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 mycore, 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’twantto 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 ofthe 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 wasdominated 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 tothis. 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.
