Page 15

Seville had outdone herself. The back lawns had been transformed into a scene out of a book. Gossamer canopies stretched across

the space like low-hanging clouds, and chandeliers covered in glittering crystals hung from the wooden rafters of the structures.

The gardens had been dressed in twinkling tea lights, the fountain adorned with lilies and floating candles encased in glass.

Tables overflowed with an abundance of food, and there was upbeat music from a quartet stationed near an actual fountain of

wine. A short distance away was a makeshift dance floor with shined wooden floorboards arranged in a perfect square beneath

a pergola draped in ivy. Amber orbs cradled by vines hung at varying heights, and a magical glow hummed from their centers

to cast the space in a warm light.

All at once I understood why the townsfolk always fell over themselves just to speak with an Ever. This unbridled revelry

and beauty... They wanted to drink it in.

I wanted to drink it in.

Amalyss and Tasia immediately strolled toward their parents when we approached, and while I’d gained their favor, I couldn’t say the same for Clesian and Lydia. Rather than test my luck, I wandered to a table laden with beverages. An attendant was quick to hand me a glass with a polite nod before busying herself with other patrons.

“Thank you,” I said. The pleasing taste of dark cherries and herbs coursed over my tongue as I took a sip and strolled aimlessly

toward the throng of people. I recognized a handful of elders and their families, and I was stunned to see them dressed so

ostentatiously. Mrs.Marlow must’ve made a fortune from all their attire. It was so drastically different from what they normally

wore. Every possible hue and shade from the rainbow were displayed in their fine clothing, and a few of them had gone so far

as to add feathers, wings, or ribbonlike tails to their attire, as if they were trying to make themselves look more like Evers.

Still, they didn’t move with the same animalistic grace as the immortals. A handful of townsfolk had taken to the dance floor,

but most lingered by the food and drink.

My mouth parted when I saw Lysa standing beside her father. She was wearing a silken champagne gown with ivory rosebuds lining

her frame, and it clung to her every curve. A wreath of flowers sat atop her curled hair. Her gaze met mine, eyes widening

temporarily in shock, and then a grin split her face and she rushed toward me.

“Edira!” She threw her arms around my neck, sending Ywena in a flurry to the top of my head, and hugged me tight. “I’ve missed

you!”

My hands fluttered aimlessly for a moment until I settled with a light pat between her shoulders. “Hey, Lysa. How are you?”

“I’m wonderful. The silver fete. Can you believe it?” Lysa released me, and she watched with awe as Ywena returned to her

usual perch. “What’s it been like? You have to tell me everything .”

“It’s been fine.” I didn’t really know what else to say, but I did understand her curiosity. The townsfolk didn’t visit Fernglove without invitation. Outside of the silver fete, their knowledge of the manor and its inhabitants was limited.

“Did Noam and Nohr come with you?” Lysa asked as she glanced past me to the house. “I was hoping to see them tonight.”

The lingering taste of wine soured in my mouth. She didn’t know. I guess I didn’t expect her to—it wasn’t like I’d shared

their condition with Mrs.Marlow while I was in town, and it wasn’t the Ferngloves’ place to discuss my family’s problems.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted them to. Tonight was supposed to be a breath. A moment for me to escape the horrid predicament

I’d found myself in. I didn’t want to think about blight. I wanted to just... be.

But a part of me softened at her question. Here she was, dressed like a goddess and poised for an Ever to claim as theirs—no

doubt as her father intended and likely hoped for—and she was asking about my brothers. About Noam.

“They’re traveling overseas.” I plastered on a fake smile. “An old family friend reached out and invited them to join him.

He’s a traveling merchant.”

“Oh.” Her eyes fell. She snagged her lower lip with her teeth for a moment, then turned, securing a glass of wine from a passing

attendant. With one easy movement, she drank half of it, then cleared her throat. With a bright smile, she said lightly, “I

expected there to be more Evers.”

I thought back to the bloodlines and Orin’s call for a more peaceful way forward among the Ever families. “Maybe there will

be more next time.”

“That would be something to see,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “My grandparents remember a time when all sorts of Evers came and stayed with the Ferngloves for the fete. But I assume drama between immortals lasts lifetimes. My father says the feuds between the houses are catastrophic.” Eyes alight with joy from sharing gossip, she took another quick sip of her wine. “I personally think that’s why so many townsfolk are here. Obviously this is my first fete, so I can’t compare. I’m just grateful for the opportunity.”

I scoured the crowd until I spied Briar standing near Flix and Issa, his gaze locked on the night sky. Perhaps the Starglens

would be the first of many to set aside old disputes. But before I could chat more with Lysa, her father called for her, and

she gave me another tight squeeze.

“I’ll come find you later. Or tomorrow! I have a different gown, you just have to see it. This is so exciting!”

I smiled to myself as she strolled away, only to be halted by the son of a different town elder. Normally Broderick would’ve

been a perfect suitor for Lysa—he was tall with dark hair and handsome brown eyes. Freckles dusted his broad nose, and twin

dimples burrowed deep into his cheeks. But he wasn’t an Ever. I doubted Lysa’s father would let her linger for too long.

Taking another long sip of wine, I turned back toward the clearing reserved for dancing. A breath skated along the shell of

my ear, followed by a whisper full of heat. “Enjoying the view?”

I spun around to find Rorik bent over, a devilish grin pulling at his lips, and he chuckled darkly as he straightened. Of

course, Ywena shocked me, which only deepened his laugh as he watched me adjust. I was about to open my mouth and chastise

him for yet again scaring me instead of saying hello, but the words died on my tongue.

Rorik was sinister . There was no other word for the dark beauty that he exuded. He was mostly dressed in liquid-black clothing that shifted like water when he moved, but all the edges were trimmed in golden thread that shined as bright as polished metal. The cuffs of his sleeves were folded over, and the underside of the fabric was gilded silk that was as reflective as mirrors. His burnished hair was dusted with golden foil, and smears of gold paint had been dragged across his cheeks, halting just before his lips. He’d even swapped the onyx dermal piercings on his brow for shined gold.

His attire was alluring, but his Ever features... Gods. Sable horns with sharpened points had pushed through his forehead,

just beneath his hairline. His eyes were beetle black without a trace of white to be found. But what stole my focus were his

wings. They were massive, sprouting beneath his shoulders to fall to the backs of his heels. The outer shells were black,

but the insides were a resplendent gold, and they twitched twice as I marveled at their captivating sheen.

He was danger incarnate. Even the way he loosely cradled his crystal goblet, as if he couldn’t be bothered to hold it properly,

felt alarming. Like at any moment he’d crack it against a stone and use the broken shards as weapons.

What I would have done to him if I didn’t loathe the time we spent together.

“Dance with me,” he said after draining the rest of his wine. His lips were stained from the ruby-red liquid, and I couldn’t

help but fantasize about what they’d taste like.

“Is that a command?” I asked, all too aware that my voice was unnaturally hoarse. I brought the rest of my wine to my lips

and forced it down with a long swallow. His gaze dropped to my neck, and he grinned.

With one finger, he grazed the hollow of my throat. “I would never force you to do something you didn’t want to.”

I stilled as I fought to keep my breath steady. “You’re drunk.”

“Will you dance with me?” His voice was more like a predatory purr.

As he extended his hand, all I could do was stare. Rorik had never offered me his hand. He’d jabbed my stomach to alter my breathing, and straightened my back to adjust my posture, and teased

me with his nearness, but never a gesture like this.

His tone softened. “If you say no, I’ll leave.”

This time, there was a burn to his words. A promise steeped in magic. It was subtle, much like the quiet vow Amalyss had placed

on me, but with none of the vile intention. So I placed my hand in his. “Okay.”

He took my glass and set both our stemware on the tray of a passing attendant before guiding me to the floor. A few of the

more practiced couples were already twirling together in complicated patterns I didn’t recognize, trading partners and moving

with an artful confidence I didn’t have a chance of replicating. Unlike the elders and wealthy townsfolk, I’d never had the

luxury of lessons or soirees where I could learn even the most basic steps. I couldn’t fathom why Rorik wanted to dance with

me.

“I don’t know any dances.” I hesitated at the edge of the floorboards, and Rorik halted as he glanced down at me. “I’m liable

to smash your feet with my heels.”

His wry smirk did wondrous things to my fluttering heart. “Is that an excuse so you can harm me without recourse?”

“Hardly.” I eyed the spinning pairs before us. “But if that’s your concern, you can step on my feet every time I step on yours.

A toe for a toe.”

“Oh, Edira.” He draped one of my hands about his neck before wrapping his arm around my waist. With his free hand, he threaded

our fingers together. “The only pain I’d ever intentionally inflict on you is the agony of making you wait to feel the pleasure

of release.”

My mouth fell open as he took off, spinning us with an effortless grace. Heat ravaged my cheeks as his words played on repeat in my mind in tune with the beat of the music. Apparently, he didn’t consider jabbing me in the gut as “pain,” because his words hinted at something deeper. I couldn’t keep myself from pressing closer to him, from wanting to feel the form of his hard muscles beneath his clothing. I didn’t know how my feet kept up with his. I wasn’t sure they ever did. At one point, I registered that he’d lifted me slightly in a twirl so my toes skated above the earth, and then he never placed me back down. Not until he dipped me low before bringing me back flush with his chest.

He chuckled at my shocked expression. “Have I snared your attention?”

Indefinitely. “No. I was just shocked you knew how to dance so well.”

“Dancing is a form of training, you know.” He nodded to Ywena, who’d crawled to my sternum and unfurled her wings to flatten

herself against my cleavage. I knew he was staring at her and not my breasts, but I couldn’t help but blow out a shaky breath.

She shocked me, and I bit my bottom lip to steel myself. Rorik’s eyes immediately riveted to my mouth, and the hunger in his

stare was magnified by a sudden, reflective sheen of gold that passed across those ink-black pools.

“Keep breathing,” he said, voice guttural and low and so damn tantalizing.

“You, too.” I couldn’t help myself. I had no idea if he was keeping control or not, but the reaction I got out of him was

worth it. His fingers dug deep into my hip and a husky growl escaped the back of his throat.

“Tell me a lie, Edira. A good one.” He spun me out in time with the music before slowly pulling me back to him. “Tell me I’m

beautiful.”

I snorted. “You want me to compliment you when you haven’t even acknowledged my appearance? Such an Ever thing to do.”

“Of course.” He dipped me low again, his mouth just inches from mine. “Why be anything other than what you expect me to be?”

Ywena must’ve shocked me at least twice, and his heated gaze drifted to her fluttering wings before shifting to my eyes with a look of pure desire. He held me there for what felt like an eternity, neither of us daring to speak. I feared he’d keep me caged in his arms all evening if I didn’t respond. Part of me didn’t want to.

“You are stunning.”

He stared at me as my words washed over him. “Truth or lie?”

“Which is more dangerous?” What was I even saying? Doing? I’d had only a glass of wine, and yet I was intoxicated. Drunk on

him and his presence, unsure of how to proceed but loving the thrill of not knowing what was going to happen.

He pulled us back upright, slowing our pace to an intimate sway, as his lips brushed against my cheek. “You look like a garden.”

At that, I burst out laughing and didn’t even try to keep my breathing even. Shocks jolted over me as I gripped Rorik tighter.

“I said the exact same thing.”

Leaning back, he released my hand to trail his fingers along my side. Longing coiled tightly inside me, and I pressed into

his touch.

Stop. Stop, stop, stop. Not to him, but to myself. Gods, I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to stop wanting it, and yet I couldn’t.

“Regardless, you are beautiful.”

My throat dried as I fought to keep control of my emotions. “That’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”

It was hard to decipher what emotion coursed through his pupil-less eyes, but that reflective golden sheen passed over them

again as he inched closer. When he was only a breath away and Ywena was shocking me to the ends of the realm, he dragged a

thumb along my jaw until reaching my chin. Then he angled it up.

“Rorik.” Seville’s sharp voice broke his hold over me, and I backstepped out of his reach. He didn’t move. Instead, he blinked

at the space where I used to be. And then a flood of anger raced through his expression, so volatile and threatening that

my breathing stopped completely. It only lasted for a moment before he hid it all beneath a cool veil of indolence. Straightening,

he turned to face his sister.

“Yes?”

“You know better than to steal the first dance. Plus, Jules is looking for you.” Seville glared at Rorik as he shrugged and

offered a flippant wave.

Steal the first dance. Had it all been a power move? Really? It didn’t feel like it had, and yet I knew the Evers loved their games. A sinking coldness

trudged through my limbs.

“Fine, fine. I’ll entertain her. Take care, Edira.” He sauntered away like a predator who’d grown bored of his prey, never

looking back to see if I’d fled.

Seville groaned as she pinched her nose. “Fucking idiot.” Then, to me: “Orin is looking for you.”

“Rorik didn’t do anything,” I said once I found my voice. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know that.

She narrowed her ice-green eyes as her gaze raked over my body. It was as if she could hear my lie. In the twinkling light

of the magicked chandeliers, her stare glowed with power. Her skin was as radiant as ever and infused with diamonds—a perfect

complement to her ethereal wings that shimmered like glass. Her bloodred gown was draped about her curves in the most tantalizing

way, and a slit from hip to foot exposed her right leg. A lacy garter dotted with garnets wrapped around her thigh, and her

Fernglove tattoo was inked beneath it as if she’d sheathed the thing and could draw it at a moment’s notice.

Seville scoffed as she adjusted the plunging neckline of her dress. “Even if he didn’t physically hurt you, he shouldn’t have

touched you.”

“I’m not a possession,” I bristled, not caring that I turned a few heads as we went. “You all seem to forget that.”

Seville glowered. “Be that as it may, there are things at play tonight that you cannot fuck up. And Rorik . . .” She hissed, more to herself than to me as she maneuvered around a pair of drunken dancers. “I don’t love either of my brothers, but I know which one not to piss off.”

Glancing through the crowd, I spied Rorik towering over an Ever I could only assume was Jules. Like all of them, she was flawless,

and she leaned against the trunk of a tree as she inclined her head toward him expectantly. Rorik’s grin was feral, and he

dragged a thumb over her lips before pressing his mouth to hers.

I quickly looked away, surprised by the flicker of annoyance in my chest. So much for him calling me beautiful. I suppose

that was a safe truth. Beauty was relative, and he was relatively occupied with another version of it.

The only pain I’d ever intentionally inflict on you... I cut off the thought before it could do more damage.

Orin’s deep laugh rose above the gathering of people, and Seville stopped to give me yet another once-over. She was still

muttering under her breath about Rorik’s stupidity. I wanted to ask more, to understand this strained family dynamic that

was so starkly different from the one I shared with Noam and Nohr. But I doubted Seville would give up any information willingly,

and a crowded fete was hardly the time to pry.

Especially not when everyone parted to let Orin through.

Seville excused herself, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the throng of bodies. Orin came to a

standstill, rapt gaze caught on me.

“Edira.” He swallowed twice, his eyes wide and full as he took in my appearance. “You look—”

... like a garden.

“—beautiful.”

It was the third time I’d been called beautiful since donning my dress, and maybe that’s why it felt like the compliment didn’t hold as much weight. Or maybe it was because I’d delighted in the shared surprise that came with Rorik likening me to a garden. It was such an abstract comment that felt so wildly synchronous. But no. I was done letting him invade my thoughts and play with my emotions. Not when another with much more grace and kindness was focused solely on me.

“Thank you,” I said with a smile.

Mirth filled Orin’s gaze. His ivy-green tailored suit was a perfect complement to my gown, as well as the emerald scales framing

his temples. He’d styled his oak-brown locks to fall around his horns, truly as if he were wearing a bone diadem. I remembered

the first time I saw him, I’d thought he was regal. I’d had no idea quite how magnificent he was. His tail darted behind him

as he moved toward me, and he offered me his hand. I took it without hesitation.

With delicate fingers, he tucked a loose strand of moonlight-white hair behind my ear. As his gaze shifted to my collarbone,

he grimaced. “Ywena, fly back to your master. Edira has no use for training tonight.”

Her reluctance was palpable in the way she nestled closer to my skin. And I wasn’t sure why, but that only served to irritate

me further. It was hardly her fault that Rorik was such a colossal ass, but at least for tonight I wanted nothing to do with

him. Still, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—dream of hurting her.

“Go on.” I gently nudged my finger beneath her limbs, and I swore to the gods that she actually huffed. I blinked as she took

off, likely to find Rorik. Eventually, she’d have to come back. But for tonight, I was blissfully free.

“Now that that’s settled, what would you like to do?” he asked.

“I could go for a drink,” I said, suddenly parched.

“Certainly.” He effortlessly steered us through the crowd without failing to greet those around him. He was magnanimous in his presence, calling each person who approached by name as if they were longtime friends instead of distant acquaintances. When we secured our drinks, he even made a point to thank the attendant before returning his focus to me. The warmth of the wine was beginning to linger in my limbs, and I reveled in the pleasure that came with it—and Orin.

“You’re nothing like I expected,” I said. The words were out before I realized, and I pressed my glass to my lips to keep

anything else from accidentally spilling out.

“Oh? Well, I hope that’s a good thing.” Orin smiled. “I know the circumstances in which we met were less than favorable, but

I’m not a monster, Edira, despite some of my more animalistic attributes.”

“I quite like the horns.” I should’ve just kept drinking. Talking was dangerous.

His grin deepened. “Good to know.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I averted my eyes to instead stare at the throng of people growing more riotous by the minute.

They twirled beneath the chandeliers, sweat glistening in the flickering light, with drunken smiles stretched wide across

their faces. Ignorance was bliss. So was wine.

Orin took a careful step closer, and the heat of his body against my side was a wonderful thing. “Care to dance?”

“Won’t your guests be expecting you? I’d hate to keep you from your duties.” I nodded toward a cluster of onlookers neither

dancing nor eating, but precariously loitering as if they were waiting for Orin to move so they could determine how to interject.

“They can wait.” He placed a warm hand on the small of my back as he brought his lips to my cheek in a gentle, chaste kiss.

“You’re the only one I care to entertain right now.”

Gooseflesh raced down my spine, and I rolled my lips together. Perhaps there was some benefit to looking like a garden when

it meant being paired with the god of earth himself. No one would dare trample me. That realization brought a sense of power

I’d never felt before. Here I was, surrounded by all sorts of important people, and I was the one who was untouchable.

This time, I led Orin to the floor designated for dancing. I didn’t care that I didn’t know the steps or that my movements weren’t as fluid as his. Because I held all of Orin’s attention, and that was a power no one else had the hopes of attaining. His smile was wide, his body warm and safe. I loved that we could move together without trading ridiculous words or me worrying about my breath. About his breath. We were one. Just a tangled mess of limbs and laughter as I botched dance patterns and he saved me from falling. It was the most fun I’d had in years.

When the song ended and we were both breathless, we moved to the outskirts of the floor near tables laden with food and drink.

Orin’s hands found my shoulders, and I reveled in the warmth of his touch. “Shall we go again?”

“I just need a minute,” I managed. Orin nodded as he grabbed a chalice full of wine and drained it in one easy swig. His lips

were stained a flush pink, and my fingers burned to brush against the soft opening of his mouth. Standing on my toes, I leaned

against his chest and reached my fingers up to swipe away a bead of wine from his lip. “You left some behind.”

He tensed beneath me, his heart hammering into my body, and then his teeth gently snared my finger.

“Oops,” he murmured, still not releasing his grip.

A soft gasp pushed through my lips, and I was about to give in to the strange carnal desire I felt toward him, when an annoyed

throat-clearing crested over the din of the partygoers.

“Orin, pleasure to see you.”

He released my finger and glanced over the top of my head. Annoyance flickered through his eyes, but it was immediately replaced

with a wide smile befitting the evening’s host. “Ossanna. My apologies for not greeting you sooner.”

I turned to find the striking Ever, drink in hand. She looked the same as she did that day in the foyer, right down to the

mischief in her ruby-red eyes.

“The others are waiting.” Her gaze slanted to me. “Shall we?”

Orin’s hand shifted to the small of my back. “We were just on our way.”

“Excellent.” She turned, the swish of her blue-black hair cutting through the air, and she crossed through the throng of people

without an ounce of hesitation. Dancers turned, irritation lancing their features, but they swallowed their retorts the moment

they spied who’d cut in front of them. No one dared to confront her, and instead they went back to their revelry without objection.

“Best we get this over with.” Orin sighed, and with a gentle push, he steered us around the crowd in the same direction as

Ossanna. “Then, maybe after, we can finish what you started.”

I glanced past him at the lawns, at the twirling bodies and mirth-filled gazes, and for a moment my eyes wandered back to

the tree where I’d last spotted Rorik. He was nowhere to be found—and neither was Jules—but I couldn’t focus on that. Orin’s

words had filled me with something else entirely. I wanted to laugh like I had, to pretend like there was nothing more than

tonight and this moment. All I wanted was to fall into the same merriment as the rest of the revelers. And I didn’t care who

provided it.

“That sounds lovely.”

And I meant it.