Page 4

I packed my first case in seconds. It was time to leave. I’d miss out on the afternoon sales, but the entire town was too

distracted to shop. The likelihood of me peddling even one more tincture dropped the moment that veil appeared. I was willing

to lose the few pieces of silver to avoid dealing with an Ever who only saw me for my magic.

I still remembered the day a Fernglove came to visit Aunt Rowena. I was only five and couldn’t recall the words they’d exchanged,

but I’d never forget her expression. It wasn’t full of joy or excitement like the rest of the townsfolk. It was full of fear.

She’d shut the door on the Ever’s face with a strained goodbye, then offered a shaky smile as she knelt to the ground and

grasped my shoulders tight.

Keep dyeing your hair. Cure no one.

I’d barely had time to grapple with her words. She’d only just healed my mother the day before, and that seemed like such a valid use of my aunt’s power. One day she was there and the next she was gone. My mother took me with her to my aunt’s house that morning to find it utterly quiet. She’d raced through the rooms calling Rowena’s name, but my aunt never answered. My mother rifled through drawers and searched for clues with a frantic energy until she stalled before a small bookshelf in the living room. I’d never forget how still she went when her fingers grazed the binding of my aunt’s poetry journal. It was pulled out a half inch farther than the rest of her books, as if it were begging to be read.

My mother had flipped it open, and a small note fell from between the pages.

I love you and your family, Faye. This is not your fault. They’ve come back for me, but it will be okay. Keep Edira safe.

My mother sank to the floor and clutched the paper to her chest, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. I ran to her

and climbed into her lap, and we didn’t move for an hour. But after she’d wrestled with her grief, her guilt, she hid her

emotions behind pursed lips and tore the note to shreds.

We never spoke of that day again.

Even if we had, if my mother had gone to the elders and demanded vengeance, nothing would’ve happened. Maybe they would’ve

pitied her for a moment, but that sentiment would’ve quickly shifted to something more pandering.

We were lucky an Ever chose her.

How fortunate for your family.

How do you know she didn’t go willingly?

And the elders would never admit their role in all this, or how they’d prospered from her disappearance. I couldn’t prove

it, either, but I knew. In my gut, I knew.

After packing my first leather case, I moved to the second.

“You’re leaving?” Lysa asked, her attention split between me and the parting crowd.

“My remedies are of little interest to Evers. Plus, I’ve already sold enough today.” Lie. In my peripheral vision, a flash of gold winked from beneath an ivy leaf. The beetle crawled forward a few inches, and its

antennae twitched.

So much for luck.

Dropping my gaze, I began pushing in the drawers of my case when a hand with long, slender fingers adorned with polished rings

touched my wrist. The motion was as gentle as checking for a pulse, and yet I couldn’t help but flinch.

Slowly, I raised my chin. He was beautiful—all Evers were—but he exuded a sense of regality that demanded attention. No, adoration.

Effortlessly wavy oak-brown locks fell to his shoulders and teased his square jaw. Keen green eyes framed by thick lashes

watched me intently. As if the sun had decided freckles were simply too mundane for someone like him, his skin seemed to be

infused with golden flecks.

It was absolutely unfair that anyone looked like that . Then again, he was glamoured. Maybe he looked like a toe beneath all that magic.

But the clothes . My mother would’ve been beside herself. He wore a paisley silk cravat tucked into an emerald vest trimmed in gold stitching.

The sleeves of his fern-colored tailcoat were rolled and cuffed above his elbows, exposing corded forearms that had no business

being that tantalizing.

He tilted his head, and his locks fell behind his shoulder, exposing an intricate sword tattoo along his neck. The masterpiece

was awash with gray and lined in heavy black, the hilt adorned with a single ruby gem and framed by bone-white flowers with

gray leaves. The blade itself was severed, the jagged edge dipping toward his collarbone. Insects of every kind swirled around

the broken metal. Butterflies. Moths. Bees. Beetles. Where everything else was inked in graphite, the insects were an artist’s

palette exploding with vibrant color.

Fernglove. And not just any Fernglove, Orin Fernglove. Head of his estate and overseer of our mines’ profits.

The same Ever who’d come for my aunt all those years ago.

“What do we have here?” he purred, dragging his fingers from my wrist to snare a vial and raise it to the sky. The off-white

powder within shifted with the ease of sand.

“Performictum. I didn’t know Evers needed help in the bedroom, but you’re welcome to take it.”

Something fierce shot through his eyes, and his smile hardened. “I can assure you I don’t need it.” With precise fingers,

he slipped the vial back into place.

My blood cooled. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

I had, but more for his benefit than mine. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t like the rest of the townsfolk who were overeager

to fall into his good graces. When I looked at him, all I saw were the faces of my brothers, slick with grime and soot. I

saw their gnarled hands, their ragged bodies. I saw them toiling endlessly for just enough scraps to make ends meet.

Mostly, I saw my aunt’s wide, panicked eyes. Orin might not have cared about my existence all those years ago, but I certainly

had his attention now. I should’ve held my tongue or bowed my head, or better yet ran. But I just couldn’t.

Beside the table, Lysa rolled her lower lip into her mouth as her gaze bounced from him to me. My slight hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The folks who’d gathered close to eavesdrop all stilled. If he left market without purchasing anything because of my words,

I’d never hear the end of it. Not that I gave a damn about that. Their complicity cost me my aunt. So what if I cost them

a handful of coins?

And then all at once a rolling laugh rumbled from the pit of Orin’s stomach and the tension evaporated. The sound released the vendors, and they went back to touting their wares in the hopes he would eventually turn his attention their way. Even Lysa returned to her shop, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her selecting some of her more artful creations to adorn her platter.

“No offense taken,” Orin said, voice as smooth as syrup. He tucked his loose hair behind his ears, and an array of piercings

winked in the sun. “Packing up? Let’s see what else you have to offer.”

“Are you in need of anything specific?” I studied the smooth planes of his face, free of wrinkles or scars. There were no

bags beneath his eyes, no sag to his shoulders or hitch to his breath. Like all Evers, he was completely healthy. Annoyingly

so.

“I’m not sure you offer it.” His fingers dawdled over my remedies, but his gaze was locked on my face. “Perhaps it’s something

we can discuss in private.”

I blinked. “Private?”

“Yes.” His stare roved to my lips. “I’ve been to Willowfell many times, but I’ve never met you before. Why is that?”

He’d met me before, he just didn’t remember. I’d always wondered if he’d dared to look around the room when he came calling

for Aunt Rowena. If he’d noticed me wrapped in my mother’s arms as we watched quietly from the couch. I hardly wanted him

to recall my existence when it could’ve alluded to my hidden powers, but there was something about the way he continued to

stare at my mouth that made it difficult to find words.

“I’m often away.” I gestured to my cases, and his slow-moving stare finally shifted to my vials. “I forage for my own herbs

and brew these myself.”

“Such talent.” The low murmur of his voice somehow blanketed out the sounds of the market. Once again, he reached for my remedies,

except this time, his fingers hovered just above my hand.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Edira,” I said. No sense in trying to hide that. Someone in town would tell him if I didn’t. “What was it you needed again?”

Without moving, he slowly peered into my eyes. “As I said, perhaps it’s better discussed in private. Over tea?”

My heart hammered against my rib cage. “You want to have tea with me?”

“Why not?” His lips curled softly at the corners, the action so effortless and warm that it nearly chased away my looming

fears. “I’m interested to hear what other quips might slip from that tongue of yours. Performictum .” His laugh was low and heady. Then he gently rolled his bottom lip into his mouth as he glanced at my hair.

A familiar unease twined through me. I’d just dyed it. I was fine. He didn’t know. Still, the ire fueling my “quips” waned

as the weight of his words settled against my skin. I refused to be alone with the likes of him.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have time. And in terms of tinctures or healing aids, I’m sure Row— your threadmender would be of better assistance than me.” I speared my tongue with my teeth, trying to keep the lips he was apparently so interested

in neutral and the rest of my words at bay. Calling my aunt by name would only heighten his curiosity and endanger myself.

A glimmer of shock temporarily coursed through his features, and then he let out a long sigh. “Rowena was a dear friend of

mine. She was helping me with some groundbreaking work, even documenting the scope of her abilities in the hopes her magic

could continue to help others after she passed. She died several years ago, which is precisely why I find myself standing

before your stall.”

A deep ache rooted in my chest, and heat pricked at the backs of my eyes. I fought to keep my breath even, to keep my tears at bay. While I’d expected as much, it still hurt to know she was gone. I’d always hoped that somehow, some way, I’d see her again. I’d clung to that hard, especially in the years following my parents’ deaths, but I couldn’t let Orin see how much his words affected me. She wouldn’t want me to suffer her fate.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but if nothing here suits you, then I can’t help you.” I scooted the leather case out of his reach

and fastened the clasps.

“I understand.” He held my gaze for entirely too long. Something sorrowful, something almost human , passed through his eyes. “I’ll find a solution more befitting to my needs, though I do hope our paths cross again.”

“Yes, well, I should be going.” Securing both handles, I lifted the cases and tipped my chin in the slightest show of politeness

I could muster. “Good day.”

Straightening, he tugged on the hem of his vest before brushing his hands along the shimmery fabric. He regarded me for a

moment longer before shifting his focus to the trellis at my back, as if I didn’t exist. “I certainly hope it will be.” With

only the barest movement of his head, he nodded once to himself.

I didn’t dare respond. Instead, I turned on my heel and moved along the fringe of the market as quickly as I could without

sprinting. But no matter how much distance I put between him and me, I couldn’t shake the chill ravaging my skin. Or worse,

the dangerous thought that his parting words—so soft and yet so full of unspoken threat—weren’t intended for me at all.