Page 95 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
Of course, yes. All those rushing beats of my heart shouted it.Yes-yes. Yes-yes. Yes-yes.
But… I would die long before him. I’d leave him alone and grieving. But he knew that and yet he was still here, still asking me. And we could have many,manyyears of happiness before that.
If I filled those years with as much joy and laughter and life as possible, they just might last him the centuries to come.
“You have it.” I sank to my knees and cupped his face, thumb resting on the dimple in his cheek. “You have me.”
He pulled me to him, lips an inch from mine. “And you’ve always had me.”
Then that inch was gone.
His mouth on mine, his hands at my back, in my hair, mine on his cheeks, gliding up into his hair. We melded together. Even our breaths merged as I ran my fingertips over his ears, making him groan against me.
We were one.
In the Atelier
We were married a month later at dusk on the night of the next full moon. It was a simple ceremony under the boughs of the restored yew tree, with Hil acting as celebrant. Ly was dashing in midnight blue, and I wore a simple off-the-shoulder gown of pale violet, like the flecks in his eyes.
Sillas and Hobb had added the finishing touch to my outfit—early peonies and starry astrantia arranged like a crown. I had to admit Boyd looked handsome in a black suit, though maybe he’d always been handsome and it was his smile rather than the suit that made the difference.
Even Fluffy was dressed for the occasion, with a large satin bow tied around her neck.
“She looks ridiculous,” Sylvie said after she’d wrapped Ly and me in tight hugs.
“You do know she’s a hellhound with the name ‘Fluffy,’ right? I think the ridiculousness ship has sailed.” I grinned and scratched behind Fluffy’s ear. Her tongue lolled, and she half-closed her flaming eyes. “Besides, I think she looksadorable.”
Sylvie raised an eyebrow at Ly, as if appealing for his agreement.
One hand at my back, he raised the other as if to saydon’t drag me into this. “Come on, let’s leave this adorable dog to show off her bow while we go and have supper.”
We ate and chatted and laughed, and I had no problem with the noise or everyone speaking at once or that they fell silent and listened when I added to the conversation.
Not that I used my magic tomakethem listen.
In the time since I’d saved Ly from Goren, we’d discussed my gift and what I’d done that night. “I think your power was always in your words,” he’d said. “It’s just you focused through something familiar—your sewing.”
I’d nodded, understanding threading through me. “Because speaking out loud didn’t come naturally.”
He’d smiled and kissed my brow. “Exactly.”
My True Name had only unlocked it.
He’d also told me, gently while stroking my knuckles, that he suspected all those years of being told I was lesser and unworthy, both by others and myself, had stopped my gift from working on myself.
He was not wrong.
My growing confidence, all the things I’d done that had seemed so impossible not that long ago—together, they’d helped unblock me. I’d experimented by trying on Ly’s suit jacket, newly repaired, and sneaking past him and Boyd, Sylvie and Hil. Even out in the gardens, Sallis and Hobb and their bees hadn’t seen me.
My gift worked on myself.
Still, I’d unpicked my True Name from the gown. It was too risky to leave it written anywhere. Just as it had given me power over myself, it would give someone else power over me if they discovered it.
At the mere thought of my True Name, the silver threads stretched out from me again. Maybe I didn’t need it written or sewn anywhere. It would be an adventure to discover the exact nature of my unlocked gift and what I could do with it.
It was an adventure I was excited to take with Ly.
After supper, we danced under the yew tree, fae lights clustering around us like little stars, clinging to my hair and the night shadows that poured from Ly’s heels.
