His kiss lingered on my mind far longer than I anticipated, and as I sat in the stall beside a slumbering Zota—his snores were the perfect, soothing backdrop to the quiet chirps of insects—I turned over the possibility of sharing a heartbond with Orin. There were worse things in the world than being tied to him. It was strange to think that not too long ago I’d flinched at the idea of being seen with Seville at market. Now I was contemplating permanently tying myself to her brother.
My body protested as I stood, but I couldn’t sit any longer. While I’d learned how to better grapple with the consequences of threadmending over the past several weeks, there was still an undercurrent of pain that accompanied each step I took. The only thing that somewhat alleviated it was managing my breath. At least Rorik had finally taught me something useful. As I willed my heartbeat to slow, the pain ebbed away. I’d become mindful of where my oxygen was going, diverting it to the places where my body ached most.
I crept along the quiet paths of the courtyard, moving without really thinking about anything beyond bathing and then falling into bed. When I opened the door, the house was eerily quiet, the halls devoid of sound and movement. The few candles that were still lit suggested that most had turned in for the night, and there were more shadows spilling across the polished floors than bright spots. As I moved through the darkness, a low growl rumbled through the air. My gaze snapped toward a thin shaft of harsh light cutting across the floor. Orin’s study.
“I told you to dispose of them,” Orin seethed. The heat and ire in his words were so uncharacteristic that I couldn’t bring myself to move. Curiosity and dread had rooted me to the ground like the great ancestor tree outside.
“I did,” Rorik said. Footsteps sounded, and then chair legs scraped against the floorboards, as if someone was taking a seat. “Dispose. Not kill.”
Orin slammed his hands on his desk, and I heard the angry rush of scattered papers being tossed into the air. “It was implied.”
“Implications are more like suggestions. I only do what you force me to do.” Rorik’s bored voice carried easily, and I couldn’t help but picture him lazily leaning into his seat with his head tipped to the ceiling. “Zelyria and Briar are long gone. Jules, too. She caught wind of their whereabouts after her outburst here. Is this why you summoned me?”
Shock nearly caused me to gasp, but I caught myself before my breathing could stutter. I hadn’t seen Briar’s and Zelyria’s deaths, just assumed them, but Rorik had let them go. A strange, unexpected warmth stemmed from my chest.
“Jules caught wind.”The words were scathing as they dripped from Orin’s lips. “No doubt you were responsible for that, too. You deliberately defied me. I wouldn’t have even known had Ossanna not seen them crossing her lands.”
Magic rolled from the study in palpable waves that filled the hall, and I instinctively slowed my breathing to just the shallowest, most infrequent cadence. I was hidden in shadows, obscured by the statues and potted plants. I made no sound. No movement. I’d never felt something so heady, so all-consuming, as Orin’s power. It was smothering in its oppressiveness, and it hung in the air like a summer storm about to unload. Warning bells crashed in my ears. If this was just the surface of his magic, could I even handle it? Could I even become his heartbond, welcome his power into my body, and use it to help my family?
“Ossanna,” Rorik scoffed. “What a nuisance. Still, she doesn’t concern me.”
“Don’t test me, Rorik.” Orin’s voice was deadly calm. “There’s too much at stake.”
The conversation stalled, and I was about to leave in case one of them caught me eavesdropping when Ywena suddenly started. She’d been still against my collarbone until then, but now was craning her head in the direction of the door. She let out the faintest chitter—a quiet creak that could’ve been the house settling in for the night. Then she flattened herself to my chest, as if telling me to stay put.
Rorik’s voice seemed a touch louder than before. “Testing you is my favorite pastime. Even Father couldn’t put a stop to that.”
A low growl simmered through the air. “His evervow was meant to protect us, and yet you still find ways to put us at risk just to spite him. Think before you act, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
“No, you won’t.” Someone stood then and moved before the door. Rorik. His broad back filled the small crack, but I could just glimpse the fringes of his burnished locks. The heat of his words filled the hall. “You know you can’t do that.”
“One day, I will find a way around it,” Orin said.
A chill crept down my spine at Orin’s words. He spoke them with such lethal surety that it took me a moment to process what he said. An evervow? Left by their father? What did it even entail? And why?
Rorik chuckled darkly. “We’ll see.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. This conversation felt far too personal, steeped in too much history. I could still taste Orin’s barely contained rage in the air. A shiver ran across my skin as I slowly inched away, and Orin’s insult trailed after me.
“Go back to your insects and the filth they live in. It suits you.”
My heart thudded in my ears, but my feet didn’t make a sound.Even my breath was nothing more than an errant current drifting through the house from one of the many open windows. I willed myself to stay calm, to keep moving and remain out of sight until I reached the safe confines of my quarters. But just as I rounded the stairs and was about to let out a sigh of relief, a glimmer of pale skin and the whisper of light feet over the carpeted runner made me freeze in place.
But there was nothing, no one, to be found.
Fuck this house.If it wasn’t some Ever’s magic rooting me to the floor, it was a spirit flying through the halls. Had anyone here ever known peace? Quiet? Ease? I seriously doubted it. After staring into nothing for a solid minute and confirming that I was, in fact, alone in the hall, I crept up the stairs and made a beeline for my room.
I closed the door and locked it, though I doubted that mattered.
I bathed quickly and then dragged myself to bed. Thankfully, sleep took me swiftly. I dreamed of Zota’s desiccated body covered in golden beetles. Of a tar-black thread of blight binding Orin and Rorik to the decaying manor at their backs. Of Seville’s haughty laugh and the whisper of the wordevervowthat came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Of a ghost with billowing clothes and heavy eyes that wormed into my very soul.
And me drowning in the chaos of it all but powerless to save anyone. Including myself.
Twenty
The next morning, I sat alone in Zota’s stall, picking at a muffin laden with blueberries and sugar. Orin was already awake and working when I stopped by his study, and he promised to join me the moment he wrapped up a letter he was penning. Before I left, he’d pinpointed his gaze on some indistinct spot, and a rush of warm magic had filled the space. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and then Orin nodded. He’d removed Zota’s glamour so I could study his threads, but he begged me to wait for any actual threadmending. Even so, I had yet to ignite my power. Instead, I just sat. Everything was quiet. The manor. The lawns. The stables. Fernglove was holding its breath, waiting to see what I’d do next. And I didn’t know.
Before checking on Orin and grabbing breakfast, I’d stopped by my brothers’ quarters to once again find that their blight was accelerating. More wounds, more damning pustules, more rivers of black sludge in their veins. Their pale skin was glossy and damp, as if they’d freshly bathed, but I knew better. Their bodies were cooking them alive. I checked on their threads, too, and I wasn’tsurprised to find them limp and covered in tar, loosely writhing about their frames.
