Page 14 of Straw and Gold (A Realm of Revelry #2)
I rose and pulled at the straw bed, examining the long, dry pieces.
Though they were dusty, they were pliable—enough so to tie together.
I sat at the stool and got to work, taking the longer pieces and tying them at the ends in a simple knot.
Once I had a string of them, I began to wind the bobbin, just as I would have done with wool.
Questioning my own sanity, I checked the tension in the maidens, pulling the long string of tied straw into my hand with another bundle ready. I glanced up at the window, ignoring the man who’d challenged me and ignited my Goddessdamn stubbornness, born and bred into me as a Ravenfae.
The sun sat lower now, spreading soft rays through the narrow slit. Fresh, sweet air drifted through the open window, a hint at the autumn to come. I took a deep breath, pinched the straw between my fingers, and began treadling.
The amber light reminded me of gold.
The gold of my wings.
The gold of the trinkets around our room.
The gold in the flecks of my eyes and the gold undertone of my husband's skin. The copper in his hair shone in that lowering light, reflecting in bright sparks of golden waves that framed his face in light flyaways.
My husband had never said it, but I believed gold just might be his favorite.
As the footman drove the wheel, I imagined that the straw was a line of thread, winding around the bobbin as a gift to the man I wanted to know and the man I needed to save my brother’s wife.
I felt the straw shift in my hands as it ran through my forefinger and thumb, twisting and glimmering into strands of the purest golden thread I’d ever seen.
Fascinated, I kept the treadle running as smoothly as possible, enjoying the rhythmic turning of the wheel I’d spent most of my life perfecting.
My body warmed and my chest swelled as the bobbin continued to spin, woven strands of gold threading tightly around its base.
As the straw grew sparse in my hand, I slowed the treadle, rising to release the bobbin.
I pressed the thread with my fingers, inspecting for tightness of the weave and quality.
Without a word, I held out the bobbin, allowing my husband to see exactly what talents I could bring to this kingdom as its queen.
He pulled on the thread, taking a moment to inspect it himself. His frown deepened. “Who was your father?”
Consistently surprised by his questions, I answered with a bemused, “Huh?”
“Your father, Morella,” he repeated. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
“Your brother—does he share your golden wings?”
I cocked my head. “No.”
“You have different fathers, then?”
“Yes—what are these questions about? I thought you’d be happy to find that your queen can spin straw into golden thread.”
“Begging for another compliment?” he asked, peering down at me with those sapphire eyes again.
“Yes!” I admitted, snatching the bobbin from his hand and unwinding some of the thread. “Name another who could spin as well as I can!”
He shook his head. “There is no other. I’d bet this kingdom that you are the only fae alive who could do such a thing. Do you know why Citrine Wool is so widely sought after in Revelry”
“Of course I do. I work with it often. The fibers are soft and rarely show signs of breakage. The wool does not shrink and hardly needs combing.” I shrugged, knowing he already knew all of this. “It keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. His lips upturned in the first real smile I’d seen. “Our sheep produce the finest wool in Revelry, but have you ever stopped to question why?”
“Of course, I have. It must be the grass or something.”
“Or something.” He took the bundled thread from my hands, holding up the long strand to the window to watch the thread glisten.
“It’s not the grass?”
“No,” he answered in a wry smile. “It’s moss.”
“Moss?”
“From the Brackish Wood.”
I shook my head, stumbling in my thoughts. It couldn’t be…could it? Surely not…surely I wasn’t bargained for…
“You catch on quickly,” he laughed.
“You—you’re saying you bargained for my hand in marriage with moss?”
“An entire crop with direct instructions on how we could grow it here ourselves. We couldn’t rely on the Brackish Wood forever. I had your mother throw in a few different types of mushrooms as well, but the sheep weren’t interested.”
“ Reshina ,” I corrected, “the Ravenfae Goddess would not have contracted my marriage over a clump of dirty spores.”
“And the mushrooms,” he added, suppressing his chuckle.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Killian!”
He caught my shoulders, shaking me. “I’ll pity you when you tell me why you stayed. I negotiated this marriage for moss, yes, but I also gave you the opportunity to get out of it.” His hands shifted down my arms. “Trivially.”
“Fine,” I started, stepping out of his reach and raising my chin. “I need you.”
“How so?”
“Your power to change things.”
“There it is.” He folded his arms. “Go on. What exactly do you need to change?”
“I’d heard of you. I knew you could…could manipulate things and make them different from what they once were.”
He listened in silence, his face still as stone.
“At first I accepted because I thought you could help my mother with her curse…but Korven taught me she’d have to break that herself—if she ever does.”
He nodded once.
“Then,” I continued, “I considered breaking the contract. That was until I met Seraphine.”
“Who is Seraphine?”
Annoyed he didn’t already know, I explained. “She is my brother’s wife.” I gulped, meeting his eyes. “And she is human.”
“Ah,” he breathed. “You need me to change Seraphine into faekind.”
I stepped forward, my heart racing. Please, please, please. “I need you to change Seraphine into faekind.”
He rubbed his chin, his eyes staring over my head for a few moments. “I’d like to offer you a bargain, Goldling.”
Pretending I didn’t just shiver at this new nickname, I forced my face into something altogether unfazed. “I’m listening.”
“Discover my true name and I will change your Seraphine. She will live long with your brother and dying well before him will cease to be anyone’s fear. Including yours.”
My face contorted in confusion. “Discover your…what? What does that even mean?”
“I cannot help you further.”
“Well, fuck, Killian! What kind of bargain is that?”
“The only one that will save your brother’s wife from an early grave.”
I shoved him. Hard. Built like a marble statue, he barely moved and now I was in his space where he caught my hands at his chest, pressing my wrists together.
“You will receive no other explanation from me. And just for that,”—he squeezed my hands at his chest—“I’m adding on to the deal. You will also spin three spools of golden thread each day for the last three months left in this marriage.”
“Last three…”
“ And ,”—he squeezed again—“You will take lessons in Céaduah, the language of the Changelingfae.”
Oh, Goddess fucking damn him.
I wrestled my wrists from his grasp and stumbled, almost tripping on the spinning wheel. He caught me at the small of my back, lifting me upright as if he’d dipped me in a dance.
I pressed myself to his chest with my whole body. “If you get to add onto our deal, so do I.” I gripped his jacket. “ You will be teaching me Céaduah.”
“I do not have the time to?—”
“Find time,” I snapped. “ And ,”—I rose onto the tips of my toes to meet his face with mine—“You will kiss me goodnight every night as if we are actually married.”
“That’s two amendments.”
“You added two.”
“One was just for pushing me.”
“My second is for that Goddess-awful kiss you gave me at our wedding.”
“You didn’t enjoy my lips pressed to yours, Goldling?”
“One of the many disappointments of the day.”
His hand at my back pulled me closer, his lips so near to mine, I felt the warmth of his breath.
His eyes darted to my mouth and my lips parted.
I knew if he kissed me now, I’d melt in his arms because I wanted him.
My whole body wanted all of him and didn’t seem to care how much my mind wanted nothing more than to push him down the stairs and toss his precious golden thread behind him.
He met my gaze again, a grin blooming across his mouth. “Deal,” he whispered between us.
I closed my mouth and swallowed hard, straightening my spine in his hands. “Deal.”
His lips met mine in a searing kiss, sharp and wild as he opened his mouth, pulling my bottom lip into his. He let go, his hand holding up my chin with an utterly wicked smile across his face and a challenge in his eyes.
“That didn’t count,” I said quickly.
“That one was free.”
He let go of me entirely, turning his back. “The sun sets. I suggest you get to work before the day is through and you’ve broken the bargain already.”
“You want me to spin three cops of gold today ?”
“Do you want me to kiss you tonight?”
I huffed, folding my arms. “Not really.”
“Too bad.” He waved a hand behind him and walked out the door, calling, “Meet me in our room for your first lesson when you’re finished. And don’t be too late.”