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 ofremindersfrom Ywena.
Eight
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 bodywassimply 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, anyprivatetraining 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 onthe 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.
