“We’re here.”
Shifting so I could see around his broad frame, I gasped. Acres of gently rolling hills spread out toward the horizon, and the massive clearing was framed by a forest of densely packed trees. Fernglove Estate was the epicenter of it all, sitting proudly on a flattened portion of land. Manicured lawns stretched from the first building to where I stood, along with artfully trimmed hedges and an array of flower beds. I counted at least three structures immediately, though the primary residence held all my attention.
A river of babbling water wound from the woods to cross before the manor, and a solitary bridge of powder-green stone, wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side, connected the road to an open courtyard. The front of the manor was dominated by a pointed arch, and the pitched roof was trimmed in off-white wood. Limestone a shade lighter than that of the bridge made up the brick masonry of the sprawling establishment, and I lost count of the curved windows lighting up as the sky darkened.
It was breathtaking in its splendor but horrifying in its solitude. For despite its size, I struggled to find a single soul traversing the grounds. Everything was eerily quiet, save the soft chirping of insects welcoming the night. Unease crept through my veins. I wanted to blame it on the late hour, but I knew it was somethingelse. I knew it like I knew my fate was a speeding course toward death that could not be altered.
Whispers of illness skirted through the air on the evening breeze, bringing a chill to my bones. Every Fernglove I’d encountered thus far was healthy and vibrant, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of wrong that seemed to bloom from the near-silent estate. I couldn’t see Death, but I could feel him. There were broken threads here, and my magic hummed in recognition.
“How many threadmenders have been here before?” I asked quietly, gaze locked on the looming mansion.
“Too many.” Rorik’s lips twitched as his stare hardened.
And they were all gone. Anger wormed through me, and I fisted my hands by my sides. “Of course. Gods forbid you face even the smallest ailment on your own.”
At that, he laughed. “As if small ailments could bother us.” He watched me closely for a moment, and then he strolled away. Without looking back, he spoke over his shoulder. “Welcome to Fernglove, Edira. May you live to see something else.”
Five
Walking through the double doors of Fernglove Manor was like stepping into an entirely different realm. The communal hall was colossal, with a polished double staircase that swept upward in a subtle curve. Dark hardwood floors spanned the entire layout, and ornate wrought-iron chandeliers draped in pewter crystals hung on chains from impossibly high ceilings. The oak-paneled walls were adorned with either rich oil paintings or stained-glass windows, and I found myself looking forward to the morning light just to see what colors would flood from the artful masterpieces.
I assumed all Evers had elegant estates, especially the Ferngloves with their ownership over Willowfell’s mines. But this was opulent in a way I could never have fathomed, and yet . . . My gaze slanted to the rows of closed doors. Silence. Rorik strode past me, his booted feet thudding harshly against the floor. The sound reverberated endlessly throughout the hall, and again I was struck by the hushed emptiness of it all. I followed him without speaking, passing by credenzas laden with potted hyacinths of pastel purple,dusty rose, and ivory. Inhaling deeply, I expected a pleasing burst of fragrance to settle over me. Instead, I was met with nothing more than stale air and dust. My brows drew sharply together. Hyacinths were the very essence of spring, the perfume of the season. The whole floor should’ve been thick with their aroma.
“In here,” Rorik said, his gait rigid as he strode through a set of open double doors.
We moved into a formal dining room, complete with a grand oak table that could seat at least twelve. A cream-colored lace runner embellished with forest-green leaves and bloodred roses stretched from end to end. Robin’s-egg-blue plates fringed in gold rimmed the table, and a pile of food waited untouched in the middle. Rorik paused before a chair and gestured for me to sit. I hesitated at the threshold and tried my best to ignore the savory scent of herb-crusted chicken wafting through the air.
I couldn’t help but think of the power these Evers wielded, of how my aunt had been whisked away or how the traveling vendor had lost his tongue. I’d entered willingly into a contract with Orin, but would that stop him or his family from making me more obedient? Subservient? Could they bespell my meal to make me comply without question? Perhaps the gossenberries, a vibrant yellow fruit composed of tiny drupelets, would make me susceptible to enchantments. The wine was likely just as dangerous, if not more.
Fear trickled down my spine. “I want to see my brothers.”
“After you eat.” Rorik braced his hands on the high-backed chair.
“I want to see themnow.”
One brow arched toward his hairline. “If you want to wander aimlessly around the estate in the hopes you find them, be my guest.”
My hands curled into fists. “You won’t take me to see them?”
“Afteryou eat, someone will escort you.” A belabored sigh escaped his parted lips, but there was an unmistakable edge to hiswords. “The others will join us shortly. I suggest you fill your plate before they arrive.”
“How do I know it’s safe?” I inched closer. My stomach ached with twisting hunger, but I couldn’t risk consuming something that would leave me vulnerable.
“So many questions. Are you always this insufferable?” he murmured. When I didn’t respond, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s safe.”
Tension gathered between my shoulders, and I glared first at him, then the food. “Safe for you or safe for me? Tell me a truth that can’t be twisted, and I’ll eat.”
“You want me to vow that the food is safe? Back the promise with magic?” He cocked his head in my direction, and the corners of his lips tipped up in a smirk. “Suspicious little mender. Maybe you’ll survive us after all.”
He released the chair to stalk toward me, and a devilish glint flickered through his golden eyes. Everything in me screamed to run, but I held my ground and clenched my jaw tight. As he paused before me, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black pants and dipped his head close to mine.
“The food is safe for consumption and free of ensorcellment or poison.” An earthy scent of moss and dirt accompanied his words, along with a flowing rush of coolness over my skin. Ever magic. Something about this power felt ancient, as if his magic was birthed from the land itself and would remain if his bones ever rested in the ground. Tension snapped between us as I held my breath, and he studied me for a moment longer before straightening. “Well? Will that suffice? I have promised it is safe. If my words were a lie, I would end up suffering the consequences in your stead.”
At that, I blinked. I’d only ever heard of vows negatively impacting mortals. If that were the case... “Is it wrong to pray for accidental food poisoning?”
He chuckled darkly. “Keep those wits about you. Now, eat.”
In a matter of moments, I was seated with my plate and goblet filled. “Can you at least tell me if my brothers are all right?”
