Thread of Gold

Ch. 8: love and hate

"The girl that I found lurking around in my bedroom." His voice was cool. "I'm not likely to forget it soon. Trust me."

Anna forced herself to breathe. Even as she looked at those silver scissors and imagined shoving them straight into his jugular. "I apologize if I startled you yesterday, Your Majesty. It wasn't my intention."

She had only planned to steal the map of Nyxos and then his kingdom. In that order. Ryne didn't speak; Anna sensed that this would be a common theme.

"What can I help you with, Your Majesty?"

"He's ill," Isaac cut in. "I found him lying in the middle of the corridor."

"Isaac," Ryne hissed.

"Well, you were." Isaac folded his arms. "It's an ongoing condition. He's had it for three years. June has been treating it with some sort of tonic; it's green, with little bits of gold in it."

Miraculously, Anna knew what he was talking about. She had seen it earlier, when she was helping June organize the shelves: a heavy sedative with bits of dream somnium woven in to give the patient a pleasant sleep.

Not a cure, but pain relief.

She wondered if Isaac knew that.

No, Anna decided, looking at Ryne's sharp green eyes. He didn't. She darted back into the infirmary, rifling around in the back cupboards. By the time Anna returned, Ryne was sitting up in bed, sipping a glass of water. Isaac was standing by the door, murmuring to a fellow guard.

"Is this it?" she asked.

Ryne nodded.

"I assume you drink it?"

He gave her an assessing look. "Are you sure you're a healer?"

Anna bit down on her tongue. You have no idea. She uncapped the phial, watching as he gulped the liquid down. Anna could hear the little girl humming in the next room, the sound high and feminine. She should get back to her other patient. Try not to arouse suspicion by lingering. And yet...

She needed that key.

"So," Anna said, her voice pleasant. "You specialize in love weaving, right?"

He grunted.

"What's that like?"

She'd heard only bits and pieces over the years, usually from gossipy vendors at Grim's Market. Love weaving was a rare form of Dayweaving, and rumour had it that Ryne was one of the best; he could make a woman crawl over broken glass for a kiss or make a man's heart ache so badly that he cut it out of his chest.

Ryne was silent. Anna tried again.

"It must be a great deal of fun." She gathered the silver instruments. "Like playing god. I don't suppose you've set anyone up before?"

Ryne's face hardened. "It's not a game. I don't go around making people fall in love for my amusement. Love is the most dangerous thing in the world."

"Love?"

"Love and hate," Ryne amended. "They're the only two things that people kill for. That people wage wars for."

"Sounds like you're doing it wrong."

Idiot. Anna bit down on her tongue, her mouth filling with metal. And sure enough, Ryne's fingers stilled on the sheets. "Watch your tongue, little thief."

She stiffened. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard me." Ryne's green eyes glittered. "Isaac told me you stole that Nightweaver's ring. Down by the lake."