Brightly Woven

cut off by three loud knocks and the great groan of the gate’s doors as they were dragged open. An instant hush fell over the crowd. Four guards rode out in front of the ornate white carriage, followed by another four at the rear. The horses were brought to a halt just short of the stairs; Oliver and the Sorceress Imperial seemed to materialize out of thin air, making their way through the courtyard to greet the queen on her return.
    Two attendants appeared and announced, “Her Majesty, Queen Eglantine.”
    My heart was racing with so much excitement I thought it was in danger of leaving my chest. I stood on my toes, leaning forward to catch a better glimpse of the queen. North held out his arm to steady me.
    The Sorceress Imperial met a prim-looking man as he came down the marble stairs. He was a lean man, well into middle age, his expression as sharp as the tip of his nose.
    “That’s Pompey, one of the queen’s human advisors,”Owain whispered to me. “He’s the head steward of the castle.”
    Oliver opened the door to the carriage, offering his arm to the queen.
    All girls, at one point or another, have fancy dreams of becoming princesses, but few have the poise and grace required for such a title. Queen Eglantine’s enormous, diamond-studded dress didn’t weigh her down in the slightest, and it seemed to me that she glided rather than walked, almost floating past the crowds. She held her head impossibly high, and her silky golden hair—so fair it was practically white—shone in long tendrils down her back.
    She didn’t even glance our way. Her eyes were on the ground as Oliver leaned over to whisper something in her ear. The wizard looked pleased with himself, with the queen’s arm tucked beneath his own as he led her along.
    At the stairs, she turned around, looking as if she wanted to say something to the crowd. Instead, the Sorceress Imperial took her other arm. She, Oliver, and the queen spoke in low voices as they began their ascent, turning only at the top of the staircase to look back over the crowd.
    “Ah, it seems that you’ve been noticed, lad,” Owain said.
    He nodded toward the stairs. Oliver and the queen were both staring in our direction, heads bent together. Oliver was speaking into her ear—I didn’t miss the way his hand rested intimately on top of hers—but the queen said nothing. She nodded, her face tense. Pompey stood nearby.
    North muttered something under his breath and kept his eyes down until the queen at last entered the castle and the crowds began to disperse.
    “I’m heading back to the inn,” Owain said. “You folks coming?”
    North shook his head, nodding at Pompey.
    “I believe that’s our minder for the evening,” North said. The man’s eyes widened in recognition, and he waved us forward.
    “Good luck with that,” Owain said, clapping North on the shoulder. “Come find me tomorrow, and we’ll have a chat.”
    The steward reached us just as Owain disappeared into the sea of men and wizards.
    “Pompey,” North greeted him.
    “It’s been so long, Mr. North! Your mother has asked me to escort you to your chambers, but I’m sure you remember the way.”
    “Remember the way?” I repeated, looking up at him.
    “I lived here before going to train with Magister Pascal, remember?”
    I could have strangled him. “Yet another thing you conveniently forgot to mention?”
    He tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “I know this castle inside and out.”
    “Are there any other secrets I should know about?” I asked. “Cousins? Secret rooms?”
    He leaned in, grinning mischievously. “None of those,” he said. “But there is a tapestry room— and a weaving room.”
    “Will you take me?” I was begging, but I didn’t even care.
    He laughed again. “I’m afraid if I take you, you’ll never want to leave.”
    “You’re right—”
    “Sydelle?”
    I turned around slowly. North’s hand came up to rest protectively on my back.
    “Sydelle? Is that you?” Even in the darkness I could make out the familiar shape of his face. My heart dropped into my stomach.
    “Henry!” I said, walking toward him in a daze. He flung his arms around my neck, laughing. “Are you all right—have you heard anything from home?”
    He hugged me so tightly he actually lifted me from the ground, then we held each other at arm’s length. I tried to match my smile to his grin, but I felt like I could scarcely breathe.
    “One question at a time!” he said,