Page 92 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
There was a beat of silence, like he swallowed or sucked in a breath or somehow mastered his surprise at my admission. “I worked that out.”
I waited in case he would say more, but, no, that was it.
“Somewhere along the way”—I picked at a hangnail—“I decided I didn’t want to use them and… and I realised I quite liked you—or at least you weren’t the arrogant prick I first thought.”
“Ouch.”
I arched an eyebrow and dared a glance at him.
He cleared his throat and looked away. “But deserved, perhaps.”
“And when Boyd told me you’d gone to Goren’s and hadn’t come back, I was horrified.” I rubbed my chest, an aching memory of that moment twisting inside me. “Because somewhere along the way, and I can’t tell you where or when, I’d gone from hating you to quite liking you to… loving you.” There was again, that dangerous word.
I shook my head and blasted onwards. “I know you don’t feel the same. I’m like a gnat to you; I’ll be dead in the blink of an eye. Like…” I caught myself before I got Boyd in trouble. “Like some might say, I was just a novelty in the bedroom.”
“He said that, did he?” Ly’s voice came out in a low rumble like threatening thunder. Maybe Boyd had said the same things to him.
My cheeks burned as though his response had confirmed I’d said all those things out loud. I pulled my knees to my chest.
I shouldn’t have admitted all this. I should’ve kept quiet. I should’ve…
No. I wanted him to know. Even though he didn’t feel the same, I wanted to speak the truth.
To be heard.
“Do you think you’re well enough to walk?”
I twitched at the sudden question, the hairpin turn in conversation. “I—uh…” Of course, he felt awkward and wanted to change the subject. I couldn’t blame him. Studiously avoiding his gaze, I wriggled my toes. “I think so.”
“Get dressed and meet me on the terrace.” With that, he rose and stalked out.
I washed, and the air coming through the open window was so mild, I dressed in a light gown of dove grey. Silver threads wove through the cotton lawn, glinting as I moved. I brushed my hair and pulled it over my left shoulder. Then I paused in front of the mirror.
The woman who looked back at me was not Ariadne of Briarbridge.
She was older, her shoulders squarer, her chin lifted higher. The pearlescent pendant hanging between her breasts said she’d cracked the claw from a sluagh and lived to tell the tale. Albeit with some help.
Alotof help.
I gave myself a half smile and brushed my hair over the other shoulder, revealing the scars that disappeared below the dress’s scooped neckline.
Moments later, I was hurrying through the corridors and out onto the terrace. At the far end, at the top of the steps, Ly’s broad shoulders cut a fine shape against…
A mass of deep green leaves… no,needles. They blotted out the stars, held aloft on great branches that spread out like arms welcoming the moon.
Breathless, I drew level with Ly.
“The yew.” I shook my head, a thickness in my throat that made my eyes burn. “It’s… it’s glorious.” Fae light drifted around it, clustering amongst its branches as though drawn to its power.
Beneath my feet, the ground hummed with magic. It tasted of elderflowers with no taint of sour rot.
“It is, isn’t it?”
When I looked up at him, his gaze wasn’t on the tree. Raw and bright, it was on me.
My heartbeat spiked, and I had to knot my fingers together to keep them from him.
“But there’s something else I want to show you.” He held out his hand in invitation.
