And then she straightened, plastering on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I stared at her for a long moment, uncertain what to say, until Ywena fluttered off her shoulder to return to the crook of my neck. The gentle feel of her limbs was reassuring, and I nodded once.
“Shall we?” I stood and crossed the room to Amalyss and Tasia, and together we made our way through Fernglove Manor toward the fete outside.
Fourteen
Seville had outdone herself. The back lawns had been transformed into a scene out of a book. Gossamer canopies stretched across the space like low-hanging clouds, and chandeliers covered in glittering crystals hung from the wooden rafters of the structures. The gardens had been dressed in twinkling tea lights, the fountain adorned with lilies and floating candles encased in glass. Tables overflowed with an abundance of food, and there was upbeat music from a quartet stationed near an actual fountain of wine. A short distance away was a makeshift dance floor with shined wooden floorboards arranged in a perfect square beneath a pergola draped in ivy. Amber orbs cradled by vines hung at varying heights, and a magical glow hummed from their centers to cast the space in a warm light.
All at once I understood why the townsfolk always fell over themselves just to speak with an Ever. This unbridled revelry and beauty... They wanted to drink it in.
Iwanted to drink it in.
Amalyss and Tasia immediately strolled toward their parents when we approached, and while I’d gained their favor, I couldn’t say the same for Clesian and Lydia. Rather than test my luck, I wandered to a table laden with beverages. An attendant was quick to hand me a glass with a polite nod before busying herself with other patrons.
“Thank you,” I said. The pleasing taste of dark cherries and herbs coursed over my tongue as I took a sip and strolled aimlessly toward the throng of people. I recognized a handful of elders and their families, and I was stunned to see them dressed so ostentatiously. Mrs.Marlow must’ve made a fortune from all their attire. It was so drastically different from what they normally wore. Every possible hue and shade from the rainbow were displayed in their fine clothing, and a few of them had gone so far as to add feathers, wings, or ribbonlike tails to their attire, as if they were trying to make themselves look more like Evers. Still, they didn’t move with the same animalistic grace as the immortals. A handful of townsfolk had taken to the dance floor, but most lingered by the food and drink.
My mouth parted when I saw Lysa standing beside her father. She was wearing a silken champagne gown with ivory rosebuds lining her frame, and it clung to her every curve. A wreath of flowers sat atop her curled hair. Her gaze met mine, eyes widening temporarily in shock, and then a grin split her face and she rushed toward me.
“Edira!” She threw her arms around my neck, sending Ywena in a flurry to the top of my head, and hugged me tight. “I’ve missed you!”
My hands fluttered aimlessly for a moment until I settled with a light pat between her shoulders. “Hey, Lysa. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful. The silver fete. Can you believe it?” Lysa released me, and she watched with awe as Ywena returned to her usual perch. “What’s it been like? You have to tell meeverything.”
“It’s been fine.” I didn’t really know what else to say, but I did understand her curiosity. The townsfolk didn’t visit Fernglove without invitation. Outside of the silver fete, their knowledge of the manor and its inhabitants was limited.
“Did Noam and Nohr come with you?” Lysa asked as she glanced past me to the house. “I was hoping to see them tonight.”
The lingering taste of wine soured in my mouth. She didn’t know. I guess I didn’t expect her to—it wasn’t like I’d shared their condition with Mrs.Marlow while I was in town, and it wasn’t the Ferngloves’ place to discuss my family’s problems. And I wasn’t sure I wanted them to. Tonight was supposed to be a breath. A moment for me to escape the horrid predicament I’d found myself in. I didn’t want to think about blight. I wanted to just... be.
But a part of me softened at her question. Here she was, dressed like a goddess and poised for an Ever to claim as theirs—no doubt as her father intended and likely hoped for—and she was asking about my brothers. About Noam.
“They’re traveling overseas.” I plastered on a fake smile. “An old family friend reached out and invited them to join him. He’s a traveling merchant.”
“Oh.” Her eyes fell. She snagged her lower lip with her teeth for a moment, then turned, securing a glass of wine from a passing attendant. With one easy movement, she drank half of it, then cleared her throat. With a bright smile, she said lightly, “I expected there to be more Evers.”
I thought back to the bloodlines and Orin’s call for a more peaceful way forward among the Ever families. “Maybe there will be more next time.”
“That would be something to see,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “My grandparents remember a time when all sorts of Evers came and stayed with the Ferngloves for the fete. But I assume drama between immortals lasts lifetimes. My father says the feuds between the houses are catastrophic.” Eyes alight with joy fromsharing gossip, she took another quick sip of her wine. “I personally think that’s why so many townsfolk are here. Obviously this is my first fete, so I can’t compare. I’m just grateful for the opportunity.”
I scoured the crowd until I spied Briar standing near Flix and Issa, his gaze locked on the night sky. Perhaps the Starglens would be the first of many to set aside old disputes. But before I could chat more with Lysa, her father called for her, and she gave me another tight squeeze.
“I’ll come find you later. Or tomorrow! I have a different gown, you justhaveto see it. This is so exciting!”
I smiled to myself as she strolled away, only to be halted by the son of a different town elder. Normally Broderick would’ve been a perfect suitor for Lysa—he was tall with dark hair and handsome brown eyes. Freckles dusted his broad nose, and twin dimples burrowed deep into his cheeks. But he wasn’t an Ever. I doubted Lysa’s father would let her linger for too long.
Taking another long sip of wine, I turned back toward the clearing reserved for dancing. A breath skated along the shell of my ear, followed by a whisper full of heat. “Enjoying the view?”
I spun around to find Rorik bent over, a devilish grin pulling at his lips, and he chuckled darkly as he straightened. Of course, Ywena shocked me, which only deepened his laugh as he watched me adjust. I was about to open my mouth and chastise him for yet again scaring me instead of saying hello, but the words died on my tongue.
Rorik wassinister. There was no other word for the dark beauty that he exuded. He was mostly dressed in liquid-black clothing that shifted like water when he moved, but all the edges were trimmed in golden thread that shined as bright as polished metal. The cuffs of his sleeves were folded over, and the underside of the fabric was gilded silk that was as reflective as mirrors. His burnished hair was dusted with golden foil, and smears of goldpaint had been dragged across his cheeks, halting just before his lips. He’d even swapped the onyx dermal piercings on his brow for shined gold.
His attire was alluring, but his Ever features... Gods. Sable horns with sharpened points had pushed through his forehead, just beneath his hairline. His eyes were beetle black without a trace of white to be found. But what stole my focus were his wings. They were massive, sprouting beneath his shoulders to fall to the backs of his heels. The outer shells were black, but the insides were a resplendent gold, and they twitched twice as I marveled at their captivating sheen.
He was danger incarnate. Even the way he loosely cradled his crystal goblet, as if he couldn’t be bothered to hold it properly, felt alarming. Like at any moment he’d crack it against a stone and use the broken shards as weapons.
What I would have done to him if I didn’t loathe the time we spent together.
“Dance with me,” he said after draining the rest of his wine. His lips were stained from the ruby-red liquid, and I couldn’t help but fantasize about what they’d taste like.
