Chapter 2: The Weave of Time

Elara Thorne was still Elara Thorne, but she was not the thirteen-year-old girl who had fallen asleep in a wayside inn. She was a woman of twenty-three.

The thirteen-year-old Elara had been betrothed to a scion of House Blackwood of Tarim. Ten years later, she was to be married to the very same man, now a renowned master of arms and a rising power. But on her wedding day, her younger brother, Lord Kael Thorne, led fifty Thorne knights and three hundred of their retainers to the city of Tarim to attend the ceremony. They were all slaughtered on the wedding grounds.

Rushing from the sanctuary of the inner courtyards to a scene of carnage, the bride, Elara Thorne, was met by a barrage of ten arrows. The shafts found their marks in her chest and throat, ending her life at the courtyard gate.

The master archer who fired the arrows, her husband, was none other than Lord Kaelan Blackwood.

Elara felt the grinding of her teeth, a sound that grated in her ears. Even after a half-month had passed since she had awoken, the memory of that river of blood and the mound of bodies was an agony she could not control.

She reached out, her fingers tracing a path across her chest. The coarse fabric of her black cloak had been replaced by a soft, light summer gown, but through the cloth, she could feel the warmth of her own skin.

Here, here, and here.

The arrowheads had pierced her flesh, and blood had gushed forth like a spring. Lord Kaelan was a legendarily skilled archer, and his rapid-fire volley of ten arrows was his signature technique. She had never witnessed it herself, as for ten years he was rarely home and never displayed his skills, but on that day, it had been the last thing she had ever seen.

The arrows had been swift and true, hitting vital points. There had been little pain; only a sudden loss of light. When she had opened her eyes again, she had been lost in a daze, convinced it was a nightmare.

Elara looked around the room. Ten years had clouded her memory, yet the memories of her youth were the most deeply ingrained. A sense of familiarity quickly blossomed; this was her childhood room. Every table, every chair, the inkstones, the paper, the plants—all bore the distinct marks of her early years.

This was no dream.

Her life now, and her death then, were both real. Lady Elara Thorne had died and been reborn, returning to the moment ten years ago when she was to leave for House Blackwood. This was the turning point of her fate.

This time, as long as she never set foot in Tarim, everything would change.

When she had awoken in a waystation on the road and realized what had happened to her body, this was her first thought, and she had acted on it immediately. But then…

A searing pain made her gasp.

Elara looked down at her hand, which she had placed on the windowpane. The morning light had flooded in, illuminating her skin. The moment the sun hit her exposed, pale hand, it flushed a brilliant red, as if it had been set alight.

She quickly pulled back, drawing her sleeve down and retreating a few steps into the room, avoiding the sunlight that now streamed inside.

Outside, sounds drifted in from the courtyard—the gentle rustle of maids moving about, their hushed whispers, and the footsteps of servants sent by concerned family members to check on her.

"Someone," Elara called out.

The bustling outside quieted instantly, followed by a rush of footsteps. The door was pulled open, and only a single maid entered. She was perhaps sixteen or seventeen, wearing a well-tailored dress, with a calm and pretty face.

"My lady," she said, bowing.

Mistress Glynnis. Elara remembered her. She was one of the maids who had served her at home. She had not been taken on the journey to Tarim, becoming a forgotten acquaintance from a previous life. Now, she was still her closest servant.

"Clear the table," Elara said, gesturing to the breakfast tray.

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Glynnis acknowledged the command, but she didn’t call for help. She quickly and efficiently cleared the table herself without another word. After a short bow, she withdrew. Elara said nothing more, merely sitting on the edge of her bed and watching as Glynnis left and closed the door behind her.

As soon as Glynnis was outside, the low hum of chatter began again.

"Sister Glynnis, how is the young lady?"

"Did she say anything?"

A handful of maids hurried to crowd around Glynnis, their questions tumbling out.

Glynnis simply shook her head at them. "The young lady has just returned and does not wish to speak. Please do not ask her questions or panic. Act as if nothing has happened, and do not upset her."

Because of her mother's early death and her father's doting affection, the young lady was proud and sensitive. The other maids understood. They lowered their heads and agreed. Glynnis took up a position by the door, ensuring that everyone attended to their duties as normal.

"But… something did happen," one of the younger maids whispered, her voice full of worry.

"Yes, we can't pretend nothing happened," another sighed.

The two younger maids crouched by the courtyard gate, sighing quietly. They were not as composed as Glynnis. Their expressions were full of anxiety. It had only been a single day since the young lady’s return, and already rumors had spread throughout the Thorne family. She had been missing for over half a month, and the family had sent out wave after wave of search parties. People from outside the family were now watching and whispering. This was not a good thing, especially for a young noblewoman about to be married.

While the maids were told not to upset Elara with questions, it didn't mean that no one else would. Not long after Lord Cassian Thorne returned, more people streamed into the manor. Because the search parties had been scattered, others who had received the news were a step behind.

Lord Alaric Thorne, the fourth head of the family, now stood inside a room, though he was not running like Lord Cassian. He was panting heavily, his face flushed with anger and anxiety.

"Mother, I have already told Second Brother that nothing, absolutely nothing, happened," he said.

As a son by a lesser wife, Lord Alaric had always struggled to prove his worth. This journey to escort Elara to Tarim had been his chance to show the family his abilities and to forge an alliance with the powerful House Blackwood. He was a proud man, and now, it had all gone wrong.

The Chief Steward stood beside him, a witness. "Everything was fine. The young lady never said a word. The day it happened, we were staying at a waystation, and it was raining. The young lady asked how much longer it would take to get to Tarim. She even asked Lord Alaric if he would send someone to retrieve a pair of parrots she had forgotten. Lord Alaric promised to have the birds there by the time we arrived. We never thought the young lady would simply leave in the middle of the night with a few of her attendants."

"Are you telling me Elara ran away because of two birds?" the Grand Matron Thorne asked from her seat at the head of the room.

The Grand Matron was short and plump, a devout woman whose robes carried the constant scent of incense. But the recent events had exhausted her, and the gentle old woman looked more tired and furious than calm.

Lord Alaric could not remain standing. He knelt down, crying out in protest. "Mother, that is not what I meant! We truly have no idea what happened! It was all so… inexplicable. If I had shown even the slightest disrespect or neglect to Elara, may I be forced to join my eldest brother in the afterlife!"

The swearing of the oath to his deceased brother, Lord Anson Thorne, brought a pang of grief to the Grand Matron’s face. If her eldest son were still alive, none of this would have happened. Seeing his mother about to succumb to sorrow, Lord Cassian quickly interjected. "Mother, Alaric would not lie. He is a man of honor."

Lord Alaric looked at his second brother, his eyes welling with gratitude and shame.

"But you have no reason to feel wronged," Lord Cassian said, his face hardening. "Elara is a young lady. How could she have left in the middle of the night and you not notice?"

Even though Elara had only taken a few servants and no carriages, and no one would have expected a child to run away inexplicably, it was still an inexcusable and shameful failure. Lord Alaric lowered his head in shame.

"Fourth Brother was simply too careless," Lady Seraphina said with a gentle sigh, her words softening the tense atmosphere. "Elara is no ordinary child. She is the eldest daughter of our late brother." The Grand Matron’s expression of grief turned to one of fierce pride, and Lord Alaric felt grateful for Seraphina's timely intervention.

"Mother," Seraphina continued, a speculative note in her voice, "I wonder if something is amiss with the people from House Blackwood."

The Grand Matron sat up straight, her eyebrows knit together. "Where are the Blackwood retainers?"

"They are waiting outside the city gates," Lord Cassian explained to his mother. "When they came to escort Elara, the entire city knew. Now that our people have suddenly returned in a panic, the matter can no longer be kept secret." The Grand Matron understood; she knew how much trouble rumors could cause. It was better for the family to get their own story straight before the whispers could spread. She nodded, giving her approval.

Lord Alaric seized the opportunity to speak. "I took Second Brother's advice and left everyone outside the city. I've only brought Lord Kaelan's cousin, Lord Corvin Blackwood, and had him wear the clothes of one of our retainers."

The Grand Matron finally looked at him, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "Have him come in."