I’ll show Rorik what I can do.
Wiping the last of my quick breakfast off my lips, I knocked softly on Orin’s door.
“Come in,” he called over the shuffling of papers.
I breezed into the room like I’d seen Seville do, claiming the space with each footstep as I moved toward Orin. His eyes widened as he looked up from his stack of papers and absently let his pen fall to the desk. We hadn’t set a time for our work, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel his arms around me. Orin leaned back in his chair as I rounded his desk, and without waiting for him to speak, I climbed atop his lap and grabbed his face with both hands. My mouth was on his in an instant, and his lips parted easily as my tongue twined with his. Every inch of my skin lit up as I pressed myself closer.
He moaned and gripped my hips tight, only pulling away after nipping at my bottom lip. “To what do I owe this greeting?”
“Call it excitement for what today could bring.” I peppered the length of his throat with light kisses. Rolling my hips into his, I sat back and smiled down at him as heat flared in his green eyes.
“How am I supposed to focus when I’ll be thinking of this all day?” He palmed my cheek, then let his hand fall to the nape of my neck where his fingers wove through my hair. With restrained force, he guided my mouth to his and held me there, a breath away from pleasure.
Warmth pooled in my lower abdomen at the thought of being with him. Ywena’s shocks weren’t enough to curb my want, either, but Orin’s gaze slid to her as he dragged his lips across mine. Annoyance raced through his expression. It was there and gone in a flash, leaving behind a tremor of something heated and dangerous. With soft fingers, I smoothed an errant tendon feathering down his jaw.
“Are you all right?”
He sighed, but his smile was genuine. “Yes. I just hope that when the time comes, we won’t have an audience.” Tilting his head slightly, he nodded toward Ywena.
Nicking his ear with my teeth, I whispered, “You can send her away.”
“Of course I could.” His pleased growl simmered from somewhere deep in his chest. “But the stags are already waiting.”
“Later then,” I mused, masking my disappointment with the same efficiency I used to regain control of my breath. My heartbeat.
Orin held my stare. “Absolutely.”
He eased to his feet, sweeping me up with him, before placing a kiss on my forehead and setting me on the ground. He never let go of my hand. A mixture of excitement and fear fused in my core, sending a strange, electric sensation purling through my limbs.The old me would’ve avoided threadmending like the death sentence that it was. But Edira of Fernglove? I squeezed Orin’s fingers, my body brimming with a confidence only he could give. She had power.
And I would be the one to put an end to blight.
We made our way out of the study together. We didn’t bother to speak to Lydia or Clesian as they stood in the parlor with their daughters. They must’ve known what was about to happen. Their stares were hungry, but layered beneath was a thread of hope I recognized all too well, for it was the same ribbon unfurling in my veins. I inclined my head to Amalyss and Tasia by way of greeting. If I decided to be kind enough to cure anyone in this household beyond Mavis, it would be them.
And Orin.
Rorik’s tight expression flashed in my mind, and I quickly pushed it away. I was ready. I would be everything he didn’t think I could be.
The morning lawns were quiet, the woods still. The very air around us seemed to hold its breath as we came upon the stables. The farmhands were nowhere to be found, but the creatures were fed, their stalls pristinely cleaned. Like the rest of the estate’s residents, the beasts watched us approach with an intense focus full of anticipation. Orin unlatched the wooden pen door leading to a lone stag, standing tall over a heaping mound of hay.
The beast looked as magnificent as it had the day it’d pulled the carriage toward Fernglove Estate. Easily twenty hands tall, it peered at me with glowing pale eyes. Its rack was massive and covered in ivy that seemed to sprout from the base of each horn. I ached to run my fingers along its mossy hide, to lightly touch the flowers blooming between tufts of fur. By all accounts, it seemed healthy.
“This is Zotakoss. He’s one of the magical beasts we’ve been able to domesticate.” Orin reached for the beast and placed a softhand on its snout. “You can call him Zota for short. He has been with us for many years.”
Zota chuffed in response. Steam curled from his nostrils and intermingled with the dripping strands of foliage wreathing his head like a mane.
“Hello, Zota.” I extended my hand and let it hover in the space before his snout.
His focus swiveled to me, and he inhaled deeply before thrusting his nose against my fingers. A smile claimed my lips as I gently pet the length of his muzzle.
“He won’t startle easily. Oh, and here’s this.” Orin slipped a hand into one of the pockets of his trousers, extracting a small, shallow jar full of an off-white cream. “One of the concoctions you wanted to try.”
I grinned as I took it and untwisted the lid. I was hit with the familiar scent of one of my tinctures for pain relief and a foreign, floral scent. Ground petals from a white tear flower, a special bloom that grew in response to Evers using earthly magic. Fortunately, the Ferngloves were at the forefront on that ability, and Orin had easily coaxed one from the earth under the light of the moon just the night before.
“Thank you,” I said as I coated my hands in the balm and let it soak into my skin. I hoped it would lessen the effect of blight’s ailments as I mended Zota’s threads.
“Just take your time and begin whenever you’re ready.” Orin retreated a few steps to lean against the wood paneling of Zota’s stall. Crossing his arms, he nodded once to the creature before shifting his attention to the space where my hands hovered near Zota’s snout.
I leaned in close and spoke softly against his nose. “I’m going to try and help you.”
