Page 13 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
I snorted. “You call this roughing it?” Good gods, somehow I sounded normal—strong, even.
One eyebrow rising, he glanced at our surroundings as if checking they were as he’d left them. His face screwed up not quite in disgust, but something not far off.
He didn’t see the same thing I did. It wasn’t that he saw a magical illusion, but rather this tent was as far below his norm as it was above mine. Was this slice of luxury just a rich boy’s toy? What did that make me?
Stomach turning, I looked away.
“Are you hungry?”
I shook my head.
“Hmm. I thought humans ate all the time.”
I barked a laugh. “You…” I couldn’t even fathom how to finish that sentence, so I just huffed. “Only a few times a day.”
His lower lip jutted as his brows pulled together into a scowl. “We have a long ride tomorrow. We should sleep.”
That wiped the smile off my face. One bed. “I… I thought… Can’t you just”—I spread my fingers—“puff us out of here?”
“Puff?Puff?” Exhaling through his nose, he shook his head. “Stars above, humans know nothing.” My jaw twitched tighter, but he went on, “It’s called shadowstepping. And…” He cleared his throat. “We’re riding. It will give you a chance to acclimatise to Elfhame.”
Elfhame—that was their name for this land. I knew it from stories, of course, but we called it Alba. Yet another item in a long list of differences.
And, gods,riding. I didn’t knowhow, and it sounded horribly like giving an animal the chance to run off with me, out of control. I shuddered.
“Are you still cold?”
Did he see every flicker of movement? “No. I’m just tired.” Next to the fire’s warmth my eyelids had grown as heavy as the rest of my body, begging me to just close them and sleep.
But that one bed… He didn’t only mean sleep, did he?
“There are clothes for you in that chest. I believe it includes a nightgown.”
If it was some lacy negligee, I would throw it on that damn fire and see if it burned. I certainly wasn’t going to wear it. But when I opened the chest, a nightgown of butter-soft cotton lawn lay folded at the top. Shielded by a set of cobalt blue drapes, I found a dressing screen to change behind.
Tugging off my clothes after a long day—it was so normal when everything else over the past few hours had been anything but. My eyes stung as I pulled the nightgown over my head.
Rose. She’d cried saying goodbye. I’d somehow managed to resist, but now… Would I never see her again?
I gritted my teeth and swallowed back the threat of tears. No. I would find a way.
Not while wearing a nightgown, though. Not tonight.
Fine flounces decorated its off-the-shoulder neckline, the elbow-length sleeves, and the hem, which skimmed my feet. Considering he hadn’t known who he’d bring back from Briarbridge, it fit remarkably well and—I smoothed the flowing fabric down my wide hips—it was much prettier than any nightgown I owned.
Which suddenly mattered, because someone was going to see me wear it.
And, gods, I didn’t even know his name. Not that it mattered, since he seemed content to call me “human” andhad stolen me.
Every time I caught myself looking at those deep eyes or his sensuous lips, I had to remember that.
I hid the brooch in my fist.
When I emerged from behind the screen, shoulders set, the fire had dimmed to embers and he was already in bed.
My skin prickled with goosebumps that were nothing to do with the fading fire and cooling air.
One step, then another, I approached the bed. This was inevitable. I couldn’t run out into the night, not with that snow and no idea where I was. There were warm clothes in the chest—they would play a part in my escape. But I needed a road and a plan. I rubbed my gritty eyes; I also needed sleep.
