The shadow weaver, p.1
The Shadow Weaver, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Copyright
To Daniel, my knight, fated mate and one true love –
winters we will weave.
The Shadow Weaver is an epic tale of love and darkness crafted for adult readers. Within these pages, you’ll find passion, peril, and heartbreak – along with mature themes like violence, death and intimacy, and brief mentions of sexual assault and torture. For a detailed list of content warnings, visit ivycliffwater.com.
Welcome to Eritz – may the shadows guide you.
PROLOGUE
THE KNIGHT
The night the messenger came to my door, there was a frost moon. The king had sent a written command that I was to prepare for a long journey and present myself in the royal chambers immediately.
The deep-blue orb set high in the sky made me uneasy. A second full moon in one calendar month was rare, and according to legend, its appearance foretold impending misfortune.
‘Do you know what this is about, Iain?’ Fergus asked as we left our warm beds and hurried towards the castle together.
Like me, Fergus had dressed in light armour and travelling leathers. His fingers fumbled as he attached a red cape to his spaulders with polished silver clips.
‘I have no idea.’ Without stopping, I tried to adjust the new surcoat I was assigned two days ago. It was ill-fitting and uncomfortable, and I suspected it once belonged to a shorter, slim-built man.
The gold stitching on our matching capes and surcoats branded us as knights. I ran my fingers over the emblem on my chest with pride. The royal insignia was a fist holding a sword inside a handstitched triangle, and surrounding it was a half-risen sun, a lightning bolt and a tree.
My stomach twisted and churned with my supper at our late-night summons.
We rushed down empty castle hallways as quietly as our boots allowed us until we reached two stony-faced guards outside the king’s chambers. Fergus and I tried to catch our breath while the guards read the king’s message, confirming he had summoned us. Remaining emotionless, they opened the double doors to a lavish foyer.
The king’s restless footsteps echoed through the room, resonating off the pristine stone floor. The iron chandeliers, gilded furniture and intricate tapestries enhanced the room’s grandeur – but the king still commanded attention. His height surpassed most men, and his brawny build only added to his imposing presence. Before becoming the previous king’s son-in-law and inheriting the throne, he had commanded the army with an iron fist.
Fergus stood at attention by my side as we waited for the king to acknowledge our presence.
The king repeatedly flexed his hands as he paced around the room, occasionally glaring at the opulent black doors across the grand foyer. He halted his pacing and faced us from across the room. I bowed my head, as did Fergus.
‘Your Majesty,’ we murmured in unison.
‘I have an important task,’ the king said as he strode towards us. His movements were jerky, and the agitation in his voice put me on edge. ‘You will undertake this task in complete secrecy. Understood?’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ we said, again in unison.
‘I have chosen you both for this assignment because you have no family to question why you left and did not return to Capita. I will reward you for your troubles, enough to start a new life anywhere else. You are not to reveal where you are going or why. Neither of you will ever set foot in this city after tonight.’ The king’s words hit me like physical blows. We cannot return? I felt beads of sweat gathering on my brow.
Next to me, Fergus shuffled from foot to foot. There was a woman in the castle kitchens he had been courting for months. Would he leave her behind with no word of why?
The king detected Fergus’s distress and fixed his narrowing gaze on the young knight. ‘Remember the oath you swore to me when you became a knight? To give your sword, your life and your undying loyalty to me?’ His demeanor shifted from agitated to menacing as he towered over Fergus.
Fergus nodded vigorously. The eyes of the king bore into the knight’s bowed head, and when he seemed pacified by Fergus’s submission, he continued speaking.
‘The queen had a long, arduous labor and has given birth to twins.’ He spat out the words as if insulted. ‘Both infants are unwell.’ The king circled us with his hands tightly clasped behind his back. ‘They are an abomination. It would upset the queen for others to know of her failure, and it would reflect poorly on our union. They must be quietly disposed of far away from here.’
The king came to stand in front of us once more. My heart hammered against my ribcage as I attempted to appear unaffected before him.
‘You will each take a babe and leave immediately. Neither of you can return to Capita,’ he reminded us. ‘You also will not reveal to anyone you served Capita. For this, you will both be generously compensated. Fifty gold coins to use as you wish.’ The king gestured at a gilded three-legged table where two sizeable coin purses waited to be collected. It was more than a knight could earn in several lifetimes. ‘The queen’s chamber is through there.’ He gestured towards the ornate black doors with a jerk of his chin.
I had always yearned to be a knight. At eighteen, I had defied my father, a small-town blacksmith, to become one. He had raised me to be a blacksmith, too, but I had left him and my mother to join the king’s guard, determined that I would become a knight one day. Now, only a few days after achieving that dream, it was being torn from me by the king himself. I knew why we received knighthoods so quickly. We were disposable.
What disturbed me most was the queen had only given birth tonight – the king couldn’t have known that the infants were unwell until today. He had chosen us as their assassins before they were even born.
An infant’s cry from the queen’s chamber interrupted my inner turmoil. The king stilled, and the vein at his temple pulsed angrily.
‘Do as I ask, immediately,’ he ordered before storming out the doors we had arrived through only minutes before.
Fergus’s face went slack with disbelief. We looked at the black chamber doors, fearful of what we would find behind them. We could not linger here and keep our lives.
With decisive movements, I grabbed a purse from the table and tied it to my belt. Slower and less sure, Fergus did the same.
‘Iain?’ Fergus looked at me, distressed.
‘You want to live? You do as the king ordered.’ It was callous, but I was in no mood to give comfort.
We entered the queen’s chamber. A grand bed was the centre-piece, framed with emerald silk drapes, but it was the loveliness of the young woman sitting upon it that left me breathless.
She was wearing a delicate lace robe. Long golden hair flowed over her shoulders, and she held a tiny bundle in each arm. Her face was pale, but her cheeks and the tip of her nose were rosy as though she had been outside on a winter’s day. I had seen the queen in the finest of gowns – her neck and wrists draped in jewels – but here, like this, unadorned and happy, she was her most beautiful self.
The queen raised vivid green eyes at our entrance, and I watched as her happiness descended into fear. Like a stone, guilt sat heavily in my gut.
Her lady-in-waiting moved to stand in front of the young queen as if she could stop what was about to happen.
Fergus, not willing to sacrifice his own life, moved towards the bed first. He shoved the lady-in-waiting aside and reached for an infant.
To my surprise, as tears rolled down the queen’s cheeks, she gently gave Fergus her child, then laid her elegant hand on his forearm. Her lips moved silently, and Fergus’s eyes glazed over.
I had overheard a rumour from a table of drunken knights that the queen was one of the Cursed. I had never believed it could be true – she was so greatly loved and respected.
An icy shudder surged through me, and I recoiled at the strange tingle at the base of my neck. I no longer doubted that the golden-haired queen was Cursed. Her power occupied the air around us, and I could taste it with every breath; a dance of melancholy and sweetness that lingered on my tastebuds.
Fergus straightened with the wrapped infant in his arms, turning slowly as if in a trance. He passed me without a care in the world.
Approaching the ornate bed cautiously, I kept my eye on the Cu
‘I won’t hurt your child,’ I promised her. ‘Would you like me to find the babe a safe home?’ The sound of my heart was loud in my ears. Could she hear my fear too? I waited for her to speak while keeping out of her reach. My knowledge of the Cursed was minimal, but from what happened to Fergus, it seemed she needed to touch a person’s flesh for it to work.
‘What is your name?’ she asked, her voice sweet and steady over the sound of my racing heart.
‘Iain De Gellar, Your Majesty.’ I bowed my head to her.
‘You promise no harm will befall my daughter?’ Her green eyes glistened.
‘I swear it.’
‘Then come and take my sweet little girl.’ She kissed the sleeping babe’s head and held the bundle out to me.
I hesitated, glancing at the lady-in-waiting, who quickly stepped towards her mistress. She halted when the queen gave her a stern look.
With uneven steps, I moved forwards and took the warm little bundle from the queen’s outstretched arms. I could not bring myself to look down at what I held. Instead, I looked deep into the hypnotic green orbs that seemed to float before me, and the air between us turned bittersweet once more.
‘Iain De Gellar?’ The Cursed queen’s lips did not move, but I heard her speak my name.
‘Yes?’ My voice sounded odd and distant to my ears, as if it were not me who had spoken the word.
There was a strange tingle at the base of my neck again. I trembled as I tried to fight the icy fingers running down my spine, but I knew my fate had been sealed the moment the blue frost moon cast its light upon me.
†
Rivulets of sweat ran under my armour. I disliked the unnatural heat of the land I had found myself in after two months of travelling. I held the sleeping babe in one arm and used my free hand to lead my stallion off the river raft. Paying the ferryman his fee, I gladly left his probing gaze and not-so-subtle questioning behind me, continuing my journey south.
The ominously red waters of the river drew my eye. ‘What is wrong with this place, Little Worm?’ Her grey eyes were open and alert now, and from the way she was squirming, I knew she was hungry and desperate for her linens to be changed. ‘How can people survive in this heat?’ Talking to her, I discovered, kept the child distracted until I could find her next meal. Finding a goat or a cow still able to produce milk was becoming increasingly difficult in this unfruitful land, but the constant throbbing in my head urged me to continue. She sucked noisily on her tiny fist as her legs kicked against my breastplate. The nickname I had given her suited her well; the only time this child stilled was when she slept.
I discarded my armour under a withered tree. I was more likely to die of heatstroke than be attacked by a farmer or a travelling peddler.
By the time we had reached the huddle of lopsided cottages, my Little Worm was crying fitfully; the cloth I had soaked in water from my flask no longer satisfied her.
The first person I encountered was a plain, middle-aged woman with tattered shoes and a holey shawl.
‘Good day. Can you direct me to someone who can sell me goat or cow milk?’
She peered at the babe, sucking furiously on her tiny fist. ‘Follow me. I know someone who might be able to help you.’
I wasn’t sure I should trust someone who wore a woolen shawl in this heat, but my choices were limited.
She led me to a farm a few miles up the main road. We entered through a rustic gate and approached a small but well-kept cottage. The smell of rosemary and thyme surrounded us, and I spied a pumpkin patch beside the thatch-roofed home.
The woman knocked on the cottage door, and it opened to reveal a man the size of a bear.
‘Evening, Olaf.’
‘Evening, Edda.’
‘How is Esma doing?’ Edda asked.
The bear-sized man looked towards the tree in the yard, the only living tree I had seen since leaving the village itself. My arms tightened around Little Worm as I saw the tiny mound of dirt marked by a white wooden marker.
‘Esma is resting.’ The shadows under the man’s eyes and the downturn of his lips spoke of exhaustion and grief.
‘This man is looking for milk for his child, and I thought she could help.’
Noticing me for the first time, Olaf looked to where I stood. His gaze rested on Little Worm, who was snuffing and wriggling in her wet linens.
‘Esma is resting,’ Olaf repeated, broadening his stance in the doorway and placing his hands on his hips.
Little Worm cried loudly, and I saw the curtain covering the cottage window twitch.
‘I will feed the babe.’ A woman’s voice came from inside the cottage.
Olaf turned his enormous head. ‘You don’t have to do this, my love.’
He stepped aside as a woman who only came up to his elbow appeared beside him.
‘I have what the child needs.’ The woman with soft brown eyes and a small heart-shaped face surrounded by a cloud of chestnut waves gestured for me to come forward.
‘Move aside, love.’ Esma smiled gently at her husband, who was still blocking my entrance.
With a sigh and a warning glance, he stepped back so I could enter the cottage.
I placed Little Worm in Esma’s waiting arms. She looked down at the child with a watery smile, and I couldn’t help but feel a tug of pity for the grieving woman.
‘What pretty grey eyes you have,’ she murmured to Little Worm, who watched Esma with wide eyes. ‘I may need your help,’ Esma said to Edda, who had come to stand beside her.
‘There’s a knack to it, but your body will know what to do.’ Edda guided her to a pair of rocking chairs set by the cold hearth.
I averted my eyes and looked out at the thriving pumpkin patch as Esma, with the help of Edda, guided Little Worm to her breast.
Esma let out a cry of surprise as Little Worm latched on hungrily. The room was filled with the sound of her hungry gulps.
‘That’s it, you are doing just fine.’ Edda patted Esma’s shoulder.
‘Come, Olaf. You must see her pretty eyes,’ Esma called to her husband.
Olaf was hovering between the doorway where I stood and where his wife held a baby to her breast for perhaps the first time.
‘I shall be back to collect her before nightfall,’ I said.
Edda waved me away, and Esma continued to call for Olaf to see the child.
I took one last look at Little Worm and her enchanted audience before slipping quietly out the door.
The pounding in my head would not let me wander too far from Little Worm, so I left my stallion in the abandoned barn we had passed earlier and then doubled back to the cottage.
Was this where I was meant to leave her?
I set up watch as night approached. When Edda left the cottage, I crept to the side window and peered in.
‘I think she wants to be fed again.’ Esma was rocking back and forth with Little Worm in her arms.
‘I can’t believe a father would just leave his child with strangers like that,’ Olaf said, glaring out the open door.
‘We don’t know his circumstances,’ Esma replied. ‘Edda said he may have gone to the village to get supplies. The time probably got away from him, is all. Edda will find him and bring him back.’
‘He didn’t even leave clean linens.’ Olaf frowned into the fading light.
‘I think when she sucks on her fist like this, it means she’s hungry,’ said Esma.
‘Do you think he is even her father?’ Olaf tugged on his wiry beard.
‘They both have fair hair …’ Esma said, touching the golden fuzz on Little Worm’s head.
‘That means little. My hair is fair too.’ Olaf pointed out.
‘Please close the door, my love. Come sit with us. I will feed her again before her father comes for her.’ Esma tucked Little Worm into her arm and brought the babe’s head to her breast as if she had been doing it for years, not hours.
‘If he ever comes for her,’ muttered Olaf after closing the door.
I watched him take the rocking chair opposite his wife with a deep sigh.
‘What is it, my love?’ Esma looked up at Olaf, a line between her brows.
‘Watching you with a child at your breast is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And the most painful.’
She smiled at Olaf with a warmth so profound, it took my breath away.
The endless throbbing in my temple had gone from a consistent drumbeat to a flutter of distant thumps, and I wondered if Esma and Olaf’s care for Little Worm was lessening the Curse I was under.
