Page 52 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
The night I’d faced the sluagh, I could so easily have died. If Ly had woken a minute later because of the elderberry wine. If he hadn’t woken at all. If I’d fallen at the feet of one of those creatures rather than rolling down the riverbank. If… if… if…
And if I had, I would have died having achieved and changed nothing in the world. I’d have died clinging on to the way things were—running back to that tiny cottage in a horrible town full of people who either feared me or sneered at me.
This change hadn’t been my choice, no. But life here… it wasn’t so bad. I’d grown used to this new routine in this new place. And although I ached to see Rose, I had new people in my life—new friends.
That was what the Lady of the Lake had seen. She knew my heart better than I did.
Tonight, I could try to embrace this new life. I could try on this gownandwhat it would be like to be less afraid.
Sylvie believed I could do it.
And I was so damn tired of being afraid.
I huffed out a breath, and touched Sylvie’s arm. “Thank you. Sincerely. I’ve made dozens of gowns for grand parties but I’ve never been to a single one. Part of me is scared of so many eyes on me…” Though none of the fae had stared at me like the people of Briarbridge—it was as Ly had said, it wasn’t that I was different, just they were all the same. “But another part, maybe a bigger part, is scared that I’ll fade into the background. I’ve spent my life trying to do that, and…” I clutched my chest where my heart thudded, too loud and too fast. “And I’ve had enough. Tonight, I want someone to see me.”
A slow, gentle smile curved Sylvie’s mouth and she pulled me into a hug. “Oh, Ari.” She squeezed, her warmth suffusing me. “Thereyou are. I knew it was in there somewhere.” She pulled back, smile broad and bright as she stroked my hair.
“Knewwhatwas?” I blinked up at her, eyes stinging.
“The courage to stand up and be seen. When you arrived, it was like you wanted to disappear. But now… it’s like you’ve escaped whatever was hounding you. It’s like watching the first spring flowers blooming.”
My chest ached. Sylvie understood something I hadn’t. All those years of words muttered behind hands, of stares, of quiet shunning… Every time attention had fallen on me, I’d flinched, sure it would be accompanied by some cruel comment or sneer. But here… the past couple of months, the only sneers I’d seen were Boyd’s and he was hardly around. Plus, I suspected they weren’t at my difference, but at my weakness relative to him and Ly and every other fae. After all, hadn’t I feared and hated them for their strength?
It wasn’t only being seen, but finding my voice. Anger at being taken and the desperation to get home had made me start speaking to Ly, saying things I would’ve only everthoughtin Briarbridge. But something else had kept me doing so. The comfort I’d found here with him and Sylvie and Hil. Even Sallis and Hobb were easy company, undemanding and gentle.
In my time here I’d spoken more than I had in the past year, and nothing terrible had happened because of it. I made a soft sound, not quite a laugh.
“And as for being seen by someone…” Sylvie cocked her head, a glint in her eye. “I know someone who already does see you. And whatever you wear tonight, I know he’ll like what he sees.”
I drew a sharp breath. “I didn’t say I wanted him to…” My throat was too tight to finish the sentence.
“You didn’t need to.” She led me to the dressing table and sat me down. “Ly has… had a difficult time over the past several years. He told you about the yew, right?”
I nodded as she combed my hair.
“And about his parents?”
“I know how his mother passed, but…” I frowned. “He spoke like the yew was involved with both their deaths.” Asking him yesterday, with how upset and earnest he’d been, hadn’t felt right.
“That boy!” She sighed and rolled her eyes, the comb not missing a beat. “He’s only told you half the story, but…” Sylvie’s hands fell still and she met my gaze in the mirror. “When his mother poured too much of herself into the tree and… faded away. Ly’s father followed at once. They were a pair, bonded, and… one couldn’t survive without the other.”
My eyes burned. A bonded pair. Sylvie had recommended a romance book from the library where the fae couple bonded in that way. They’d tied their magic together, forming a connection that went deeper than just marriage. Their very lives were shared. Ly’s parents must’ve carried out the same ritual.
For Ly to lose both his parents at once…
And to blame himself for not realising Goren’s treachery…
A deep ache settled in my chest, my gut, the back of my throat. I knew all too well what it was to fail like that. My gift, although rare and useful to people like Lady Hawthorne, had been no help in saving Mama and Papa from the creeping death.
In my lap, I pressed my hands together, but it wasn’t the same… not when I wanted to take his hands, squeeze them, tell him I understood.
“He blames himself, doesn’t he?” I asked at last, voice coming out as a rasp.
Sylvie’s eyes were bright as she nodded. “I think so. He’s lost a lot—his social standing, his family’s power, a place at court…”
My eyebrows shot up. “He should be at court? With the Night Queen?”
“His family has a position in the Dusk Court, always have. But he can only leave his lands for, at most, two weeks at a time and that requires preparation. Otherwise the wards will fail, leaving us open to the Wild Hunt and other, worse creatures.”
