Page 53 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
“Worse than…?”
“Believe me, there are far,farworse.” Her shudder rippled along my hair as she gathered and combed it. “So he can’t take his place at the Queen’s side, or he’ll leave us vulnerable. And he’d never do that.” Frowning, she picked up Mama’s brooch from the dressing table. “I thought you could wear this in your hair. Ly said it was special to you.”
That ache dragged on me. Even here, in the middle of faerie, I had this reminder of Mama. And Ly, despite all the cares on his shoulders, he’d noticed and had thought to tell Sylvie. I nodded. “It is.”
“He’s been through a lot, and all of it because of Goren.” Her lips pressed together, paled. “To think, he has to welcome the man into his own home.” She bared her teeth, canines gleaming. With a sharp shake of her head, she exhaled. “But the point I was trying to make…” She smoothed my hair behind my right ear and over my left shoulder. “It changed him. I haven’t seen him laugh or smile in years—not properly. Bitter chuckles and sardonic smirks don’t count.”
“He does love to smirk, doesn’t he?”
She grinned at me in the mirror, sliding the brooch into my hair and securing it with tiny pins that disappeared. “Hedoes. But he’s been different since he came back from the Tithe. I’ve seen him smile, heard him laugh… And all of it with you.”
I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. “He’s relieved that he’ll get the seed back soon, with a little help from my gift.”
Sylvie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Thatcouldbe it. But it isn’t. You’ve brought him hope and not only for the yew tree.” She passed her fingers over the brooch and a trace of something sweet crossed my tongue as tiny motes of white light appeared around Mama’s crescent moon.
I gasped and stared in the mirror. My movements sent the lights dancing and winking like miniature stars.
Sylvie’s hands landed on my shoulders, and she held my gaze in the mirror. “Tonight, Ari, you are going to shine.”
The Fawn
Music drifted from the open doorway, a haunting sound of chimes and fiddles, with some sort of pipe floating between the notes. It was the kind of tune that could tempt a mortal to follow to the very ends of the earth. Suddenly, a lot of the old stories made sense.
My heart threatened to break out of my ribcage, its beat echoed in my throat, my wrists, my thighs, at odds with the music’s steady rhythm. At least my gown’s low back and slitted skirt helped cool my burning flesh.
Gods, why had I thought I could do this?
Sylvie waited at my side, for once not saying a word.
I clenched my fists as my muscles begged me to turn and run back to my room.
No. I’d made my decision. I wasn’t going to hide away for the rest of my life… or at least not for tonight.
Ly needed me. If I hid, Goren would suspect.
I wasn’t here for me, but for him. Somehow, that lie made it easier.
Head up, shoulders back, I would make my entrance like Lady Hawthorne… or, hells, like the Queen herself. I would look like a trophy, let Goren think I was nothing more than that, and help Ly keep his secret. I would not be the weak link in his plan.
Sylvie gave me a gentle smile and offered her elbow.
“Right. Let’s do this.” I took her arm and I was ready, or as ready as I’d ever be.
Together, we entered.
Around two dozen fae waited within the formal dining room, gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing, eyes glinting in the floating lights.
Too many pairs of eyes, all of them gradually turning to me. My pulse spiked.
Not them, not them. Look at something else.
Spring flowers covered the hearth, the windowsills, the chandeliers, and framed each door leading out to the terrace, their heady fragrance breaking over me in a wave of hyacinth and narcissi.
Even with all those people watching me, I didn’t miss a step, because no sooner had I registered the decor than my eyes locked with Lysander’s. He stood near the terrace doors, a glass halfway to his parted lips as though he’d been about to take a sip.
At his side, Hil raised her eyebrows before following his gaze to me.
No surprise, he wore his customary midnight blue, though the fabric glistened in the candlelight, showing off the shape of his chest below the jacket. A chest that had been pressed against my back for an entire night.
