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A curt series of knocks roused me from sleep, and I stared bleary-eyed at the door. For a moment, I couldn’t recall where

I was or how I’d gotten there. Decades had passed since yesterday. The stiff ache in my muscles from sleeping on hard ground,

compounded by an unbearable crick in my neck, brought me back to reality, and I shoved myself into a sitting position just

as the door swung inward.

A woman with soft curves and tightly braided chestnut locks stepped into the room. She had thin lips, smooth, round cheeks,

and soft wrinkles that lined the corners of her walnut-colored eyes. The folds of her brown velvet dress swept against the

floor as she moved, and she paused to slip her hands into the pockets of her white apron when she spied me.

“There you are.” She clucked her tongue, giving me a once-over with the practiced disdain of a mother. “You’re a mess. Come

on.”

Abruptly, she turned on her heel and left me to scramble after her. I paused long enough to cast a glance at my brothers and

whisper a goodbye beneath my breath before closing the door.

You may visit whenever you have free time.

Orin’s words filtered through my mind. I would be back. I wouldn’t leave them alone, even if they had no idea that I was here

with them.

Fortunately, the attendant hadn’t gone far. She’d pushed through the double doors of my quarters and waited for me to enter

before letting them click closed behind us. Rows of stained-glass windows bathed the large space in a rainbow of colors, painting

the ivory accents peach and lavender and indigo. The attendant ushered me past an ornate bed, complete with a sheer canopy,

to seat me before a white oak vanity. I stared at her through the reflection of the mirror. She pursed her lips in a tight

grimace as she ran deft fingers through my knotted hair.

“Was the bed not to your liking?” she asked, yanking her hands away to inspect her coal-stained fingers.

“I just wanted to be near my brothers.”

She scowled. “You’re a room away. If you insist on sleeping beside them, I can arrange for a cot to be brought in.”

I shook my head. “No, this is fine. Thank you.”

She strode across my quarters to fling open a door. With an exaggerated sweep of her arm, she gestured to the attached room.

“You’re in desperate need of a bath.”

“I can bathe myself.” I stood, my body already protesting at the movement. Threadmending had left a lingering ache in my bones,

and sleeping on the floor hadn’t helped. I glanced about the room until my eyes snagged on my apothecary cases. Salts would

help. Stiffly, I moved toward them and rummaged through the contents.

“That may be true, but my lord has instructed me to care for your every need.” She gripped my arm and yanked me toward the bathroom before I could grab a remedy. “Ever-made medicine will be infused in the water. You’ll find it more effective than anything crafted by human hands.” She stilled, her eyes pointedly sliding to my fingers. “Perhaps it’s not better than everything , but certainly this.”

It was strange to be both coveted and hated for a talent I had no say in developing, and yet that’s exactly how this woman

gazed at my fingers. She strolled into the bathroom, and the lanterns clinging to the wall lit of their own accord. The copper

washbasin—large enough to comfortably hold two people—began to fill. Steaming milky water swirled into existence until it

reached the lip of the tub, and then all at once it went placid. My jaw hit the floor as I watched the room respond to her,

but she barely acknowledged it.

Magic. I paused at the edge of the claw-footed tub. “How?”

“Everything in this house is attuned to the Ferngloves’ magic. It does their bidding—and mine, too.” She rolled up the sleeve

of her gown to reveal the beginnings of the family’s crest. “Attendants bear the mark as well.”

Which also meant I could hardly function in this space without the presence of one of them at my side. Suddenly, the invisible

chains of Orin’s contract tightened around my body. “Is it safe?”

“How detailed would you like that answer? Nothing in this manor is safe, threadmender. But I can assure you that I will never

be the one to harm you.”

Noted. I inched toward the copper basin, but she snared my wrist between her fingers. Her grip was surprisingly strong as

she tugged me to the side, forcing me to sit on a small wooden stool a few feet away. Tin buckets full of water waited near

the legs.

“Hair first, bath second.” She moved behind me to study my locks, then gave a disapproving scoff. “Don’t want this mixing with the bathwater and staining your skin.”

I sat quietly as she doused my hair and began the arduous process of removing the dye. I’d spent years using it, never once

allowing it to fully fade and reveal the ivory shade that had claimed my locks. A familiar twinge of panic wrapped around

my throat.

I can’t be seen. My muscles tensed instinctively with every cool rush of water against my scalp. Black splatters dotted the floor as my most

precious armor was stripped from me and cast to the side without a second thought.

At least you don’t have to hide any longer. Orin’s words rattled through my mind.

All I wanted to do was hide.

After wringing my hair for what must have been the hundredth time, the attendant had me undress and nudged me toward the tub.

I went in quickly, eager to hide my body beneath the water’s milky surface.

“This feels incredible,” I moaned.

The attendant came around with a pitcher and tilted my head back, pouring fresh, warm water through my cleansed hair. The

silky caress of the bath loosened my muscles, and I didn’t fight as the woman sponged me clean and rubbed oils onto my skin.

She hurried me along, wrapping me in a thick robe and toweling my hair before setting me back in front of the vanity. A small

plate of food was already waiting for me, and I nibbled at toast and eggs as she combed through my damp locks.

I couldn’t help but stare at my reflection while she worked. The last time I’d seen my hair, my true hair, I’d been a child.

I hardly remembered the luster, the almost ethereal glow, that seemed to shimmer from the moonlit strands.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Vora.” She didn’t look up as her nimble fingers twisted my hair into an artful braid.

“How long have you worked for the Ferngloves?”

“I’ve worked for my lord for years.”

“By choice?” I bit back a snort. There had to be at least thirty attendants, if not more, working at the estate. Fulfilling

every Fernglove whim, and for what? To simply be in the presence of society’s finest?

She shot me a glare and gave my hair a final tug before brushing her hands along her dress. “You’ll find that everyone came here by choice.”

“That’s debatable,” I grumbled.

“You had a choice, and you’d do well to remember that.” Angling her chin high, she looked down her nose at me. “Are you having

second thoughts? Because I won’t waste my morning getting you prepared if you’re just going to waltz out of here by lunch.”

“As if I could,” I muttered. Leaving would mean condemning my brothers to death. It might have been my choice to accept Orin’s

offer, but it’d been a trap just the same. “Please continue.”

She nodded toward the dresser. “There’s an assortment of underthings in the top drawer. Take your pick.” Then she pulled a

cream-colored gown with embroidered rosebuds from the wardrobe and laid it upon the bed. I eyed the green lace along the hemline

and thin shoulder straps. She flipped it over and loosened the strings, waiting for me to finish slipping on my undergarments.

I stepped into the pool of fabric, and she pulled the straps over my shoulders before cinching the corset bodice tight.

I trailed my hands over my arms and the smooth expanse of my neck and upper chest. A wondrous thrill ran through me. I hadn’t

worn a gown like this in... well, ever. “Are all my clothes this ornate?”

“Ornate?” Vora folded her arms across her chest as she inspected the gown, then chuckled. “I imagine the family would find

this one tame, but I do quite like it. Now, come along. Orin is expecting you.”

My shoulders stiffened. “Asking me to begin work already?”

“Did you expect anything less?” She waited a beat before shaking her head. “Orin only tells me what he wants me to know. For

now, I believe, he just means to check in on you.”

“I’d hoped to spend some time with my brothers today.”

“That will have to wait.”

“Lovely,” I said through a forced exhale. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

She placed her hands on her hips, studying my sour expression as if she understood my quiet frustration. “Take solace in knowing

they feel no pain. And if you’re successful...” She shrugged. “Then they will simply wake up and won’t fret about how much

time you physically spent by their sides.”

Tension coiled tightly at the base of my neck. “One can only hope.”

“Indeed.” Something flickered through her sharp gaze. “Best not to keep Orin waiting.”

“Thank you, Vora.” I clasped my hands together. I imagined I wasn’t the first threadmender she’d attended to, and I likely

wouldn’t be the last. At least it seemed like I could rely on her for the things I needed to survive. In this house, that

was the most I could hope for.

She studied me for a long moment, a deepening crinkle forming between her brows. Then she made a beeline for the doors. “Be

careful who you trust in this place, Edira.”

Her quiet warning was such a stark contrast to the disgusted frown she’d shown me when I’d asked if she and the others worked

here freely. A heavy, uneasy feeling settled low in my stomach, and I clenched my jaw tight.

She gripped the handles and pulled the doors open. “Let’s go.”

My feet wanted to root to the ground like the great trees of the surrounding forest, but I forced myself to join her and did

everything in my power to bury my fears deep beneath the surface.

Vora deposited me outside of Orin’s study before excusing herself, and I was left to knock on the monstrous mahogany doors alone. They swung inward of their own accord, revealing a circular room with a high ceiling and polished rafters. Curved bookshelves lined the back wall, and a heavy desk with gold foil inlays sat beneath an unlit chandelier. Sunlight poured in through an oversized window, and I spied the lush, rolling lawns sprawling from one end of the estate to the other. Dense woods clambered against the edges of the clearing, forming an impressive barrier between the Ferngloves and the rest of the world. Orin looked out over it all from his place on the window bench. With his back reclined against an array of pillows, he’d propped an open book against his knee. His fingers held his place while his gaze shifted from the grounds to me.

A warm smile claimed his lips. “Edira.”

A foreign tingle trickled through my limbs, and I wasn’t sure if it was awe or fear, but it was impossible to deny just how

beautiful he was. Perhaps it was the way the sun caught on his tanned skin, painting him a healthy bronze. Or maybe it was

the boyish curl to his lips or his relaxed, inviting posture, but his eyes were alight with a curious glint I couldn’t quite

place. Intrigue? Mischief? Good or bad, I didn’t know.

After a quick swallow, I found my voice. “Good morning. Vora said you wanted to see me.”

“Come. Sit.” He sat upright and patted the tufted cushion beside him. “I trust you feel better after seeing your brothers.”

Better was an interesting word, but I settled for a simple nod as I dropped to the space he indicated. “How long can they survive

like that?”

“I’m uncertain. If they were Evers, I’d say a decade or so. Humans...” After setting the book down beside him, he shifted

so his knees were angled toward me. “You’re so much more fragile than us.”

“I’ll work quickly, then.”

He clasped his hands over mine. “Good. Now, there’s the matter of making it official.”

“Official?” I frowned. He had my brothers encased in float ing coffins, minutes away from death without his magic, and he wanted something more concrete than that? I’d never leave them. I’d rather die trying to save them than walk away.

His grip on my hands slid to my wrist, and he shackled me in place with tight fingers. “Every member of Fernglove wears the

mark. It’s customary. Plus, at least in your case, it will act as a warning.”

I bristled at that. “I hardly need the warning.”

Orin blinked, genuine shock tugging at his brows. “Not for you. Gods, no. It’s a warning to our neighboring Ever families.

While we’ve established a tenuous peace, I wouldn’t want them getting any ideas that you’re available to work for them.”

“I suppose branding me like cattle is one way to get the message across.” I scowled but didn’t fight his hold. I could live

with a tattoo if it meant saving my brothers.

“It’s for your safety. Not to mark you as property,” Orin said as he gently thumbed my wrist. His gaze fell to the floor.

“While I understand your hesitation, I still must insist.”

“Is it permanent?”

“Yes.”

With ease, he twisted my wrist to expose the pale skin of my inner arm. He dragged smooth fingers from the crook of my elbow

down to my upturned palm. They danced across the lines of my future, and I wondered if he could see this moment etched in

fate. After a breath, he moved his hand back to my inner arm and placed it against my skin.

“Are you ready?” he asked, voice low.

“I’m not entirely sure I have another choice.”

His smile was timid. Soft. “I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t necessary.”

I hesitated for a breath. We’d known each other for only a handful of days. And yet, he’d saved my brothers. He could have just walked away. But he didn’t. He didn’t even balk when I asked to bring Noam and Nohr with me to Fernglove. Orin had listened to my concerns and complied. I could do the same, at least just this once.

“Do it.” I speared my bottom lip with my teeth, preparing for pain, and was instantly rewarded. Heat exploded from his touch,

singeing my arm and imbuing the air with the scent of burning flesh. My body tensed as I pressed my eyes shut, and then all

at once it was over. His hand was gone, the cool rush of air jolting against my raw skin. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked

down at my arm.

And there it was. The Fernglove tattoo. A broken sword detailed in an array of grays and blacks, framed by a horde of vibrant,

colorful insects. It was horrifying. It was beautiful. It was a brand I could never escape. But considering my time on this

earth was perhaps more limited than that of the Evers in this manor, I would wear it without complaint. Death didn’t care

about families or crests—it came for everyone just the same.

“Not so bad, is it?” Orin gently trailed one finger over the mark, and the last remnants of pain faded away.

I stared at the fresh ink, trying and failing to ignore the different, subtler heat brewing from his touch. “It’s not absolutely

horrid to look at.”

Slowly, methodically, as if he were aware of every heightened nerve ending in my body, he raised my arm toward his lips, then

brushed the gentlest of kisses against the blade. A trill of excitement raced through my limbs, and he smiled against my skin.

“There,” he whispered. “The final touch.”

“What do you mean?” Everything in me screamed to rip my hand away, to free myself of his strangely alluring grasp, but I couldn’t.

A prickle of magic settled like a fine layer of chiffon against my skin, and he looked up to meet my gaze.

“You now hold a sliver of my magic.” His pupils seemed impossibly large as he moistened his lips. I didn’t know what to make

of that look. “I trust Vora mentioned how this manor works?” He flippantly waved to the chandelier above, and the lights flickered

to life of their own accord. Or, perhaps, his.

I barely found the word to answer. “Yes.”

“You cannot wield our power, but there’s a trace of it in this mark. If you wish for light, it will come. Water for your bath,

it will appear. Of course, you’ll still have our attendants at your disposal, but I find, sometimes, privacy is needed.”

I forced a hard swallow. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I am a generous host.” He smiled, his touch tender against the brand on my arm. Finally, he straightened, and the peculiar

hold he had over me lessened. Largely because I found it hard to believe any Ever was generous , especially not a family that owned two mines yet likely never set foot in either. Images of my brothers’ soot-covered faces

filled my mind.

“If that were the case, I imagine the people of Willowfell would fare better. Especially the miners who make it so easy for

you to maintain this lifestyle.”

Orin looked puzzled. “The townsfolk... Is there not enough work? Or are they not receiving fare wages? I’ll confess, most

of my conversations are only with the elders, and they’ve never let on that anything is amiss.”

“Well, that’s not surprising. All they care about are their gilded carriages and lavish homes. They may as well be Evers.”

The jab left my lips before I could stop myself, and I stilled.

Orin, however, didn’t seem to mind my insult. Instead, his gaze turned sad. “I take it the coin from the mines isn’t being

funneled appropriately. I’ll speak to the town leaders and adjust our cut if necessary.”

I didn’t have the fortitude to school my shock. My mouth fell open, and it took me several tries to find the words to respond.

“Just like that? But why?”

“Contrary to your very obvious opinion, not all Evers are monsters.” He released my arm to clasp his hands together. “We have funds to spare.”

Of course they did. “Is that why you offer such large rewards when someone manages to find an everjewel? What are they to

you?”

At that, Orin tensed. He looked away to some indiscriminate spot on the wall, as if recalling a lost memory. “Everjewels,

while useless to humans, are special to my kind. They help keep us, well, us. But that’s neither here nor there. Regardless,

I’ll hold true to my word and evaluate what’s happening to the mines’ profits.”

That was news to me. We’d never been granted any explanation as to why the Evers paid such pretty sums for everjewels. Before

I could pry further, Orin stood and extended his hand.

“Now, I do have a prior engagement commencing here shortly, but I have enough time to give you a small tour. If you’re so

inclined.”

Considering I was liable to get lost in an estate this size, I couldn’t exactly turn down his offer. Plus, I didn’t entirely

loathe the idea of spending a few more moments with him. Not after what he promised to do for my town. “Thank you.”

“I hope you’ll find it in you to trust me. I know you had no intentions of coming here, but perhaps fate intervened.”

Slowly, I placed my hand in his. “Indeed.”

“I, for one, am looking forward to our time together.” His voice was low and pleasing, and that indignant spark lit in my

chest again.

“Researching blight, of course.”

Mischief filled his green eyes. “Of course.”

As we left his study, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d left a small part of myself behind. My inner wrist throbbed as we moved from room to room, his explanations of the spaces barely audible through the ringing in my ears. Orin was entirely too convincing. The old Edira would’ve yanked her hand away and rolled her eyes at his niceties. He was an Ever . The same Ever who’d come for Rowena.

The same Ever who’d called her a dear friend .

My chest tightened as we walked. His face was open, his smile wide. Everything about him was inviting. Had my aunt’s own reservations

softened in his presence? I couldn’t say for sure, but I wanted to find out. Because when he looked at me, I saw nothing but

boyish charm and hope. Hope that I would be the one to finish the work my aunt dedicated herself to. And while I knew hope

was a dangerous thing, especially when it came to blight, I couldn’t help the timid smile that toyed with my lips as he led

me through his home.