The loom clicked, a steady, rhythmic ‘thump-tick’ that usually acted as a balm for Yolena’s frayed nerves. But today, the silk felt like lead between her fingers.
The Weavers Gambit – Babs Rudlin
Across the Great Hall, Lord Valerius was preening, his fingers encased in silver and Lapis Lazuli as he boasted of his “noble deeds” to the royal messenger. He saw only a beautiful gift for a new Queen. He didn’t see the treasonous truth coiled within the Royal Purple threads.
Yolena’s heart seized as Marcus, the Captain of the Guard, stalked past her cottage window, his Ash-bound guards trailing behind like scowling shadows. One wrong knot, one slip of her Aquifer magic, and the rebellion’s secret would be laid bare. She could choose safety; she could weave a simple, flawless pattern and let the village remain under Valerius’ suffocating greed. Or, she could perform the Weaver’s Gambit, knowing the physical cost—the chronic ringing in her ears and the deep ache in her joints—that would surely follow.
She looked at the glowing blue-green aura of her hair in the dim light, a silent reminder of her conversation with the land. With a steadying breath, her fingers flew once more. She wouldn’t just weave a tapestry; she would stitch a revolution.
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