Taken: The Coldest Fae by Katerina Martinez

Taken: The Coldest Fae by Katerina Martinez

Author:Katerina Martinez [Martinez, Katerina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Supernal Publishing
Published: 2021-01-09T22:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I had never worked with a sewing machine that hadn’t blown up on me before. Most of the clothes I wore, I’d stitched them by hand. All of the dresses I made for other mages? Also, by hand. I couldn’t tell you the amount of sewing machines I’d caused to short circuit, burn out, or simply had stopped working over the years.

It wasn’t just the electric machines that didn’t seem to like me, it was also the old, hand-crank ones that refused to work with me. My mothers didn’t really have an explanation for it. They came to the agreement that the magic threads and fabric I would make clothes out of were simply too powerful to be put through a man-made contraption.

I accepted that idea, at least on the surface. It made sense, even if it also tripled the amount of time it took for me to fashion a made-to-order dress for another mage. I didn’t have the luxury of time right now, so I needed a machine to work with. I wasn’t sure if Mira would be able to get me one, or if it would even work, but we were in the land of the fae. There was magic all around.

Somewhere in this castle, I knew, there was a sewing machine I could use to turn this bland, shapeless, thing into something wearable—and I had been right.

I was lucky Mira came through.

The machine itself, like everything else about this place, was a piece of art. White, silver, and elegant; slender, but also sturdy. I had spent the better part of an hour imagining what the dress could look like and drawing up sketches; then I started cutting, passing the point of no return.

My hands had trembled the moment I slid the fabric into the machine. The needle was ready, the deep blue thread carefully woven through its many trappings and hoops. With my heart wedged in my throat I started, carefully pulling the fabric along and watching the needle move in and out, each time creating a beautiful, delicate stitch.

Gullie and Mira had both been watching the process, observing as I tried to hold it together despite the clock ticking down. There was something motivating about the threat of discovery, or death, if I messed this up, if I took too long, or if I showed up wearing a ragged, cut up monster that was even uglier than when I first got it.

Everything had to be perfect, every stitch masterful, every seam carefully and delicately woven through. But it didn’t just have to be perfect, it also had to be something to marvel at, and that only made the whole project even more difficult.

The one thing I had working for me was the machine itself, and the fact that the materials I was working with were magic. Mira had gotten exactly the kind of materials I needed to make the dress I wanted to make.

I wanted it to dazzle anyone who looked at it, and that meant my requirements were specific; but the threads and fabric I needed were abundantly available.



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