Callum 

She’d do anything the Earl asked of her. 

These words were like a ray of sunshine, clearing my mind into sharp focus. Her stillness made me think of her as a victim. When she truly acted as the Earl’s puppet. An enticement left to entrap me. 

If I fell for her, I could lose something important. I would not let Verbodine take from me again.

“She’s been left here to slow us down or spring some trap,” Remi’s proclamation echoed my thoughts and reinforced them. He shook his finger at her unresponsive face and marched back to our small group. “We should kill her and be done with it—one less pawn for Verbodine. It might even drive a wedge between him and the Marquis. All with one head.” 

The bride of the Marquis of Breccia, accomplice to my father’s murder. The hidden daughter of my sworn enemy Earl Cuthwyn Verbodine, who stuck the blade into my father’s heart. The woman who ignored my presence and my words. Who defied my chivalry. 

The two lords may have evaded me for now, but the girl who linked them sat before me. 

No wonder I could feel when I was in her presence. No curse could hold back my fervent need for vengeance.  

“She’s just a girl, for loom’s sake.” Jaspar all but shouted in his exasperation. The typically placid knight looked as if he had been set on fire. His reddish-orange eyebrows furrowed together and his face grew red. 

It was a look I hadn’t seen since I was young. Disappointment.

He had only been alone with her for a few minutes. How could he have been won over so quickly? He may be built like a pine tree, but beneath his bark lay a sweet sap. 

“Could she serve as a hostage?” Janyck asked. My squire shrank as soon as he spoke. His voice had always been welcome in our discussions, but the mood in the hall brewed like a storm.

“How do you take a living statue hostage?” Remi shot back. “You can’t put her on a horse like that. This is weavers’ work. Who knows what could happen if we took her with us. She is too dangerous to take prisoner and means too much to our enemies to leave her behind.” 

Remi’s strong hatred for weavers was rooted in some scar he had never shared with me. He held no prejudice against the weavers he worked closely with, who had earned his trust. Still, he despised using mana and weaving, especially when he felt the same thing could be accomplished with regular effort. 

A weaving this strong, under such suspicious circumstances, upon an enemy waiting for them; was too much to be ignored. 

“Cal,” Jaspar’s voice was low, almost pleading. 

On her behalf? 

“Leave her. We still have to find who we came here for.” Jaspar spoke softly, his words meant only for me. He would make a chivalric appeal next if I let it go on. 

“Jas, go find out how the search of the grounds is going,” I ordered looking over his shoulder. I couldn’t meet his eyes when he looked so disappointed. “We’ll leave half our force here and the rest will mount up. Ready teams to hunt down Verbodine. And take the maid with you.” 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Jaspar ground out through his teeth. 

He only used formalities when he disagreed with my orders. He’d be insufferable for a few weeks, but he would eventually come to understand. 

Jaspar led the maid out of the hall, but I caught him looking at the girl. I wondered what compelled him to protect her. She was young and beautiful, and her eyes were deep enough to dive into, but that was all a part of the trap. The strange weaving pulling you in. Jaspar would realize that once it wore off, just as I had. 

I pulled a napkin off a nearby table to wipe my blade clean. She deserved that much. And it gave me a moment of quiet to think. The weaving around her itched something in the back of my mind. That little voice that shouts when something is wrong. 

She must have done it to herself. No common weaving existed that could compel another to this degree. 

It crossed my mind that she could be Verbodine’s weaver witch. The third person I searched for to complete my vengeance. The one who cursed me. But, her age did not fit. 

That was no common weaving either. Powerful weavers from across the continent had come to Truehorn over the years. Each attempted to unravel my curse. None had succeeded in so much as loosening its hold over me.

This girl had managed to make herself an obstacle. I did not know enough about weaving to know how she did it, but the why seemed obvious enough. She had compelled away action so she could not change her mind and back out when facing death.

Yes, that was it. A woven resolve of martyrdom.

Determined anew to get this over with and back on mission, I moved to face her and my knights fell into stride behind me. I would have liked to have known her name. If she had yelled at me and spit in my face like an enemy I could have heard her voice. Maybe, if we had met under different circumstances… 

“This is your last chance to speak in your defense.” 

Just speak. 

She blinked twice, but not a finger twitched. Her eyes still locked forward on my sword. 

If that is what you want, I will give you that end. 

“You are the link between my enemies and will only aid in their design in the future. You have given no defense for yourself. I will end your thread here.” 

Remi and Janyck stepped up grabbing her arms they pulled her off the lord’s grand chair to the floor. The white dress pooled around her in stark contrast to the dark grey stones. Her head tilted to the ground leaving her neck vulnerable and bare. Her hair lay perfectly pinned to expose her skin to my blade. 

I raised my sword and hesitated. There would be no taking this moment back.  

I will try to make this painless.  

I swung my sword down. A heavy, clean killing blow.

The great hall burst into a cool blue-white light like lightning. 

The light swallowed everything. It blinded me. I lost my senses one by one, even my sense of self dissipated in the brightness. It felt like eternity had stretched to its breaking point in an eerie still silence where I hovered on the edge between the horizons of life and death. 

The first to come back was my hearing. I recognized my name shouted by friendly voices from far away. 

Next came pain. I ached everywhere. My right shoulder and hand, my sides, and my knees. It felt as if I had been beaten, but that wasn’t right. I had been relatively untouched in the battle, and the curse took away pain. At least, it would dull the worst of injuries down to the small sense of something wrong, a pressure, or a small pinch. Not this stiffness and the sharp aches and twangs that pulled at my breath and focus. 

Was this how everyone else experienced pain? I couldn’t grasp the words to describe it. It just…hurt. 

I noticed the blood next. A sharp deep cut split the palm of my right hand. I had grasped the blade of my sword. A sword that now stuck an inch deep in the mortar between stones a few inches above the girl’s head.  

I missed. 

No. I pulled the blade away from her with my hand at the last moment.  

What had compelled me to do a stupid fool thing like that? 

“Cal!” Remi grabbed my shoulder, pulling me away. My sword tip scraped out of the mortar and fell. The sound left shivers cascading through my bones. “What was that?” 

“I don’t know.” I shook my head, but it couldn’t free me from the pain or the distraction it caused. 

The girl was still on the ground in the same pose, her neck unblemished. The only change was her right hand. The splayed fingers that once held the dagger were now curled into a tight protective ball. 

I had to fight off the sudden urge to reach out and comfort her. 

Idiot. You’re the one who tried to execute her. 

Remi inspected the cut on my hand. He carefully wiped the blood away with his handkerchief, pulled back the edges of my ruined glove, and poked around the wound to gauge its depth. “You cut straight to the bone. You need a healer. Janyck–” 

“On it,” Janyck called.  He raced out of the hall with a nervous bounce to his step. 

“Step back, Cal,” Remi said, a wavering quiver snuck into his voice. His face was paler than I had ever seen it, almost green. He wasn’t squeamish, so I must look pretty bad off. “I’ll finish it.” 

Yes. I nodded. She was dangerous for me. A distraction. Remi could– 

“No,” I ordered.  

Remi had only pulled his sword a few inches out of its sheath when I leaped forward and grabbed his wrist. I was ready to step in front of his blade if I had to. Nothing could happen to her.  

And I had no idea why.