Weaver

by Ingrid Seymour

  “You alright, mate?” Perry tore open one of his cookie packets and offered one to Ashby. “Want a cookie to make it all better?”

  Ashby huffed as if doubtful a cookie could make anything better, then took one anyway.

  “Did Mirante chew your ass up again?” Greg asked after popping a few Bugles into his mouth.

  “You know her,” was Ashby’s only response.

  “Yeah, frustrating as hell,” Greg said. “If she at least told us how long it’ll take her to make a freakin’ decision.”

  “Just being safe, kids,” Perry said, imitating Mirante and crushing his water bottle.

  “It’s easy for them,” Greg said in a near growl. “They’re safe from Danata in their little private conferences and planning sessions.” He made a fist on top of the table, barely containing the desire to smack it down. “Mirante only cares about taking back the Regency. But who gives a shit about that?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but most of the people around here,” Perry twirled a finger in the air, “do.”

  “Including you two, right?” Greg said.

  “Apparently.” Perry shrugged apologetically, his gaze darting toward Ashby.

  “Having second thoughts yet?” Greg asked, sensing something was up with Ashby.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Ashby sighed and shook his head. “They are taking too long. They should have an action plan by now. But this is getting ridiculous.”

  “Did Mirante say something?” Perry asked, furrowing his brow.

  “Mirante never says anything, unless it’s an order.”

  “She’s just trying to keep us entertained and out of the way. Especially me.” Greg pointed at his chest. “This training is great, and it’s given me a way to fight, but how long will it go on?” Greg leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We have to act. You can’t be okay with sitting here doing nothing while Sam and Jacob . . .” he trailed off, unable to say more. “Plus, the longer Mirante and Roanna wait, the longer Veridan and Danata have to prepare.”

  “It’s only been two weeks,” Perry said. “I know it seems MORF is dragging their feet, but this is not a simple matter. There’s a lot at stake, more than just Sam.” He looked over at Ashby as if he were just a mouth piece, repeating what he’d been told to say.

  “Right?” Perry pressed when Ashby said nothing.

  Ashby rubbed his chin, narrowing his eyes at his Sorcerer.

  Something was definitely up and Greg intended to find out what it was.

  Chapter 24

  Ashby

  Ashby had no idea if Perry would agree with his plan, but there was no time for second-guessing. He’d made a decision, and he would stick with it, no matter the consequences. He was done waiting, done letting things happen to him. It was time to be the wind behind his own sails.

  “Maybe I agreed with Mirante before,” Ashby said cautiously, “but now I’m not so sure.”

  Greg’s eyes opened wide, wider than Ashby had ever seen them. “Are you serious? Are you finally willing to do something?”

  “Maybe,” Ashby said, avoiding Greg’s intense gaze, focusing on his intertwined fingers on the table and trying to sound vague. “Maybe if we can come up with a plan that makes sense . . .” He let the words hang in the air.

  Practically vibrating with expectation, Greg pushed to the edge of his chair.

  “We can think of something,” Greg said.

  “Wait, have you gone mad?” Perry asked.

  Ashby shrugged. “Not mad. I’d just be going back home. That’s all.” He hated to keep Perry in the dark, but it would be easier this way.

  “Going back home? You’re mum will probably bite your head off the moment she sees you,” Perry said.

  “A possibility, but she might also welcome me back.”

  Perry burst out laughing, then stopped abruptly. “Welcome you back? Yeah, you’ve lost your mind. Not to be mean, but she severed your filial bond. She wants nothing to do with you.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What are you on?” Perry asked. “I know she’s always had a soft spot for you, mate, but she literally . . .” Perry made scissor motions with his fingers. “Twice!”

  “She’ll at least grant me an audience, if only to gloat. Don’t you think?” Ashby asked.

  “If only to bring the guillotine back into fashion, you mean.”

  “What exactly are you planning?” Greg narrowed his eyes at him. “You must have something in mind, other than just waltzing in and being welcomed like the prodigal son.”

  Ashby shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. Going back and pretending I regret what happened seems like the most straightforward way. I guess I’m just thinking out loud. Besides, what else can I do? It’s not like I can challenge her Warriors.”

  “Is there no way we can get into the castle without being detected?” Greg asked. “I don’t know . . . it sounds stupid, but maybe some secret passage or someone who can help us from the inside.”

  “Clearly, you have seen too many movies,” Perry scoffed. “Nobody would give us that kind of help. Everyone remains loyal to the Regent, if they know what’s good for them.”

  “So no magic trick up your sleeve, oh wondrous Sorcerer?” Greg mocked.

  “Shut up, Greg. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Perry,” Ashby said in a sobering tone, “I would like us to think about this, to really consider every possibility. How can we get into Rothblade castle, since she won’t grant me an audience?”

  “This is mad.” Perry shook his head. “Suicide, I say. So just leave me out of it.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Ashby said. “You have to do what I say. You swore an oath.”

  Perry stood abruptly, his chair tipping over and falling to the floor.

  “Does that even mean anything anymore?” Perry asked.

  The words felt like daggers to Ashby’s heart. Here was definite proof that he’d lost everything. Even Perry thought nothing of him now that the Regency had slipped through his fingers.

  Ashby got to his feet very slowly, making sure his chair didn’t tip. He did not break eye contact with Perry, but held his gaze, an implicit challenge burning in his eyes.

  “So I guess I was wrong,” Ashby said. “I have lost it all. I’m nothing now, though I suppose that doesn’t bode well for you.”

  “That’s unfair,” Perry said. “You’re not thinking straight. All I’m trying to do is keep you alive.”

  “Is that so?”

  Perry licked his lips and inhaled deeply. “I’m not being disloyal. I’m your friend and, more than that, your subject. I didn’t give my oath lightly. But that oath didn’t mean I would let you do stupid things. And this is stupid. The stupidest thing you’ve ever come up with, actually. And there’s been a number of them.”

  “That never stopped you,” Ashby said.

  “That’s because you never listen.”

  “We can at least think about it. Can you promise to do that much? Maybe there’s a way, and we just have to consider every possibility to find it.”

  Perry looked down at the floor, his gaze searching the carpet as if the gaudy pattern held the answer. After a long moment, he frowned and looked up.

  “What is it?” Ashby asked.

  Perry thrust his chin toward the large planter behind Ashby. The tip of a gym shoe was sticking out from behind one of its corners.

  “Shit,” Greg said under his breath, getting to his feet as if ready for a fight.

  Perry walked around the planter and leaned down.

  “Hey! Get your hands off me,” a small voice said.

  Perry lifted the eavesdropper off the floor and pushed her into the open.

  Finley staggered forward, arms wind-milling to keep her balance. She looked up at them, her eyes big and round like a cat’s.

  “Um, I was just,” she hooked a finger over her shoulder pointing toward the planter, “reading. I didn’t—”

  �
��Don’t even try,” Perry said. “Bugger, what are we going to do now?”

  Chapter 25

  Greg

  “Hey, it’s not what you think,” Greg said, taking a step in Finley’s direction.

  Her eyes opened wide. She retreated, holding her hands up. “Whatever. I don’t care what you do.” But the panicked expression on her face told Greg otherwise.

  Faster than Greg had ever seen Ashby move, he grabbed Finley’s arm, spun her around, and pressed a hand over her mouth, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her secure. Frantically, he looked about the dining area.

  Finley wiggled and kicked, but she was small, and no match for a full-fledged Morphid.

  “We need to talk,” Ashby said, lifting Finley off her feet as if she were a child. Half-carrying her, he rushed out of the room and headed in the direction of the pool.

  Perry and Greg exchanged a confused glance and followed them. At the end of the hall, Ashby kicked the metal door open and released Finley with a curse. She sprang away from him and twirled to face him, a feral cat with her claws out.

  Ashby shook his hand, hissing in pain. “You bit me!”

  “You kidnapped me!” Finley said.

  “I didn’t kidnapp you. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Greg closed the door to the pool area, hoping no one could hear the two screaming. “Why don’t we just calm down and talk this through.”

  “Talk what through?” Finley asked. “The fact that you are planning to betray MORF?”

  “We’re not betraying anyone. We were just discussing . . . possibilities,” Ashby said, rubbing his bitten finger.

  “Yeah, possibilities that go against my aunt’s orders.”

  “Look,” Greg said, “I didn’t sign up to be anyone’s soldier. I don’t have to follow Mirante’s orders.”

  “And why would you? You’re just a bunch of selfish brats who only care about yourselves.”

  “You know nothing about me,” Greg said. “This is about Sam and Jacob and no one else.”

  “Finley,” Ashby said in a pacifying tone, “do you know what my mother is capable of?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Then you can imagine the torture our friends must be going through.”

  “You . . . you don’t know that for a fact. They might just be in a cell with boredom as their only punishment.”

  Ashby’s face twisted in a disappointed expression. “I never thought you’d be this callous.”

  “I’m not callous,” Finley protested, pressing a hand to her stomach as if the thought made her sick.

  “Then, like us, you wouldn’t hang the life of a loved one on a supposition. Like us, you would risk everything to save them.”

  “Not everything.” Finley shook her head. “Not everyone.” A drop of sweat slid down the side of her face. She wiped it off, panting, anger getting the best of her.

  “We won’t risk anyone but ourselves,” Ashby said.

  Finley’s gaze jumped from Ashby to Perry, then to Greg. “You don’t know what ripples your intervention will cause. It was your actions that put Sam in this situation in the first place. You led Veridan to her.”

  “Gee, thanks for reminding us,” Perry put in.

  “I prefer action to inaction,” Greg said. “And may I also remind you that I am Sam’s Keeper. My sole purpose is to protect her.”

  “A grand job you did.” Her hands trembled at her side.

  Greg wanted to hate this stranger for her recriminations, but he couldn’t. She seemed too fragile and lost for that. Still, if she went to Mirante and told her what she’d overheard, they were screwed. The MORF commander would likely lock them up for good.

  “Please, Finley,” Ashby said, using a damn-good reasoning tone, “help us. We may be able to come up with a way to save our friends. I know you’ve never met them, but I’m sure that if you did, you would feel exactly the same way we do.”

  “Help you?!” she asked in a shrill, incredulous voice. She opened her mouth to say more, but she coughed instead, her small body shaking with the force of the spasms. She shook her head and, after a moment, managed to rasp, “No, I won’t help you. I trust my people. They will do what is best for everyone.”

  Ashby stepped closer to Finley. “Okay, don’t help us then, but don’t tell anyone about what you overheard. We don’t really have a plan. We were just . . . I don’t know . . . hypothesizing.” He forced a laugh. “What hope would we have, after all? Right, mates?”

  “Yeah, right,” Greg and Perry echoed.

  Finley snorted. “What? Do you think I’m four or something? No, I won’t tell anyone, I’ll tell everyone, so we can all watch our backs in case you decide to stab us.”

  Ashby growled in frustration. “You can’t do that. You’ll ruin everything. You’ll—”

  Greg jumped forward and caught Finley right before she collapsed to the floor.

  “Bloody hell!” Perry exclaimed. “What’s the matter with her?”

  “Man, she just got all worked up.” Greg gingerly pressed a couple of fingers to her forehead. She felt really warm. He frowned. “Can we really kidnap her now? ‘Cause if we don’t, she’ll get us in a shit-load of trouble when she wakes up.”

  Perry knelt next to the girl, pushed her eyelids back to look at her pupils, then took her pulse. “I don’t think she’ll be waking anytime soon.”

  Ashby and Greg exchanged panicked glances.

  “No, she’s not dead, you idiots,” Perry said, rolling his eyes. “She’s morphing.”

  Chapter 26

  Veridan

  “Do we have to do this, now?” Danata asked her ridiculous secretary, Vitorio Carso Pestile.

  Veridan understood her frustration, but in this, he would support Vitorio all the way. The Conscription Ball was the perfect opportunity to get all the Council members in one place. Now that he had all the energy he thought he needed.

  “I know it’s a stressful time,” Vitorio said, nervously adjusting his tie, “but this is one of our most important traditions, integral to the Council. We cannot cancel it, my Regent.”

  “I’m afraid I agree with him,” Veridan said in a sorrowful tone, as if it pained him to give her this advice.

  Danata left her high back chair and poured herself a full glass of potion. Her hand shook as she lifted the drink to her lips. Vitorio waited, looking as if he’d rather bury his head in a sandy dune in the middle of a distant desert.

  “We are at risk of losing more than our traditions,” the Regent said between sips of potion. “This ball will be nothing but a distraction and a waste of time.”

  “We have word of at least two newly morphed council members, my Regent,” Vitorio pleaded. “It is possible there are others, especially in these critical times. We would send the wrong message if we do not receive them.”

  “We don’t have to host a ridiculous ball to receive them,” Danata said. “Let them come whenever they want—for all the good they will do.”

  Vitorio looked appalled at the Regent’s comment.

  Veridan cleared his throat. “You are right, Regent. A ball is not required, but you should consider that canceling the event may send the wrong message. It might suggest that you are afraid, that MORF has managed to shake the foundation of your most dignified institution.”

  “Afraid?” Danata laughed and finished the last of her potion, throwing back her head.

  “Rumors of your sister’s return are already abound,” Veridan continued. “And those who remember her weak reign need a reminder of why you are a better choice than her, no matter the circumstances of Roanna’s disappearance.” Veridan knew that bringing up Danata’s sister was always a good way to get the Regent agitated, and he wasn’t wrong.

  “Fine!” she said, throwing a hand up in the air. “Have your useless ball. As usual, the High Sorcerer will be in charge of security which, given the circumstances, will need to be tighter than normal. Veridan, spare no resources, magical or otherwise. There would be no
worse way to show weakness than to have something go wrong during the Conscription.”

  Vitorio bowed, an expression of relief on his face. “I will set the preparations in motion, my Regent.” He scurried out of the room, clearly relieved of the fact that he had a party to organize rather than a party to cancel. He would have been in charge of writing and distributing the unsettling communiqué to the new council members, and if there was something Vitorio feared, it was angry, Fate-chosen leaders.

  “I’m tired of all these stupid traditions. Remind me to slowly dismantle them.” Danata sat back down, looking truly exhausted. “I have real problems to deal with. This is ridiculous.”

  Veridan twiddled his thumbs behind his back, thinking about Danata’s order for redoubled security.

  The Regent exhaled in a clear effort to let her frustrations over the ball dissipate. “Any luck making contact with my sister?”

  “Not yet, but I wouldn’t worry. The message will get to her.”

  “I suppose.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “I can’t wait to sweep this matter under the rug.”

  Veridan often wondered if that was true, if Danata and her volatile personality didn’t thrive under these chaotic circumstances. Or maybe it was his own tainted perspective that made it seem this way since, for him, there was no better Danata than a highly eruptive one.

  Chapter 27

  Sam

  “C’mon, c’mon.”

  Sam squeezed her fists together, trying to focus. She was in her cell, kneeling in front of the cot, attempting to control her tattered vinculums. Her Weaver instincts were afire, urging her to try again. She knew better than to ignore them.

  She’d been at it for the last hour with no result, but she wasn’t about to give up.

  Lowering her head between her manacled hands, she tried to recall the feelings that had driven her to despair. Sam let her mind wander.

  As hard as it was, she thought of what she’d done to Anima—as if the Seer’s suffering under Danata’s cruel reign hadn’t been enough.