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The following morning, I headed straight for the library. A night of fitful dreams coated with blight had left me on edge,

and even though I knew rest was important, I couldn’t convince myself to stay hidden away. Not after I’d unearthed the truth

about the Ferngloves’ sickness. I dove back into the tomes with a new understanding of what was happening, hoping that some

piece of their history or some rare plant was the answer. I’d brought my apothecary cases with me, undid the brass clasps

and watched as the drawers jumped outward and vials clanked together. I didn’t need to heal anything, but I wanted my remedies

nearby as I cross-checked ingredients between my tinctures and the flora Evers used in their own magical blends.

There was something to combining our abilities and strengths. My freshly healed wounds were a testament to that. I wasn’t

quite ready to broach the topic of a heartbond just yet, but researching ways to meld Ever magic with my own creations felt

like a real start.

I worked for two more days like that in quiet solitude while my body recovered, and Orin dealt with the aftermath of the fete. I hadn’t thought much about the townsfolk in the wake of my terrorizing evening, but Orin had plenty to do.

“Hard at work?” he called, and I looked up from my notes to find him standing in the open doorway with a tray of coffee and

pastries. “I thought you might need some caffeine.”

I stretched my neck from side to side before straightening and then smiled. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

He crossed the room in a handful of easy strides and set the tray down beside my cases. As he handed me my cup, he tilted

his head toward the stacks of tomes. “Any luck yet? None of the former threadmenders had knowledge of plants and herbs like

you do. I’m hoping that helps.”

“Me, too.” I blew gently over the steaming mug. “I want to try blending remedies, but there’s no way of knowing whether that

will work without threadmending.”

“Are you ready for that?” He took a careful sip, his gaze never leaving my face. “I know the remedies you and Vora came up

with have worked wonders for your body, but I don’t want to push you.”

“I don’t really have a choice.” I dragged my finger along the rim of my cup. “Basic threadmending can’t save my brothers,

but perhaps this will work.” Of course I wished I had more concrete proof that I wouldn’t be wasting my life’s threads for

nothing, but we were pioneering into uncharted territory.

“Tomorrow, then.” With a gentle finger, Orin grazed my cheek. “I’ll be with you throughout the entire process. I promise.”

“Everything is handled from the fete?”

He nodded. “The people of Willowfell were more than understanding. I promised to plan a supplemental event in the near future,

and they were more than happy with that.”

He didn’t mention the Starglens. Or, I guess, Starglen . Only Jules remained. I took a careful sip of my coffee, trying to wash away the chill that overcame my body. Blight had turned them wild like savage animals fighting for their lives. Survival was all that mattered. And despite nearly dying, I couldn’t fault them for their actions—or Orin’s swift reaction.

“Edira.” Orin’s voice was quiet, and I tilted my head toward his.

“I’m okay.”

Slowly, he pressed his mouth against mine. It was soft, questioning, and yet at the same time the most reassuring thing I’d

felt since our last private moment. A slow-moving heat began to gather in my veins. His kiss deepened before he broke away,

but his hand remained on my waist.

“I was supposed to conduct lessons today.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “But I’m inclined to cancel just to spend time

with you.”

I breathed in deep and bit my lower lip, looking up at him through the tops of my lashes. His gaze was intense, and his throat

bobbed as his eyes dropped to my mouth.

A firm cough interrupted our embrace, and Orin pulled back to spear Tasia with an annoyed look. She stood shoulder to shoulder

with Amalyss, and the two of them were stiff as they glanced between us.

“Yes?” Orin prompted when neither of them was brave enough to speak first.

Amalyss’s throat bobbed. “We were wondering if Edira needed to be escorted to training before our lessons. Rorik mentioned

at breakfast that they’d start up again today.”

Training. I blew out a sigh. In the wake of everything that had happened with the Starglens, I’d assumed Rorik would wait

longer to resume our sessions. Apparently I was wrong.

“Fine, fine,” Orin said with a tense exhale. “Wait for Edira outside. She’ll join you momentarily.”

They hesitated, as if searching for a reason to linger. Amalyss dipped her head as she began to leave, but Tasia offered a

final, weighted look in my direction before following her sister out.

“Tomorrow will be just us.” With one last gentle squeeze, Orin pressed a feathery kiss to my forehead. “No interruptions.”

Excitement hummed through my bones at the prospect, and we began to gather the materials I’d stacked around the table. He

handed me tomes that I neatly slid onto their respective shelves until only the journals remained. His gaze hardened as he

rubbed his thumbs along their spines.

“If only they had been more informative.”

Perhaps she was.

Swallowing my doubt, I cleared my throat. “I noticed a missing page in Rowena’s journal. Do you know anything about that?”

For a moment, his expression hardened. A glimmer of... distaste? Frustration? Whatever it was, it flashed through his gaze

and was gone in an instant, replaced with a more sorrowful look. “She often wrote poems in her spare time. Perhaps she wrote

one here but felt like it didn’t belong with her research.”

That I could believe. Maybe it was one of these fabled letters Seville had mentioned. If she didn’t want others knowing about

their relationship, or whatever it was, she wouldn’t have left it for others to find.

“She was very protective of her work,” I said, shelving the journal. “But that aside, we still have a path forward. I’d like

to start with using some of the Ever medicine in addition to my own magic to see if that helps with the process of curing

blight.”

He nodded. “For tomorrow, is there anything you require?”

“I wrote down a list.” I pointed toward the table and the scrap of paper full of cramped writing near my apothecary cases.

“If you could have those things ready, that would be great.”

Orin picked it up and scoured the sheet. “I can have a few things easily by the morning. The others might be a day or two

out. Is that enough to start?”

“Yes.” A seed of hope began to bloom in my chest. “There are a few different tactics I’d like to try.”

“Good. We’ll start with one of the infected stags.” Orin came around to brush his fingers once more across my cheek. “I can’t wait to see what you do.”

At that, he slipped his hand into mine and walked with me to the courtyard where Amalyss and Tasia were waiting, the Waterstones

a few feet behind them. I’d expected Flix, given Orin’s comment about lessons. But Issa and her mother? Ossanna stood with

her back pressed against a tree, a careful smirk on full display. And Issa’s eager stare found Orin immediately, lingering

for a fraction too long before sliding to me. I frowned at the trio of dark-haired Evers, and beside me, Orin’s gait stiffened.

Then he sighed.

“Ossanna must be concerned about her son’s attendance after what happened with Briar.” With a curt wave, he signaled for Amalyss

and Tasia, and they closed the distance between us. “Take her to Rorik. We’ll start lessons when you return.”

My stomach tightened. Did Ossanna truly fear Orin would threaten her son?

“Of course,” Tasia said as she looped her arm through mine. She started walking without waiting for me to comply, and Amalyss

was quick to take up my other arm. I cast one last glance over my shoulder at Orin and the Waterstones. He nodded to Ossanna

before placing his hand between Issa’s shoulders, speaking into her ear. Her laugh carried toward us on the soft breeze, and

a prickling discomfort skittered down my back.

“Don’t worry about the Waterstones,” Amalyss said under her breath, her eyes cast to the ground. “Orin won’t let them near

you.”

I’d thought the same about the Starglens, but clearly no one had anticipated that.

“Things between the families are...” Tasia struggled for a moment, opening her mouth to summon words but somehow struggling

to get them out. She wrinkled her nose in frustration before blowing out a hard breath. “Let’s just say they’re always tense.”

We will not drag the past into this. The memory of Orin’s warning—and the heated display of power that came with it—surfaced in my mind. Maybe the girls were

too scared to reveal anything about their feud with the Starglens.

“Because of Lorelai?” I asked. In the wake of the Starglens’ attack, I’d been too overwhelmed by the truth of blight’s reach

to ask about anything else. Dagas’s daughter had been the furthest thing from my mind, and only now with the tension so obviously

rekindling did I remember her name.

Amalyss stumbled as we strolled down the hill, but she recovered quickly. “How do you know about her?”

“I overheard some attendants talking about her.” I glanced between them. “What happened? Is she why the Starglens were so

mad at Orin?”

Tasia and Amalyss shared a weighted glance before the former slowly exhaled. “She was Orin’s heartbond decades ago.”

“She died,” Amalyss said a breath later. “Orin said it was blight.”

“Oh.” I looked over my shoulder, but Orin and the Waterstones were nowhere to be found. “Why were they so mad at him, then?

It’s not like anyone has been able to find a cure.”

“True, but Dagas never got over it. Especially since she deteriorated after moving here.” Amalyss scratched the side of her

neck, and I imagined blight-ridden pustules bursting with the action. Thank the gods for glamour. She never met my gaze, only

studied her fingernails for a moment before letting her hand fall lax by her side.

Deteriorated? From what I’d gleaned, Evers’ blight seemed like a slow, painful progression. Plus, with their glamour acting as a bandage

to contain the spread, they managed to last years, whereas humans died within minutes. My mind whirred.

“Orin has... a lot of magic.” Tasia’s words felt strangled, and she frowned at nothing in particular as she cleared her

throat. “He’s powerful.”

“I’d gathered as much,” I said with a hum as I recalled the co coon of magic blanketing my brothers and preserving their very lives. Still, it wasn’t enough to cure them. Not yet. I chewed on my lip as I looked between the girls. Tomorrow, I would try blending our remedies. But if that didn’t work . . .

Speak it into existence and it just might happen.

Seville’s words were either an omen or a blessing. Either way, they felt like my undoing. But before I could consider it further,

we’d found our way to Rorik and the ancestor tree. With Ywena perched on his shoulder, he nodded to Amalyss and Tasia by way

of dismissal before rounding on me. They both gave my arm a squeeze and left without another word. I watched them go as I

sifted through the morning’s events.

Rorik cleared his throat. “Ywena.” He held out his hand, and Ywena fluttered to his open palm and danced about his fingers.

“Please go back to Edira.”

As I stared at the creature waiting to rejoin me, the fete came flooding back to the forefront of my mind. My dance with Rorik

and the way he’d asked me to lie. The feel of his hand on the small of my back, and the unfamiliar twinge of irritation at

the sight of it on someone else’s waist. That same hand drenched in Dagas’s blood hours later.

You’re beautiful.

His exclamation was a safe truth that meant nothing and everything. He’d used me that night for his own amusement, like a

pawn in a game I didn’t understand. I was tired of being his toy. I was here to train. Nothing more.

Gently, I beckoned to Ywena and welcomed her delicate feet against my skin. She lingered on my fingers for a breath before

returning to her preferred perch in the crook of my neck. I brushed aside my locks to give her space, and I swore I heard

her sigh.

“Welcome back,” I muttered to her.

“Don’t lose her again.” Rorik stared at her for a long moment before finally dragging his gaze to my face. “Understood?”

“I didn’t lose her.” A flicker of indignation sparked in my chest.

He slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants as he leaned against the base of the tree. “You started the night with her

and ended it without her. I’d call that losing her.”

“Orin was responsible for that.” I glared at him.

His answering stare hammered into me with far more intensity than I expected. “I know.”

I threw up my hands in frustration as I blew out a sharp breath. “You’re impossible.”

“Not as impossible as you.”

“What are you, ten?” I side-eyed him as I pulled back my hair, neatly tying it in preparation for my warm-up run around the

estate. “That’s the kind of retort I’d expect from a child.”

He didn’t bother to deny the accusation. “No running today. I need to assess where you’re at.”

I stilled. “Assess?”

“Yes. Sit.”

His frame was tense as he gestured to the empty space before him. My brows drew together as I sank to the ground and crossed

my legs. I watched as he stiffly circled me twice before crouching behind me to place his hand between my shoulder blades.

“Tell me how you feel.”

“What?” I shifted to look at him over my shoulder, and he nudged me back into position.

“Tell. Me. How. You. Feel.”

“Repeating it word for word doesn’t change my question,” I bit back. “I’m fine .”

“Are you?” The pressure of his fingers against my spine intensified.

“Yes. Are you all right? You’re acting strange.” My muscles shifted without thought, and I found myself leaning into him. I expected him to force me to straighten my back, to bark out some condescending remark about my “posture,” but he only continued to work.

“You’re grating as always. I suppose that’s a good sign.” His words lacked their usual sting.

“Rorik, seriously—”

“Do you have any idea...” He swallowed hard enough for me to hear, as if he could somehow bite back the emotion clawing

at his words. Emotion that sounded an awful lot like concern. He exhaled forcefully. “Just breathe. Quietly. ”

I snorted. “What better way to keep me in line than to take my voice?” All at once I thought of Mavis and her stillness, and

I shuddered.

“Your voice is only part of the problem.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, I rolled my eyes. “Yes, well, gods forbid I exist.”

“It is problematic.” Something shifted in his tone as his fingers moved to the knotted muscles along my shoulder blade. “You’re

tense.” He tested a few spaces with gentle prods before isolating an errant tendon and digging his thumb deep into my back.

I lurched forward at the same time Ywena shot a familiar jolt of electricity through to my extremities.

Pivoting in place, I finally escaped his touch and shot him a glare. “Of course I’m tense. You just told me my existence is

problematic. And on top of that, I was just attacked, in case you forgot.”

“As if I could forget.” He let his hand fall away as he raised a brow. “Is that all?”

There was something so nonchalant, so boorish, about his response that all the emotions I’d been suppressing at the sight of him came frothing to the surface. Anger for the way he’d toyed with me to further his agenda. Longing for the way his fingers felt on my skin. Confusion and pain for wanting more, especially when I knew I could seek comfort in Orin’s arms. And fear. Fear that Rorik could be so lethal, so devastatingly horrific, and still it wasn’t enough to send me running.

“Why is it so hard for you to be nice?” I seethed. He went stock-still as I turned fully and leaned close enough for our breaths

to intermingle. “All I’ve done since coming here is try to help, and for what? For you to be a colossal ass every time we

meet? It’s any wonder the rest of the family looks down upon you. The only time I’ve ever heard a nice thing out of that damn

mouth of yours is when you were drunk.”

He stared at me with scrunched brows, and a flicker of wonder passed through his gaze as his careful veil of feigned indifference

slipped away. Pressing his lips together, he studied my face with enough intensity to bring a flush to my cheeks.

Finally, finally, he tipped his head forward as his lips curled into a sinful grin. “You’ve been thinking about my mouth?”

I blinked as the raging emotions inside me stalled. And then I let out a groan as I pulled back and pinched my nose between

my forefinger and thumb. “Impossible.”

“Indeed. Now, turn around.” I didn’t fight him as he went back to kneading tiny circles down the length of my spine. Better

to look anywhere but at his face. Gods, he was a thorn in my side that somehow wormed itself deeper with each passing day.

Still, it was hard to complain when my body couldn’t get enough of his touch. Each aching tendon begged for the release his

fingers brought, and I bit back a moan to keep him from gaining any satisfaction from the sound.

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

Gooseflesh rippled across my skin from head to toe, and while I couldn’t see Rorik’s expression, there was an infinitesimal

twitch to his fingers.

“Hit a nerve?” he asked, voice low.

Did he ever. “No. I’m fine.”

The silence that followed was unbearable as unspoken words hung in the space between us. An eternity passed as he trailed indecipherable patterns down my back, until finally he deemed me relaxed enough to work. I expected him to pull away, but instead he leaned forward and spoke softly against my neck. “Let’s just work on breathing today.”

“Why?” I wanted to crane my head over my shoulder, but that would undo the glorious work he’d just performed on my muscles.

It was amazing I was still sitting upright when the tendons holding me together had transformed into butter. I’d molded to

his touch so much that I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten, not until he kicked out his legs, cradling me on either side.

My pulse spiked as he guided my back against his chest with two firm fingers against my shoulder.

He hesitated for a breath before his soft words floated through the air. “Because your body has been through enough.”

Awareness prickled at my senses, and the hesitation, the guilt , was suddenly so apparent in Rorik’s words that I failed to find my own. I hadn’t thought about his place in all this. But

I did remember the way he looked at me strung up on that tree. The fury and ire in his pupil-less gaze. The tension in his

fists.

Rorik cleared his throat when I didn’t respond. “And it’s important to learn how to preserve your breath specifically while

using your magic.” The thrum of his words reverberated down the column of my spine. “Once you’ve gained that kind of control

over your body, perhaps you’ll be able to better choose how much power to use when working with blight. The only reason you

managed to do so with your brothers was because Orin got to you in time.”

“And you know that because?”

He stiffened for a moment, then let out a curt laugh. “Orin told me. How else would I know?”

“I still don’t understand how you expect me to do anything with you right up against me.” I forced a hard swallow as I stared at the ancestor tree and the sun creeping toward the horizon.

“Well, first, I expect you to kick on your magic. Unless you struggle to do that as well.”

My body was glowing with moonlit power before the terse words could fly out of my mouth. “Of course I can do that.”

“Good. Now, feel the rise and fall of my chest. The beat of my heart.” His breath was warm against my skin as he lowered his

head to my shoulder. “Will your body to match it. I’ll slow my breathing and my heartbeat every few minutes or so. Let’s see

how long you can keep up—and don’t let your power slip. Focus on maintaining both at the same time.”

My glow sharpened and receded with my emotions. My heart was cantering like a wild horse, and Rorik’s quiet chuckle told me

that he knew. Because of course he could hear it. Of course this exercise would be beyond easy for him. My magic paled in

comparison to Evers’. I couldn’t see in the dark or hear a pin drop a room away. If I tried to hold my own against one of

them, I’d lose—as evidenced by my recent bout with the Starglens. Breathwork wouldn’t save me if something like that happened

again.

“You know,” Rorik said, his words barely more than a whisper, “it’s easier to match my pace if you can keep your mind from

racing.”

“That’s an impossible feat,” I muttered, pitching my voice in the same tone as his.

I could practically hear his smile. “Busy thinking about my body against yours?” He shifted a fraction, somehow bringing himself

closer. “I am quite distracting. All the more reason to keep at this. If you can ignore me, then you’ve mastered something

no one else has been able to do.”

“Your arrogance knows no bounds.” My heart hammered against my throat, but my glow remained steady. “I thought we were training

so I’d be better at threadmending.”

“I’m training you to survive.”

“Why?”

The rise and fall of his rib cage slowed, and I forced myself to match his breathing pattern. He waited until I’d settled

into the new pace before finally answering.

“Because you deserve to live.”

So damn soft. His words were barely a whisper on the evening breeze, and yet they settled against me like weights.

“The issue isn’t whether or not I deserve it. I’m bound to die in a matter of years if I mend. Hopefully, I’ll cure a few

people before I go.”

He scoffed. “The only people you should cure are your brothers, and that’s only if it doesn’t affect your lifespan.”

My breath caught in my lungs. Ywena responded with a jolt of electricity that felt far gentler than normal. Or perhaps my

shock dulled the sensation of her power. Either way, a ripple, like the aftereffects of a stone skipping over water, fluttered

through my light until once again everything smoothed.

It took me several moments to find my voice. “That is the exact opposite of why I am here. Your family—”

Rorik cut me off before I could finish. “If we’re supposed to die, then we die. I’ve lived enough. Seen enough. This obsession

with immortality, that’s the real sickness.” He swallowed thickly, and the action caused a more defined rise and fall to his

breath. One that my body instinctively matched. “None of us are really living .”

For a long while, we said nothing. Instead, we listened to the lilting chirps of insects and watched the sun dip beneath the horizon, leaving behind an indigo sky awash with twinkling stars. I sat with his words, with the decreasing frequency of his inhales and exhales, with the steady beat of his heart knocking against my back. I didn’t know what to say to him, largely in part because I’d thought there was a sickness in their home that went beyond blight—and his words confirmed it. A deep pang settled into my heart as I watched the night sky grow darker.

Gods, I missed my brothers. I missed the family I had. The one where my mother and father were still alive and our days were

filled with laughter. There wasn’t much of that now. There wasn’t any of that within the walls of Fernglove Manor.

“You’re brighter than the moon and just as steady.” Rorik rested his chin on my shoulder as he spoke into the crook of my

neck. “Even with me touching you, you’ve managed to maintain your breath. Nice work.”

I laughed quietly, unwilling to let go of this strange sliver of peace we’d unearthed. Buttery-yellow lights were bleeding

to life one by one through the manor’s windows. Any minute now, and we’d be expected for dinner. “Glad I passed your assessment.”

After a beat of silence, he whispered, “I wasn’t drunk.”

“What?” I asked as I failed to follow his train of thought.

“At the fete. You said I was drunk.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know where he was going, and I was afraid to look back at my memories of the night and unpack his actions as

if he had been sober. Some were tantalizing. Some were infuriating. Some were painful. All were dangerous as hell. Slowly,

I scooted out of his loose embrace and let the cool evening air settle against my back. I called off my power with a mere

thought, and the world darkened around us. He watched me closely, studying every movement.

Everything that happened during our training session felt too raw and personal, as if this was more than just a lesson. As

if this moment was bound to live with me for the rest of my days. Suddenly, I felt powerless. I couldn’t breathe in his space

for a second longer, and I swallowed thick emotion as a peculiar heat pricked at the backs of my eyes.

“I’m sorry about Jules,” I said.

It was a reminder for both of us. Something wild and fierce flashed in his gaze. It was too easy to fall prey to his taunts. I had work to do. People and Evers to save, even if he didn’t see value in their lives.

“Edira, there are things...” His throat bobbed, and he winced. After squeezing his eyes shut and forcing out a harsh breath,

he once again leveled me with his molten stare. “I carry the weight of unspoken burdens in my bones.”

I hated that it sounded like an apology. Earlier, I would have asked him to explain. Now, I was just tired.

“Me, too, Rorik.” I stood and brushed dirt from my pants. “Me, too.”

As I walked away from him, I shouldered the weight of my life—a life of unfilled dreams and heartache, of unspoken truths

and burdens—without looking back. Because unlike him, that’s what I had to do to survive.

That night, I skipped dinner and went straight to my brothers’ room. And as I lay on the ground at the foot of their coffins,

I thought about nothing more than inhaling and exhaling, because at least Rorik was right about one thing: I deserved to live.