“Green?” Amalyss raised a brow. “Interesting. I pictured you in silver.”
“Or gold,” Tasia said. Amalyss cut her a hard glance as she curled tense fingers around the arms of her chair.
“Does it matter?” I asked.
A pregnant pause hung between us. Then, finally, Amalyss blew out a breath and released her vise grip. “Typically, partners dress to match. It’s an Ever custom for these sorts of things. And Orin always wears green.”
“Yes, he asked that I wear it. I saw no reason not to.” A lightness bloomed in my chest at the thought of Orin. We hadn’t declared ourselves as anything—partners or otherwise. But I couldn’t help thinking of my conversation with Seville. About heartbonds. Tilting my head, I glanced between both girls. “Your parents are heartbonds, right? When did they decide to make that commitment?”
Tasia’s and Amalyss’s attendants excused themselves as they went to plate us a light snack, but Vora remained behind. Her hands stiffened against my scalp, and she gave my hair a firm tug that felt wholly unnecessary. I frowned at her through the mirror, but she only clenched her jaw as she returned to her task.
Tasia finally looked at me, and I was struck by how soft her gaze had become. “They met around fifty years ago, but they declared themselves as heartbonds after twenty years of dating. It’s not something Evers take lightly.”
“Because of the power sharing, right?” I asked. This time when Vora scraped my scalp, I winced.
Be careful who you trust.Right now, her words felt like a warning for her own actions.
Amalyss cast a wary glance at Vora. “Yes. The theory is that you become stronger together.”
“But if two Evers decide they no longer want to be heartbonds, it doesn’t matter.” Tasia picked at the hem of her silk robe, same as the ones Amalyss and I wore, as she spoke. “The bond remains even if they both agree and go off to find other partners.”
“Which means they always have access to each other’s powers,” Amalyss said.
“And you two? You’re their children. Do you have both your father’s and your mother’s powers?”
“Father comes from a small Ever family with weak ties back to the first Ever. It’s typically the more dominant power that’s passed on.” Tasia opened her palm to reveal a faint green glow, similar to the one that Orin summoned in his private study. “It’s why we’re still considered Ferngloves.”
“Beyond power, though, there’s also the emotions to consider,” Amalyss mused, but she had an almost dreamy look to her expression. “Can you imagine? Being able to feel what your partner feels, sharing your truest desires with nothing more than a thought? You don’t have to be in love to form a heartbond, but if you are...”
Tasia’s exhale was soft. “Apparently there is no feeling like it. That’s how Mother describes it, anyway. It must be bliss.”
Bliss.I mulled over their words as the attendants returned with tea sandwiches and fruit. The girls picked at grapes and berries, and with each passing breath they relaxed. Their smiles came easy; their conversation shifted to lighter, more mundane things. And they often asked me questions about human customs, and for the first time since coming to Fernglove, I actually felt welcomed. Between attempting to cure Tasia and this conversation about dresses and heartbonds, I’d gained an ounce of trust.
My heart twisted with a familiar ache as my mind wandered to my brothers. These were the conversations we’d have over meals. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that sense of family and togetherness. I visited Noam and Nohr every night, finding what little solace I could in their even breaths. Hours would pass as I fixated on their blight and hoped, prayed, I’d be strong enough to stop its slow-moving progression. I’d been so focused on their survival that I’d buried the need for true familial connection deep. But now, as Amalyss, Tasia, and I finished our snack and our dresses were brought in, I couldn’t deny the budding joy in my chest.
As Tasia and Amalyss squealed over their dresses, running light fingers over the folds of fabric, it suddenly made sense to me why Orin insisted the silver fete go on as planned. His family could sit and fixate on the blight eating away at Mavis until she’d rotted away, or he could help them take solace in the little things. In the beauty of a new gown, in the joy of togetherness. The warmth he’d sparked in my chest grew. He was more caring than I’d realized, more perceptive about his family’s needs. He wanted them to enjoy every moment they could—and it felt like he wanted that for me, too, despite our working arrangement. Perhapsinspite of it. Grinning, I pushed out of my chair and joined Amalyss and Tasia before our dresses, eager to soak in their excitement.
Yet, as I met Vora’s gaze through the reflection in the mirror, all I could see was fear and dread. The stark, chilling contrast between her and the girls was enough to root me to the ground. Her stare held a warning that I couldn’t comprehend, and before I could excuse myself to ask her questions, Amalyss and Tasia had looped their arms through mine and were guiding me toward the changing screen. They dropped their robes in one fluid motion and stepped into their gowns, shimmying them up their bodies far enough to cover themselves before seeking the attendants’ help.
You’re allowed a moment.It was a small, quiet thought, but insistent nonetheless. I stared at my dress without moving. Vora’s eyes were still burning into me, even through the safety of the screen. Maybe she thought this fete was as ludicrous as Rorik suggested. Maybe she wanted me to get back to training. An indignant flame of irritation sparked in me. All I did was work for them. If Orin went to the trouble of creating this event for us to enjoy a break from reality, then I was entitled to that joy, too. I didn’t want to think about my brothers dying upstairs. About my shortening lifespan or my contract with the Ferngloves. Tonight, I wanted to be Edira Brillwyn of Willowfell.
I stepped into my gown and stepped out of my responsibilities, giving over fully to the giddy swell of excitement permeating from Amalyss’s and Tasia’s bodies. Vora said nothing else as she laced the back of my corset, and it wasn’t until she stepped away that I dared to look in the mirror.
“Edira,” Amalyss said, coming to stand beside me. Her sky-blue dress was dotted in tiny crystals that winked like stars. Tasia’s dress was the same, but in a richer deep violet that felt almost celestial. Together, they were the progression from dusk to night. And they were stunning.
Tasia grazed the airy fabric of my skirt. “You look beautiful.”
I stared at myself in the mirror. “I look like a garden.”
Both girls laughed, and then Amalyss smiled. “No, you look like an Ever.”
The corset bodice hugged my curves in a way no article of clothing had ever appreciated my body before. The boning was made to look like vines and stems that crawled toward my breasts and bloomed with delicate pale pink flowers that bordered on white. Strips of green fabric with appliqué leaves draped over my shoulders and moved liked the long strands of willow trees in the wind. The skirt fell to the floor, but it was featherlight against my skin. There was, undoubtedly, a certain earthy beauty to it, and since the layers of chiffon were all dyed in varying shades of green, Orin would be happy. And I would not acknowledge the thrilling sensation that wound through me at that thought.
“Come. Let’s finish your cosmetics. The silver fete awaits.” This time when Vora met my gaze, she’d schooled her conflicting emotions in place. I returned to my seat while she painted on makeup, and the attendants did the same for Amalyss and Tasia. Once finished, they lingered by the door, seemingly waiting for me to join them.
Vora brushed a translucent powder over my skin as a finaltouch, and she leaned closer under the guise of inspecting her work. Her fingers lingered on the crest on my forearm.
“Be careful.”
