The First of our kind spent decades understanding the nature of fire, even going so far as to bathe in the flames until her skin no longer charred and the power took root in her veins.There, she learned how to extract heat from within and ignite sparks from her fingers. In an effort to strengthen her powers, she searched the world for rare creatures that possessed magic similar to that of the original stone—and was greatly rewarded. She embedded parts of ancient beasts into her being and gained additional strength and power in return.
Because of this, Evers are born with fantastical traits of their own. And while our magic derives from the original Ever, it manifests differently for each family offshoot, some stronger than others.
Maybe that’s why the Ferngloves were bolded and marked with a crest. They were simply stronger. No doubt that’s what made their threads so resilient. Thumbing through the pages, I paused when I discovered one of the corners had been neatly folded. It was so firmly creased, pressed entirely flush with the text, that I’d almost missed it. Frowning, I scanned the page.
Heartbonds are formed when two Evers agree to share their intrinsic magic with each other. When this happens, a ribbon of magic—visible only to the pair in question—will appear and wrap around their arms. Once accepted, it becomes a permanent, invisible bond between the two. This cannot be reversed, and even upon one Ever’s death, the former partner will continue to have access to that wealth of power for their own use. As such, this level of power sharing and commitment is revered and only to be undertaken after careful consideration.
I was so engrossed in the description that when I heard the soft creak of the wood floors announcing someone’s arrival, I didn’t bother to immediately look up. If Orin was back with more tea, I’d gladly take it—and ask him to stay and clarify more aboutthe nuances in their power. Pressing one finger to the worn page, I held my place as I glanced at the doorway. And then froze.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Lydia’s voice was cool, her gaze sharp. Thinly veiled ire sparked in her blue-green stare, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was the last person I wanted to encounter. My heart rammed against my chest as I set my book down on the coffee table.
“Hello, Lydia.”
She took a deliberate step forward. “Do you know what my children are doing at this particular moment in time?”
Warning bells crested in my ears. “No.”
She reached the edge of the sofa. “They’re paying for your mistake.”
“Mistake?” Irritation flared in my voice. “They tricked me.”
“And that’s within their right. You are property of Fernglove.” She gripped the lip of the couch, and her nails scraped against the wooden frame. “Explain to me how it’s fair for you to sit here and leisurely read while my daughters have been locked away until my dear nephew deems it appropriate to release them.”
My blood ran cold. “I didn’t ask for that.”
She inched closer, and I stood, backing away from her until I bumped into one of the bookshelves. Her haughty chuckle seemed to hang in the air. At that moment, Vora rounded the corner of the hallway and came into full view of the open library. She took one look at Lydia, and her grip on the serving tray she carried tightened. Turning on her heel, she left without offering to help, a flurry of skirts billowing after her.
Great.
“You’re under Orin’s protection now, but if you cause even a modicum of discomfort for either one of my daughters again”—she closed the distance between us, her tense frame vibrating with malice—“I will not hesitate to hurt you.”
“I am not responsible for their actions,” I seethed. My handsformed fists by my sides, and my back stiffened. “And if you threaten to harm me again, it won’t be just your daughters suffering through discomfort.”
“How dare you.” She hooked my chin with one finger and yanked it upward. She wasn’t even taller than me. It was all a show, all a move of power. And it made the anger churning in my veins spike even higher. “Foolish mortal. You’re utterly incapable of harming me.”
My hands itched to prove otherwise, but I never got the chance.
“Careful, Aunt Lydia. Wouldn’t want Orin finding out you’ve been pestering our threadmender.” The amused drawl filtered through the room, and Seville stepped into the library. She sauntered around the couch and then parked her hip against it, crossing her ankles and smiling wryly at my predicament. “And right after he permitted you to visit Amalyss and Tasia, no less.”
If Lydia was angry before, she was downright furious now. She jerked her hand away and swiveled sharply in place to glare at her niece. “Seville. Your presence is wholly unnecessary. As usual.”
Seville gasped and lightly draped her hand over her mouth. “Auntie, my goodness. Is that an age spot I see? You should get that checked, darling.”
A sharp hiss scraped through Lydia’s teeth, and she instinctively placed two fingers along her seemingly clear cheekbone.
“One day you and your brothers will learn your place. Assuming I’m kind enough to let you stick around.”
Seville laughed. A brittle, callous sound. “Be off now, Auntie. Return to your heartbond and your ill-behaved children.”
Lydia opened her mouth to respond, then slammed it shut. Something malicious flashed in her eyes, and she held Seville’s gaze for a heated breath before storming away. When Lydia’s retreating footsteps faded, Seville let out an exaggerated sigh.
“It’s any wonder her daughters acted out.” She shoved off thesofa and looped an arm loosely about my shoulders. “Come, come. Orin will want to hear about this.”
I allowed her to guide me down the hall while she aimlessly chattered about things I clearly had no ability to contribute to: the awful shade of Lady Starglen’s newest gown and the peculiar quietness of her son, the horrid design choices of the Waterstones’ foyer. Nothing was pleasant. I doubted Seville found anything other than herself to be beautiful.
When we arrived at Orin’s study, she didn’t bother to knock, instead waltzing in as if it were her respite and not her brother’s. Orin sat behind his desk bent over stacks of paper and lightly twirling a pen between his fingers. He glanced up at us and stilled when his gaze met mine.
“Did something happen?”
