Page 17

I didn’t rise from my bed until early afternoon the following day. Vora was there as always, but for once she didn’t chastise

me. She said nothing as she helped me bathe and dress, and instead looked at me much like my mother used to when I came home

with bruises. Worry. Sadness. A sliver of pride for defending my brothers. I didn’t know what Vora saw in me now, but I was

grateful for her silence. She brought me food and redressed my bandages, then excused herself with a nod.

Sinking into the tufted lounge at the foot of my bed, I stared out the open bay windows and at the rolling lawns. The multitude

of puncture wounds lining my limbs had already begun to heal, largely in part to Vora’s excellent suturing skills and a blend

of Ever magical remedies and mine. We likely could’ve forgone the balm I’d suggested, but I wanted control over something . Vora must’ve sensed that because she didn’t argue. And when she peeled away the salve-coated linens this morning, a surprised huff had escaped her lips. The wounds were shiny and pink with fresh skin, as if her sutures had been in place for a week instead of a night. With the lightest of touch, I fingered one on my upper arm. Perhaps there was something to combining Ever magic and my cures.

A quiet knock sounded from my door. “Edira?”

I shifted to stare at Orin as he entered. He hesitated as his worried gaze searched my face. It was the first time I’d seen

him since the incident, and all the questions I’d buried during the time of our escape came frothing to the surface of my

mind.

“Come in,” I said, voice even. I didn’t know how to feel about his haggard expression. Tension riddled his frame as he swiftly

crossed the room in a handful of strides. He gestured toward the open space on the sofa beside me, and I nodded.

“How are you feeling? Vora tells me the wounds are healing well.”

“She’s right.” I rested my hands in my lap as I angled my body toward him. “I’m mostly fine.”

“Mostly?” His brows scrunched together.

“I’m having a difficult time grappling with my thoughts,” I said. “Do you have blight?” I looked at him without flinching,

letting the full weight of my inquiry settle against him. It was a question, and yet it wasn’t. And Orin knew. A moment of

panic flickered through his stare, but it was quickly replaced with a deep sadness that affected all his features. His lips

downturned, and he braided his fingers together as he spoke to the floor.

“Yes.”

“And everyone else here?”

“The same.”

“And your land? This whole estate? It’s glamoured to hide the blight, isn’t it?” I asked.

He finally met my gaze. “Yes.”

For a moment, nothing was said. Anger rose in me with a fury unlike any I’d known. I struggled to keep myself sitting, to not storm out of the room and barricade myself in my brothers’ quarters. But that would’ve solved nothing, and technically, Orin hadn’t broken our agreement. I’d entered into his employment in exchange for my brothers’ lives. There hadn’t been time to hash out details, to truly understand what he’d needed from me.

“This changes nothing,” he said quietly.

My answer was sharper than a blade. “Doesn’t it? What were your words, exactly? Just say you’ll work with me ? For how long, Orin? Who do I have to cure to get out of this mess?”

“Mavis.” He clasped his hands together. “Just Mavis, and I’ll consider your work done.”

I wasn’t sure I could believe him. “Why not tell me the truth, then?”

At that, he raised a brow. “That all Evers are infected with blight?” A dry, unexpected laugh rushed from his lips. “Edira,

your distaste for my kind is obvious. If I told you that we were all slated to die, would you still help us? Or would you

be thrilled to rid the world of our existence?”

Not the answer I was expecting. I blinked as I stared at him, which only acknowledged that everything he’d said was truth.

I wouldn’t have cared in the slightest had my brothers not been involved.

“You can speak freely, you know.” His words were soft. Too soft. I hated it.

I blew out a breath. “It’s hard not to feel like I’ve been tricked into losing while you stand to gain everything.”

“No.” His hands shot out to clasp mine. “I admit not telling you about the gravity of our situation was an egregious misstep,

but the trade in my mind was always Mavis for your brothers. Not the rest of us.”

“You’d forsake your own kin for mine?” I asked. “Why?”

Orin’s stare bored into me. “We have time. Mavis does not. If you were to find a way to save her, we could document it. Learn from it. And, hopefully, find a way to use our magic to cure the rest of our family and, eventually, our kind.” He inched closer so our knees grazed each other. “I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted you to carry my burden.”

What was happening? My pulse climbed higher as I stared into the endless depths of his green eyes. I wore their crest, but

I was hardly their family. They needed my powers. Not me specifically. They could’ve found another threadmender, gone through

the same motions again and again. I didn’t know what to take as truth, which meant the only person I could trust was myself.

Trust no one.

“I’ll clarify my evervow if it will give you solace. Trust me, Edira. Please.”

Trust...

And then he dropped his glamour. All of it. Every layer, every woven thread of magic. He was completely bare before me, and

yet somehow, in spite of the blight creeping across his form and the stench of decay clinging to his aura, he was resplendent.

Perhaps because this was the true version of him—and he believed in me enough to share it.

“I promise the extent of your duty as a threadmender to the Fernglove house extends only to curing Mavis of her blight. No

one else.”

Power throbbed outward with every syllable he uttered, clashing into me in rhythmic waves until it was almost too much to

bear. It cracked the foundation of my resolve. Evers were self-absorbed. Vain. Arrogant. Orin was none of those things.

Silence wrapped around us as he waited for me to speak. A small, indignant flicker of warmth sparked in my chest—the same

one he’d ignited and doused, only to rouse again. I didn’t know what to do with him, but the magic of his promise couldn’t

be denied. His words, his vows, were a security I couldn’t get anywhere else.

“Edira?” Orin prompted, allowing his glamour to fall back into place so that his blight was once again hidden from view. “If you agree, the vow takes hold.”

“I agree, but”—I swallowed as the rush of magic settled around us, solidifying the vow—“why me? You could’ve found another

threadmender without having to make all these extraneous promises.”

“The promises are worth it,” he said.

A strange yet delicious prickling raced over my skin as I looked at Orin again. It took me two swallows to find my voice.

“To you? Or the family?”

I wanted him to say it. To say something honest and true, something that couldn’t be misconstrued. Something he could bind

with magic. Instead, he did so much more. He pulled my face toward his until our lips were only a breath apart. He hesitated

for a beat, giving me a chance to pull back, but when I didn’t retreat, he slanted his mouth across mine. Warmth purled through

my limbs as my lips parted for him. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be touched. To be wanted.

And gods, was it delicious. I couldn’t— wouldn’t —examine why. Not when Evers were immortal and humans lived for no more than a handful of decades. My existence would be just

a passing breath, a faint memory, and yet he pressed against me like he wanted something more. Something bigger.

When he finally broke away, we were both breathless. I rested my forehead against his, drinking in the sensation of his skin

against mine.

“My glamour acts like a bandage for the blight.” He swallowed thickly, and the rough timbre of his voice lit a fire in my

veins. “You’re safe, if you were worried about that.”

“I remember,” I said softly. He knew just as well as I did that I couldn’t be infected, and yet he was still concerned for my well-being. I gripped his shirt hard and pulled him against me again. I caught his moan with my mouth and breathed it in deep. I was straddling his lap before I knew it, and my grasp on his clothes tightened. His hands found my waist, and the pressure of his fingers was downright sinful.

Something unfamiliar and heated had taken control of my limbs, my thoughts. I’d never been one to shy away from a dalliance,

but this sudden, near-insatiable desire was unlike anything I could have prepared for. It wouldn’t sway me. It wouldn’t change

my opinion or make me forgo my brothers’ safety. But I didn’t want to deny it, either. We could both enjoy each other’s company.

Assuming he felt the same pull as me.

“Is this some strange magic of yours causing me to throw caution to the wind?”

Orin raised a brow. “Is that what you need to tell yourself to explain your attraction to an Ever?”

A sliver of shame burned through me, after everything he’d just bared, after the promise he’d made. “Some things are difficult

to unlearn.”

He gripped either side of my face and spoke against my lips. “There is no magic forcing you to act.”

The burn of his words sent a delicious hum racing through my body, and I shuddered in his grasp.

“But”—he let his hands fall away—“we should stop.”

“Oh? What happened to finishing what I started? Or was that the wine?”

He laughed. “Hardly.”

I slid my hands down his chest, savoring the feel of his sturdy frame while I still could. “I just thought that we could enjoy

each other without the pretense or pressure of something more. Because you’ve watched hundreds of lives pass, because you

have no expectation for me to be anything lasting.”

He was so still that if it weren’t for my hands upon his chest, detecting the subtle rise and fall of his breath, I would’ve assumed he’d turned to stone.

I skewered my lower lip with my teeth as the ratcheting tension between us blossomed into something so agonizing that I couldn’t

take it anymore. I made a move to shift off his lap, and the action spurred him into motion. With tender gentleness, he settled

me against him and parted my lips with his tongue. He was all I could taste, all I could feel, and even as his grip tightened

with desire, there was a softness to his embrace, a care to every touch. When he eased me to my back and braced himself above

me, he kept his full weight from pressing against my body.

“I didn’t stop because I cared about pretense.” He placed a kiss on my neck, and heat began to gather between my legs. “I

stopped”—he shifted and brought his lips to one of the bandages on my arms—“because even though you said you were fine, I

was inclined to let you heal fully before I take you as mine.”

My nipples pearled against the fabric of my shirt, and his hungry gaze slanted to the slopes of my breasts. He bit out another

curse. Then he ran one hand beneath my blouse. His fingers toyed with the edge of my undergarment.

“Orin...” I tried to slide farther down, to guide his hand along the curve of my breast. But he abandoned his teasing with

a growl and pinned me in place with his arm.

“Not yet.” He placed a light kiss on the base of my throat that defied every ounce of pure desire in his eyes. “I’m not sure

you understand. When I want something, I get it, and I don’t let it go.”

Something solid formed in my throat. “Even if it’s fleeting?”

“All the more reason to hold on tighter.”

This time, his kiss was full of promise. And as our tongues intertwined and heat bloomed between us, I felt confident I could convince him to throw away this ridiculous notion of “later.” His hands roved along my sides, seeking purchase in the soft flesh of my hips, and I wrenched my fingers in his hair and yanked his head back. With his neck exposed, I peppered the length of his throat with kisses and nipped at his skin.

A guttural hiss slipped through his teeth, and I swore he was about to give in when a firm knock came from the door.

“Not now,” he ground out in answer as he fisted the fabric of my linen pants. Again he kissed me senseless, and again the

knock sounded. More insistent this time and followed by a stern voice I recognized as Vora’s.

“It’s Jules. She’s in the foyer.” Vora’s tension-filled words were quite possibly the only thing that could’ve dampened the

moment, and all at once we both slackened in each other’s grasp.

“We’ll be down shortly.” Carefully, he slid off me and straightened his shirt.

“We will? Both of us?” I stood and brushed my hands along my clothes, though the action did nothing to smooth the wrinkles

Orin’s iron grip had formed. “Are you sure?”

He raised a single brow at the question before extending his arm. “Of course I’m sure. You have nothing to fear when it comes

to Jules, and she needs to know the error of her family’s ways.” He guided us toward the door, and a tendon near his temple

flared as ire settled into his gaze. “No one touches you, Edira. Not like that.”

The wet gurgle of Dagas’s final breath flooded my ears as an image of Rorik holding Dagas’s throat flashed before my eyes.

I could still see the way the blood oozed between Rorik’s fingers, still hear the sickening, soft thump of Dagas’s larynx

hitting the floor. As horrifying as that moment had been, a dark part of my soul was thankful he’d never have the chance to

kidnap me again. I hadn’t seen what’d become of Zelyria and Briar. I imagined it was just as brutal.

When Orin and I arrived in the foyer, the air was already thick with unfettered rage. Lydia and Clesian were leaning against the banister of the stairs, keenly watching Jules scream at Seville without any signs of intervening. Fortunately, Amalyss and Tasia were nowhere to be seen, but I doubt that meant they weren’t listening somehow. Mavis was as absent as the girls, and Rorik was missing, too—which seemed to be the main point of Jules’s rampage, at least what snippets I could gather from the barrage of curses and foul language. Seville weathered the brunt of her verbal attack with a practiced look of disdain, but there was a twitch to her manicured brows that suggested her patience was wearing thin.

Thankfully, Orin seemed to notice that as well, and he released my hand to step in front of his sister and glower at the screaming

Ever in his entryway. “Jules. You’re not welcome here.”

“You,” she spat. “Haven’t you done enough?”

She went toe-to-toe with him, and if she was scared, she didn’t show it. Or maybe she simply didn’t have the emotional capacity

to do so. Her eyes were puffy and red, the color intensifying the violet shade of her irises and giving her a panicked, unhinged

appearance. Her dark hair was unkempt and tangled with leaves. She still wore the same gown from the fete, and the edges were

caked in a reddish brown that could only be dried blood. I spied patches of it on her fingers and smeared along her neck.

As if she’d screamed in horror after trying to hold her family close, only to come away with the stench of loss.

She reeked of death. She didn’t care one damn bit. “Where is he? Your dog ?”

“My dog?” Orin asked.

Beside him, Seville chuckled darkly. “You mean your lover. The one you shouldn’t have trusted.”

Jules only had eyes for Orin. “I smelled him all over the place. I know he does your bidding. You and your sick—”

“Silence.” Orin’s voice boomed with the kind of authority one would expect from a king. And damn if he didn’t command the room like one. The candles lining the hall tables wavered as magic flooded the space, and Orin drew himself to his full height. The angles of his face sharpened, and he took one menacing step toward her. I expected her to cower, to buckle under the weight of his presence.

Instead, she met his eye. A single tear streaked down her cheek. “Go ahead. I have nothing left to lose.”

“Oh, let her be, Orin.” Lydia sighed, and it was the most demeaning sound I’d ever heard. “Your prize is safe, and they’ve

more than paid the price.”

Prize. I knew that’s what I was to Lydia and Clesian, and while none of them knew about the intimate moment Orin and I just shared,

it chafed just the same. It must’ve bothered Orin, too, because he pivoted in place and delivered Lydia a lethal glare that

would’ve made normal people crumble.

That shift in Orin’s attention was enough to break Jules’s focus, and she peered around his wide frame to look at me. A flurry

of emotions raced through her expression, each one more terrifying than the last. Stars began to fester around her fingers,

and they snapped with a magical energy that promised to singe the very skin off my bones. With bared fangs, she took several

steps in my direction before lunging in the air.

But Orin was faster. He barred her progression with a clean sweep of his arm, and she went flying into the wall. The wooden

planks splintered from the impact and showered the space in a spray of shards. She howled as she slumped to the floor, but

the magic in her hands never wavered.

“I’ll kill you!” she screamed. Her gaze bounced between Orin and me, and I couldn’t tell if she was cursing Orin’s existence

or threatening mine. Either way, he snarled. He crouched as if he were about to pounce and pummel her into oblivion when sharp,

heated footsteps sounded at our backs.

“Jules.” Rorik prowled into the space as if he owned it. His boots crunched against the debris, and he kicked aside a rather large piece of wood that skittered across the floor until it crashed into the opposite wall. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” she sputtered. “You expect me not to come for retribution after what you did?”

Rorik appeared positively bored. “If you’re here to challenge me, then I accept. You’ll lose, though, and you know it.”

“I don’t care!” she howled. Then she sneered up at him from her place on the floor. “At least I’ll hurt you as much as I can

before I go.”

He flexed his hand by his side, and all I could see was blood dribbling through his fingers. Ringing his knuckles. Coating

his nails. As if he’d already forcibly removed an organ from her body. I imagined him tossing it loosely to the side with

the same bored efficiency as he’d kicked the stray piece of broken wood.

She doesn’t deserve that.

I was moving before the rational part of my brain could step in and tell me to stop. When I pushed myself in front of Rorik

and turned my back on Jules, on the very person who wanted to shove a knife between my shoulder blades, I nearly shocked myself

into silence.

Rorik blinked as he looked down at me, and Orin went incredibly still. His gaze bounced between me and the collapsed Ever

at my feet. Seville’s mouth had dropped open, and Clesian and Lydia... dreadful, wide-eyed fascination.

“Don’t.” It was all I could say as I focused on Rorik’s bewildered face. Then, softly: “Please.”

Pain flashed through his steely eyes, and he actually stepped back. Stepped back from me, as if I were an Ever with the ability to bring him to his knees. His lips parted as he studied every inch of my expression,

and I willed myself to keep my breathing steady. The agony in his stare suddenly became so immense and vast that it went far,

far beyond that moment. I saw want and ache in his eyes, and it rocked me to my core.

And then it was gone, schooled into place with practiced ease. Gently, he pushed me aside in the direction of Orin. I tried to dig in my heels, but Orin’s hand found my wrist, and he yanked me against him.

“Fine,” he whispered in my ear. Then he raised his head and spoke to the room. “Jules is free to go, so long as she never

sets foot on our lands again.”

Throughout it all, Jules stared only at me. “Why?”

I had the feeling she wasn’t speaking to Orin, but he answered regardless. “Because it’s as Lydia said. Enough is enough.”

“I’ll escort her out,” Rorik said. “Seems like a job for the dog .” A touch of venom filled his words as he glared at Jules, but something was off. Something not quite as dark and malevolent

as I’d expected or witnessed. His mask was nearly perfect—perhaps good enough to convince his family—but maybe because I’d

witnessed a different Rorik while we danced beneath the stars, I knew otherwise. I could feel it.

Orin stiffened against my back. “No. Seville will do it.”

I couldn’t help but frown at Orin’s terse reaction. Why did it matter if Rorik got to spend one last minute with someone he

obviously cared about?

Rorik merely lifted his shoulder. “Fine by me. I have better things to do.”

“Do it now, Seville.” Orin shook his head. “We’re done here.”

Rorik strolled down the hall back in the direction he’d came. He didn’t even spare Jules a final glance or goodbye as he rounded the corner and disappeared. Jules had deflated entirely, the last of her anger leaving her in a slump. Seville grumbled in disgust as she yanked Jules up by the arm and turned her toward the door. Her shuffling feet were a hollow, echoing sound that reverberated through the foyer and filled my heart with sadness. I couldn’t fathom that ache in my soul, that total feeling of loneliness. And I knew in my core it was what I would face if I didn’t save my brothers.

Orin let out a soft sigh of relief as Lydia and Clesian sauntered upstairs. “You won’t have to deal with her again.” His brows

scrunched together as his grip on my wrist finally loosened. “Why did you come to her aid?”

My shoulders relaxed, and I exhaled deeply. “She’d been through enough. Plus, I trusted you’d be there if in fact I had made

an error in judgment.”

A droll smile claimed his lips. “Oh, your judgment is far from sound, but”—he stroked my cheek before shaking his head—“you

were at least right to count on me.”

That was yet to be seen, but the resistance I’d felt toward him was waning faster than I’d anticipated. I glanced around at

the debris, gaze halting when I noticed the influx of attendants rushing to help clean the mess.

“What happened with the fete?” I asked.

Orin’s expression turned to one of reluctance. “As you can imagine, the festivities ended rather abruptly when I noticed your

absence. Quite a few families are still here on our lands for the time being. I need to orchestrate their transport back to

Willowfell, as well as smooth over a few things.” Then he turned to me fully and brushed his knuckles softly along my jaw.

“Please, rest. Take a couple days off training. Research if you must, but nothing too taxing until you’re fully healed.”

“I’m assuming that includes any shared activities with you.”

His grin was tantalizing. “That would be incredibly taxing, I can assure you.” He broke away with a slight nod and headed

straight for his study. As appealing as the idea of sharing a bed with him was, I couldn’t deny the exhaustion that had crept

into my limbs. My healing was progressing quickly, but there was little that could replace the effectiveness of a good sleep.

As I climbed the stairs to my room, I felt the weight of someone’s eyes on my back. The hairs along my neck rose to the heavens, and I turned in place to find nothing. Again. The space was painfully empty, the only muffled sounds coming from the kitchen as the staff began preparations for dinner. Unease trickled down my spine. The heady stare followed me the entire way to my quarters, but no matter how many times I turned in place, I couldn’t find anyone. I rushed into my room, thankful, at least, that the feeling evaporated the moment I shut the doors.