Page 84 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
I lowered my empty hand into the water. “Lady of the Lake, I call to thee.” Again. The ripples began when I was only halfway through the third call.
Low gasps came from Boyd and Sylvie as she emerged. She watched me with a delicate frown. “You call upon me again so soon, little minnow?”
“Please. I need my True Name.Please.” My voice cracked as though speaking broke the dam holding back feeling and letting me act.
She nodded at my empty palm. “And your offering?”
I shivered but raised my chin. “Myself. It’s all I have to give. I only ask that you wait until Ly is home and safe before you take me.”
“Ari, no,” Sylvie hissed from behind, but I didn’t drop the Lady of the Lake’s gaze.
Lips parted, showing a hint of those sharp teeth, she took a long breath. “I see. And what is it you desire above all things?”
“I want to save Lysander from Goren.” I clenched my jaw to stop the threat of useless tears. “Maybe I’m not enough to do it, even with my True Name, but I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes or die trying.”
It was no lie.
“Ah.” Her eyebrows rose and she inclined her head. “Thereit is. You do want that, utterly.” With the scent of damp earth and deep water, she bent close and whispered in my ear.
My Name.
It thundered in my heart, prickled through every inch of flesh, darted along my veins.
My Name.
It was power. It was truth. It was belonging.
I gaped at her as she pulled away, face inches from mine, and nodded. She knew.
“Tomorrow,” I pushed out, voice thrumming. “I’ll come then. Your offering.”
“Oh,that.” She grinned, every pointed tooth on display and a sharp pain pricked my scalp. “I decline your offering and instead claim three strands of starlight from that sweet head of yours, little minnow.” Between her finger and thumb, the moonlight gleamed on three white hairs. “Now, hurry.” Then she was gone.
With a sigh of relief, I rose.
“What have you done?” Sylvie’s voice wavered, her face even paler.
“The plan?”
Jaw clenching, Boyd shook his head. “Whatever your stories say, the Ladies of the Lake are not benevolent gift-givers. Why do you think even other fae are wary of them?” He huffed a harsh sigh. “They have their own agendas and now she has your hair. Only the stars know what she’s going to do withthat.”
“Perhaps nothing.” I shrugged and went to Luna’s saddle bags. I was already afraid of what Goren might do to Ly; there was no room in me for any more fear. “That’s a worry for another day and, frankly, it’s better than her taking all of me.”
“Maybe,” Sylvie muttered.
Now came the guesswork. I had my True Name, but the story hadn’t been clear on how the woman in the story had used it to access her power. I already had my gift, so it stood to reason that should work.
Should.
From the sewing kit, I took thread, needle, and embroidery scissors.
Breaths slowing, I let my focus shift to the web of magic. Still no loose ends pinging back because they’d been cut, but the silver thread I stood on shone bright and brilliant like the moon.
Needle threaded, I found a seam in the skirt of my gown and turned it over, exposing the neat seam allowance. As I stitched into that excess silk, I whispered my Name.
The web trembled.
Another stitch, another whisper.
