I drew in a deep breath. “What is this?”
“You said you’d never ridden on a ship before,” Edan said. “I thought about hiring one, but what’s the fun in sailing for an hour or two only to have to bring the boat back?” He leaned against the boat’s canopy, which was my favorite shade of blue.
“So I built you one, with some help from the disciples back at the temple…and some input from your brother. It isn’t much to look at, but it’s enchanted not to sink and it’ll fit your family comfortably, and—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips, shushing him. Then I pressed my nose to his. “Have I ever told you that you talk too much?”
He caught my fingers, kissing them one by one while he continued to speak. “And there’s an hour until sundown, so if the currents are kind, we should be able to take it out to see the Summer Palace from here.”
“I don’t care about the palace,” I said, clasping Edan’s hand as he helped lower me onto the boat. It rocked gently under my heels, and I saw a chest stuffed with Edan’s maps of A’landi, Samaran, Balar, and a dozen other places I’d never been.
“No compass, no maps, no navigating north, south, east, or west. We’ll have a thousand other days for that.” I grabbed the rope anchoring us to shore, using it to steady my balance as I stepped onto the small deck. “Let’s seize the wind and let it take us where we ought to go.”
“We can do that. It might take longer than an hour, though.”
“We have time,” I said, letting go of the rope and stumbling toward him. Edan caught me, pulling me with him behind the wheel. He gathered me close, his arm around my waist.
The sea shone before us, full of possibility. Not long ago, I’d thought my story was like a fairy tale. After all, there were demons and ghosts, an emperor ensorcelled, and a princess who’d become the greatest warrior of her generation. Sometimes I didn’t quite believe that I’d ever left my corner in Baba’s shop, that I’d sewn the sun, the moon, and the stars into Amana’s legendary dresses.
My tale was over. Perhaps fate had more magic in store for me in the future. But for now, I was content just to drift in the glittering sea with the boy I loved.
I leaned against Edan, slipping one of my hands into his cloak pocket. My fingers brushed against a small leather-bound journal, and I took it out. “What’s this?”
“Notes.” Edan looked sheepish. “Some famous poets have begun writing about us, and they’ve taken an alarming number of creative liberties.”
“Such as?”
“Calling me a cowherd.”
I blinked, confused, until I remembered: “But you were a herder’s son.”
“That was ages ago.” Edan made a face, but his eyes were smiling. “After so many years of service, I don’t even get to be remembered as the most illustrious, illuminating, and formidable enchanter in all of A’landi? Thankfully, your name is far more fitting.”
I laughed. “What does the poem call me?”
A beat, and then Edan reached for my hand, clasping it. “The Weaver.”
The Weaver. That name meant so much.
I looked to the stars, wondering if my ancestor the Weaver was there, watching over me with Mama and my brothers. Then I looked to the red thread on my wrist and that on Edan’s.
Astonishing, that a cowherd’s son and a simple weaver, separated by centuries of starfalls, should find each other. If Edan hadn’t taken his oath as an enchanter, and if I hadn’t dared to step beyond the path that was laid out for me and gone to the palace, we might never have met. Whatever history remembered of us, whether it likened us to the sun and the moon—only permitted to meet once a year—or simply to a boy and a girl touched by the stars, fate had danced to bring us together.
I touched my red thread, content that I had finally found its other end.
“Maia,” Edan was saying, “shall I read one of the poems to you?”
“Later.” A smile touched my lips, and as Edan raised an eyebrow, wondering what I was thinking about, I kissed him, then opened my arms to the glittering waters. “I’ve had enough of the stars for now. Take me to the sea.”