Page 77 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
Once that was done, I’d go to the Lady of the Lake and get my True Name and the power to break the Tithe.
Aconite & Salt
Tomorrow was here, and I had just one cuff to hem, then the suit would be complete. I’d already whipstitched the raw edge and pressed it under, leaving a crisp fold where I’d marked it at the fitting.
I hadn’t seen him since then.
I’d only left this room to sleep late in the night, Fluffy trailing me like a flame-eyed ghost. Despite the heaviness in my gut, the soreness of my eyes, it had taken a long, long time to fall asleep. The stricken look on his face when I’d told him it was over had haunted me. And his words…
Swallowing around the thickness in my throat, I screwed up the cuff. Even now when I was meant to be working, I couldn’t escape them.
I should never have given in to my feelings.
It tore my insides open afresh.
I sat that way a long time, but no more tears came. I’d given them all last night.
Today was a time for calm, a time for work.
But maybe not for hemming this cuff quite yet. Once it was done, I’d be a step closer to leaving.
I rubbed my too-tight chest and smoothed the jacket sleeve. I could finish the gloves first. I might need them on the journey home.
The thought of it made my stomach sink. Knowing Lysander, he’d offer to shadowstep me there. With the yew tree restored, he’d be able to take me all the way back to Briarbridge in one jump.
Great.
I grabbed my cloak, boots, and a pair of leather gloves and went into the gardens.
No sooner had I stepped outside than hooves clattered into the stable courtyard. At the edge of the terrace, I craned but couldn’t see past the stable blocks. A messenger, perhaps.
With a sigh for the crumbling yew, I trotted down the steps and through the garden, aiming for the aconite I’d spotted just beyond the walls.
The journey home would be so much quicker than the one here. No tent. No shared bed. No running from the sluagh. No Lysander warming me under the covers.
And once I was in Briarbridge, no Lysander at all.
None of his smirks or frowns. None of his flirtation. None of his thoughtfulness.
I dropped to my knees before the aconite. The sun was out today and it set the purple hooded flowers aglow. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but kneel and breathe while my eyes filled with more burning tears at the sheer beauty.
So much for giving them all last night.
But these tears weren’t just for the aconite’s blazing purple or even for Lysander. They were for the land so full of crisp apple-flavoured magic and dangerous wonder. For the food that was the best I’d ever eaten. For the afternoons spent with Sylvie. For the sweet gentleness of Fluffy, my constant shadow. For the solid presence of Luna as I groomed her. For the quiet smiles of Sallis and Hobb. For the kindness of Hil. For the fact that these past couple of months, I’d finally belonged.
And for how much I’d miss it all.
When no more tears came, I scrubbed my face with my sleeves and gathered my gasping breaths.
No more tears. Work.
I tugged on the leather work gloves and pulled nine stalks of aconite, stuffing them into a sack. It was a contact poison, so if I pressed the gloves’ lining between the flowers, it should infuse them. Then I could use my gift to lock the poison in place as I stitched the lining to the outer.
With heavy steps, I took the path leading back to the house. Before I reached the terrace, something long and grey blocked the way.
Eyes still sore and blurry, I blinked. A branch from the yew tree. The path had been clear when I’d left—it must’ve just fallen.
Another step towards death.
