Brightly Woven

and I was forced to take small, steady steps in order not to fall the rest of the way down. The frame of my loom rattled and railed within its tight restraints; it was the only sound I could hear above my harsh breathing.
    The sun was sinking behind us, the lingering heat on our backs no more than a painful reminder of what I was leaving behind. I had no eyes for the red flowers growing amid the tall grass or the river winding lazily across the land.
    “Are you sure I can’t carry your bag for you awhile?” North asked, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Your loom doesn’t weigh much at all.”
    I whirled around so quickly I nearly lost my balance. North saw, of course, and his hands flashed out to steady me. His fingers weren’t on my arms for more than a moment before I pushed him away as hard as I could.
    “Don’t touch me,” I said. “You want to help me? Go back and force the soldiers out of Cliffton!”
    He tried to pull the bag from my shoulders, but I held on to it.
    “Syd,” he said calmly. “Be reasonable. I know it’s heavy. Please, let me take it for a while.”
    “Are you hard of hearing?” I asked, the words coming out in a furious storm. “Leave me alone!”
    North held up his hands in surrender, and we spent the next few hours in silence, with only the sound of the bugs in the tall grass and the dim lights of a distant city to guide us.The moon was under a cover of clouds, which didn’t make navigating through the fields any easier.
    With my eyes on the city ahead, I didn’t see the hole at my feet. I did, however, feel it as my body careened forward and the ground rushed up to meet me. My chin came down hard against the ground as my fall knocked the air from my lungs. I wasn’t sure how long I was on the ground, but I couldn’t pull myself back up, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
    North’s heavy boots came shuffling toward me.
    “Don’t,” I protested weakly.
    His hands lifted me to my knees and released me just as quickly. He removed the bag from my shoulders and placed it over his own. I felt better immediately, but it didn’t stop the hot tears that spilled onto my cheeks all the way to Dellark.

    Somewhere amid all his ramblings, North had mentioned that Dellark was a major port on the river. I saw several wooden ships, but mainly I saw bridges, dozens of them, maybe even hundreds. The bridges over the river were wood, rising and falling with the passing ships. Those that rose over the streams branching from the river were smaller, built from the same old gray stone as the buildings. It was an intricate network—a maze, truly.
    Above us, the purple banners of Palmarta were flapping in the evening’s breeze. North and I crossed two of the largerbridges before I stopped outside a grim-looking tavern. The sign hanging above it had rotted to the point that the wording on it was indecipherable…but I had to stop. If I moved one more step, I was sure I would collapse.
    “I have a little money if you want to sleep inside tonight…,” he began.
    “Here,” I said.
    “Fine.” North pushed the door open, his dark hair hiding his face. He looked filthy, but I probably looked worse. It only made me despise him more.
    North dropped our bags down at the only free table and headed straight for the large blond man behind the bar. I dropped down into my chair and rested my head against the table. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t throb with exhaustion. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I hardly noticed the uproar of laughter and song. On the wall opposite me were two portraits, one of the king when he was still young and beautiful, and the other of the fair-haired, blue-eyed Queen Eglantine.
    My eyes drifted shut against my will, but I couldn’t slip into sleep. The smell of a pipe from across the room instantly recalled dinners at Henry’s house, his father puffing rings of smoke to amuse the twins. Was it possible…?
    I brought my head up to see where the smoke was coming from, looking past North at the bar, around the animal heads and dead fish mounted on the walls to a far, dark corner. The man smoking the pipe wore a pale overcoat and a hat thatcovered his eyes. It wasn’t Henry’s father—of course not—it was just my stupid mind playing tricks. As if sensing my gaze, the man leaned forward in his seat and gave me a slight nod. For a moment, it looked as though he would stand.
    A plate slammed down in front of me. I glanced at the shreds of meat and pile