“You’ve got fire shooting from your fingertips. How’d you manage that? You don’t look like you’re burning. Can you come closer?” His voice climbed higher, words cracking as his grip on reality disappeared entirely. “I’m stuck inside this glacier and the heat would help.”
I brushed my hands along his forehead for a moment, wiping away the film of sweat and dirt. He groaned as I nudged him to the side and edged onto the sofa, my hip bone flush with his. Unlike my brothers, I didn’t have to worry about contracting Alec’s illness. The only thing that could kill me was myself.
“Edira?” Noam’s soft plea was a weapon straight to my heart, and my resolve wavered. No threadmender had ever been able to cure blight. Myself included. I wouldn’t risk drastically shortening my lifespan by fully inviting Alec’s affliction into my veins—not when there was nothing to be gained.
Alec’s gaze locked on mine. “I hear my bones cracking. They’re giant splinters caught in my skin, and I need to get them out.”
My chest heaved. I’d lived through this exact scenario already with my parents, and even though I knew what would happen in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to ignore him. “I’ll ease his passing. That’s all I can do.”
It’d likely cost me a few threads, but I couldn’t stand the look in his eyes. Or the weight of my brothers’ pleas.
Energy hummed through me as I finally—finally—allowed my power to surge to the surface. Soothing warmth rushed over my skin, and while I couldn’t see my eyes, I knew my normally dove-gray irises had been doused in an ivory light as brilliant as the full moon. As the world around me dulled, the threads of his life—invisible to all but me—began to unfurl around him.
They should’ve been a resplendent, glowing green, full of energy and vigor. Instead, hundreds of severed threads limply drifted about in his aura, each one of them dripping with black tar. Whenthe sludge encased a strand in its entirety, it shifted to appear more like a rotted twig and then simply dusted away. All I could feel was pain. Fear. The real Alec was buried somewhere beneath this maelstrom of hysteria and despair, and I was the only one capable of giving him any relief.
Swallowing thickly, I willed my magic to flow outward. Moonlight ensconced my hands, my fingers. And I showered the tar clinging to Alec’s dying threads with my power, but I couldn’t wipe away the residue—or mend the fraying ends. Nonetheless, Alec sighed. My soothing energy flooded his body, calming the tremor racking his limbs.
A soft smile claimed his lips as he stared into my eyes. “Threadmender.”
Quiet ringing started in my ears. “Yes.”
“I never knew,” he said. He hummed softly as his gaze shifted absently to the ceiling. It didn’t matter that he’d pass in a matter of minutes—the fact that he knew my secret still sent my pulse racing. My eyes tracked the spreading blisters, now steaming as the blight cooked away at his meat and bones. At least he no longer felt any pain. I’d pay for it later, but between my brothers’ pleas and Alec’s trembling form, I couldn’t bring myself to let him pass in agony. With one final surge of power, I thrust as much energy as I could over his body. Brilliant moonlight blanketed his form in earnest, and his eyes slipped closed. After three more shuddering breaths, his threads suddenly stilled and dusted to ash.
Capping my power, I released his grip and stood slowly as the world swayed beneath my feet. The backlash of easing his passing hit hard and fast. I hadn’t even attempted to cure his blight, and yet I’d been close to Alec’s affliction, scratched the surface of the illness and used my power to offer him comfort. And now I would suffer. A brackish substance flooded the back of my tongue, and I stumbled out the front door to vomit in the bed of morning glories. Everythinghurt. My bones felt as if they’d splintered severaltimes over, and my eyelids scraped like the tin scrubber I kept in the kitchen. Needles pricked at my skin, and I dug my fingers into the soft earth for purchase. My insides grew impossibly hot, as if someone were stoking a fire in the pit of my belly.
All this for simply helping. If I’d actually attempted to rid him of blight...
At some point, Nohr wrapped his arms around my trembling body, and he carried me inside. He’d already readied my room and peeled back the sheets, and he laid me on the quaint iron bed before tucking me in.
“Nohr,” I managed to croak as black dots bloomed across my vision.
He crouched in front of me, lines of worry creasing his forehead. “We shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”
I attempted to shake my head, but it came out as a weak twitch. “Don’t touch him.”
Eyes downcast, he nodded. “Okay, Edira. Just get some rest.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
Two
My head throbbed in time with my heartbeat as I dared to open my eyes. I hadn’t moved an inch in the night, and that only seemed to compound the ache in my muscles. I should’ve coached one of my brothers into drafting a healing tincture before sleeping, but if my brain was muddled now, it was simply liquid before.
The last time I’d threadmended had been Nohr’s leg. The time before, my parents. A chill crept down my spine. They’d both fallen ill at the same time and passed within an hour. I was only thirteen. I tried everything to save them, but I’d never used my powers in earnest, so I could only cradle their heads in my lap as they died. My gut churned, and I pushed that memory away. Reliving that horrific experience helped no one.
Groaning, I shifted in bed and pulled off the sheets. My arms screamed in protest, but I gritted through the pain and stretched toward the ceiling. A stiff crackling rippled across my scalp, and my fingers went to my hair. I’d never removed the dye, and one quick look at my pillow indicated I’d ruined those linens for good.At least the color was set. As soon as I could manage, I’d rinse and dump the staining liquid somewhere unseen. Then after, a bath. I just couldn’t fathom drawing one. My toes grazed the cool floorboards, and I sucked in a breath as I stood up. The room spun only for a moment—long enough for my stomach to knot, but not long enough for me to call off my planned trip to market.
With slow, measured steps, I left my room and padded downstairs into the kitchen to find Noam and Nohr already busy with the stove. My herbs had been gathered, tied, and hung from a series of wooden dowels along the far wall near my collection of remedies. The mess I’d left was gone, replaced by sparkling clean dishes drying before the open window. Eggs cooked in a frying pan, and coffee—fresh coffee—sat in a carafe in the middle of the table.
I’d never loved my brothers more. I was about to say as much when a prickling awareness teased the back of my mind and gooseflesh rippled over my arms. Turning toward the couch, I expected to find a decaying body waiting for me on the cushions.
I found nothing of the sort.
“I told you not to touch him,” I said, my words quiet but sharp.
They both stiffened as they shared one of their signature glances, the kind only they could understand. “We wore our gloves and wrapped him in blankets,” Nohr replied.
“We were careful. We just wanted to give you a break,” Noam added a breath later.
