“They are already gone, but they do not have a leader. With the loss of Rhogan, I need someone there calling the shots. Can you make it work?”
I ran my hands through my hair and felt the rough texture of my growing horns. I closed my eyes and tried to figure out how I could do it all. “I will do everything in my power to meet them, but I can’t travel with them. I have to find someone called the Weaver in the Marsh Court.”
“She’s one of ours. What do you need her for?”
“It’s complicated,” I answered. “The only reason I was able to leave the castle is because the king sent me on a mission.”
“She won’t do a thing for the northern king, Temir.”
“It’s not for him. It’s to help me trick him.”
“She lives in Hythe. She is called the Weaver because she owns a basket shop there. Tell her I sent you and she will help.”
“Thanks, Rook. I’ll do what I can to meet the rebels outside of Volos.”
I left the new headquarters in the same manner I had come, and Gaea appeared not long after. “Can you get us to Hythe?” I asked as soon as we were far enough away from the fae in the cart.
“Yes. I’ve been there. Autus made me travel all the way down the King’s Road. That’s what they call it in the Marsh Court. Take my hand.”
We spirited away, and I envied Gaea’s magic. “Thank you, Gaea.” I kept her hand in mine after we arrived. “I’d be lost right now without you.”
She bumped her shoulder into mine. “Glad you finally noticed.”
“Are you hungry? We could eat before we hunt down the Weaver. We’ve got to go through the shops here anyway.”
“I’m famished,” she said, pulling me into town. We had lunch in a rugged tavern and then walked the main road until Gaea spotted the shop. “Is that it?” she asked, pointing to a shop with glass windows and baskets and ropes hanging from the ceiling.
“The Weaver’s Inn,” I read on the carved sign. “Let’s go.”
The soft sound of a bell filled the store as it clanged against the heavy opening door. Gaea searched through the scattered wares—baskets perfectly aligned on shelves and different woven ropes hung from the low ceiling—as we waited for someone to assist us. Within minutes, a naga slithered out from the back of the store. Her dark kohl-ringed eyes matched her curly hair as they watched us. She moved behind the counter.
I pulled a small piece of paper from my pocket, unfolded it, and laid it on the counter. The Weaver looked at the phoenix symbol for less than a second and then stared blankly at me.
“I seek Alavon,” I whispered. She stared at me, the depth of her hard eyes showing that she would reveal nothing. I leaned across the counter and whispered, “Rook sent me.”
She kept silent, tilting her head toward the back of her store. She moved and we followed, stepping between the piles of baskets and ducking so my horns did not get stuck in the low-hanging net. The Weaver slid a long hanging tapestry to the side and stepped behind it.
In a small room in the back of her craft shop, covered with sharpened hooks, half-finished ropes, melted candles and spools of twine, we waited while she searched behind books and under tools. “Here.” She handed me a small map and pointed to a building just outside of town. “Follow this road, turn at the dead end. You’ll find a farmhouse with a large barn. If you knock, he will not answer. See yourself in, climb the ladder to the loft and speak to his mate. She will assist you from there. He will not know of Rook. You’ll need to speak my name to get any assistance from them.”
“Thank you.”
She thumped her fist to her chest and dipped her chin. “I wish you luck.” She held the tapestry aside so we could leave.
“At least your rebels are taking their secrecy more seriously,” Gaea laughed as she walked to the barn the Weaver had sent us to. “That one was creepy though.”
I couldn’t help but smile because that sound, her laugh, was so beautiful. “Shall we?” I asked, stepping toward the barn.
She took my hand. “Together.”
We walked into the barn and stopped dead in our tracks.
“Whatisthis?” Gaea asked.
“Be extremely careful not to break anything.”
The inside of the massive barn was covered in delicate glass statues and towering fixtures, but perhaps the most beautiful thing of all was the carved grand staircase leading up to the loft. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was a wonder the glassmaker was able to keep his skill a secret. Planted lights were strategically placed around the expansive room to reflect off the beautiful statues and walls that were covered in colored glass shapes, twinkling like stars. I tried to imagine what the barn would look like if it were not paneled in wood on the outside. The sun would caress the gentle curves of Alavon’s handiwork, and fae would travel just to glimpse the beauty he crafted. Maybe in another lifetime that could have been his fate.
“It’s like a dream,” Gaea said, touching the meticulously carved banister made from glass.
