Page 20 of Straw and Gold
He laughed, shaking his head. Folding his arms at his chest and drawing my eye to his considerable biceps, he continued, “Alright. I’ll play along until I find the real reason you’re here. Youwantto be queen? What do you have to offer the Changlingfae as their ruler?”
“Well…” I began, “I’m intelligent, as you said?—”
“Yes, we’ve covered that.”
“And,” I replied with a smirk, “I’m knowledgeable in your trade.”
“Which is?”
“Wool. Fine clothing. Fedir gave me a tour of the fabric stores underneath the castle and the vats of dye. This kingdom is known for its wool production, and offering the softest, yet pliable wool in all of Revelry.”
Again that almost smile hinted on his lips. “And how are you knowledgeable in wool production?”
“Well, I…I am a very good spinner.”
He quirked a brow and I felt the need to go on. “I mean to say, my spinning is accurate and quick.”
His silence continued.
“I-I can spin anything, really.”
“Anything?” he repeated with a tilt of his head.
“I’m sure I could.”
I thought of the goats I had sheared one year, spinning their long coats and of the mohari beast who had lost his way in the Brackish Wood. His fibers had made Korven a fine scarf that winter.
“Could you spin straw?” he asked with a shrug.
Taken aback, I huffed quickly, “It’s likely I could.”
A slow smile spread on his lips. “There is straw here, Morella. There is a spinning wheel.”
“Oh,” I murmured, turning to see that those exact two things were indeed there in that tower room, waiting for me to prove myself.
“Well, I don’t know if this spinning wheel is in the right shape to?—”
“Humor me.”
I peered at him over my shoulder. This was his test. Fuck, if I’d fail it.
Approaching the spinning wheel, I shoved my sleeves up my arms, inspecting each moving part. The wheel turned with ease and the bobbin was intact, albeit covered in dust. I blew away as much as I could and sat at the stool, pumping at the treadle and adjusting the maidens to my liking.
My husband watched me with rapt curiosity, likely expecting me to come up with more excuses for why it was impossible to spin straw.
Spin straw intowhat?
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, ahint 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.
