Threads of Desire (Spellcraft) - By Stone, Eleri Page 0,46
right this time but you must look at it and tell me if it’s so.”
Ily took the scrap of fabric from her small hands and sat down, laying it on the ground in front of her so that she could examine it. It struck her, as it always did, how unusual Nira’s work was. With none of the traditional patterns, no borders or transitional bars, at first glance it seemed entirely random. But it drew the eye, as all good art did, pulling you in despite the evident disorder. Chaos on the edge of being tamed. This piece was her finest yet—an offset sunburst, tapering to shadow. Nira knelt beside her and touched the circle. “This is the moon here. Do you see the hounds?”
Ily opened her mouth to ask where they were, seeing nothing that looked like an animal, but then she smiled. There were shadows at the edge of the square, concentrations of dark grey thread in the black woven in an undulating pattern that suggested movement. “I see them. They’re very subtle.”
“Of course they are. They are vicious hunters who come in the night. Tiran says the shepherds must be extremely vigilant this time of year. There is snow in the mountains. That’s what the song is about, you know.”
“I do.” It was a peasant song from the tribes to the north. The man who delivered the meat last week had been singing it. Nira made him sing it a dozen times before Kal released him, paying him well for his time. Nira collected songs as other girls collected ribbons. “It’s a lovely piece.”
“Father’s birthday is next week. I plan to give this to him as a present.” A hint of uncertainty shadowed her face. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
Ily pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across Nira’s forehead. “He will treasure it, I’m sure.”
“Have you planned a gift?”
Before Ily could answer, they both heard someone coming through the orchard, walking slowly from the same direction Nira had come. Nira snatched up her work and shoved it into a pocket just before Kal entered the clearing. Sunlight sparkled in the dark eyes that looked from his guiltily blushing daughter to his wife. “Plotting something? I should be terrified.”
“You should be,” Ily said.
Nira took a step forward and gave him a quick hug. “What would we plot but your happiness, Papa?”
A quick kiss to his cheek and she was off again, likely to wrap the present and hide it away safely until she could present it to Kal with proper fanfare. He watched her go and then came to sit beside Ily. She adjusted her legs and drew him closer so that he could lay his head in her lap.
“My daughter is far too clever for her own good.”
“For your good, you mean.” Ily sifted her fingers through his soft hair, finer than silk. “She learned it from you.”
Kal opened one eye. “You’re no innocent, Ily. She watches you. You’ve taught her exactly how to cast a weave I can’t escape from.”
“You wish to escape?” She hid a smile and moved as if she meant to push him from her lap though she had no intention of letting him go. “You only had to say so and—”
He growled and turned his upper body, rolling them both and pulling her down so she sprawled half beside, half atop him. “No escape, not for either of us. Are you a willing prisoner or do I need to tie you down again?”
Heat rose from her belly to her breasts and cheeks. Her lips parted and he smiled, both of them remembering that night. “Not a prisoner,” she said. “But willing.”
She was always willing with Kal. She’d thought that might fade or that Nira’s presence would make things awkward between them but neither had happened. Nira had bound them together as family while Ily adjusted to the strangeness of acting as an aristo’s wife. It was still a strange role, easier here where no one knew her than it would have been in Lasura. Kal didn’t let her retreat. They’d wed within hours of her acceptance and had hardly been apart since that day nearly a year ago.
Not that she minded.
His hands came up to grip her hips and he settled her fully on top of him. She could feel his erection, already hard against her belly. She smoothed her cheek over the light stubble that shadowed his jaw and then nibbled at his lower lip before claiming