Page 83 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
“Yes, yes.” Sylvie huffed. “It’s all very touching, but I need accessories.” She waved Boyd off. “Ear clips and a tiara. Go.”
“Oh, and the invitation Goren sent,” I added.
From the doorway he frowned, but disappeared down the hall. Once he was gone, Sylvie helped me dress, finding white kid ankle boots to go with the gown.
“Don’t you think a tiara’s a bit much?” I raised my eyebrows at her in the mirror as she pulled my hair back.
A frown etched between her brows where she focused on her work. “You need to look like a queen if you’re going to walk in there and demand he frees Ly.”
I fought the wince pulling on my face.
I hadn’t explained my entire plan to Sylvie and Boyd. They knew I was going to make a bargain. Which was true.
But they didn’t know I planned to use poison to extort that bargain. My gift meant once Goren put on the gloves, he wouldn’t be able to remove them without my permission. And I’d only give permission if he agreed to let Lysander leave with us, unharmed.
Sylvie and Boyd, though? I couldn’t bring myself to tell them I’d made poisoned gloves—not when I’d originally planned to use them on Ly. They thought my True Name would give me the appearance of power and make Goren listen.
Again, not entirely untrue.
It would give me the confidence to face him and his retinue, and it might make him take me seriously. But much as I wanted my True Name in the hopes of breaking the Tithe, I wasn’t foolish enough to think it would allow me to stand against a fae, especially one as powerful as Goren.
Instead, I would rely on lies, poisoned gloves, and guest right.
With a thoughtful hum, Sylvie pulled my hair over my right shoulder. “There.”
My scars caught the light, silvery and pale against my skin. “Oh, I wear it over the other—”
“I know.” She gave me a gentle smile in the mirror and smoothed my hair as if affirming that it should sit that way. “Let them see your scars. Let them see your strength.”
I took a shaky breath, then Boyd was back, and in a flurry of activity, they had a starry tiara on my head and pointed clips over the tips of my ears.
After a final check of my bag, we hurried to the stables and rode for the lake, Fluffy running at my side, Boyd leading Ly’s stag. The full skirt of my gown draped over Luna’s hindquarters, allowing me to sit astride. Thank the gods, because I didn’t need another thing to worry about, like working out how to ride side-saddle.
As Luna’s hooves thundered over the ground, my heart pounded in an erratic beat, chest growing tighter and tighter. Biting my lip, I shoved it down and took a long breath.
Sewing kit.
Poisoned gloves.
Goren’s invitation.
Sewing kit. Poisoned gloves… I ran through the list over and over like it was a prayer.
I still needed an offering and something I wanted above all else.
For the first… all I had was myself. That would have to do.
As for the latter… the answer was easy.
“Hold on, Ly,” I whispered into the wind as we galloped down the hill.
The Offering
The moon brushed the treetops by the time we arrived at the lake. I half fell from Luna’s back in my haste, but Sylvie caught me. “Don’t worry,” she muttered, “I can clean your skirts.” She waggled her fingers, suggesting magic, and gave a tense smile.
For the third time, I knelt at the lake’s edge.
This had to work.
