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After guiding me through the impossible labyrinth of rooms—including a library, where we were to meet tomorrow to begin our

work—Orin brought us to a halt in the foyer. Again, I was struck by the lack of aroma from the blooming hyacinths. Were they

fake? I inched closer to one and gently grazed the velvety petals. The texture felt real, and there was a natural give and

spring to the leaves like any healthy plant, but still, no fragrance. When I brought my fingers to the tip of my nose, all

I got was a faint whisper of mildew.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Orin sidled up beside me and smiled. “We change them out with the season.”

“Their scent is off.” I nodded at the overflowing display.

His brows inched together as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps they’ve gone bad. I’ll have an attendant check on that.”

Bad? I glanced again at the bright petals, unable to find even a dark spot or rotted leaf. I was about to say as much when a woman

breezed through the front doors without bothering to knock. Her glossy hair fluttered behind her like a curtain, and the color . It was stunning, like the depths of an ocean with varying hints of navy and ultramarine that caught in the light. Her jeweled ruby-red eyes quickly scanned the space until her gaze snagged on Orin. A devilish smirk claimed her lips. Swirling, flowing ink wrapped both of her biceps like churning currents, and her fingers dawdled along the darkened cobalt lines as she crossed her arms. A young woman and a boy accompanied her, and they sauntered into the space with the same authority and haughty grins.

“Ossanna,” Orin said, straightening to his full height. “You’re early.”

“I didn’t think that would be a problem.” Her cunning gaze slid straight to me. “Plus, I’d heard a rumor you managed to find

another threadmender. I wanted to see for myself.”

“Word travels fast.” He blew out his breath.

“It absolutely does.” Ossanna slid a hand to her waist before tilting her head toward the young woman on her left. “That aside,

Issa has been looking forward to today for quite some time. I could hardly contain her.”

Issa couldn’t have been more than a few years my junior. Her reddish-pink eyes—like blood paled by milk—and blue-black hair

stood out against her fair skin, but not as hauntingly as the stark tattoo of angry currents wrapping around her throat. She

dragged her clawlike nails against her painted lips, smiling as she studied Orin. The belt lazily draped about her hips quivered.

No. Not a belt. A tail.

It unraveled and twitched behind her as if she were a feline preparing to snare a mouse. Her cunning stare drifted to me,

and she slowly assessed me from head to toe before letting out a quiet chuckle. I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the swell of

fear climbing up my throat.

“Will your threadmender be joining us for refreshments?” Issa asked.

“Edira. My name is Edira.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and all eyes rounded on me. An indignant heat simmered in my veins. “I may be employed by the Ferngloves, but I am not his .”

Issa’s smile was sharper than a blade. “Oh, I know.”

“Edira, these are the Waterstones. Like us, they’re Evers.”

Obviously. I’d never seen a human with a tail. I shot Orin a glance. His expression was unreadable, save the tiniest of lip

curls that felt wholly directed at me. He shifted subtly, inching closer to me without drawing more of the Waterstones’ attention.

It didn’t seem like my words had offended Orin, but even if they had... The fear that had me carefully examining my etiquette

during last night’s dinner had evaporated the moment he’d branded me with his crest. I’d technically been claimed by the Ferngloves,

but that didn’t mean I liked being objectified as if I were a possession. At least Orin seemed to agree.

The young Waterstone boy pushed his way between the two women to frown at me. He shared the same hair and ruby-red eyes as

Ossanna, and there were swirling tattoos around each one of his fingers. Twin horns, small and rounded as if they’d only just

begun to grow, jutted from his forehead beneath his hairline.

“She seems like fun.” His saccharine smile accentuated his harsh, impish characteristics, and I was reminded of the feral

way Amalyss and Tasia had inspected me in the carriage. These Evers were impulsive. Brash. Did they all succumb to such wild,

unpredictable whims simply to satisfy their own curiosity? For a moment of pleasure? Or maybe it was a side effect of their

magic, of embracing more animalistic features and strengths.

“She seems boring,” Issa remarked.

“Issa, Flix, that’s enough,” Ossanna said, though there was no forcefulness to her voice. Her focus returned to Orin. “Shall

we?”

Orin plastered on a smile. “Of course. Amalyss? Tasia?” He pointed two fingers over his shoulder without turning away from the Waterstones. I jerked my eyes toward the winding staircase where Amalyss and Tasia stood completely immobile, their rapt gazes trained on us. I hadn’t heard them approach, and yet Orin somehow knew they’d been there without even surveying the room.

“Yes?” Amalyss answered.

“Rorik is expecting Edira. See that she finds him.”

“Of course,” Tasia said. They descended the stairs with languid ease, pausing only to wait for me to join them by the front

doors.

I blinked. “Rorik? Why?”

“I’ve asked him to help train you.” Orin’s features softened when he looked at me, and then he tipped his chin in a slight

bow. “I apologize. I had planned on escorting you myself, but I do have some matters to attend to with the Waterstones.”

“It’s all right. Thank you for the tour.” I allowed myself one furtive glance over my shoulder as I followed Amalyss and Tasia

out. Orin’s composure was perfect, a masterpiece of quiet joy and welcoming warmth as he amicably spoke with Ossanna. I quickly

fell into stride beside Amalyss and Tasia without uttering a word.

They led me through an open courtyard as they chatted between themselves and traded gossip about Issa and Flix. I could only

bring myself to pick up pieces of their conversation. My mind was still processing the fresh branding on my arm and everything

I’d just witnessed with Orin.

We passed by the formal gardens, where neatly trimmed hedges surrounded ornate statues carved out of marble. There was even

a small pond with a towering fountain sprouting from the middle of the blue-green depths. Lily pads floated lazily across

the rippling surface, and fish with a kaleidoscope of colors drifted beneath the surface. I couldn’t help but gape at the

beauty of it all, at the azaleas rimming the pond and the artful walkways.

If only Noam and Nohr could see this. Curing their blight was an impossible task under normal circumstances. And there was the issue of Mavis, too. I chewed on the inside of my lip, and the sharp tang of blood squirted over my tongue. I winced. The thing was, even if I managed to cure one being of blight, I’d have to suffer through the aftermath of it. In that respect, it wasn’t any different from mending a

broken leg or curing a common cold. I would experience the side effects—to a lesser degree—of whatever ailment I mended, blight

included, until my own threads severed. Each act ate away at my lifespan, and I wasn’t sure I had enough years to save Mavis

and my brothers.

And I knew whom I’d be expected to save first.

“You look pale,” Amalyss said, tearing me away from my reverie. “Are we that scary?”

I almost reminded her that she and her sister had attacked me the first time we met. “No. It’s just a lot to process.”

“The Waterstones are nothing to worry about.” Tasia scowled. “They come, they posture, they leave. Orin always handles them.”

“The Starglens, too,” Amalyss mused. She pointed to some indistinct spot on the horizon, as if I somehow possessed the kind

of magic necessary to see what she was indicating. “They’re our closest neighbors. Orin teaches their son, Briar, alongside

Flix.”

“And you two?” I asked.

Tasia shrugged her shoulders. “We attend sometimes, depending on the subject matter. We’ve been at it longer than Flix and

Briar.”

“What sort of things do you learn about?” While I knew I was here to study and eradicate blight, I couldn’t deny the flicker

of curiosity that flared to life in me. Evers had been around for centuries, even predating our town. I could only imagine

the wealth of knowledge they possessed. And how unnerving it must’ve been for them to not understand how to cure a sickness

that had the strength to take down immortals.

“Lots of stuff.” Amalyss tipped her head thoughtfully. “Ever history, the different variants of magic, our ancient tongue—all

stuff that’s far beyond your comprehension.”

“Typical,” I muttered. “Where is Rorik?”

“Where he always is,” Tasia drawled.

“What does he intend to do with me?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Amalyss ran a hand through her locks. “But I suppose we can’t expect you to have the same deductive

reasoning as the rest of us.”

Anger flickered to life in my core, and I met her stare head-on, only to find they were both watching me with vicious curls

to their lips. Waiting. Goading. A bigger person probably would’ve held their tongue. I had no such inclination.

“I wonder, is that haughty superiority an Ever trait? Or is it because you have sticks shoved up your asses and I can’t see

them through all that ridiculous glamour?”

They both stumbled, and their mouths fell open for a breath. Then their gazes sharpened as some of their glamour fell away

to reveal the iridescent feathers shimmering along their cheekbones.

Tasia smiled, but her words were sharp. “Threadmenders can’t heal themselves, right?”

A warning bell crashed in my ears, but I kept my gaze locked on the horizon. “Is that a threat?”

“That’s for you to decide.” Amalyss chuckled darkly before falling silent, leaving me with nothing other than their hungry

gazes and my swirling thoughts. Their glamour returned to normal as we moved out of the gardens and onto the sprawling, manicured

lawns. Wildflowers pushed through the soft dirt to add vibrant pops of orange, magenta, and indigo to the sea of verdant green.

A lazy breeze ruffled the grounds. Beautiful, and yet quiet, save for the muted, inconsistent chirps of insects. We were heading

for the tree line, and a single dirt path marked by moss-covered stones caught my attention. It wound into the depths of the

forest before disappearing entirely in shadow.

Run. I could flee, but that would break my vow with Orin. And I’d never run without my brothers, which meant I’d somehow have to sneak two floating caskets out of Fernglove unseen.

And then there was the obvious issue of the caskets themselves.

Work with me. Orin’s words rattled through my brain, and a heavy weight pulled at my wrists, my feet. Invisible chains tethered me to the

Ever lord of this estate. What, exactly, did he have to do to maintain the magic keeping my brothers alive? Did they have

to remain nearby? If I took them, would their life-saving tombs simply disappear?

No, I couldn’t run. I would stick with the plan. I would learn. And if— when —I found a way to cure blight, then I would hide the results and save my power for Noam and Nohr. Mavis had lived long enough.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. No one would use me or my magic for their own gain.

For now, I would use them.

“We’re here,” Amalyss said as she and her sister came to a halt. She pointed toward a single tree that stood slightly apart

from the rest, and I stilled. Its trunk was knobby and uneven, its bark a riotous whorl of whites and browns and blacks, and

it was far larger than any surrounding tree. But what pulled my focus most was the hundreds of delicate bone-white flowers

blooming from the highest twigs.

“I’ve never seen a tree like that before,” I murmured, gaze transfixed on the strange mix of colors streaking through the

bark. I was still a short distance away, not close enough to inspect the bizarre bumps and awkward angles of the twisted trunk,

but I could see Rorik standing beneath it, staring up at the flowers with his back to us.

Tasia and Amalyss were quiet. Somber, even. They closed their eyes for a moment as if offering up a silent prayer, but when they looked at me again all traces of sadness were wiped clean from their expressions. Dark curiosity flickered in their identical gazes, and Tasia reached forward to drag her fingers over my cheek. My chest tightened as a chill crept down my neck.

“I hope he doesn’t rough you up too bad.”

Amalyss giggled. “But if he does, all the more reason for us to doll you up.”

I scoffed. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Not in the slightest.” Tasia’s grin deepened.

Amalyss peeked over her sister’s shoulder, then locked eyes on me. “Come play with us when you’re done.” There was a heat

to her words I couldn’t place, and a fresh, floral aroma that came and went with the breeze. I cut a glance at the wildflowers

nearby, lazily dancing in the wind.

“Sure.” I hardly planned on seeking them out, but I was fine with letting them think I would indulge their fantasy. Never

mind that I layered the word with enough sarcasm to suffocate any hope blooming in their chests.

They turned on their heels, high-pitched, grating laughter bubbling around them. Unease prickled along my arms and down the

length of my spine, but I steeled myself with a quick breath before closing the distance between Rorik and me. My slippered

feet padded against the ground, announcing my arrival with soft thuds that seemed to echo through the air. Rorik tilted his

head and his shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn to greet me. Instead, he waited until I stood beside him.

“What do you think of it?”

I followed his gaze to the delicate flowers above. Smoky gray leaves cupped the gossamer petals, and I opened my mouth to comment on their beauty when my words caught in my throat. My eyes narrowed as I studied the oddly jointed twigs branching off from the tree’s limbs. Twigs with strange, knobby knuckles and rings of wrinkles, like skin that had solidified into bark. Those delicate flowers seemed to bloom from nail beds, as if the splayed twigs were actually fingers sprouting from elongated hands.

I jerked my eyes back to the base of the trunk and the strange twisting of weathered browns and pale beiges. Bile flooded

my tongue. Legs of varying shades knotted and intertwined to form a thick base with twisted knees and bare feet sprouting

roots into the earth. There were no heads, just bodies pressed together, and so many legs and arms and hands that I could

hardly differentiate between all the extremities.

Fear slammed into my gut, and I took an involuntary step back. Dead bodies. That’s what I was staring at. A shrine of death.

And with that recognition, magic surged from my core and flooded to my fingertips. It took every ounce of control I had to

keep my power from surfacing.

Something is very, very wrong. I caught the faint scent of decay on the wind. These people were gone, their threads longs since turned to ash, but I could

sense the remnants of their lives in the sickening aura pulsing from the tree. A heady ringing filled my ears, and I felt

the world tip beneath my feet. I didn’t know when Rorik had placed his hand on the small of my back. All I knew was that everything

was numb, the world a winnowing tunnel of gray and black, and then as everything slowly reoriented, the warmth of his hand

grounded me enough to calm the rest of my senses.

“These are the remains of our ancestors. We don’t use headstones or graves. We bury our kin at the roots, and a part of them

lives on like this.” As soon as the words left his lips, he folded his arms across his chest. The sudden absence of his hand’s

weight left me oddly uncomfortable, but I pushed that away as I braved another look at the tree.

“When humans die, we simply return to the earth, not actually sprout out of it. I’ve never seen anything like this.” The world settled with every breath, and my power slowly receded. They were already gone. There was nothing to mend. And yet that scent, that undeniable pull to cure something ... I couldn’t shake it.

“Yes, well, we’re not human.” Turning his back on the tree, he finally looked in my direction. His gaze was a slow, scrutinizing

crawl starting from the tip of my head down to my toes. He rolled his eyes. “Next time we meet, make sure you’re properly

dressed.”

His condescending words were enough to chase away the last eerie chill still teasing my senses, and I scowled. “I’m sorry

my attire doesn’t suit your fancy. You’ll be pleased to know I had absolutely no choice in the matter.”

“As fascinating as that useless bit of information is, it still doesn’t change the fact that I cannot help you train in a

gown.”

“If you think I can’t stab you while wearing skirts, you’re sorely mistaken.” The words were out of my mouth before I could

stop myself. Clenching my jaw tight, I swallowed the rest of whatever brewing retort lingered on my tongue. I was supposed

to be learning something useful from this Ever, and here I was biting back before we’d even begun our first lesson.

Mischief filled his eyes. As he took a step closer, his lips tipped into a devilish grin. “You have a knife hidden in your

petticoat?”

The heat racing through my veins shifted from indignant anger to something far more sinister. Something like desire. I hated

it. “No.”

“Pity.” His nose was only an inch from mine, his breath a cool whisper against my skin. And then he stepped back with a barking

laugh, breaking whatever hold he’d had over me, and flopped to the ground. Legs sprawled out before him, he leaned back on

his elbows and looked up at me. “Sit. We’ll work on breathing, then.”

“I can breathe just fine.” Still, I sat.

“We’ll see about that.”

For the first several minutes, Rorik simply watched me as we sat in silence. His heady gaze was locked on the rise and fall

of my chest, and while I rationally understood he was not, in fact, staring at my breasts, I couldn’t help the heat that clambered

up my neck at the thought.

Which resulted in more erratic breathing. I shifted uncomfortably, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

He raised his brow, and his twin dermal piercings caught in the light. “You’re fidgeting. A lot.”

“You’re staring right at my chest. What do you expect?” I shot back.

Heat flared in his eyes. “So I’m making you uncomfortable?”

“Don’t take it as a compliment,” I said as I folded my arms across my breasts. “Anyone would react this way.”

“I’ll take it however I want. It’s delightful to know that I make you squirm.”

“You’ll just say anything that comes to mind, won’t you?” I scowled at him and ignored the strange heat that bloomed to life

at his words.

His gaze traveled to my face, a deep smirk already in place, and he chuckled darkly. Then he nodded at my arms. “Relax. I

can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m working with. This is purely for knowledge’s sake, though if you’re interested in

something more, we can discuss that later.”

“Just be quiet,” I growled, but I let my hands fall to my sides.

Rorik continued to recline on his arms, his partially unbuttoned shirt pulled tight across his torso to reveal a tantalizing

sliver of skin. After a few more painful moments of his gaze locked on my chest, he sucked on his teeth in disappointment.

“It’s honestly a miracle you’ve survived this long.” He stood and walked around me in a circle. Slowly.

“Perhaps I’d fare better at this ridiculous exercise if you’d actually tell me what you wanted.” Rorik was dangerous, that much was obvious. It wasn’t even the lean cut of his body, honed like a fine blade and ready for wielding; it was his words. His sinister tongue. The gleam in his eyes. And yet, maybe it was the Fernglove crest on my arm or the fact that I was here to help his family, but I wasn’t afraid of Rorik. I was just irritated.

“Oh, I didn’t mean you specifically. I meant all humans.” Crouching next to me, he put one hand on the small of my back and

the other on my sternum. I nearly shot to my feet, jolting beneath his touch, but his grip was firm. “So flighty.”

“A little warning wouldn’t have killed you,” I seethed.

“It wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.” He chuckled, then coaxed my back to straighten. “You sit like an aged crone. Lengthen

your spine. Relax your shoulders. Breathe through your stomach.”

“What is the purpose of all this?” My heart thrummed rapidly, and I had the sickening feeling he could feel every unruly beat

against his palm.

He let his hands fall away and stood, resuming his slow, circular path around me. “The power you have makes you weak. It drains

you of life each time you mend.”

“I’m aware,” I muttered.

“Because breathing is instinctual,” he continued without acknowledging my comment, “most never pay it a second thought. But

if you can optimize your breathing, you can funnel more power to your magic and better harness your innate abilities.”

“Do all Evers do this?”

He tsked. “We hardly need to.”

“Of course, because why would you?” I tempered my irritation with a deep exhale that broke the rhythm I’d established. Rorik moved before I could inhale. One moment he was lazily circling me—like a predator so far above the prey he had his sights on that he needn’t bother with stealth—and the next he’d crouched before me. With one swift movement, he jammed two fingers into the center of my stomach.

My ribs collapsed as what little air was left in my chest escaped in a rush. I keeled to the side and wrapped my arms around

my abdomen, begging my lungs to inflate as a stinging pain spiderwebbed across my torso. Tears prickled against my eyes until,

finally, my body shuddered and my gasps were rewarded with air.

“What the fuck?” My words were weak but sharp. Rorik didn’t seem to care. The only movement he’d made was to drape his hands

over his knees. He regarded me with a single brow raised and a sly twist to his lips.

“You need to work on your lung capacity. Physical training will help with that.” He stood abruptly and cradled the back of

his head with his hands. “There are a few ways we can achieve that. Running, combat training, or maybe you prefer exercise

within the confines of a bedroom?”

My teeth gnashed together as I went toe to toe with him. Whatever minimal control over my emotions I had left fled with the

breath he’d stolen from me, and I was filled to the brim with the fervent wish to smack him across the face.

“I would never sleep with you.”

“Even if it paved the way for greater power?” He leaned closer, his words a whisper against my skin.

“Never.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and his devilish grin faltered for a second before he schooled his lips back into place. “Don’t

worry. The feeling is entirely mutual.”

“You’re absolutely vile.”

“I know.” His canines somehow sharpened, and my breath caught in my throat. Then he gently pressed his fingers against the same soft spot of my stomach. My body tensed in anticipation, expecting the harsh repercussion for once again demonstrating an irregular breathing pattern. But instead of a sharp jab, he applied gentle pressure. It was reminder enough, and once I’d gotten a grip on my wild breath, he pulled his hand away. “What a nuisance. I can hardly follow you around all day reminding you to breathe.”

He inclined his head toward the leaves of the tree and let out a quiet, low whistle. At first I thought it was merely another

expression of his disappointment, but then a faint movement caught my eye. A palm-sized, mothlike creature with pink and yellow

fuzz fluttered down from the branches to land on Rorik’s shoulder. It was unlike any insect I’d ever seen, with glassy blue

eyes and spiral horns just above its antennae. Rorik bent to the ground to snag a blade of grass, and he held it before the

moth. It willingly accepted his offering with a soft chittering.

“This is Ywena.” Rorik didn’t look at me. His attention was solely focused on the creature resting on his shoulder, and for

the first time since meeting him, I saw a glimmer of something gentler. The ceaseless mischief in his expression was absent,

the curl to his lips softer, more relaxed. The creases near his eyes were ones of joy, not scorn or frustration or anger.

“A moth?” I inched closer.

He snorted, and Ywena fluttered her wings. “She is as different from moths as Evers are from humans, but I suppose they look

similar. She’ll be your companion for the time being.”

At that, Ywena took flight and erratically circled the crown of my head before perching against the crook of my neck. Her

touch was silk against my skin, and if not for her size, I might have passed off her delicate grip as a lock of hair teasing

my collarbone.

“Why?”

“She’ll help you with your breathing.” Rorik’s gaze remained on her, that same warm expression still fully intact. If he dared

to look at another being that way, Ever or human, I had no doubt they’d give in to his every whim. My pulse climbed higher

at the weight of his gaze, on me but not on me, and my breath quickened.

And then a tiny shock jolted through me, and I yipped. It was gone as quickly as it’d appeared, stemming from the space Ywena had claimed and racing through to my fingertips. My eyes widened at Rorik’s chuckle.

“Did she just shock me?” I asked.

This time, he met my gaze. No warmth. Just mischief and hunger. “Yes. She can detect even the smallest fluctuations in your

heartbeat, your breathing, your emotions. So long as she’s touching you, of course. And until I deem you skilled enough to

breathe on your own, she’ll be with you at all times. Understood?”

I tilted my chin downward, catching a glimpse of the picturesque creature now studying me with inquisitive eyes. “What if

I crush her on accident? I don’t want to hurt her.”

For a long moment, Rorik simply stared at me. Again, he seemed to falter, caught somewhere between human and Ever, genuine

and harsh, but he steadied himself with a firm shake of his head and displeased scoff. “Your concern is unnecessary. She’s

capable of protecting herself, and even if by accident you clipped her—which you won’t—she’s tougher than you could possibly

fathom.

“But”—Rorik’s expression turned dark, his gaze full of threat and promise—“if you intentionally harm her, I will ensure you

experience the same level of pain. If not more.”

I didn’t know how I kept breathing, how Ywena didn’t send an electric volt shooting through my limbs. I wanted to crumple

under the weight of his malice, but I knew in my core I’d never do anything to deliberately hurt her.

“I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

He watched my lips move, as if studying the words as they left my mouth to see if they rang true, and then shifted back to

his normal, flippant self. With an indolent wave over his shoulder, he turned his back on me and strolled toward the manor.

“Tomorrow, wear pants.”

He never once checked to see if I’d follow. And at first, I didn’t. The sudden release of tension hit me in a rush, and I exhaled so forcefully that Ywena had no choice but to send a tiny shock wave through my body. Which, of course, only set my breathing stampeding off in the opposite direction, and thus resulted in a series of back-and-forth shocks from my new moth companion until I finally composed myself. Only when I was certain I could keep both my emotions and breath at bay did I dare to make my way toward the manor. I wasn’t sure what the evening would hold, but I was already bracing for a night full of reminders from Ywena.