Our ceremony would be private, but that didn’t stop everyone at Fernglove from finding out Orin’s and my plan to become heartbonds.

Moments after I’d escaped Mavis’s weighted stare, Seville found me in the foyer and dragged me away with a smirk. She’d been

the one to spark the idea back in Mrs.Marlow’s shop. I wondered if she knew I would come around to the notion all along.

Yet there was a hard glint to her eyes that hinted at anger beyond her signature, arrogant smirk. Rather than voice it, she

fell effortlessly into the role of doting attendant. She led me to her private quarters, where we perused her closet until

she found a flowing gown covered in winking crystals. She let out a disdainful sigh, as if it weren’t the most beautiful thing

I’d ever seen, and deemed it suitable enough. Time didn’t allow for more custom creations. After she’d set aside my dress,

we were interrupted by Tasia and Amalyss, who came bounding into the room with wide grins and mischief etched into their expressions.

And wine in their hands. Much to my surprise, Seville actually squealed.

“This will do,” she said, eyes bright. In that moment, she was carefree and young and beautiful. She looked like a morning star eager to greet the day, and my breath caught at the sight. At all of them. They were feeding off the hope I’d created, and for once they were simply . . . them. No riddles or threats. No unkind gestures. They poured wine in crystal goblets and linked arms as they danced in a circle and laughed.

And I realized, in that moment, I wanted to cure them, too.

Apparently, heartbond ceremonies typically involved more grandeur and preparation—because they were Evers and everything was

a spectacle—but they complied with Orin’s demands and made do with what was available. The most cherished prerequisite was

a weeklong bath at a hidden Ever hot spring where no one packed clothes and they simply let their skin drink in the moonlight.

Instead, attendants dragged in four copper basins, and the magic of the manor filled them to the brim with milky water. And

as we eased our bodies into the tubs, we let go of everything. The fear. The doubt. Together, we almost felt like a family.

We talked the night away and shared stories of dalliances. Tasia and Amalyss had none, but Seville didn’t let that stop her

from sharing every glorified detail of her most recent encounter with someone at the fete, though she refused to name the

woman. They were all horrified to learn my first romantic encounter had been less than pleasing, and they cursed the man who

left me wanting. Not being lavished on was the greatest slight for an Ever, and I chuckled privately to myself at the thought.

After the bath, they fell asleep naked on soft hides before a low-burning fire. For a while, I simply lay unclothed beside them. I’d never been one to turn a cheek at a bare body, but I was surprised how easy it was to feel comfortable in my skin around them. I was surprised how comfortable they’d come to be with me. For the first time, I imagined a life outside of the one I left behind in Willowfell.

What about your brothers? Certainly Orin would allow them to stay here, if I asked. If they wanted. And if they didn’t, that would be fine, too. We

all deserved to live.

Rorik’s devilish grin filled my mind. Insufferable know-it-all.

Unlike Amalyss, Tasia, and Seville, sleep evaded me. So, when the fire was nothing more than embers and their snores grew

too loud to stand, I found my clothes and quietly left Seville’s quarters. The halls were dark as I crept across the second

floor. There was no one about, which was unsurprising, given the hour, but I picked up the pace regardless.

A deep groan rumbled through the air as the manor settled, and my stomach tightened.

It’s just an old house.

The walls gave another indignant creak.

Ringing crested in my ears, and my wide eyes burned from staring hard into the dark. There was nothing behind or in front

of me, and yet I could feel needles prickling against my skin as the heady weight of eyes once again burrowed deep into my

back. I whirled in place to catch a slip of something white in my peripheral vision: an ivory curtain fluttering on an invisible

breeze, or... My gaze sharpened.

There, standing alone at the bend of the hall, was a petite woman with unblinking, doe-like eyes that bored right into my soul. A scream threatened to split my throat, but as my lips parted the ghost pressed a single, dainty finger to her lips. No, not a ghost. Mavis. My shriek died on my tongue, but I still couldn’t bring myself to move. Her hair flowed around her in waves, starkly contrasting the white muslin nightgown clinging to her thin frame. The cut of the hemline above her breasts was low enough to reveal the signature pommel of the Fernglove crest, and she absently trailed a single finger along its hilt. And then she took that same finger and curled it toward me, beckoning me to join her. It was the most I’d ever seen her move without the help of one of her family members.

Unless she’d been the one lingering just out of sight, studying me with those relentless, harrowing eyes all this time.

“You,” I whispered as I quickly came to stand before her. “You’ve been watching me from the moment I got here. Why? What are

you doing?” I glanced around, expecting to find Seville or Lydia nearby. Mavis was utterly alone.

She scowled at me and once again pressed her finger to her lips. Silence, then. She was tiny in comparison to the rest of

the family, as if aging ushered her toward childhood instead of the grave. But I knew what lay beneath that artful glamour.

I’d yet to glimpse it, but I knew just the same.

Turning her back to me, she moved with a steady gait that defied all my preconceived notions about her health. Only after

a few steps did I notice a heavier rise and fall to her chest, a slight sheen to her forehead. How much energy had she stored

in preparation for this moment? What did she want? I opened my mouth to ask, but she shot me a stern glare before the words

could fully form. She paused before a set of double doors I recognized as the entrance to her room, and she gestured for me

to open them.

Hairs lifted along the nape of my neck. My fingers hesitated above the knob as I glanced at her. For a brief moment, I contemplated

simply walking away. But something in her eyes kept me from leaving. She looked at me as if I were her last hope. Her only

shot. Mavis was scared. Her infection was by far the worst in the family, and likely she knew I’d been working with Orin to

successfully cure blight. She wanted me to try.

My lips turned down as I rested my hand on the worn metal knob. “I can’t cure you yet. But if you just wait a little longer,

I’ll try.”

She blinked. Then shook her head and once again pointed to the door.

“All right.” I sighed as I let us in. I wasn’t entirely convinced she’d understood me, anyway. I’d get her safely to bed and

then let someone know she’d been walking around on her own. As we shuffled inside, I glanced around the dimly lit space. Her

quarters were surprisingly tame in comparison to the more ornate rooms that made up the manor. There was a small sitting area

with two high-backed chairs next to a low coffee table. Before that, a quiet hearth full of fresh logs. The mantel was decorated

with long-stemmed roses and a handful of precious stones—some raw and uncut; others pristinely polished and awaiting the perfect

setting.

One stole my attention entirely. It was no bigger than a marble but as brilliant as a full moon with an inner shimmering light

that seemed to throb like a heart. An everjewel. My mouth fell open as I inched toward it.

Everjewels are special to my kind.

Orin’s words rang through my head as Mavis paused to follow my gaze and then shuffled toward it. With shaking fingers, she

picked it up and pressed it against her wrist. The glow sharpened for a fraction of a second and then began to diminish.

“Is something wrong with it?” I asked.

Mavis only stared at me with her brows drawn sharply together. Then, without breaking her gaze, she grabbed a nearby letter

opener from the mantel and tore open the underside of her forearm. With one easy motion, she slipped the stone inside the

cut. Blood circled her wrist like a bracelet, but she never yelped. Not once. Invisible magic filled the space about her with

the creeping chill of a winter’s fog until the wound sealed, and then the everjewel was gone, as if it had never existed in

the first place.

They help keep us, well, us.

Again, Orin’s words filled my mind as I stared in horror at the blood splatter on the floor.

Mavis grimaced at my slack jaw and thrust her wrist toward me once more for effect. Then she grabbed my hand and pressed my fingers against the now healed line. A sudden rush of cold nipped at my skin, and I flinched. The longer my touch lingered, the more painful it became. It was like grasping a metal pole in the depths of winter, and just when I thought frostbite would claim my fingers, the pulsing cold abated. The stone seemed to shift between muscle and sinew, and its icy kiss ebbed away. When it fully dispersed, Mavis released me.

“Do all everjewels feel like that?” I rubbed my hands together, sparking what warmth I could.

She held my gaze for several breaths before turning away. Slowly, she moved toward a small, freestanding writing desk complete

with a multitude of drawers with brass handles. When I didn’t immediately follow, she beckoned to me with a weak wave.

Carefully, I moved to her side, and my gaze snagged on an oversized painting in a gilded frame. There were several Evers all

standing together around a woman seated on a throne. There was something familiar about her stature, small but strong. Lustrous,

wheat-colored hair fell over her shoulders like a blanket, and her smile was wide. Bright. Realization dawned on me as I took

in her features.

“This is your family.”

Mavis glanced between me and the painting and nodded. With a shaky finger, she pointed to the Ever seated on the throne.

“That’s you,” I said in awe. I saw it now as I glanced between them. It wasn’t that Mavis didn’t resemble her depiction; it

was just that the painting of her, of who she used to be, was so much more vivid and alive. I looked at the rest of the Evers

with new appreciation. Beside Mavis’s chair was a woman with hair the same color as hers, but her eyes were as fresh and vibrant

as spring grass. Her rosy skin was flushed, her lips full and glistening. A small girl stood before her, and on one side,

two boys.

Seville, Orin, and Rorik. The woman was their mother, Mavis’s daughter. I hardly recognized Lydia. She stood on the opposite side of Mavis’s chair and was wrapped in Clesian’s arms, the picture of joy and tenderness as she leaned against his broad chest. Her smile was resplendent and entirely foreign. Rounding out the portrait were two men I hadn’t seen before, and I brought myself closer to inspect their visages. Mavis reached out then and trailed a light finger over the Ever standing between her and Lydia. He had chestnut-colored hair and warm brown eyes, and his smile seemed to fill every inch of his expression. Mavis gently brushed his face before pulling back to graze the space above her breast. Heartbond. She didn’t have to say it for me to know. I could tell by the look in her eyes. By the very love that seemed to emanate from her core.

“I wish I could’ve met him,” I said, tipping my head to hold her stare for a moment. With a nod, she turned toward her desk.

She waved her hand over one of the drawers, and I heard a lock click. Gently, she tugged on the brass handle until the drawer

gave way to reveal stacks of loose paper. As she riffled through her things, I gave the painting one last look. The only individual

left was an Ever with oak-brown hair and deep emerald eyes. Seville, Orin, and Rorik’s father. He had to be. Those emerald

eyes were the same as Orin’s, and his lips were curled in the same sharp, condescending grin that Seville often wielded. I

leaned forward an inch, squinting as I studied the painting. Rorik stood slightly apart from the rest, and his expression

was tight. There weren’t any similarities to be found between him and his father, who had one hand on Orin’s shoulder and

the other on their mother’s. A prickling awareness sprouted in the recesses of my mind, and I dragged my attention back to

Rorik.

The artist had paid special care to his burnished locks, as if there weren’t enough colors in his palette to accurately depict all the varying coppery hues that made up his hair. His eyes were crafted with such perfection, with such intention, that they might as well have been real. And their shade was uniquely his. He shared only one attribute—the sharp cut of his cheekbones—with his mother.

A sharp poke pulled my focus, and I shifted to find Mavis had jabbed the back of my arm with a paper that had been folded

into the shape of an envelope.

“For me?” I took it without thinking. A wax seal the color of maple syrup held it closed, an elegant F stamped into its center. Above it in small, looping handwriting:

Open alone.

Dread filled my limbs as a cool sweat formed at the base of my neck. After a thick swallow, I met Mavis’s gaze. “What is this?”

She only wrapped my fingers tighter around the envelope.

I never wanted to drop something more in my life. And yet there was an insistent, almost fearful nature to Mavis’s pleading

stare. She worked her throat as if trying to speak, but nothing came out. A glassy sheen covered her eyes until a single tear

escaped and bisected her cheek.

“Mavis,” I whispered, gripping the paper tighter. “What’s going on?”

Her lips parted. Closed. Parted again. A strangled sound, like her words were being choked in a vise grip, crawled out.

“No time. Open.”

My hairs were on end, my breath hitting hard and erratic, and I didn’t have Ywena to shock me into normalcy. The croak of

Mavis’s voice flooded my ears and set my heart racing. My fingers traced the ridges and grooves of the seal. Open alone. What if it was a trick, like the bargain Amalyss and Tasia had played when I’d first arrived? What dangerous thing would

I unleash—alone—with no one around to come to my aid? A small piece of wax flaked away as I ran my finger beneath the lip

of the fold.

My world winnowed to that space. I was a breath away from doing something that couldn’t be undone. I felt that truth in my bones. My gaze drifted back to the portrait. To the happy family that no longer existed.

Be careful who you trust in this place.

It’d been a long time since Vora’s warning had surfaced in my mind, but it did its job. I pulled my finger away from the seal.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, the bedroom door swung inward, and Lydia strolled into the room. Her nightgown was wrinkled,

her eyes heavy-lidded. There was a sadness to her expression that I’d never once witnessed, and she seemed to shuffle rather

than walk into Mavis’s room.

“Mother, are you awake? I—” Lydia froze when she saw me.

I blinked, and Mavis had shifted. It wasn’t much, just an infinitesimal step in front of me to obscure my hands with her body,

but she did it with such speed that it appeared as if she’d always been standing between me and the door. And then her life

force seemed to evaporate into the night. A chill swept over me as I stared at the ghostly Ever before me. Her once-probing

stare was now lifeless and vacant. Her trembling frame showed none of its former vigor, however fleeting. Her power, her soul,

was simply gone.

And it turned my world on its axis. The prickle of the paper against my palm suddenly felt like a blade, and I crossed my

hands behind my back to hide them from view.

“What are you doing here?” Lydia asked, her words sharp. She’d regained her composure within the same time Mavis had moved,

and all traces of sadness were hidden with the same effectiveness as glamour.

“Mavis’s door was open.” I moved my hand slowly, slipping it beneath the back of my blouse to tuck the envelope in the waistband

of my pants. “I thought she might need help.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed as she looked between Mavis and me. “The only thing she needs is a cure for blight. And until you’ve gained access to Orin’s power, I don’t think you’ll be able to provide that.”

“Right.” I came up beside Mavis and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She didn’t react. Not even when I bade her good

night and strolled passed Lydia. Once I entered the hall, she slammed the door behind me. I turned away without looking back

and walked as quickly as I could to my quarters. Only when I’d locked the doors and checked the latches twice did I dare to

extract Mavis’s gift from my waistband.

I rubbed it gently between my fingers, once again studying the scrawl of ink. I trailed my finger over the seal once. And

then broke it.

I’d expected a wave of magic, or a sound, or some sort of elaborate spell that would take hold the moment the wax snapped

in half. But nothing happened. The only change I noticed was a subtle aroma of leaves that seemed to be infused in the paper.

But as my finger ran along the jagged edge that had initially been folded in, I knew what I was holding—even before I spied

the familiar, neat handwriting of my aunt.

My throat tightened as I read her note.

I’ve figured it out. They need everjewels to remain immortal. I’m not sure why, but the blight has weakened their effect.

They bury them in their bodies to try to stop the spread. That’s why Orin wants my power. He’s trying to convince me to heartbond

with him, because he needs something stronger—and I’m not the first one he’s tried to convince. I’d sooner die than let him

take my magic, and I fear that’s coming.

I’ve left this note with Mavis. The others are too closely watched. She’ll give this to you when she believes you can find Orin’s everjewel without raising suspicion. The stone’s power is similar to ours and reacts to our magic. I don’t have enough time left. You must find it and destroy it. If you need help from someone in the house, you’ll need to break the family’s evervow first. I don’t know much about it, just that it exists. I wish I could tell you more—help you more.

I don’t even know whom I’m writing to, but, Edira, if you’ve found yourself here, know that I love you. I believe in you.

Save yourself.

All sounds dulled to a monotone static, and I dropped the letter. Rowena. A shuddering breath wrenched itself free from my lungs, as a nettling sensation raced over my skin. She chose death over

Orin. Death. And even now, beyond the grave, she was trying to save me from that fate.

Find Orin’s everjewel. My heart hammered against my throat as I remembered the sharp, icy kiss I’d felt against my fingers while trailing his tattoo.

The whisper of cold that had filled Mavis’s wrist after she’d shoved the stone into her arm.

Panic settled into the marrow of my bones. Everything I’d just agreed to with Orin...

My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. I thought he’d cared. Pain flared through my chest, spiderwebbing out from my heart,

along with a red-hot shame that flooded my limbs. I’d trusted him.

I combed through every memory of Orin and me. Every shared moment, every subtle look or reassuring hand squeeze. The brush

of his fingers against my cheek, the sound of his warm words, the feel of his lips. I wanted to scream. It couldn’t be true.

Rowena had to be wrong.

Save yourself.

I retrieved the note and reread her words. My mind whirled. Even if this was all true, how was I supposed to destroy an everjewel encased within Orin’s body? My lessons with Rorik never could have prepared me for this. What was this familial evervow? And my brothers. Their life-sustaining caskets had been a balm for my aching worry, but now their coffins were unbreakable prisons. Orin was the only one with the key.

I sank to the floor and let out a silent, agonizing shriek. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I wanted— needed —answers, but whom could I trust? Orin had been spinning up stories since the moment he met me. He’d been the creator of our

shared narrative, the one who cautiously laid the groundwork for me to fall headfirst into his arms.

Because what did it matter if he threw the town a little more coin? He had plenty to spare.

Keeping my brothers alive? The spell hardly seemed to drain his expansive power.

Every kind action. Every carefully orchestrated moment.

He was a fucking Ever, and I should’ve known from the beginning. He wanted my power, not me. Just like he wanted my aunt’s

and every threadmender’s before us. We were expendable pawns.

I nearly balled up the paper, but as the crinkling pulled my focus, I glimpsed a few more lines beneath Rowena’s note written

in a different hand.

I’m sorry I didn’t trust Rowena sooner. I didn’t know until it was too late.

My daughter gave her life for this, but none of us can speak it.

Zeverin Ignatus Embergrave.

We all want to be free.

The moment I read the name a weight pounded into my bones, and the metallic tang of magic singed the air. It was only a name, but the letters seemed to burn into the backs of my eyelids, so that even when I squeezed my eyes shut to chase away the lingering magic, I could still see it perfectly. What the fuck was going on in this gods-forsaken manor?

I couldn’t trust anyone outside of myself.

That truth settled me, and the swirling emotions subsided. I couldn’t break. Not now, not when I was so close to curing my

brothers.

I had to go through with the heartbond. I had to keep my shit together long enough to help Noam and Nohr. Even now, with my

mind so absolutely shattered with the knowledge my aunt left behind, my heart ached at the notion that Orin was anything other

than good. What if he and Rowena just didn’t get along? What if that was an act of desperation on his part, but now he’d become

something more? Something better?

A brittle laugh escaped my lips at my fragile logic. I wanted it to be true, but I doubted it was. I forced myself to stand

and then headed for the bathroom.

When I stood before the copper bathtub, I closed my eyes and centered myself with a long breath.

Zeverin Ignatus Embergrave.

The name rasped through my mind like dying leaves scraping against cobblestone. It felt important. Powerful. I found a match

in my apothecary case and dropped it on top of Rowena’s final words. And possibly Mavis’s.

Only when it had been reduced to ash did I move. I willed the basin to fill with water, and I watched as the remains dissolved

and drained away.