Of course, there was also the obvious truth that no one, not even the families I grew up with, had known I was a threadmender. Anxiety knotted tight in my gut, and I fingered a strand of diamond-white hair. I’d left it down, and it billowed over my shoulders with the languid movement of water. They’d know in an instant what I was.
“No time to be so melodramatic. We’re leaving. Now.” Seville’s slender hand found my wrist. We were through the front door before I fully collected myself, and only then did she release her hold.
When we hit the courtyard, I paused before the turn leading toward the stables. It would be an uncomfortable few hours sitting by Seville, but there didn’t seem to be a way around it. “Are we not taking a carriage?”
Seville kept walking forward, not bothering to adjust her pace. “You’ve got our magic in you now. No sense in wasting time when we have a faster means of travel. Plus, the stags have blight. Better to let them rest until Orin decides you’re ready to cure them.”
Upping my pace, I rejoined Seville at her side as we made our way to the front gates. “Do you know when he wants me to try and threadmend them?”
“I don’t think anyone knows what Orin wants.” The words were so calm, so easily delivered, that had I not been looking at Seville I would have assumed she was simply being flippant. Butthere was a subtle twitch to her brow, the slightest pursing of her lips. She caught me staring, and her expression shifted back to a more familiar smirk. “Except perhaps you.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Heat crawled over my cheeks.
“Sure. We’ve lived for a century and still can’t recognize the signs of longing. Howquaint,” she said as we passed through the open gates and came to a halt at the bridge. Instead of crossing, Seville pointed to a smooth, rectangular stone of white marble. It came up to her waist, and she gently laid her hand on its polished surface. “Our lands are rich with currents. This ley line will take us to the center of Willowfell.” She extended her other hand for me to grasp.
“Lovely.” I eyed the seemingly harmless structure, happy to let Seville’s prodding about Orin fall to the wayside.
Seville snared my arm and yanked me close. “Hold tight.”
She gave me no other warning. Magic snapped to life around us as a swirling faint green portal appeared. The mist seeped into the air around the column until it enveloped us entirely. Sweltering heat battered my body, and my heart thundered in my ears. It was like standing in direct sunlight with a fresh burn: aching, twisting discomfort. Yet the longer it went on, the easier it became to handle, and I managed to catch sight of a twining current of green that slipped beneath our feet. It slid around us like a fast-moving river, ushering us through time and space to deliver us to new shores. And then it was over, the magic evaporating in a rush, and we were standing beneath the arch in Willowfell’s town square.
“It gets easier with time,” Seville said as the gossamer veil from the arch dissipated around us. Glittering particles of dust showered the ground around our feet. I remembered what it looked like from the other side, to be set up at a stall and marvel at the sudden display of magic. Now, I felt like a spectacle.
Because of course it was market day. And all eyes were already on us.
Gods, I wasn’t prepared for the swell of emotion that gathered in my throat. The clover-strewn cobblestone beneath my feet. The rows of tables manned by vendors of every profession. The scent of freshly baked confections wafting from Lysa’s shop. Artfully decorated cottages with unique doors to suit the owners. A sudden pang sprouted in my heart as I thought of my own home and the delicate entryway my father had carved. And, of course, there were the people themselves, all clustering together in awe as their gazes bounced between Seville and me.
A few stares glazed right over me, but then the whispers started to race through the stalls and built with each passing breath.
“Is that Edira?”
“She’s a threadmender? Since when?”
“No wonder her remedies worked so well.”
My jaw clenched as their curiosity swelled. I’d spent years perfecting my disguise, hiding the truth of what I was for the chance at a somewhat normal life. Even if I survived the Ferngloves, I could never be normal again. Not here. The town’s collective surprise lasted for a few more pregnant moments before their awe shifted toward Seville, and they started touting their wares. Seville shot me a wayward glance and then grinned, looping her arm through mine as she guided us toward the nearest stalls.
“Shall we browse a bit before trying on gowns?” she asked.
She’d spoken clearly, and yet her words were muffled, pulled through cotton in my ears as I struggled to sift through my emotions. “I’d rather just get this over with.”
She paused before a stall selling handmade glass figurines. I recognized the owner, who gaped at me without speaking for several breaths. After a forceful series of blinks, he turned his focus to Seville and aimlessly gestured toward his wares. Her careful stare cut between him and me, and she moved away from his table with nothing more than a nod.
“It appears I’m experiencing a first,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’re outshining me.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or intrigued, but the sly twist to her lips and pointed arch of her brow ratcheted my already heightened nerves. “I can’t believe you were able to hide your true nature from them for so long. You’re as practiced as we are at wearing glamour.”
I didn’t have a chance to respond. Lysa’s father, the primary town elder, parted the crowd and came to a halt before us. He shared the same honey hair and periwinkle eyes as his daughter, but their similarities stopped there. Where Lysa was generous, Mr.Erikston was greedy. Even now, as his gaze tripped over my revealed appearance, I could practically see the gears turning in his mind. My mother had long suspected that he’d been the one to out Rowena’s existence in exchange for coin. To him, I was likely nothing more than a missed opportunity.
Still, he didn’t bother to address me and instead turned to Seville. “Lady Fernglove,” he said, and dipped his chin low as he spoke. “We can’t thank you enough for adjusting the taxation on the mines.” As he straightened, he beamed at her with too-white teeth. “Rest assured, our increased take has gone toward furthering the town’s development, as mandated.”
I couldn’t keep my mouth from falling open. Seville handled the news with far more grace. “Of course. I’ll give your gratitude to my brother.”
“Anything you wish is yours. Free of charge.” Mr.Erikston gestured wide to include all the stalls, as if he oversaw all their profits. To a degree, he probably did.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll pay as I always have,” Seville said.
