Brightly Woven

different. An unnameable feeling welled up from deep inside of me and stole the breath in my lungs.
    “Ewald’s going tonight or tomorrow, isn’t he?” Elema asked after a moment. “I’ll watch supper if you take her over to speak with him now.”
    “Of course,” Ben said. “Let me get my cloak and we’ll go.”
    I gave Elema a grateful smile, and she squeezed my arm reassuringly.
    “I never thought—” I searched for the right words. “I don’t know if there’s any way that I can thank you for what you’ve done.”
    “You know how these things come around,” Elema said. “All good favors are returned in the end.”
    “Ready, Sydelle?” Ben asked as he fastened his cloak around his neck. “The markets are busy this time of day, so stay by my side.”
    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,”