Page 36 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
Still, they couldn’t kill the fae, not if the stories were to be believed. Even though steel contained iron, there was something about the alloying or the words spoken over the metal by blacksmiths as they worked that made it safe for the fair folk. Iron blocked their magic and poisoned their flesh—there was a reason it had been banned by Queen Elizabeth I and her fae husband.
But iron wasn’t the only fae poison. Aconite’s other name wasfaebaneand the stories said it burned their kind. Its tall purple spires grew in the countryside across Albion. The fae might’ve largely banished iron from our isles, but an entire plant species was a step too far.
I could only hurt a fae with the scissors, and I didn’t even have the strength or skill to manage that in a fair fight. I sighed, touching the rolls of cloth that had appeared overnight—fine wools and linens, silk smoother than anything I’d ever known.
Aconite poisoned with a touch.
The thought came from nowhere, snaking through my mind.
I could make a garment, gloves perhaps, with an aconite-laced lining and spell them so they could only be removed with my permission. They wouldn’t be as immediate protection as an iron blade. But as the encounter with the sluagh had reminded me, I was no warrior. If I tricked a fae into putting them on, I could force them to agree to my deal. They got to remove the gloves, and in exchange they couldn’t hurt me.
It was better than nothing, which was all the defence I had now.
“Ah, you’ve found the new deliveries.”
I whirled, dropping the duchesse satin I’d been absently rubbing between my fingertips.
He stood in the doorway, morning light kissing his hair and the planes of his face.
My heart pounded my guilt in a beat so loud, he had to hear it. “What’re you doing here?”
“I live here?”
“I meanin this room.”
“Well”—he shrugged—“I assume you need to take my measurements. And… I brought you something.”
Eyes wide, I gave the room a meaningful look. “Somethingmore?” There was more in this one room than I’d owned in my entire life.
“This is…” He shook his head, stalking closer with one hand behind his back. “I found it amongst my mother’s things.”
His mother and that phrasing—she had to be gone. Did that mean his father was too? The back of my throat burned.
Lysander stopped at arm’s length and revealed what he’d found. Steel gleamed, and I flinched, but it was no blade. It was a raven, the metal heated to a purple sheen, a black velvet pincushion on its back, feet closed around a metal clamp.
“A sewing bird.” I’d lusted after pretty examples in shop windows for years, but always had to make do with a plain clamp to act as a third hand, holding fabric or cord taut as I worked. Smiling, I pinched the back end and its beak opened. “I’m sure this will come in useful.”
“It’s for you… a gift… to keep. Not just”—he gestured at the room—“to use. I remembered seeing it as a boy, so I knew I had to find it for you.”
“I can’t accept—”
“You can. I want you to.” He gave a single, solid nod. “I’d rather someone use it than it sit in a drawer, lifeless. I can think of no one better than a threadwitch. Mother would’ve been pleased. She would’ve liked you, despite herself—despite her ideas about humans.” One side of his mouth rose, but sorrow haunted the depths of his eyes, dimming the light flecks.
So that was where he’d got “mere human” from.
Still, my heart ached in response to his sadness, and I couldn’t argue. Not when he was being sincere about something so personal. I bowed my head. “Thank you, Ly.”
He made a low sound of approval as I clamped the sewing bird to the edge of a table.
I fetched a tape measure and set of steps I’d found beneath the workbench. Shoulders straight, I set to work sizing him, ignoring how the proximity meant I couldn’t escape his sweet-smoky scent. I noted each number, professional even when I had to squash against him to reach around his waist and broad chest.
He watched my every move, making me so clumsy I dropped the tape twice and tripped over the steps. Taking a deep breath, I circled to his back although that wasn’t next on my list.
It would’ve been a sin to clothe him in anything less than perfect tailoring, so I would make a full pattern rather than just mirroring the same measurements for left and right.
So I climbed the steps and pulled the tape across his shoulders, one side, then the other. I could always make up for any irregularity with padding.
I needn’t have worried.
