Page 85 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
It reverberated through me. Pure power.
Another, another, another, the steady pick of stem stitch gradually spelled out my Name.
I finished the final letter, and the web shifted.
Lines radiated from me, spokes spreading out, every one of them glowing silver. Sylvie, Luna, Fluffy, even Boyd—their presence trembled through the threads all the way back to me. Sylvie’s was the strongest, Luna’s the weakest. Nearby, the Lady of the Lake was a constant thrum.
I wasn’t the fly trapped on the web.
I was the spider at its centre.
With a quivering breath, I shifted my focus back to the visible world. I’d done it.
Returning the sewing kit to the saddlebag, I glanced over my shoulder and found Sylvie and Boyd staring at me, eyes wide, mouths open.
“It worked.” Sylvie looked me over from head to hem as though seeing me for the first time.
“I’ll say,” Boyd muttered.
But the moon was sinking behind the trees. The sight dried my mouth. “We don’t have time for awe.”
I had a fae lord to save.
When I went to mount Luna, Sylvie placed her hand over mine. “No.” She shook her head. “You ride the stag.”
Swallowing, I eyed Lysander’s huge stag. Theoretically it shouldn’t be so different from riding Luna, but I shivered all the same. Surely Boyd wouldn’t like the idea of me riding the lord of this land’s steed like it was my own.
But when I raised my eyebrows at him, he gave a grim nod.
“You ride the stag, Ariadne, because tonight you ride to war.”
Guest Right
Sylvie rode as far as the edge of Goren’s lands, where she cleaned my boots and the hem of my gown with a touch that tasted of lemonade and mint. With a fierce frown and a kiss on my brow, she wished me luck, and I rode on with Boyd and Fluffy.
We approached a marble-pillared mansion of such a pale sunshine yellow, it practically glowed at the top of its hill. Although it was bright in the darkness, the place made me shudder. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but it had an empty quality, and when we reached the drive, the huge double doors opened with an echoing creak.
Boyd pressed his lips together, jaw ticking. “Do you want me to—”
“No.” I dismounted and handed him the reins. “Wait here and be ready to leave in an instant.” With no magic, he could be in danger within Goren’s halls.
Mouth dry, I clutched the invitation and the wrapped gloves. As long as I came here as a guest, just as Goren had invited, I was safe. Relatively.
I left Fluffy with him. On the ride, Sylvie had explained taking a hellhound into Goren’s halls could be construed as an act of aggression and cancel guest right, so I entered alone.
A small, hunched servant with watery eyes led me through the dark corridors towards the sound of a single, distant violin.
Cold settled in my bones, and I had to count my breaths to keep them steady as I passed the dim edges of furniture, shadowy statues, and gaping doorways.
But I let my focus drift past what my eyes could see, and the web, full of silver strands, calmed my nerves. That wasmymagic. I had some power at last.
The sluagh claw pendant bit into my fingers as I squeezed it.
“I can do this,” I whispered.
We stopped at a pair of ornate double doors covered in gilded scrollwork with twisted little faces grinning amongst the leaves and vines. As the servant opened them with a gesture, I squared my shoulders.
After the dark corridors, the light within was blinding and before I could see more than that, I caught the shuffle of many people turning.
