Page 115 of Unraveling Fate

True, he couldn’t join his brothers and father in wolf form, but he sensed them around him. They operated as a pack.

The Silence lackey whose nose he’d broken went down, and Taran used the lull to take stock of the fight. Not many Silence still standing. Reyna was handling herself well, if a bit hesitantly. Her hummingbird-blue braids flashed under the lights in the trees as she switched from hammer to talons and back again.

He felt her mind as part of the pack as well. Not as strong as the others yet, but the connection would grow the longer they worked together.

The white of Cadenza’s wedding dress glowed in the night, and the caramel taste of her floated on the air. He jogged towards the arch. The fight had gone quite quickly, but surely five minutes had passed. He had an appointment to keep.

The sound reached him first. Tires flicking bits of gravel on the estate road. Passing the racetrack. He spun to face the road. A line of headlights streamed into the field, and his stomach sank. No wonder the fight had been so quick.

It wasn’t the real fight.

One strandof the curse trailed out from Taran’s tapestry. Cadenza followed the jarring notes of its song as it wound along the ground behind him like a dropped leash. Taran called down a bolt of lightning, thunder splitting the air, and she jumped, hands bunching up her skirt. One hand found her pocket and drew out the length of fabric from the oracle.

A swamp-colored tangled mess with frayed threads on all sides. What had Reyna said when they’d first seen it?

One good yank would unravel the whole thing.

“Mamma mia!” Cadenza’s hands flew to her heart, ragged cloth clutched in her fingers. One good yank. She had to find the end of the trailing Thread. Getting married wasn’t the answer. Handfasting would do nothing for the curse; that had merely been her own interpretation of what the oracle had tried to tell her.

She scrambled after Taran, dodging fists and feet, trying to grab the Thread, but every time she reached for it, it passed through her fingers like a ghost. Reyna ran right through it, swinging her hammer. One of Taran’s own lightning bolts struck it. Nothing had any effect on it.

“Ok, not physical, not physical, I can’t touch it. So, how do I this?” She fisted her hair in her hands. “Come on, Cadenza. Find the end of it first.”

Her eyes ran the length of the Thread, searching for the tail. But the strand didn’t end. Instead, it ran into another knot. Another mass of sour bitterness writhed, embedded in another weaving.

Thomas stood at the edge of the field, the curse running into his tapestry.

The hair on her neck stood on end. Vasilios stood next to Thomas, clutching his arm, a pistol pointed at the older man’s head. Thomas wore the same clothes she’d seen him in yesterday, the same haunted expression he’d had looking at his wife’s portrait. The muddy Thread of the curse dangled from his tapestry like a noose.

“If everyone could please settle down,” Vasilios spoke from the opposite end of the clearing, but his voice reached Cadenza as if he stood beside her. The words sounded unnatural, as if he spoke in a sound booth rather than under the open sky.

A line of vehicles backed the Silence high priest, more noiseless, blank faces swarming out of the cars to fill the north half of the field. The Silence from the first wave of the attackjumped away and joined their comrades at attention. Taran, the other Norroways and Reyna crouched in fighting stances, wary. Blood dripped from Ruairi’s chin, and Cyrus’s ponytail had come loose. Cadenza caught a flash of white and gold feathers and then only the Norroways stood ready. She didn’t turn to look for the blacksmith, afraid of drawing attention to whatever Reyna was planning.

Taran flipped his gaze over his shoulder at her, a question in his eyes. She nodded that she was ok but didn’t speak.

“That’s better,” Vasilios said. “Now, Ms. Cavalieri, you will sing, and I will eat your song. Or Mr. Learmonth will reach the end of his over-extended life.”

Drostan barked a laugh, his eyes alight from the battle. “What in the world makes you think that’s any kind of threat? Kill the manky git. Come on, lads.” He jumped forward.

Vasilios cocked the pistol.

“No!” Cadenza screamed.

Vasilios smirked. Drostan halted his charge, growling.

“Guardian,” Vasilios said to the tree line. “Do not make the mistake of thinking I cannot hear you slinking around the edges.” He jerked Thomas forward, pressed the gun into his temple, and rolled his eyes. “You are so loud.”

Cadenza whipped her gaze to the trees. Ruairi stalked through the underbrush, halfway to the head of the field.

“Ruairi, stop,” she said.But thank you for trying.

“Ms. Cavalieri, if you would please.” Vasilios’s jawline hardened, one finger tapping impatiently on the pistol handle.

Taran took a step towards her, shaking his head. “No, don’t.” The strand connecting him to Thomas trailed behind him. She ground her teeth. They were so close to ending this!

One good yank.But how was she supposed to unravel it if she couldn’t touch it?

Vasilios shot Thomas in the foot. The gun made no noise, no report, but Thomas’s cry echoed through the clearing.