ary ’s Reviews > The Weaver Bride > Status Update

In my head, memories rose up, unbidden and unable to be tamped down again-
‘A hotel lobby. A figure sitting alone at the bar. There is something in his hand, golden and glittering- a watch.’
‘I have a feeling you’re able to open a great many doors, Miss Lovett Tamerlane-‘
No. Resurfacing from the images felt like emerging from a crash of water


her remembering how they first met ❤️‍🩹

Strangely, the emptiness seemed to suit him better than either the princely condescension or the rebellious wit, which he’d worn previously; this, I felt certain as I regarded him, was my first true glimpse of the younger Alaire.

“Anyhow, Lear feels that the relationship between Silkwitches and Weavers is unequal-that we take from your kind more than we give. He avoids anything created with magesilk if he can help it.”

SUCH A GENTLEMAN 🥹🥹

I turned in my heel without curtsying, the stairway door my sole focus. Behind me, I heard Eliot step forward. “Lovett- wait a moment-“ he called out.
But I was too quick for him, when I raced down the turret steps, he did not follow. Only the echo of my name chased after me, fallen like a plea from his lips. ‘Lovett’, he’d called me.
Not Miss Lovett. Lovett.

Aside from his instruction, we danced in silence, the night cool and formless around us. In the darkness, I could not sense the turning of the hours; the little turret room felt curiously free of time, as if Eliot and I were a pair of swans, spinning endlessly against a black velvet sea.

She smiled, the flash of her white teeth wolfish. “Miss Lovett.”
I returned her smile, predator to predator. “Miss Tremblay.”

‘Our tailor felt it would be best suited’… Though I wasn’t sure why, the idea of Eliot Lear describing me to a member of his staff made me feel… Was it shy?
Surely not. I was flattered, that was all, my anger lessened by his apology.
Yet when i raised my fingers to my face, pressing them against my skin, I was disturbed to find that I was smiling.

“I think-“
Abruptly, he stopped, the sunset tracing the sloping lines of his profile so that his features were glazed in hot orange.
“I believe it is his way of making things up to me,” he admitted a second later.

“Neither of us is a good person. It is why we are so well suited.”