Page 86 of The Weaver

Rekosh huffed. “It was not.”

The corners of her lips curled into a wide grin, and she tugged on the end of her tattered skirt. “Are you still angry about this?”

His mandible fangs clacked together as he forced his eyes to the meat, folding his lower arms across his chest.

“Rekosh!” Ahmya laughed. “I already explained why I’m wearing this.”

Because the dress he’d made for her wasn’t appropriate fortraversing the jungle, because she couldn’t bear to see it damaged or soiled, because she wanted it in perfect condition toshow offwhen they returned to Kaldarak.

None of that changed the fact that she was clad in another vrix’s silk instead of his.

With a teasing glint in her eyes, she folded her arms across the tops of her knees and bent forward. “You’re cute when you’repowtee.”

“I do not know that word,” he bit out.

“Sulky, grouchy, grumpy.”

Forcing his mandibles down, he turned the meat over the fire. “I am notpowtee.”

Sitting up, Ahmya stuck out her bottom lip and crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.

He narrowed his eyes. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“Copying exactly what you just did. Pouting.”

“Stop.”

Ahmya only stuck out her bottom lip again and peered up at him with wide, sad eyes.

Rekosh knew what she was doing. He knew, and yet…that look on her face, in her gaze, seized his heartsthread and pulled on it.

No. No, he would not let her distract him. His mood was justified. And if she did not wish to wear the dress for fear it would be ruined, he would make another, and he would leave her no choice but to don it.

Withdrawing the meat from over the fire, he rose and held the stick toward her. “It is done. Eat.”

As soon as she took the stick, Rekosh stepped away, snatched up his bag, and opened it. He reached inside and dug through the contents until he found a clean silk blanket tucked away at the bottom. He tugged it out, followed by his sewing supplies—needles, thread, and a blackrock knife.

“What are you doing?” Ahmya asked.

“Pouting.” He unfurled the blanket. “Eat, Ahmya.”

Without looking up to see if she obeyed, he began his work. While the blanket wasn’t necessarily the fabric he’d have chosen to make into clothing for her, it was woven from his silk, by his hands, and that was all that mattered.

The dress formed in his mind’s eye, clear and sure, and he deftly sliced and trimmed the fabric so it would conform to her body. Elegant but practical. That was what his mate needed, and that was what he would provide.

His long fingers manipulated the cloth without need for thought, slipping needles into place to hold the seam together. He checked the form, spreading it open at the waist, envisioning his hands around Ahmya’s body. He knew it now. Intimately.

No more guessing. This would fit her perfectly when it was done, he’d ensure it.

After a few slight adjustments, he threaded a needle and began sewing. Though he took care with every stitch, his fingers moved deftly, nimbly, with instinctual confidence and ease. Each time the needle pierced the fabric, he could imagine it more clearly—his silk hugging his mate’s lithe body in the form of this new dress.

He could envision patterns running across the fabric, accentuating her natural curves, and his fingers itched with the desire to add those flourishes, but he prevented himself from doing so. Practical. Functional. This wasn’t the time for such details.

Every stitch was straight, tight, and precise as he worked along the seam. Though the firelight was erratic, he didn’t need it to guide him; he could’ve done this with his eyes covered, in complete darkness.

As a broodling, how many nights had he lain awake with thoughts, with terrors, with memories tumbling through his mind that could only be silenced through distraction? Howmany times had he taken up thread in the darkness and focused on its feel, its strength, its delicacy?

When the world seemed so impossibly big, so lonely, so frightening, he’d always had the simplicity of thread to ground him. Because from that simplicity, such wonders could be wrought.

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