Part 2 of the double update.

Chapter 9 – Silver Thread

I whirled round. "Why can you not tell me now?" I asked Comfort, frustrated by her attempts to lure me into binding myself forever to Draill Adrun.

She merely shook her head.

"Why can I not know now?" I pressed. Behind Comfort I saw Draill fly down from the roof. He flew into my room carrying a corn husk. He had brought me other husks, filled with nuts and vegetables that I might eat when I awoke.

"If you cannot love him, you are not ready to know what you must do to save him!" Her voice wavered with emotion that moved me with compassion for her.

"If only I could love him as you do, Comfort."

"Oh, my child," she said, smiling softly. "I know it is possible, but I cannot imagine how you could love him as I do."

I felt the lump rise in my throat at the thought of this spellbound woman and her devotion, a devotion I could not feel. I almost envied her.

Draill came to perch on the back stone of the fountain, overlooking us. My eyes went to the black bird, wondering what it was about the man that made Comfort love him so.

I thought to ask why she didn't bind herself to him as she wanted me to do, but I knew she couldn't. Her love was maternal. As a woman, I could sense this.

As I gazed up at the bird, I said to her, "You are asking me to love him more deeply than you do, Comfort. Don't you see that? I would have to give all!"

"And then you would know all."

The bird took to the air, and I replied, "I'm not that selfless, Comfort. In fact, I'm a spoiled, conceited child."

I plunged my hands into the water again and brought them up. It was a purifying act, as though I could wash off the guilt I felt at denying her. As it dripped like faceted jewels from my hands, the water seemed to stick and solidify. I rubbed my fingers against the silky strands as they stretched down to the water.

Comfort said, "A gift, child. Try again."

I heard an object ping against a shell lying next to the basin. There lay an ivory needle. I lifted the shimmering thread on my hands and turned around to question her, but Comfort was gone.

"Very well," I said aloud. "I will try again."

I went to the baths, found Draill's discarded shirt, and began to work. All the day, I mended. As I stitched, the tattered fabric began to shrink and the glittering thread grew. My fingers seemed to know what to do, weaving the shining threads, drawing the needle in and out, in and out. The shirt flashed like a coat of mail in the afternoon sun. The frayed edges became a solid, silver trim; the sleeves were identical, full and light. I turned my attention to his belt and finished it just as I awoke. I dropped the needle.

Looking down at the belt and shirt for Draill, it seemed to me the bright thread should vanish, like everything that had happened that day. But it was real. I knew my conversation with Comfort had been real. And now that I had returned to myself, I knew I couldn't sew a straight stitch. What an odd gift Comfort had given me for the day! Gingerly, I folded the shirt, leaving it on the warming rock. I returned to the queen's hall. On waking, my hunger returned. I searched for the husk Draill had left for me. It was buried in the warm ashes of my fire. I opened it and found the pieces of pumpkin and cracked nuts that had been cooking in the husk. The heart of the pumpkin was slightly firm and made very tasty by the flavor of the opened nuts. I had eaten most of it when Draill summoned me.

I followed his voice to the gardens.

"What is this?" he demanded, when I reached him. His brows were furrowed in anger.

He held up a torn piece of the sash from my cloak. I saw clearly my family crest sewn to it. I began to back away, thinking he must understand what that heraldry revealed. Now he knew who I was; and he would kill me, avenging Draill Arund's death!

"Comfort told me you were keeping something from me. She says this is a clue to what you conceal!"

I narrowed my eyes at the thought of what Comfort had done; but when he showed no recognition of Lesander's crest, I let go a breath in relief. "I will tell you nothing, Draill!" I snapped. "Comfort is trying me, and I won't be tried!" I surveyed the orchard, knowing she was invisible to me.

"Is this what you want? That we should fight, Comfort?" I cried to the sleeping trees, furious with her.

Of course, she did not answer. I did not wish for a response. I turned on my heel and went to my room. I intended to stay there the rest of the evening, telling myself that if Comfort told him all, I would know soon enough. He would make sure I suffered for my ancestor's valorous act.

'And it was valorous!' I told myself. Draill Arund had been a wicked, wicked king. He had deserved to die for the wrongs committed against Rhomaag.

My conscience whispered that I should have confessed all in the boat, when Draill had spoken of the Battle of the Mists. If I had been brave, none of Comfort's meddling would have mattered.

Something had changed for me, though. Through Comfort's eyes, I saw Draill differently. She had guarded him, protected him, brooding over his every move. I could feel her love for him, and it stirred something in me.

"But I will not be his," I said to myself. My eyes pooled with tears, and I squeezed my mother's pendant in my fist. "I will not."

"I have not asked you to be," he answered.

I turned to see him leaning against the entryway.

He sauntered into my closet. "You seem to think Comfort decides these things." He took my hand with his gloved one and placed the scrap of my sash in it.

"You need not spend the evening pitying yourself. I care not for your secrets." His eyes examined mine as he continued, "I gather you still wish to flee Draillen Wood."

To my shocked expression, he answered, "If it is your wish, then I will help you. Tomorrow. We must travel in daylight."

"Am I able to travel in the dream state?"

"Of course. Now that you are aware when you are in it," he answered. "Tomorrow I will come for you before sunrise, and we will cross to land. We should reach the forest border by midday. I would advise you seek the protection of Berlhart. If he is a cousin, he should be willing to back your claim to your inheritance."

"But he hasn't any reason to." I avoided his eyes, not telling him all I knew of Lord Hursey.

"Is he not the type to help his own family? Could you not reward him richly?"

I hesitated before shaking my head slowly. "I doubt he will be willing to defend my cause with Lady Orinda."

"Why is that?"

"Lady Orinda is his sister-in-law."

Draill quirked his lips. "They have you at all sides, it seems."

I fidgeted under his look.

"But never mind that. I have something that will put the fear in him. And, unless he wishes to hang himself, you will have his support." He caught her eye. "I will send something to him by you. You will deliver it?"

I smiled at him, elated. "Draill Adrun, if you let me go, I'll surely deliver it!"

He returned my smile. "We leave before sunrise."

"What about Comfort?" I asked.

"If you wish to have her blessing, it will not be forthcoming," he answered shortly. Later, he built up the fire in the hall, and I heard him pacing the tiles.

I stepped out after a time. I could not sleep. Sleep was for those not spellbound.

The torchlight across the bank reflected off the black sea like a sultry beacon.

He did not seem aware of me, so I raised my voice across the open hall, "What about Comfort's protection? Will I continue in her spell once I'm free of Draillen Wood?"

He seemed to come out of his thoughts gradually. "Hm? Oh. Comfort's spell only works within Draillen. You will return to yourself when you leave the forest."

I smiled, looking forward to the morrow.

Suddenly, he stopped pacing, surveying me intently. "I'm glad you are pleased," he said, and I realized he meant it.

My conscience pinched on hearing his sincere thought for me.

"I can't thank you enough. Truly, if I could..." I let the thought trail away because it was cruel to continue.

"It was never possible," he returned, his face empty of emotion.

The niggling feeling wouldn't let go of my heart. For the first time, I began to doubt whether I was making the right decision, but I persuaded myself it was just to realization of my imminent freedom causing me compunction.

"Besides," he said, as though his train of thought was the same as mine, "You will provide a good service for me in presenting a token to Lord Hursey." I heard the mockery in his tone. "Why did you not tell me the whole about him and his deceit?" he questioned.

I hoped he could not see the warmth that stole over my face. "I—I have no proof that he deceived me."

"Really? That is your reasoning?" Draill asked. "Let me see: he marries a woman beneath him when he is practically betrothed to you…"

"We were never betrothed," I corrected him, crossing my arms in defense at his questioning.

"Well enough. But you were perfectly willing to marrying him at fourteen. He would have had your estate and his to do with as he pleased." He walked out of the hall and returned carrying a stack of wood, which he threw on the fire.

The flames leaped up and crackled between us.

"My estate was entailed to me from birth," I explained, continuing where he'd left off. "Though I probably would have signed it over to him naively at fourteen," I added.

"But not now," he said in a scoffing tone. "You're much older and wiser now. Your father's estate…passed down through the female line." He nodded to himself. "It is quite a rarity."

"It is because of my mother's inheritance."

"It gave you a say," he observed. "You are not homely by any means, so I must attribute his design in rejecting you to some other defect. Of character, no doubt. Willfulness, perhaps? Arrogance? He must have hated the thought of a woman of independent means lording it over him."

The subject was distasteful to me, and I told him so.

"Indeed," he remarked. "To be rejected by a man who wanted your wealth but not enough to woo you. Yes, that would be very distasteful."

I could not comprehend why he continued, knowing it offended me.

"I find your words quite unmanly," I said, hoping my remark would smart. His candidness had done nothing for my pride.

"And you, perhaps, consider yourself the quintessence of womanly charm and grace," he struck back.

I glared at him over the flames as they caught the larger pieces of wood on the pile. "How dare you speak to me so? You, a forgotten king of an island of...of rubbish!" I ended, remembering his words.

He set his jaw and straightened to his full height. By firelight I could see the smoldering look in his eye as he approached. I lifted my chin, ready to back my challenge and meet him eye to eye.

He took my neck in his gloved hand, as though he would throttle me. But, instead, his fingers roughly slid up the line of my jaw, sending a repulsive shiver through me as his eyes bore into mine.

"For such a tiny little thing, you reek with pride." His face drew close to mine, and I realized the threat that loomed over me. I wanted to remind him of what he feared from Comfort, that she might have given me some means of protecting myself from not only his touch, but surely his kiss! I could feel his breath on my lips, and I thought of my dagger. I shifted my eyes away in desperation.

He let go of my face, but did not step away. Intimidated, I reached for my weapon, still unsure of his intent.

"If you draw your dagger on me, lass, I vow to you, you will not have it on your journey tomorrow."

"It seems to me I may not have a journey to make if I do not," I answered breathlessly. Though I tried, I could not suppress the violent shudder that ran through me.

"You will go tomorrow." He stepped away and returned to the fire.

I went to my closet both confused and angry. From my bed, I could see the fire in the hall. I watched him as he began to pace behind the flames. As my indignation settled, I began to reason through his words. His treatment had been disrespectful of my position, I thought. Then I began to question my own reasons for not telling him about Lord Hursey from the first. It was true I had not wanted to tell him because of the distasteful light it put me in. My pride would not allow me to speak of my disappointment until I felt forced to do so. I had never loved Hursey. I had never truly felt anything stronger than affection for any man. My pride alone smarted, and that, to me, was worse than anything.

'He is just as proud,' I argued. And why should I not be proud? I was, after all, the daughter of the Duke of Istledon, and had been so for seventeen years! I was not a child! I could make my own decisions about who I would marry! Even as I thought these things, I remembered that all had been stripped from me. My father, my title, my inheritance, my very way of life. I felt the twinges at the corners of my eyes and blinked the tears back as I comprehended my humbled state.

Determinedly, I got up and entered the hall again.

"You are right," I told him, stopping him in his paces once more. "I haven't any use for pride or conceit. And...and I shouldn't have ridiculed your position." I peered at him over the flames. "Enchanted or not, you are a king and my deliverer. My life is in your hands; and, once I leave Draillen, I have no one who will fight for me—willingly, at least."

The air seemed to go out of me then. To my horror, I burst into tears. Immediately, I quit to my room in shame. I had always hidden my tears, having been taught that tears were disgraceful, even as a child.

I thought he would have the decency to let me alone in my humiliation. When Draill's hand rested on my shoulder, I felt it most painfully. I wished he would go until he said, "Oh, milady. I regret every word. Forgive me. You spoke truth: it was quite unmanly of me."

I don't know how it was that I found myself in his arms in the next moment. My tears flowed, but my disgrace had changed to flighty joy! My head rested against his chest, my fingers clutching the shining, white shirt I had made for him, and I thought of how I might delay my escape for one day more.

"Do you think...?" I began, lifting my face to look up at him.

"What?" he questioned gently. "Do I think what?"

I shook the thought away. I had to go from the terrible enchantment of Draillen Wood. As lovely and freeing as that embrace was to me, I could not fathom staying. So I quickly amended, "Do you think Berlhart will listen?"

I saw the light leave his eyes. I felt the ache in my chest at his disappointment, but I could not bring myself to explore the feelings waking in me.

"Of course," he said. "Now goodnight." He left, and I sank down on my bed, flustered but strangely calm. Later, I could see him pacing before the fire again. I lay down and pretended to sleep. There were times when he stopped, and I could see him turn his head toward my closet. Then he would return to his pacing.

I know if he had come to me and told me he loved me, I would have accepted his touch. Subject to feelings that were new and untried, I would have faltered in a moment of overwhelming emotion. I would have found myself bound to the Gobboling King forever.


Thanks for your patience with me, readers!

Quiet Mindreader: The reason the dagger glows will become clearer. You have the idea, though. Yes, the boulder was dropped by gobbolings. (There wasn't really a way to explain that, so I was going to leave it to the reader to decide. But there it is.) Yes, when it comes to the gobbolings, Madrys is very helpful. :/ I think the rest of your questions will be answered as the story progresses. It's a highlight to my week to read your review, though I know life can get hectic! Thanks so much.