Brightly Woven

straining like a living beast.
    In that moment my connection to the world snapped, and the only thing I was aware of was the voice in my head whispering urgently, Run, Sydelle .
    I ripped the diadem and veil from my hair, leaving them for the snow to claim. The shuddering ground made it hard to climb over the jagged rocks and upturned trees. My long skirt gathered around my knees, the beautiful red fabric torn and dirtied as I cut through dead brush and rocks. All I could feel was the burning of my lungs and the beating of my heart. Nothing else touched me, not the cold against my bare skin nor the branches and rocks that cut my arms. Nothing.
    I was running, but not fast enough.
    The snow picked up momentum as it barreled toward me, forcing me in the direction of a cliff. I looked back and forth desperately for a way down that wasn’t as steep, but the cliff seemed to line the entire face of the mountain. From my position at its very edge, I could see the blue water of the channel over the line of trees.
    The drop was hundreds of feet below, but I lurched forward again, unwilling to surrender to the snow. I fell to my knees, crawling over the edge of the cliff. My feet slid against the rocks, trying to find purchase as my hands clung to a long tree root. I scraped my chin against the hard earth, my hands slowly slipping with the force of the quaking ground. I clenched my teeth, ignoring the mass of white barreling toward me, and forced myself to continue climbing down.
    “Sydelle!”
    My head turned toward the direction of my name. It wasn’t possible.
    “Syd!” Again, over the roar of the avalanche. “Syd, jump!”
    I risked a glance down, looking back over my shoulder to the slope below, scattered with men and women in familiar black uniforms. Standing at the forefront were two dark-haired men, looking up. They were hundreds of feet below me, but there was no missing North’s distinctive stance and unusual cloak.
    “North!” I screamed in warning.
    “Jump!” He yelled back. “JUMP!”
    And because I was out of time, because I felt the ground begin to shift beneath me with the river of snow, I did. And I flew.
    At the moment my feet left the rim, North threw up his cloak, and something caught my body and eased my fall. I fell slowly, slowly—without even a sound. The roar of the crushing snow gave way to perfect silence. There was a wall of wind carefully lowering me when I should have been plummeting. I almost laughed in exhilaration, but I forced my eyes to stay focused on North’s determined face, coming closer by the second. His arms were reaching up toward me, straining. Several of the other wizards seemed to be helping him guide me down, but even more kept their eyes turned up to the tide of snow that hurtled over the rim.
    Time sped back up, and so did my fall. I fell onto North, my arms wrapping around his shoulders. He used the force ofthe impact to drop us to the ground, bringing his red cloak up in one fluid, sweeping motion and pulling it over our heads. A moment later, the rest of the Wizard Guard unleashed a firestorm above our heads, incinerating the snow until only steam and air remained. I felt the cold water raining down around us. It soaked through North’s thin cloak, but neither of us cared.
    His arms came around me tightly, crushing me to him. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his face buried in my hair. “Syd, did they hurt you?”
    I couldn’t say a single word; I clung to his neck and tried to breathe.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

    W e stayed down until the plummeting water ceased and the ground stilled, and only then did North drop the protective red cloak. I winced at the shock of cold air, and my legs buckled beneath me.
    “It’s okay, you’re okay,” North said, scooping me up into his arms. I pressed my face against his shoulder as he wrapped the cloak around us for warmth. It covered us like a wet blanket but dried quickly with its own natural heat.
    “Take her back to the ship,” Oliver said, coming to stand next to us. “We’re going to search for survivors.”
    “It was me,” I whispered. “I did this.”
    North’s arms tightened around me. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
    “Yes, it was,” I said. “I did it on purpose.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oliver and Northexchange a look. In the end, Oliver merely nodded, summoning a few of the other wizards around him. They drew out their talismans and, in the next