Page 15 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
He was mocking me. I turned, expecting to find that stupid smirk on his lips, but his eyes were shut, the lines of his face soft.
Maybe that was worse.
Shivering, I pulled the blankets tighter.
For a long while, there was only the sound of our breathing, his much slower and deeper than mine. He must’ve fallen asleep.
Although I wasn’t stupid enough to run away right now, I would have to at some point, and it was worth testing how heavily he slept.
Breath held, I eased upright.
“Don’t,” he growled.
With a sigh, I flopped back on the mattress. I wriggled onto my side, teetering at the edge of the bed, and cocooned myself in the blankets. Itwascomfortable. And Iwastired. Maybe I could sleep tonight, so I’d be well-rested and ready for any opportunity to escape tomorrow.
The Threadwitch’s Approval
He was already up and the fire burning by the time I woke. I hadn’t even heard him leaving the bed, never mind moving around the tent.
From the chest of clothes, I picked warm, fine-knit leggings, a shirt that skimmed my thighs, two pairs of socks, and a fitted woollen coat, all in white. If I managed to get away today, it would help me blend into the snowy landscape. Although, my grumbling stomach reminded me I needed food as well as warm clothing.
When I emerged from behind the screen, he looked up from the bag he was rifling through and cast a slow gaze over me. Shadows hung beneath his eyes as though he hadn’t slept. Even so, the corner of his mouth lifted, and he nodded in approval. “Now you look even more like starlight.”
I came up short, blinking at him. This had to be some sort of ploy. He’d said he didn’t want to force himself on me, but maybe he thought he could charm me instead. “Flattery will get you nowhere, fae. You don’t need to make up idle compliments—”
“Can’t lie, remember?” Eyebrows raised, he canted his head. He shrugged and set a pair of grey, fur-lined boots by the tent flap. “These should fit.”
Maybe looking like starlight wasn’t a compliment—who even knew what the fae liked? By their reckoning, he could be considered horrifically ugly.
Still, as much as I was pissed off about being stolen and stuck here with a creature that could destroy me with a flick of his fancy sword, I had manners. “Thanks,” I muttered, re-braiding my hair over my left shoulder.
He gave a single nod and busied himself with another bag. Was I meant to help pack up or…?
I tensed when he approached, but he only held out a plate of bread, crumbly cheese, and some sort of chutney. Maybe this was how they got you. I didn’t eat anything last night so I was safe so far, but there were stories of humans being stuck in faerie because they ate the food and—
“Are you going to eat it or just look at it? I heard your stomach, so I know you’re hungry.”
I pursed my lips, mouth watering.
“It isn’t poisoned. It contains no potions or evil magic.” He rolled his eyes as though that were a ridiculous idea. “It won’t lock you here—the Tithe already did that.” His mouth curved in a sharp smile that didn’t meet his eyes or the dimple in his cheek. “But if that isn’t clear enough,human, let me clarify so it gets into your silver-haired head: nothing about this food will harm you—body, mind, or soul. Now, eat.”
And he couldn’t lie, so…
“Fine.” I took the plate. “Thankyou.”
At the first mouthful, I moaned. The bread was still warm, so soft and fresh it didn’t need butter. I hated to admit it, but it was even better than the stuff Rose’s parents baked. For the next bite, I scooped up chutney and cheese and was overwhelmed by the exquisite sweetness, laced with warm spices, all cut through by the cheese’s sharp saltiness.
I’d thought it a simple plate of food—bread, cheese, and chutney were nothing special after all—but the flavours and textures complemented each other perfectly. The spices were so balanced and complex, they created a symphony on my tongue.
It was the best meal I’d ever eaten, and I sighed when it was finished.
Was this why people pined away when they returned from faerie?
I needed to get home. I couldn’twantto stay here. The food may not be poisoned, but it was a trap nonetheless.
When he took my plate and placed it in a cabinet, apparently unconcerned that it was dirty, he declared we were ready and led the way outside. I tugged on my boots and stomped after.
My steps softened when I emerged into the crisp day. The snow glittered like a jewelled gown I’d made last year for Lady Hawthorne’s Yule celebrations. The cedars’ high branches spread overhead, a dark contrast with the bright snow and crystal icicles. Beyond them, a clear sky had already moved past dawn into rich cerulean blue. A jagged line of silver and white marked the distant mountains I’d spotted last night.
