Page 49 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
“I was looking for you, I need…” He blew out a shaky breath, as if he held himself so tight, he trembled. “I need to talk to you.”
So he wasn’t angry at me for going out? I bit my lip against a sigh of relief. Even better, he had no suspicions of where I’d gone or what I’d been doing.
Good for me, and yet something troubled him. I cocked my head at his clenching and unclenching fists. “Ly…” The uncertainty wavered in my voice. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Come with me.” Back ramrod straight, he led the way, turning towards the back of the house.
The yew tree. I couldn’t have explained how I knew, but I had no doubt of the path we’d take.
Sure enough, we left the house, passed the fountain, and descended the stone steps, star-specked darkness rolling from his heels until we reached the yew’s hollow carcass.
Again, that sour note tainted the air, like there was something rotten in the web of magic surrounding us.
If the Dusk Court’s Great Yew had been struck by lightning and yet survived—thrived, even, what had happened to this tree to bring it so close to death?
Ly stood at my side, attention on the dry branches spreading from the cracked trunk. Even in profile, I could tell how deep the creases were between his eyebrows. He pouted, lips pressed together as though after bringing me out here, he didn’t want to speak after all.
My throat tightened at the sorrow etched in his features. It pierced something inside me, so sharp, it broke through all my frustrations—at being an object in a bargain, at my powerlessness, at failing to learn my True Name.
“Ly?” I took his hand, squeezed it.
He let out a long breath, head bowing, eyes closing. “I need you to pay complete attention to what I’m about to tell you, Ariadne.Please.”
Not just sorrow, there wasdesperationin that tone. Nodding, I went to release my hold, but his fingers interlaced with mine.
He feels for you as you do for him.
I wasn’t sure what I felt for him, exactly. It wasn’t how Ishouldfeel about a kidnapper. That complication aside, perhaps it meant I could comfort him, as he had me when he’d seen my scars. So I tightened my grip and tucked close against his arm, lending himmywarmth for once.
“This tree is the mark of my family’s bargain with the land. It binds our magic, our power.”
My blood is bound in bargains. We only have our power because my ancestors made a bargain with the land.
And if it was in this state…
“It is the natural way of living things to die and for new life to take its place.” His thumb rubbed over mine. “These trees—each caretaker family, each lord and lady, has one, like the Great Yew and the Great Oak at the palace—they don’t escape that cycle. They too must die. But before they do, they produce a seed from which they will renew.” His shoulders rose and fell, curling in.
“And you need the yew’s seed?” I scanned its branches but spotted no red berries amongst the few remaining leaves.
“We had one, but it was taken. Without it, the land will fade and die. I’m meant to be its caretaker. I’ve poured in what strength I can, but…”
Was that why he’d looked so tired after using his magic to shadowstep? Why he hadn’t been able to summon a fire the night he’d fought the sluagh? The fight was my fault. My stomach twisted, guilt adding to the sour taste in the air.
“Mother gave all her power to keep it alive as long as she could.”
Allher power? Fae-touched humans who tried to use more magic energy than they had wasted away. We could die or become unseeing, broken creatures, empty and un-alive. I didn’t know which was worse. Did the same happen to fae?
The knot of his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “She gave her life.”
So that was how she’d died, saving the yew, her land… maybe even her son, if his life was bound to the family’s magic. And if Ly couldn’t get the seed back, it would’ve been for nothing. A deep, cold sorrow burrowed into my chest.
He turned to me, then, and the full force of the anguish on his face struck me. “Ari…” He shook his head, clutching my hand in the space between us, like I was reaching out to save him. “That’s why I need your help. The suit…”
“That’s why you need to be stealthy, to steal it back.” Good gods, he was relying on me—on my gift, weak as it was.
“It took me a while—too longto discover who’d taken it. And our spies”—he smiled, but there was no warmth or humour to it—“they’ve told us where it is and that it’s warded against shadowstepping.”
The thief knew him well enough to know his ability. “Someone wants to keep you away.”
