AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why? Have you suddenly thought of some wealthy distant relation you'd like to drop in on?” The question earned her a grim look, but the sarcastic note had returned to his voice. He was proving to have far more personality than she supposed an assassin ought, but she paused to consider that she'd never encountered any before. At least, not outside of fiction. The sudden thought of her bookshelves at home put a new sort of grief in her heart. Books were expensive. How would she ever replace that collection?
“It's more that we can't travel without supplies,” Thea said. To her frustration, he moved as she spoke. She picked up her skirt and hurried after him. “We're a good twenty miles from somewhere we might be able to shop.”
“Shopping should be the least of your concerns.” Instead of leaving the city, he skirted its edge through the same alleyways they'd only just escaped. Or, perhaps these were different alleys. They all looked the same to her.
“We could return to my shop,” she suggested. Maybe then she could save a favorite book or two.
“That is the absolute worst place we could visit, barring a trip back to the palace itself.”
“Then where are we going?” They'd already ventured some way through the alleys, with their disorienting twists and turns. “Shouldn't we be headed the other direction?”
He sighed. “We are deliberately leaving a difficult trail. We've gone all the way to the water's edge. It might gain us time. Leaving from that side of the city would mean circling the lake, and that's far too exposed. We'll go by way of the groves.”
“With all the workers there?”
“It's a better suggestion than your shop.” He snorted softly. “What sort of plan was that? Do you mean to barricade the door while you sew up some disguises?”
She could. Disguises she made with her own two hands would be unparalleled, but that sort of magic was forbidden, and for good reason. The thought was there, but fleeting. The time it would take eliminated the possibility.
She hesitated too long.
He paused and turned to face her, his expression both thoughtful and wary. “You are a dressmaker?”
Thea opened her mouth to confirm or deflect, but no sound came out. He was observant. The chalk, the loose thread stuck in her hair. Had he pieced it together from that alone?
He took a step closer and reached for her. She flinched, expecting to be struck. Instead, he pulled the long blue thread from her hair and twisted it between his fingers. He studied it, then clasped it in the palm of his hand. “No,” he said slowly. “A Threadmancer.”
Her pulse quickened and she moved backwards out of reflex. How did he know? The power she stitched into clothing was undetectable, save by other Threadmancers or the most skilled of artificers. Surely he felt nothing from a single strand of leftover thread.
“You are,” he continued, a new gleam in his eyes. “You could sew disguises like no other.”
“I'm just a seamstress,” she lied, though with the way her heart hammered its way up to her throat, she knew it was too late.
“Can you sew in illusions?”
Offense twisted her face. “I am a law-abiding person.”
“You aren't abiding by the law right now.”
“I've done nothing wrong,” she protested.
He moved closer. “You're running from the guard.”
“Because I have no choice. You've essentially kidnapped me.”
“Essentially.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “And now, you'll make what we need so we can escape the kingdom.”
Now she felt faint. “Sewing illusions is a criminal offense punishable by death.” Virtually every kingdom had outlawed it, a choice with which she happened to agree. An assassin with illusory garments could be an unstoppable force.
“But you know how to do it.”
Every Threadmancer did. And every Threadmancer knew when to bend the rules. To stitch just enough magic into a bride's gown to ensure her natural beauty was unrivaled at her wedding. To alter a wealthy old nobleman's coat in just such a way that it slimmed him like no other garments did. But those were trade secrets, nothing a Threadmancer who valued their head might admit.
Just when she thought she had no way out of an explanation, a dog's howl erupted at the far end of the alleyway.
The assassin cursed and grabbed her arm. His other hand went for his bag.
Her stomach lurched when she realized what he sought. “Don't!”
