Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

around them.
    "I've found what I could from the larder," he said. "Come and sit."
    "Food?" asked Tessa. "The edible kind?" She shook her head at the concept of how this was all possible. Gray Lily had meant it when she said she'd made a world inside the tapestry.
    They ate from heavy pewter platters that reflected dark-veined, silvery images of their faces in the dim light. Will cut rich, creamy slices from a wheel of cheese, and they shared bowls of dried apricots and apples. There was also a tough, dried-out loaf of heavy brown bread. They broke off chunks of this and dipped them into a small bowl of honey. Finally Tessa tried a swallow of what Will called sweet March ale. It was so heady it made her choke. "Maybe I should stick to water," she gasped, and reached for the earthenware pitcher nearby.
    As she sipped, she stole a glance at Will. The candlelight played over his face and brought every strongly angled feature into stark relief. His face was troubled and pensive and his eyes dark, shadowed by a fall of unruly hair. Will usually seemed so confident, so full of life. Seeing him so desolate now made Tessa realize how traumatic the day had been. She had been completely focused on her own troubles, and so awestruck by the strange splendor of this place that she had nearly forgotten. This was Will's home. Or at least a shallow replica of it.
    She tried to imagine growing up in such a huge ... fortress. Surrounded by servants, riding across the countryside, free to do whatever you wanted. "You must have had an exciting life here," said Tessa, trying to lighten his mood.
    Will seemed to consider this. "I would not have called it so." He shrugged. "I am the younger son, not in line for my father's title, which goes to Hugh. I had not yet found a place or a calling of my own." He frowned. "I didn't even have an inkling of what it should be, though the choices were plain enough." He ticked them off on three fingers: "marriage, to a girl with a large estate and a larger dowry; soldiering; or the priesthood."
    Tessa watched and listened, trying to figure out which of these choices appalled her the most. It was a toss-up. "What--what were you leaning toward?" she said lightly.
    For the first time that evening Will smiled, his teeth flashing at her in the near dark. "I had thought to leave my decision up to fate, mistress."
    When Tessa said nothing, his smile faded. He leaned across the table, his expression intent. They stared at each other. Tessa felt her chest tighten; it ached with every breath she took. At that moment she felt they were alone, adrift in a black sea of dreams. There was no castle, no world. Nothing existed beyond this small pool of light and Will.
    She must have trembled or made some small sound, because in the next instant Will stood and rounded the table.
    "You're cold." He scooped her up in his arms and walked closer to the fire, her heavy skirts trailing. He sat in a chair, holding her so close that she could feel the steady drum of his pulse. He looked at her, and Tessa felt the cold melt away in the heat of the fire and Will's gaze. She watched the firelight reflected in his eyes and then rested her head against his shoulder. Every part of her was warm: her feet, her hands, her heart.
    The storm had stopped. A beam of light sliced across the floor.
    "The moon," whispered Tessa. She could see the pale globe through the window. "It will be full soon, won't it," she said.
    "Tomorrow night," said Will, following her gaze.
    "That's when the Norn said my father would ..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to picture her father, to imagine what was happening, what he was feeling. She should be there.
    "Is his illness painful?" Will asked quietly.
    "I don't know. I don't think so. But it's just ... it's awful not knowing what's happening. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
    That wasn't exactly true, she told herself. She had to return the threads that Gray Lily had stolen before the full moon. And she hadn't told Will everything.
    Will was watching her. "Perhaps you won't know what to do until the time is upon you," he said. "There must be a reason for all this." There was an expression of grim determination on his face. Or maybe hope.
    "You were the one who released me from the tapestry," he finished.
    He said it as if it were some feat she had accomplished, had planned. "But--" she began, protesting miserably.
    "I know," he interrupted with a weary smile, and dropped his head back to rest on the