Page 169 of A Weave of Lies
“Told you? So you could hide my greatest artistic endeavour? I think not.”
With a huff, Semras turned her head and watched silently the flow of people coming and going through the approaching gates. The road was bursting with just as much activity as it had the last time they passed it. In the queue, carts, horses, and travellers on foot disputed each other for their rightful place; just like before, Estevan’s inquisitorial insignia brought them through with nary a protest—at least none spoken loud enough to let him hear them.
Estevan rested his hand on her waist. “I will not apologize. I will, however, make it up to you as soon as we get some privacy again.”
Her glare turned to him once more. “Do whatever you want.”
Her ire didn’t faze him. Eyes filled with mirth and fondness, Estevan slid his fingers through her hair, then grabbed her chin. “Oh, I will.” Softly, in a silent question, his lips brushed against hers.
Semras rolled her eyes and gave in. With a smile floating on her lips, she lifted her chin to kiss him. Before she could, Estevan raised his head to stare at the city gates ahead. His brow slowly furrowed, and she followed his gaze.
Sword-bearers were barring their way to the city gate. Her heartbeat picked up.
One of them, wearing the armour and gear of a Venator knight, advanced toward them. With his short grey hair andscowling, scarred face, he cut an intimidating figure. Before him, the crowd parted and scattered away.
She shuddered.
“Inquisitor Velten,” he hailed, “I am Knight-Brother Sir Sevran Galdeli of the Venator Choir. By order of Inquisitor Callum, you are under arrest on suspicion of murder and conspiracy against the Inquisition.” The knight rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. His gaze darted to Themas before returning to Estevan. “Dismount and come peacefully with me to the House of Tribunals for further questioning.”
Around her waist, Estevan’s arm tightened into a protective, vice-like embrace.
Themas walked his horse to their side. “Orders, my lord Inquisitor?” he asked.
“Bring her to Sin’Sagar.”
Themas nodded, and the inquisitor dismounted slowly.
Semras’ hands moved on their own. Shaking helplessly, they grabbed his clothes, clutching around the fabric tightly, as if it would be enough to keep him with her. “No, no, Estevan, don’t—” Panic strained her voice; she couldn’t raise it higher than a whisper.
“I will delay them for as long as I can,” he murmured to her. “Go to Sin’Sagar. He will know what to do. You can trust him. Sir Ulrech too.”
‘Don’t leave me,’she wanted to beg.
Estevan looked her over one last time, as if etching her sight into his mind, then turned away and faced the Venators. “I will come peacefully, Sir Sevran. But my companions will return to—”
The Venator knight tilted his head toward Semras. “The witch must come with me as well. Inquisitor Callum’s request.”
Estevan drew his sword. “Maldoza! Go now!”
Themas jumped down from his horse. In a swift move, he climbed atop Pagan right behind Semras, and then kicked its flank. The steed reared on its front legs. They stayed in the air for one heart-stopping moment before hitting the ground with a heavy thud, making the approaching sword-bearers stumble back.
Before they could recover, Pagan galloped through them and passed beneath the gate.
Semras helplessly gazed over her shoulder at her Wyrdtwined—and at the monster of a man he was now facing alone.
Paganneversloweddownits breakneck speed as they rode through the city streets.
Many times over, they got close to running over some unsuspecting pedestrian or ill-timed carriage, and only Themas’ skilled handling of the stallion avoided the crashes by a hair’s breadth. Angry screams and curses thanked him for his efforts.
Semras didn’t care about the ire of the citizens. Her heart was bleeding with each of its erratic, wild beats. Part of her was still at the city gate, and now the gaping hole it left behind was suffocating her.
Shehadto get it back—get Estevan back.
“Stop, stop, stop!” she said.
It took a minute, but Themas slowed the stallion down at last. Pagan trotted into a circle and then stopped to huff and paw at the ground.
“We need a carriage,” the knight said. “They will be searching for us, and you stand out too much. We’ll hide in one until we can get to the mansion’s front door.”
