Page 12 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
He exhaled through his nose and those dark eyes slid to me as he worked on the door. “Only when I have to go and collect suchdelightfulhumans.”
“Then we’re travelling back to your home? Where’s that? North from here?”
The side of his mouth twitched. “Why? Planning your escape?”
“You kidnapped me without so much as an introduction. Of course I am.”
“I don’t think kidnapping normally comes with a contract.” He pulled aside the flap and motioned for me to enter.
“Well”—I ducked inside—“I didn’t sign any—”
My mouth dropped open.
What had looked like a smart, canvas tent of perhaps nine feet across opened into a space four times the size. “What? How?” I gaped at the swathes of fine silk damask draping the ceiling and walls, patterned with shades of blue, silver, and copper. Lanterns hung from the thick timber trusses, gold and silver fae light dancing within. At the centre, a strange fire flickered—it threw warmth onto my face, but didn’t singe the silk above, and its flames were the same coral pink as an autumn sunset.
“‘How?’ You have magic, don’t you?” His voice lilted with amusement. “Are you just going to loiter there or can I come in, too? It’s damn cold out here.”
“Is leaving you out there an option?” But I slipped further inside, my shoes—already dry—sinking into a lush rug that would’ve put the Hawthornes to shame. An array of chests and low cabinets hugged the edges of the space, none as ostentatious as the one he’d given in ‘fair exchange.’ These were all elegant, their decoration understated, and I found myself rubbing my fingers together, far more curious about their contents than I’d been about the chest left in Briarbridge.
A couple of low chairs upholstered in gleaming brocade sat by the fire, and to one side, against a wall…
My breath caught.
A bed.Abed. Singular.
Eyes wide, I searched left and right, but… no, just the one with a frame of warm reddish-orange wood, piled with furs and woollen blankets.
My stomach dropped. They took women for the Tithe and only women. And they took them to be brides or maybe concubines.Everyoneknew these things. But… I swallowed, heart kicking up a faster pace. Until I saw that single bed, I hadn’t understood, or maybe just hadn’tbelieved.
Ihad been taken in the Tithe. As far as the law was concerned, I was his to do with as he wished. And no one for a hundred miles or more would give a damn.
Even worse, he had the power to enchantmeinto not caring, either.
My pulse thundered in my ears. Being fae-touched, I had a certain magical charm that could make people well-disposed towards me, but only when face to face. Mostly, that meant better deals when I haggled. It also meant I was immune to the charm of other humans who had magic.
But I wasn’t foolish enough to imagine it would make me safe from the enchantment of a fae.
A low sigh came as he kicked off his boots. He went to the fire and swept his hand through the air, calling the flames higher. “Here, this will warm you.”
With the image of the bed seared into my eyeballs, I edged closer to the strange fire, keeping it between me and him. The law might say I was his, but that didn’t meanIdid.
However, the flames chased away the numbness of my fingers, and soon I was so warm I had to remove my cloak. I slid the crescent moon brooch that had fastened it into my pocket. It had once been my mother’s, brought with her from her homeland, but more important at this moment was the pin. Two and a half inches long, it was the closest thing I had to a weapon.
He made no movement towards me, but I kept watch on him through the flames. The orange-pink light edged his strong jaw, the dimple in his chin, the fullness of his lower lip.
The points of his ears.
I forced my eyes away from that strangeness. He wore that thoughtful frown again. Odd how he veered between indolent smirks and this pensive intensity, such opposite expressions with, apparently, no middle ground. Was that a fae thing, the extremes in emotion? Or just a him thing?
As if sensing my scrutiny, his gaze slid to me.
There’s only one bed.
I gritted my teeth, but the shiver ran through me anyway. I would not look away. Regardless of any fear or dread or sense of powerlessness, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it. I would cling to anger and not back down.
The firelight brought out the motes of starry violet and blue in his eyes and for a long while neither of us spoke.
At last, he lifted his chin. “I’m afraid we’ll be roughing it for a few nights.”
