Page 82 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
“I have no magic.” The words were barely more than a breath.
I ran them through my head again and again.I have no magic. He was fae: he couldn’t lie. “You…”
“You heard what I said,” he bit out. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Don’t make me say it again.”
A fae without magic. I shook my head and rubbed my face like that might make this make sense. “I don’t—”
“Stars above, why do you think I can’t stand the sight of you?” His eyes were wide and for the first time they were on me without a sneer on his face. “Not only are you a human and can lie and thus cannotbe trusted, but you”—he huffed a humourless laugh—“youhave magic.Youhave power.”
Heenviedmymagic.Hemistrustedme. Oh, gods, the irony.
I snorted. “You know all I can do is make clothes, right? And I can’t even use my gift on myself. And, as for power, I don’t have… Unless…”
The power I’d wanted for myself—to free myself from the Tithe… If it could break a bargain, it could save Ly.
My heart, no longer just a hollow space in my chest, sped. “Is the moon still up?”
Boyd narrowed his eyes and shared another glance with Sylvie. “Er, yes, for another couple of hours.”
Sylvie unfolded from the bench, canting her head. “Why?”
I would have to go and face Goren alone. My hands trembled at the prospect, but I gripped the sluagh claw pendant and they steadied.I can. “I’m going to get him back, and I’m going to need your help.”
Scars & Strength
“You didwhat?” Boyd’s eyes bulged.
Even Sylvie paled another shade.
I shrugged, unable to help the smile tugging on my lips at the fact I’d done something that shocked these fae. “I only talked to her. She’s not so bad.”
Sylvie gave a laugh of disbelief. “And you think you can get her to tell you your True Name?”
“Definitely.” Not entirely true, but I pushed a broad smile in place like Iwasconfident. I squeezed the pendant.I can.
She raised her eyebrows at Boyd. He lifted his hands as if to say “What do I know?”
“Well”—she sighed and cast an appraising gaze over me—“if you’re going to go after Ly, we’re going to need to get you a better outfit.”
I gathered my sewing kit and the poisoned gloves while she and Boyd hurried upstairs, saying they’d check on Hil, who was in bed being tended by Sallis and Hobb.
When I arrived in my room, Sylvie had laid out a white gown with silver stars beaded into the hem. I’d spotted it in the wardrobe when I’d first arrived, but there had been no occasion to wear it. Boyd shook out a cloak of midnight velvet that I’d never seen before. Plates of silver curved over the shoulders, like it was armour rather than simply a cloak.
“Where’s that from?” I ran a comb through my hair.
“It belonged to Ly’s mother.” He turned it this way and that, the velvet gleaming in the lamplight as he checked it over.
My throat tightened at his name, like I was the one Goren had captured instead of him. Was he hurt? Boyd had insisted he couldn’t be dead or we’d have seen it in the yew, and Sylvie and I would have felt it in the land’s magic.
I shifted my focus to see past the world. The web stretched on, from me to Sylvie to the trees and other plants outside, to the deer in the stables, to Hil, Sallis, and Hobb down the corridor. Pale ghosts of threads linked Boyd—I’d never seen anything like that before.
More importantly, no threads sprang loose like they’d just been severed. The yew was intact, albeit sour and sickly. If Goren had killed Ly, the tether between him and this place would’ve gone slack.
I swallowed past that tightness and raised an eyebrow at Boyd as Sylvie tugged off my boots. “Wouldn’t she take offence at a ‘mere human’ sullying her clothes?”
“To save her son?” Boyd’s eyebrows pulled together. “Nomere humanwould even try to do that. And you’ve faced the Lady of the Lake”—he scoffed—“most fae wouldn’t dare.” Straightening, he bit his lip. “I was wrong about you.”
That shook me more than the offer of the cloak. Tongue too thick to answer, I inclined my head.
