Spin the Dawn(81)

The wind swept across my bare back, and I shivered, feeling suddenly shy. Edan pressed a warm hand on my spine and drew me against him. He kissed me, exploring my mouth with his tongue, then tantalizing my ears and my neck until I was dizzy and feverish. Finally, when my knees weakened and I couldn’t bear to stand any longer, Edan eased me onto his cloak against the soft, damp earth.

Our legs entwined; then we became flesh upon flesh. All of me burned, my blood singing wildly in my ears, my senses soaring. Above, the stars faded behind the misty sky, and the sun fanned its light upon us. We melted into each other until the dawn slid into dusk, and the sun paled into the moon, and the stars, once lost, became found again.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


We arrived at Lake Paduan three days later than scheduled, but they were three days I wouldn’t have traded for all the magic in the world. Admitting my love for Edan was like succumbing to a beautiful, rapturous dream and wanting never to wake. If not for Edan’s oath and my promise to the emperor, we might have forgotten ourselves completely and stayed forever by that poplar tree under the sun.

The morning we were to make our journey across the lake, I unrolled the carpet over the dry yellow grass. I heard Edan rustle behind me. Every time I saw him, my heart became fuller, yet heavier. A faint golden crown still rimmed his pupils; he’d just finished his night as a hawk.

“Good morning,” Edan greeted me, kissing my cheek. The fatigue weighed on him more heavily with each passing day. Sometimes, in the early morning when he slept, he would cry out from a nightmare; when he woke, his eyes would be almost entirely white.

He didn’t seem to remember. I knew it would only hurt him if I asked about it.

I unrolled the carpet at my feet. “Is this good enough?”

Edan surveyed my work. “It will do nicely.”

“Thank you.” I flexed my hands. I hadn’t realized how sore my fingers were from constantly knitting, knotting, and sewing. The magic scissors helped, of course, but only to a point.

Edan rolled up his sleeves, and the cuff on his wrist glowed slightly, the way my scissors did when they knew I was about to use them.

He knelt and touched the carpet, tracing its border with his fingertips.

Nothing happened. I could tell Edan was getting agitated, though he tried not to show it. His shoulders tensed, his brow creased, and he wouldn’t look at me.

Finally the carpet began to tremble, so subtly I thought I’d imagined it. Its fibers stretched, wiggling and vibrating until they hummed a low, deep song. I hoped I’d woven it strong enough to weather Edan’s enchantment.

Then, miracle of miracles—it floated. A mere inch above the grass at first, then higher and higher until it was level with my hips. My head grew dizzy from the impossibility of it. Familiar as I’d become with Edan’s magic, I’d never seen anything like this.

“After you,” Edan said, gesturing with a note of triumph in his voice.

Once we’d both settled on the carpet, it swerved up into the air, soaring until it scraped the clouds. I clung to the edge, staring at the hundreds of tiny islands dotting Lake Paduan below, lit up like stars in the misty sunlight.

“It’s so beautiful,” I breathed.

“Don’t let its beauty mesmerize you,” Edan warned. “This land is full of dark magic.”

It was hard to imagine that. The islands appeared lush with vibrant green trees and golden beaches. But I’d come to trust Edan’s warnings since our brutal days in the Halakmarat; I still had nightmares about baking in the sun and finding my canteen full of sand.

I followed his gaze to a group of islands covered in mist. I could barely see them, for the sky there was dark and the water murky. We dipped down, and I grabbed a tassel, glad I had taken the time to add them to the carpet. My excitement quickly turned to fear as the wind picked up strength.

“I made this too thin, didn’t I?” I cried. “We’re losing control!”

“It’ll pass—just hold on!” Edan shouted back, but something in the carpet ripped.

I let out a shriek as we plunged through low-hanging clouds.

“I’ve got you!” Edan yelled, hooking his arm around me. Reaching for a corner of the carpet, he twisted it as the wind hurled us across the sky and steered us toward a dark pocket of land. The mist was so thick there I could hardly see.

Violent gusts of wind tore at us until I couldn’t tell if we were flying up or down. Then the carpet lurched, and we plummeted. My gut was sinking and being crushed all at the same time. Cloth whipped behind me—Edan’s cloak or mine, I couldn’t tell. I could see the water beneath us, its hungry, bottomless depths roaring toward us, drowning out my screams.

I grabbed Edan’s hand. He started shouting, the same words over and over until his voice was hoarse. The carpet careened toward a shadowy stretch of land, but the wind thwarted it. Whether we crashed on land or on the sea made no difference. The speed at which we were falling guaranteed death either way.

Edan flung his arms up, and the carpet folded around us, tight as a cocoon, surging for the island. Once we were over land, the carpet hung back, fighting the wind. We hovered in midair, barely long enough for me to catch my breath.

Then we fell again, this time into a crooked tree whose branches pierced the fog. Down the trunk we slid, the coarse bark shredding the edges of the carpet.