Page 8 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
No more debt. No more evenings with him on the doorstep reiterating his “very kind offer.”
But before I could sigh my relief, tension coiled through me, stealing my breath, and the clear, crisp flavour of night and starlight exploded upon my tongue. There was nothing else in the world but the tightness in my body and that taste.
When I blinked to awareness, I had hold of Rose’s arm, barely staying upright.
She squeezed my shoulder. “Are you all—?”
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
At the circle’s centre, shadows swirled, pooling and pulling together until there was no darkness, only that same fae man from the market square. It happened quicker this time, his form solid in seconds.
His lazy half-smile from earlier broadened, pressing a dimple into his cheek as he regarded the offerings before him. Because that’s all the women were to him—items in a bargain, nothing more than the coins Lady Hawthorne had offered me.
And yet, like a moth fluttering around a flame, I couldn’t tear myself away. He was gorgeous, and I plied my trade on beauty, found my inspiration in it, couldn’t help being drawn to it.
Handsome, yes, but too powerful, too distant, too otherworldly.
He looked like he was in his early to mid-twenties, the same as me, but he could’ve been older than these stones for all I knew. Some stories said fae lived for centuries, others that they were immortal. Whichever was true, he could have no concept of humans as anything more than gnats.
“Fair maidens of Briarbridge.” An edge to his smirk suggested more than a touch of sarcasm. “You and I are both subject to the terms of the Tithe. And so I bring an offering in fair exchange.” At his side appeared a chest of near-black, gleaming wood, carved with leaves and studded in what might’ve been brass or gold. It stood as tall as his knees and must’ve been four feet long. A gilded padlock glinted in the fae light.
While everyone else was distracted by the chest, his shoulders fell and the smirk faded, as though he sighed. A small crease etched between his brows.
Then his black eyes landed on me. His frown vanished behind a tight smirk, and I froze.
He’d caught me staring. Even in the shadow of my hood, he’dseen.
And fool that I was, I couldn’t look away. If Mama had been here, she’d have cuffed me on the back of the head and rightly so. I knew the danger and yet couldn’t help myself. At least there was no risk in looking.
His eyebrows rose before he turned his attention to the gathered women. I sagged like he’d released me from his grip.
The floating lights dimmed, leaving only the women lit. I would’ve expected him to make an announcement that he was about to choose his bride, but with light at his command, he didn’t need to say a word.
A hush descended upon the crowd, so quiet it was like everyone held their breath. The women who offered themselves formed loose rows, smoothing their hair and skirts. A couple pulled their necklines lower.
It was a doomed attempt at gaining attention when the Hawthornes’ daughter commanded it. Even the glowing motes pooled around her as if attracted to her beauty. The beads of her bodice twinkled like the stars above.
The fae stalked along the rows, his movements smooth as liquid, solid as stone.Stalkedwas the right word for it, like a sabrecat hunting a hind. He didn’t even glance at half the women as he lifted his chin, a thoughtful frown wrinkling his brow. This frown suited him better than the one earlier. The angle of his head made me think of a sabrecat again—sniffing the air, seeking his prey.
When he reached her row, his gaze fixed on the Hawthorne girl and his eyebrows rose as though he’d found just what he was looking for.
A thrill sparked in my veins. It was working.
Rose gripped my hand. The girl’s aristocratic beauty, my bodice—they’d done their work. Lady Hawthorne straightened and whispered to her husband. Their other daughters pulled together, one tugging on another’s arm.
The fae didn’t hurry, though, just passed along the row, a faint twitch on his mouth, as if he wanted to smirk.
When he stopped before her, the young woman’s breasts heaved in the bodice and she lifted her gaze to his. That thoughtful frown was back on his face as his nostrils flared like he was taking in her scent.
So inhuman. I’d heard that fae were wild compared to us, but this… The tailored jacket and exquisitely tousled hair could not disguise his animalistic nature.
It sent a shiver through me, as deep as my bones.
He bent and my breath stopped—he was going to kiss her. He was—
But he turned to her ear and whispered.
My mouth went dry, the ghost of a warm breath in my ear. Callum, my one and only lover, was here somewhere, pregnant wife on his arm, no doubt. Once upon a time, he’d whispered to me like that.
