieval.”
“Yes,” I said, seizing the chance. “Please keep him away from me.”
“As you wish, so it will be,” Beatrice said. She took the discarded clothes away, leaving me shivering and huddled behind the screen. A moment later she returned with a pile of folded silk robes. She unfolded a heavy gown. This one was the same shade of red as her own dress, crimson as blood, with the same golden snakes lining the hems. It was a beautiful piece of work, but I wanted nothing more than to rip it off my shoulders and throw it into the fire.
“I’ll do your hair now, my Great Lady,” she said, taking my arm.
“Please stop calling me that,” I said, distressed. “Just call me Sydelle.”
“As you wish, Great Lady Sydelle,” Beatrice said, placing the chair in the middle of the room. “Please sit; I have much work to do.”
Beatrice began by wetting my hair. I started to tell her what a terrible idea it was even to attempt to restrain it, but she actually began to hum over my protests. I lost track of the time I sat there, suffering silently, as the old woman pulled all the curls and kinks from my hair, leaving it perfectly smooth. I brought my hand up to touch it, wondering what sort of miracle she had performed.
“You have beautiful hair,” Beatrice said. “No one in Auster shares your color. The Book spoke of many signs, including your hair. ‘Tresses the shade of my fiery spite,’ it said.”
I wanted to scream.
She twisted half of it up, pinning it in place with little golden clasps and flowers. The rest was left down, much longer than I remembered it being. Beatrice finished by sliding a golden diadem through my hair, allowing the long red veil attached to it to flow down the length of my back to the floor below.
There was a looking glass beside my bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to look.
“It really is you,” Beatrice said. “My Great Lady, thank you. You have given me the highest honor in allowing me to care for you.”
“No,” I said. “Please, don’t thank me.”
She bowed in front of me again and held out her arm. “The king has asked this humble and obedient servant to accompany you to the great hall.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I was no goddess, but for my life, and for all the lives I had left behind in Palmarta, I could at least pretend to be. And maybe…maybe there was a way I could twist the impossible situation to my advantage. Dorwan thought himself exceptionally clever, but he had neglected to include my will in his plan.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered.
“You will be celebrated and loved,” Beatrice said, not realizing I hadn’t been speaking to her at all.
Beatrice brought me past the servants and commoners who lined the pathways to the great hall. I was led through pristine corridors, every stone evenly spaced, the marble floors shining with the light of the sun. Outside, the mountains surrounding the palace rose for miles on end, the blue of the Serpentine Channel blocked by their massive shapes. The final bridge on the palace grounds had been built seemingly between two mountains; it reached high into the air, toward the heavens. For a moment, I thought the bridge was carrying us over the clouds.
Ben kept his face impassive and the line of his lips hard. If he suspected I was behind the sudden flow of soldiers into the town, he never suggested it.
“Are we—?” I began, but no sooner had the words left my lips than I was pulled back.
“A good attempt,” said a familiar voice behind me. “But how could you be so cruel as to leave your people, my Great Lady?”
Dorwan’s pale face was ghostly against the sea of blood-red uniforms. He stepped forward, throwing back my hood. The noise in the market died away.
Ben’s face disappeared as the ring of crimson soldiers closed in around me, a shield against the sudden outcry of prayer and song. Hands reached out to touch my face, my hair, my arms.
No, I thought, squeezing my eyes, no…
“It’s a beautiful thing, is it not?” Dorwan said, close to my ear. “To be worshipped and feared?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I was returned to the same room as before. The old woman was there waiting for me, kneeling beside my empty bed. She formally introduced herself to me as Beatrice Hostenham, my humble and obedient servant, and I instantly regretted taking her cloak.
“I’m sorry for the way you’ve been handled, my Great Lady. I begged the king to awaken you, but he refused for so long—oh, please, please spare us.”
I stared at her helplessly. “I would never harm you.”
“When you left, we all feared it was because you were displeased,” she said. “But I knew you would never abandon us, not ever.”
I said nothing as she gently guided me behind the room’s dressing screen. Her dark hair was marred by thick strands of gray, pulled back into a tidy bun. She was wearing a red dress, embroidered with golden snakes.
“There’s to be a formal welcoming ceremony for you,” she said, tugging my gown over my head. “Don’t worry, my Great Lady; only our kind may enter the great hall. We did not mean to offend you with the presence of an Astraean, but the wizard was part of the legend of your retrieval.”
“Yes,” I said, seizing the chance. “Please keep him away from me.”
“As you wish, so it will be,” Beatrice said. She took the discarded clothes away, leaving me shivering and huddled behind the screen. A moment later she returned with a pile of folded silk robes. She unfolded a heavy gown. This one was the same shade of red as her own dress, crimson as blood, with the same golden snakes lining the hems. It was a beautiful piece of work, but I wanted nothing more than to rip it off my shoulders and throw it into the fire.
“I’ll do your hair now, my Great Lady,” she said, taking my arm.
“Please stop calling me that,” I said, distressed. “Just call me Sydelle.”
“As you wish, Great Lady Sydelle,” Beatrice said, placing the chair in the middle of the room. “Please sit; I have much work to do.”
Beatrice began by wetting my hair. I started to tell her what a terrible idea it was even to attempt to restrain it, but she actually began to hum over my protests. I lost track of the time I sat there, suffering silently, as the old woman pulled all the curls and kinks from my hair, leaving it perfectly smooth. I brought my hand up to touch it, wondering what sort of miracle she had performed.
“You have beautiful hair,” Beatrice said. “No one in Auster shares your color. The Book spoke of many signs, including your hair. ‘Tresses the shade of my fiery spite,’ it said.”
I wanted to scream.
She twisted half of it up, pinning it in place with little golden clasps and flowers. The rest was left down, much longer than I remembered it being. Beatrice finished by sliding a golden diadem through my hair, allowing the long red veil attached to it to flow down the length of my back to the floor below.
There was a looking glass beside my bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to look.
“It really is you,” Beatrice said. “My Great Lady, thank you. You have given me the highest honor in allowing me to care for you.”
“No,” I said. “Please, don’t thank me.”
She bowed in front of me again and held out her arm. “The king has asked this humble and obedient servant to accompany you to the great hall.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I was no goddess, but for my life, and for all the lives I had left behind in Palmarta, I could at least pretend to be. And maybe…maybe there was a way I could twist the impossible situation to my advantage. Dorwan thought himself exceptionally clever, but he had neglected to include my will in his plan.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered.
“You will be celebrated and loved,” Beatrice said, not realizing I hadn’t been speaking to her at all.
Beatrice brought me past the servants and commoners who lined the pathways to the great hall. I was led through pristine corridors, every stone evenly spaced, the marble floors shining with the light of the sun. Outside, the mountains surrounding the palace rose for miles on end, the blue of the Serpentine Channel blocked by their massive shapes. The final bridge on the palace grounds had been built seemingly between two mountains; it reached high into the air, toward the heavens. For a moment, I thought the bridge was carrying us over the clouds.
