The Woven Crown (Completed)

Chapter 12

They all turned to look at her. She didn't know what to say. Why would the Prestige still be looking for her? She thought he and everyone else from her old life would have given her up for dead long ago. Ryla's heart beat a loud rhythm against her ribcage as Marta led her over to the vacant chair by the fire. She had finally felt safe, finally had a place to call her own, and now this.

"Ryla," began Oran. "The night Vencezio attacked you at Wightmanstry, what were you doing? How did he find you?"

Ryla thought back to when she noticed he was staring at her. "I was on duty like usual, helping to bring trays up and down from the kitchen. He was talking with the other guests, but he wouldn't stop watching me. No one had ever paid attention to me like that before."

"Were you wearing anything in particular, perhaps something that made you stand out?"

"Just my servant's uniform, a black tunic and leggings, and my kerchief. Lady Wickson liked for all of us to look as similar as possible."

Oran looked over at Penelope who now stroked her husband's cheek and tucked the sheet more snuggly around him. "Come Ryla. Let's leave Marta to her good work."

They left Marta's and went straight to Oran's house. He brought his own fire back to a cozy glow and sat down once more upon his stool, leaving the chair for Ryla. The light outside the window was slowly strengthening and Ryla could already hear someone hard at work cooking the day's breakfast.

"I've been thinking about this for some time now," Oran began. Ryla had noticed Oran's quiet assessment of her, always watching with steady eyes, although up until now he'd kept those assessments to himself.

"There's something strange about you, Ryla. Yes, your magic seems more unpredictable than most and you are able to tap into a well of strength few possess, though that's not the only thing strange to me. Tell me, what do you know about life threads?"

"Well," Ryla thought, "Elira has taught me that every living thing has one. And... we can connect to them to perform certain types of magic. She says it contains the essence of what keeps us alive. That's about as far as we've gotten."

"Yes, good. Life threads are an interesting area of study. Some Woven have given lifetimes to its research and still they remain much a mystery. Life threads have their variations, but every human has the same basic structure. It's hard even to tell the difference between common-born and Woven unless you catch a Woven in the act of using their thread. It's the only difference between us, you understand— every living thing has a life thread, but only the Woven have access to it.

"Your life thread, on the other hand, is... unique."

"What do you mean? How is it different?" Less than a month ago I found out I wasn't common-born and now he's telling me that even as a Woven I don't fit in?

Oran steepled his fingers beneath his nose and watched her through narrowed eyes as if she was a puzzle to be solved. "Ryla, when I look around us now, I can detect the many threads that make up this room. I can see life in every corner, from the sturdy life thread belonging to this tree, to the hair-thin life thread of a beetle making his way across the windowsill." He took a breath. "Remarkably, the only life thread I cannot detect is yours."

There was a moment of complete silence before Ryla started to object. "But I do have a life thread, I've seen it, felt it..."

"Yes, yes, of course you have a life thread. Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here breathing in front of me, nor would the magic you've preformed been possible. No, it seems to be the case that it is simply not visible to anyone except you."