The Weaver's Source

Chapter 74

I stared out the window, tracing the cracks of ice that covered the glass as I brushed my fingers through my damp hair, still hot from my bath. Outside was thick with darkness, barely broken by the dawn's light, and snow fell in thick flurries as the wind breathed hard, tugging at clothes and hair as miners pushed onwards to their dawn shifts. I didn't like the snow. It reminded me that winter was firmly upon us, along with that dream of Grigore's impending death.

I shifted my weight and turned to Milcent as she waddled over to me. She had only just got herself out of bed and, while she was dressed, her hair was an unkempt mess and trailed thickly down her back.

"You're up very early today, Lyra. Did you sleep okay?" She asked as she placed some warm porridge in front of me.

"I didn't." I replied but didn't go into the reasons why. My magic kept waking me up, twittering at me to go find Grigore who once again patrolled the manor's cold halls, and my mind was plagued with Daryl and why he died.

"Well, winter is beginning to start." She eyed the frosty window. "This time next month, our city will be filled with snow and those steps outside will be buried."

I nodded, quietly not looking forward to the freezing season for once.

I looked up sharply from my food when Milcent sat down beside me, surprised. She often left me to eat, to clean and dust and check stocks. But instead she sat there, looking oddly sad.

"What is it, Milcent?" I asked once I had swallowed my mouthful of porridge.

She looked up at me and smiled gently. "Have you approached Grigore yet?"

I swivelled my attention to the steam curling from the bowl. "Approached him about what?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You know what."

I could feel my cheeks burning hotly. "I'm not going to." I stuttered.

Milcent frowned in disapproval but relief touched her. "I had thought you had and was worried it went badly for you. I was surprised by his gruffness the other day."

"We had a misunderstanding." I said softly, not wanting to go any further into my current emotional turmoil. It would mean I had to explain how he fed from me, that I had interacted him in manners I really shouldn't, and press her conviction I had a chance of my feelings being returned.

She nodded. "Well I still stand by you telling him, Lyra."

"You don't understand, Grigore would run. He's on some kind of quest or something and it's taken him months to get him to accept me as his Source. If I say anything about how I felt, he would clap up tight or leave me." I said desperately.

"He won't leave you. He's kept you with him so far, hasn't he? Why did he do that if he didn't intend to keep you with him?"

"Only because I nearly got myself killed and I wasn't going to stop following him." I paused and pushed the thick syrupy porridge around. "Grigore is a very cut off person. He doesn't trust easily and doesn't like doing anything that may tie him to another."

"I can see that clear as day but I also see what you don't." Milcent said.

My face flushed a little, not wanting to think about what she claimed to see.

"So you truly intend to just stay beside a man, pining after him without saying a word?"

"It's better that way." I whispered softly.

Milcent said in despair. "That's a painful path you're trying to go down, Lyra, and one you're going to regret, and that sticks with you forever." My eyes flickered up to her round face as she grew sombre. "When I was a girl, I had a boy love. I fancied this young miner but he didn't know. We would spend hours talking to one another and he would often teach me about mining and the signs of good ore or coal. I loved talking to him. Was such a bright kind boy. But this city is often chipping away at the mountain, carving away it's stone and blood. Sometimes the miners dig too deep and disturb something they shouldn't. Monsters are often let out that slay many before a Weaver deals with it." She paused. "My miner boy was slaughtered with seven others when they disturbed a troll. I was distraught and I always regretted never telling him that I loved him. I always felt he returned it but I would never know. He had died, taking that knowledge and potential future with him. It took years before that pain and regret left me, Lyra. I never loved anyone else until twenty years passed, when I met Hill and finally felt I could let my miner boy go."