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The tingling started the moment I walked through the doors to the manor. At first it was more like a prickle of awareness

thrumming beneath my fingertips. I passed it off as Ywena’s power swelling to a head, preparing to discharge if my breathing

slipped. But as I spent the next few hours sequestered in my brothers’ quarters, sitting at the foot of their bed and telling

them about my day as if they could actually hear me, the sensation shifted to a nagging discomfort. It trickled down my neck,

across my arms, to the small of my back. It was an incessant itch I couldn’t scratch, and by the time I made my way down to

dinner—where the Ferngloves were already seated and waiting—I was fit to claw my skin off.

“Edira,” Orin said, pulling my focus from my untouched plate of food, “is something not to your liking? We can arrange for

a different meal.” The silent attendant was at his side before I could answer, her gaze locked on me and awaiting direction.

“Oh no, it’s fine.” I managed a meager bite of roasted meat before resting my fork against the platter. “I’m just exhausted.”

Orin tracked my movements with cautious eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I dropped my hands to my thighs, fisting the fabric of my gown to keep my fingers from digging at my raw skin. Admitting

something was wrong in front of the entire family felt like a trap. I could already hear Seville’s scoff and feel the weight

of Lydia’s incredulous glare if I even hinted at weakness. But maybe... I chanced a quick look at Orin. He was still staring

at me, his brows inching slowly together. If I discussed what I was experiencing with him alone, it might be all right. At

the very least, he wanted me to be healthy. Safe.

“You pushed her too hard, Rorik,” Seville drawled, then took a long sip from her goblet. “And what is with that ghastly creature

tucked in her hair?”

Rorik twirled his knife between his forefinger and thumb. “It’s necessary for her training.”

“So long as it’s not draining her needlessly,” Orin said, his voice a hard warning. “You’re to help strengthen her body so

she can better withstand any possible side effects associated with mending blight. Nothing else.”

Rorik didn’t meet his gaze. “Tell me again what I already know.”

“Rorik...” Orin’s eyes flared with anger. “Don’t harm her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rorik mused.

I highly doubted that. Perhaps this agonizing, ratcheting discomfort was a by-product of Ywena’s power. She’d shocked me several

times throughout the evening already. Maybe my body was simply exhausted. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Ywena’s magic and everything to do with the Ever sitting before me.

Had Rorik triggered some sort of reaction with his training? My hand fluttered to my stomach, to the space where he’d rammed

his fingers and robbed me of breath. He could have enchanted me. I should have bound him with a vow before ever agreeing to

his lessons.

“What exactly did your training entail?” Tasia leaned her elbows on the table. Her eyes lit with a strange eagerness, and her grin stretched wide as she watched me closely.

“Maybe it shouldn’t have been... private.” Amalyss licked her lips. Her stare bored into me with an intensity that caused

the invisible prickling to shift to full-blown wildfire, and I abruptly stood up. Ywena didn’t hesitate to shock me, but it

barely registered against the raging heat flushing through my limbs.

Rorik let out a dark laugh, but there was an unmistakable tension lacing his voice. “Clearly by her reaction, any private training was out of the question.”

Orin’s hands turned to fists as he glared at his brother. Rorik sighed and raised his palms in mock apology.

“I didn’t touch her beyond what was necessary, and certainly not in the way Amalyss is insinuating.”

Orin considered Rorik’s words for a moment before shifting his focus to me. All traces of anger were gone, replaced by a quiet

concern that filled his eyes. “Did something happen?”

“No, nothing like that,” I managed after a breath. “Sorry. May I be excused?”

“She’s just adjusting to her new surroundings. Let her go.” It was the first time Lydia had spoken about me, let alone to

me. She sat quietly beside her daughters, and there was a similar, piercing intrigue to her stare as she regarded me with

a wry smile. Clesian was silent, but he’d placed a thick hand over Lydia’s.

“Of course.” Orin continued to watch me. “Good night, Edira.”

I barely dipped my head in a bow before bolting out of the room. With every step, the burn intensified. I rushed into my quarters and immediately drew a bath, hoping the water would chase away whatever strange ailment afflicted me. I filled it with salts from my apothecary cases and a tincture I’d crafted to aid with rashes. I doubted I’d had an allergic reaction to anything on the grounds, but there were strange flora and fauna I knew nothing about. Maybe pollen from the white flowers of the Ever tree had caused an adverse effect on my skin. After shucking off my dress, I pulled my hair up in a loose knot and eased into the basin. Ywena took flight until I settled, and then she nested in my hair and resumed her practiced observance of my breath.

The caress of the water did nothing to abate the itch. As I gritted my teeth and willed the bath to do something—anything—the

agonizing burn shifted to a deeper pang that hammered through my muscles. A wordless moan slipped from my lips at the same

time Ywena shocked me, and I flinched. Restlessness filled my limbs, and I was out of the tub almost as quickly as I’d gotten

in. I dressed in loose clothing and paced in tight circles at the foot of my bed. Orin would be finished with dinner soon.

I’d go to him the moment the house was quiet.

With a wordless huff, I moved to one of the windows and pushed it open, welcoming the crisp breeze against my fiery skin.

Creeping shadows inched across the lawns from the surrounding forest, and an owl made itself known with a single hoot as the

bloated moon eased into the night sky. In the distance, I spotted the Ever tree and its unruly, knobby limbs. The bone-colored

flowers shivered in the faint wind. Were the bodies sentient? Could the limbs feel the presence of the world around them?

Did they shudder with the dropping temperature and encroaching darkness?

Again, a low, unbearable sense of wrong threaded through the night air, and my power threatened to come surging to the surface.

But as I squinted harder at that tree—a harbinger for death, really, not a monument—the stinging arcing through my limbs sharpened,

and I winced.

If it were possible for me to threadmend myself, I’d do it. I was getting worse by the minute. An anchor had settled deep in my core, and the attached chain was pulled taut through my limbs, as if it were tethered to some point beyond my grasp. I just needed to loosen the tension even a fraction.

An invisible, forceful tug rippled through me, and I straightened. Something pulled at my center, at that anchor in my pit,

and I pivoted toward the bedroom doors. The moment I took a step, the pain dulled. I blinked, relishing the subsiding burn,

as I considered the peculiar sensation. But I didn’t move, and every second that ticked away brought back the burn until I

once again stepped toward the door.

I’m being summoned. The thought hit me with such force, such recognition, that I knew it had to be true. I frowned. But why? If someone wanted

to see me, why not simply knock on my door? Maybe they wanted something but didn’t want to draw attention to their request.

But who? I raked through my mind, recounting the day’s events and trying in vain to figure out who needed me—and how they’d

managed to ensnare me with this magical trap. I took another step and then stalled, my body trembling as I fought against

the resurgence of symptoms. Even if I didn’t want to go, I’d have to. Unease wound through my gut as I left my room in the direction of the insistent tug. Orin had promised

I was safe. Hadn’t he?

An invisible stare wormed its way between my shoulder blades as I walked, and I didn’t know if it was my summoner or someone

else within the halls. I whirled on my heel, but all I saw was a slip of something white, like a loose linen or sheet, fleeing

around the corner.

I stared at the now empty space, trying in vain to push away the needling unease working through my gut. The flash of movement . . . My mind was playing tricks on me. I’d fought this summons for too long, and now the magic was toying with my vision. And yet, my throat tightened as I scoured the quiet hall. I believed in ghosts. Deeply. How could I not when I was one of the few who could see life’s threads? Feel the leftovers of their presence when people did die? Nohr used to laugh at me for my staunch belief in the afterlife, often demanding proof and waving off whatever “feeling” I described. True, I’d never actually seen an apparition, but in an estate as old as this . . .

An angry tug stemmed from my gut, and I took an involuntary step forward. I couldn’t focus on anything with this compulsion

driving my movements. Ghost or not, I’d never know for sure unless I rid myself of this more pressing magic. Then maybe I

could sleuth.

As if you have an abundance of free time to go ghost hunting , I scoffed at myself as I once again began to move down the hall.

The farther I went, the more restless Ywena became. She fluttered from the crown of my head to the crook of my neck, and her

soft chitters were urgent. She’d hardly made a sound since becoming my companion, yet I knew that if I turned back the pain

would resume. My only option was to play by the unfair rules set by these Evers.

When my feet carried me to a set of double doors across the manor, relief washed over me with the warmth of a summer rain.

The pain was gone in an instant, and while my body sagged, my mind sharpened as I knocked gently against the wood.

“It’s Edira,” I said. “You called?”

The doors swung inward in a rush, and I stilled at the sight of Tasia. Warning bells crashed in my ears as I stared at her.

My mind rioted at the idea of setting foot in her room, but my body wouldn’t respond. No matter how much I begged my muscles

to act, to sprint down the hall in the opposite direction and lock myself away in my quarters, my feet refused to budge.

Tasia smiled up at me. “Took you long enough. Come in.”

This time, my body moved without question. I stepped over the threshold, and she closed the doors behind me. Two beds were pushed against opposite walls, and the center of the room was dominated by a massive marble hearth. Amalyss was lounging on a fur rug, her fingers lazily flipping through a book. She glanced up at me, backlit by a dying fire, and grinned.

“It’s my fault,” she said. “I wasn’t specific enough.” She closed her book and sat up, patting the space beside her. “Sit.”

The pull in my core was immediate, and I was sitting beside her before I had time to even process her command. Unease prickled

along my neck. Or maybe that was Ywena’s restless legs tapping against my throat. Tasia joined us, and both she and Amalyss

looked at me with rapt eyes.

“Specific?” I asked.

“We told you to come play when you were done, didn’t we?” Tasia inched closer.

Come play? They’d requested I entertain them, and... Anxiety wormed through my gut. I’d said, Sure . Sarcastically. Sardonically. As if I would ever dream of agreeing to this . And yet here I was, sequestered in their room, and no one else in Fernglove was the wiser. My breathing hitched. Ywena was

there with a shock, but it wasn’t as startling as before. She was moving along my neck until she got a firm grip on my hair

and began crawling toward the crown of my head. Then she took flight. Amalyss and Tasia watched with a mixture of curiosity

and apprehension as Ywena fluttered toward the rafters...

...and then escaped through the open window.

It seemed even Ywena had no desire to test her luck with these two.

Tasia grimaced at her departure before shooting Amalyss a knowing look. It reminded me of those glances shared between Noam

and Nohr, as if they were having a private conversation they didn’t want me to hear.

“Seems our playtime will be limited,” Tasia mused, her gaze still locked on the open window.

“Playtime?” My tongue soured. “What am I doing here?”

Amalyss gazed at my Fernglove tattoo. “You’re here because we told you to come, and you agreed.”

“Does sarcasm mean nothing to you?” I spat. “I did not agree to this.”

“Oh, but you did.” Tasia chuckled. “Magic doesn’t care about intention—just the word itself.”

“How do you think Orin will react when he finds out you’ve tricked me?” I glowered.

“He’ll likely disapprove of all this,” Tasia purred as she half-heartedly gestured between us, “but what have we really done? Nothing. You just proved exactly how inept you are, which helps no one.”

Words formed and died on my tongue. All I could do was glare.

“Well, we haven’t done anything yet.” Amalyss’s grin sharpened. “Though you are here to play , so...”

A glow lit in Tasia’s eyes. “Show us your power.”

Her words hit hard and fast, needling through my muscles with the swell of magic I had no hope of denying. I swallowed thickly

as the itch brewed in my fingers. My body wanted to call on my power even though my mind did not. As I curled my hands into

fists, my nails bit into my palms. None of this made sense.

“No. That’s not a game.”

“Maybe not to you.” Tasia smirked as she moved closer. “Now, show us your power.”

I tasted the magic in Tasia’s words now, the fresh, floral scent coating my mouth. I’d smelled that unique, earthy aroma with

Orin when he’d first bound me with his vow. With Amalyss on the lawns, I’d just passed it off as a common fragrance drifting

through the grounds. I was a damn fool for missing it.

I exhaled forcefully and released my white-knuckled grip. “Why? What good does it do you? You must have seen threadmender

magic before.”

“Certainly,” Amalyss replied. “But we want to see it again.”

I cut a hard glance at her before dragging my gaze back to Tasia. My fingers drilled into my thighs as they itched to begin

working, to answer her command. Already the burn was settling into my bones, and I desperately wanted to rid myself of her

control.

“Begin,” she purred. The word was riddled with power that snapped against my skin. As much as I wanted to resist, I couldn’t.

Simply demonstrating my magic didn’t exhaust my lifespan, though, so rather than risk incurring a more demanding order, I

clenched my jaw tight and closed my eyes. My power surged forward the moment I called, rushing through to my fingertips and

blossoming outward around my being in a shroud of ivory light.

When I peeled open my eyes and stared at Amalyss and Tasia, my lips parted and my breath caught in my chest. They had no life

threads. None. I should have seen something . Anything. A cascade of twirling strands eagerly dancing about their frames, vibrant and full of color and life. Because

they were alive. They were staring at me, eyes wide and mouths ajar, as they took in my power. They were the perfect pictures

of awe and wonder. I narrowed my gaze. There was a softness to their features that hadn’t been there before, as if something

gossamer had been delicately layered over their bodies. Their hazel eyes were muted, their once-lustrous hair now somehow

faded. My brow furrowed as I leaned toward them, and I swore I caught glimpses of small, silvery filaments weaving through

their locks.

A sense of knowing settled quietly over me. Glamour. The magic was stitched into their bodies, preventing me from seeing what

lay beneath. It was both incredible and horrifying, because while their impressive power granted unblemished appearances,

it also masked the beauty of their life threads. Of their true, glimmering essences.

“Your glamour,” I murmured, studying every inch of Amalyss in hopes of finding a crack in her magic. Nothing. “Has a threadmender ever seen anyone here without a veil?”

“Mavis.” Amalyss tipped her head to the side as she marveled at my moonlight-drenched fingertips. “But only when they attempted

to cure her. You can imagine how that turned out.”

“Why? What’s the point?”

Amalyss smiled daggers. “Who wouldn’t want to be flawless if they could? Once you’ve mastered glamour, it’s as easy as breathing.

We hardly even notice it anymore.”

But I noticed it. The strange fabric of magic coating their bodies. What was odder was that in some places, it appeared to

be disintegrating. Just small pools of thinness here and there across their arms, their legs, their chests. Maybe they weren’t

as practiced at holding it together as their elders.

Tasia looked at me head-on. “Your power is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The sincerity of her words softened the lingering anger in my bones. The pale light covering my body dwindled,

and I was about to fully cap my power when Tasia’s hand darted out and gripped my arm. A glimmer of fear coursed through her

eyes.

“Don’t.” Then she ducked her chin. “Not yet.”

“Tasia,” Amalyss whispered. She gently grazed her sister’s shoulder. “It’s all right.”

“I just...” She scratched at her arm, at one of the thin points in her glamour. “I want to experience threadmending. I’m

curious to know what it feels like.” Tasia skewered her bottom lip with her teeth and dropped her eyes to the floor. Everything in me stilled. In that

moment, Amalyss and Tasia didn’t look like Evers. They looked human. Like Noam and Nohr, eyes full and glistening with unspoken

emotion. The sight of them chilled me to my core.

Be careful who you trust in this place. Vora’s words surfaced in my mind.

“What if”—she absently picked at her arm—“I cut myself earlier. You can’t tell now because I’ve glamoured it, but I’d like you to mend it.”

“Tasia,” Amalyss hissed. Her eyes darted to the window where Ywena had fled.

Warning bells crashed in my head. The insistent pull from the girls’ earlier demands had begun to fade, as if I were nearing

the end of the bargain’s power. If I could just play a little longer without actually healing, maybe I could persuade Tasia to change her mind. I’d only just begun training with

Rorik to strengthen my body, and I hadn’t even started with Orin. I was no better off than my days in Willowfell, and I didn’t

want to needlessly sacrifice threads before the real work began. While I knew curing a simple cut would likely shave only

a few hours, perhaps a day, off my life, it wasn’t a risk worth taking. Not when I might need all the days, hours, and minutes

I had just to cure my brothers.

“Don’t Evers heal on their own?” I asked.

“We do. Much faster than humans, too.” Amalyss pointedly stared at her sister, though Tasia refused to look her way. “And

we have medicine for things as small as cuts. Tasia, it isn’t worth it.”

“That’s precisely why I want to see it, feel it. It’s so miniscule, it should hardly cause any uproar,” she retorted.

I fidgeted, trying to find a way around her resolve. “We should clear it with Orin first.”

As I hoped, this gave Tasia pause. But only for the briefest moment before her expression shifted to one of hardened disgust

and anger. Her lips curled as she practically spat her words. “I’m tired of following Orin’s rules. They’ve gotten us nowhere.”

“If I threadmend without his knowledge—”

“Do it. Now. And then we’ll be done playing .” Tasia’s words stung with the tang of magic, and my body shuddered. My power practically crawled out my throat as I gripped

the rug for purchase.

“I can’t with your glamour,” I wheezed. “I need to see the threads.”

“Tasia, you mustn’t .” Amalyss’s voice jumped an octave as she glanced between us. “If Orin finds out...”

Tasia ignored her completely. “I’ll only remove the glamour on my forearm. That should be enough.”

She trailed her fingers lightly over her inner arm, as if pinching an invisible scrap of fabric, and then cast her hand to

the side to leave her arm exposed. My eyes dropped to the unfettered scrap of tawny skin and the shallow cut peeling apart.

Between her command and the sight of the wound, my power fully came to a head—and with it, so did a few of Tasia’s life threads.

They snuck out of her gash and danced in the air, and I gasped at their splendor. I’d never glimpsed an Ever’s energy before.

Where humans’ threads were a vibrant green, Tasia’s were a startling aquamarine infused with glittering diamonds. They were

nearly blinding to watch, but there was a darkened gray hue to one’s base, right where it stemmed from the wound.

“Your glamour isn’t completely gone,” I said, peering closer.

“It’s hard to isolate such a small patch,” Tasia muttered, and I glanced up to see sweat had dampened her brow. But her gaze

was resolute, and she thrust her arm forward. “Mend me. Now.”

There was no sense in denying her. Pushing as much energy as I could to my fingers, I began the process of threadmending.

Cupping my hands around the fraying strand in question, I began to douse it in magic so that I could grip it tightly and stitch

it back together with my power.

I pinched one tattered end and reached for another when the pain started. Just a flicker of uncomfortable heat where the cut

would’ve been on my own arm. But quickly that heat bloomed and flushed from my neck to my face. A tremble started in my hands,

and I stared at the quivering thread skewered between my forefinger and thumb.

This was a cut. Nothing more. I should’ve experienced some minor discomfort, perhaps followed by a healing, prickling itch and a mild headache from expending my power. But this? My body tensed. I could barely think through the heat in my veins.

“How did you get this cut again?” I asked.

Her wide eyes bounced from my trembling hands to my dampened hairline. Amalyss had gone still, her mouth slightly parted,

and her face paled before she yanked her sister away, taking Tasia’s threads along with her. Adrenaline left me in a cool

rush as gooseflesh rippled over my skin.

Fear shone in their eyes for several breaths, and their gazes traversed the length of my body over and over as if searching

for answers. Some hint of weakness? Sickness?

“Why did you stop me?” I hadn’t cured her, and yet I couldn’t shake the underlying spread of pain that still trickled through

my limbs.

A flicker of relief raced through Tasia’s expression, and she sighed.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Amalyss shot her sister a glance. “Our Ever magic was too strong for you to handle. A cut shouldn’t have

affected you that much.” She nodded curtly toward a lone bead of sweat sliding down my temple.

I studied every inch of their haughty expressions, but all traces of concern were wiped clean from their faces. Dread was

a sink weight in my gut, and I stilled. “No previous threadmender has been able to cure anything for you?”

Amalyss flicked her hair over her shoulder and let out a smug tsk. “Well, Orin seemed to have such high expectations for you,

so we thought you’d be different. Clearly, we were wrong.”

Panic set my heart racing. Everything was a game to these Evers. Their intentions, the truth. Now I had to consider that Ever threads were that much harder to mend? I was rash to think the process would be the same as that for human threads. Ever magic tainted everything .

Pushing myself to my feet, I fisted my hands by my sides and took a step toward the door.

“We’re done here,” I spat. But just as I went to grasp the handle, the world shifted on its axis and I stumbled, barely catching

myself on an end table laden with candles. Exhaustion from mending had settled deep into my muscles, and already my body was

longing for bed. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to find Orin and hang these pretentious shits out to dry for their actions.

I’d have to wait.

Or maybe not.

The door swung inward, and I barely stepped out of the way before the handle clipped my arm. Which of course caused me to

stumble over my feet and go tumbling toward the floorboards, only to have an arm quickly slide beneath my waist.

“Edira,” Orin said, eyes stricken with concern. He quickly helped me stand as his gaze roved the length of my body. “Are you

all right?”

“Amalyss. Tasia. What have we here?” Rorik leaned in the open doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame with Ywena fluttering

about his head. Malice filled his words as he stared at the girls with a sardonic, tense smile, and the whole room went still.

Both girls shifted their pleading stares to Orin.

“Orin, we didn’t—”

“Please, you have to understand—”

“Silence.” Orin never met their gazes, instead looking only at me. The quiet ire in his cold voice sent a chill racing down

my back. “Rorik, deal with them and then send for Vora. Immediately.”

“My pleasure.” A dangerous glint flashed through his amber eyes. He didn’t bother to look our way as Orin placed one hand on the small of my back and steered me out of the room. We didn’t speak as we moved through the halls. I wanted to step out of his grip, but with the world swaying gently and my feet heavier than normal, I knew his sturdy touch was the only thing keeping me upright.

And the last thing I wanted was him scooping me off the floor. Again.

It wasn’t until he reached for my door that I found my voice. “I can take it from here.”

His shoulders rolled forward, but he didn’t release the handle. “Please. I want to hear what happened from you—not them. I

only know what Ywena shared with Rorik.”

“Then you know enough.” I tried to brush him off and force the door open myself, but a flare of dizziness had me freezing

in place. At least I didn’t fall.

“Edira.” He ran a hand over his face, and when he let it fall away, all I saw was remorse in his eyes. “Please, I just want

to make sure you’re all right.”

I didn’t know if it was the weight of recent threadmending or the sadness in his deflated frame or some combination of both,

but I didn’t have the strength to resist. So, I let him open the door. As he helped me slide between the sheets of my bed,

Vora rushed into the room with a wooden tray and a glass full of a thick liquid I didn’t recognize. She took one look at me

and cursed beneath her breath. After setting the tray on the nightstand beside me, she forced the cup into my hands.

“Drink.”

“What is it?” I asked, tipping it to the side. The viscous liquid slowly moved over the ridges of the glass’s quilted design,

leaving behind smears of ruddy green in the pattern.

“Medicine. Now, drink.” Vora didn’t need magic or bargains. Instead, she shot her hand out to grasp the bottom of the cup and force it to my mouth. My lips parted more out of shock than agreement, but that was enough. The revoltingly sweet, cloying liq uid slid over my tongue. It tasted of apples, clove, and some other foreign substances I couldn’t place, and my stomach clenched in disapproval. I was about to push it away when Vora’s sharp glare made my hand pause midair.

“Force it down. It’ll help.” Without prompting, she added, “I promise it’s safe.”

My taste buds would’ve argued otherwise, but she didn’t give me the opportunity to respond. Instead, she kept the glass flush

with my mouth until I relented. I swallowed a large gulp and then exhaled to cut the harshness of the flavor. A shiver crept

down my neck and across my arms, and I gritted my teeth. Vora set the glass on the nightstand and then dusted her hands over

her apron.

“Be sure to finish it. Every drop,” she said.

A strange, delightful numbness trickled through my limbs, and the exhaustion lingering in my muscles lessened. I cut a glance

at the syrupy concoction. What I would’ve given to know how she made it. I could’ve sold it for a fortune to the townsfolk.

“Thank you, Vora.” After dragging an armchair to the foot of my bed, Orin had watched us in silence, the perfect picture of

remorse and concern. His elbows were braced against his knees, and his hair was tousled over his searching eyes. “That will

be all.”

She pressed her lips into a fine line before nodding and meeting my gaze. “I’ll check back in later. There’s a mild sedative

in the drink that should kick in shortly and help speed along recovery. Rest.” Her skirts billowed around her as she strode

out of the room, and the door clicked firmly shut behind her.

Alone. I was alone with Orin in my bedroom. I shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his somber stare. He swallowed thickly,

and I couldn’t help but track the bob of his throat.

“Tell me what happened.” It wasn’t a question, and yet his voice softened with a plea.

Tipping my head back against the headboard, I recounted the day’s events: my walk with Tasia and Amalyss, how they’d asked me to “play.” The subsequent, insatiable tug that had started some hours later and how it eventually led me to their doorstep. And then I told him about Tasia’s cut. At that, he stiffened, his lips curling in a harsh show of displeasure. It only lasted for a moment before he fell back into guilt and blew out a heady sigh.

“You have my word that Amalyss and Tasia will not trick you into a bargain again.”

“Or anyone else in this horrid place?” I couldn’t keep the bite from my response.

His shoulders rolled forward as he deflated. “All I want is for you to be able to move and act freely within our estate—not

be bound by evervows.”

It didn’t escape me that he didn’t answer my question. Not really. “Evervows?”

“That’s what we call them. Magical bargains that have dire consequences if reneged by either party.”

At least I hadn’t lost my tongue like that unfortunate traveling vendor.

“Like the one you and I share,” I said bitterly. I’d willingly agreed to his terms, but the very thought of those icy, invisible

chains binding me to him set my teeth on edge. “I’m mad at Tasia and Amalyss, but even more so with myself. I should’ve known

better than to trust I’d be safe here.”

“Edira,” Orin said through an exhale as he scooted his chair closer. “I don’t want you to feel that way.” His eyes dropped

to the crest on my arm, and his face twisted with a mixture of anger and frustration. “You’re part of Fernglove. I can’t believe

they would go against my word. You could’ve been hurt.”

“Is it true what they said? About me being too weak to cure an Ever?”

He wrung his fingers together. “Yes. For now. That’s why I wanted to work with you to help develop your abilities. You mustn’t threadmend any of us again without my knowledge, do you understand?”

His harrowed expression was a match to the emotions brewing in my chest. I hadn’t known the whole story when I’d agreed to

work with him. For him. How many hidden truths would I discover in the days, weeks, to follow?

“How did they even manage to trick me into a vow?” I sighed.

“Vows require both parties to agree, and unfortunately, magic doesn’t pick up on intent. From how you explained it to me,

your agreement to their request was enough.” He shifted in his chair, but his gaze never left mine. “You can tell if an Ever

is trying to invoke a vow by the swell of magic and usually a scent specific to that Ever family. For us, it’s an earthy,

floral aroma.”

I had noticed it; I just hadn’t paid it any mind. Because of course the telltale for their magic would be the literal scent

of the surrounding world. Super identifiable.

“Lovely,” I muttered. “I can’t do the work you want me to do if I’m constantly reexamining every conversation I’ve had in

this house.”

“You won’t have to,” he said swiftly. “Within the hour, everyone will know of Tasia and Amalyss’s mistake—and not to try anything

like that again. I promise.”

I held his stare for what felt like minutes, studying every nuance in his expression in search of deception, and found none.

He leaned forward, pressing his forearms against his knees, and ducked his chin slightly. Hope. That’s what made his lips

part and his breath catch. He wanted to make things right.

The way he looked at me... I could hardly stand it. I reached for my glass, giving my hands, my thoughts, anything else

to focus on. With one swift movement, I drained the last of my repugnant tonic.

“How do I know they’ll listen?”

The veins along his neck strained against his tanned skin, and his nostrils flared. “Because I will make them.” He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “No one is to harm you, Edira. I don’t care how they’re related to me.” Magic

flared around him as if in response to his rising emotions, and with it came the aroma of tilled earth and the heat of summer

rays.

My breath caught in my chest. The fierce conviction in his stare couldn’t be denied, and my fear slipped away. It was strange

to feel so protected after I’d spent my life hiding from Evers. From him. Slowly, I nodded. “Okay. I believe you.”

His power receded with my words, and a small, relieved smile dared to tug at his lips. “Thank you.”

I shifted farther down between the sheets. Not because Orin’s lingering gaze brought a flush to my skin that I didn’t want

him to see. But because with the absence of magic came a chill, and I needed to warm myself.

I cleared my throat as I tossed a quick glance to the ceiling. “I should rest.”

Orin was on his feet in a breath. “Of course. Good night, Edira.”

And with that, he reached for my hand to place a gentle kiss on my knuckles. A soft tingle spread through my fingers, but

I didn’t have a chance to fully revel in the sensation before sleep dragged me under.