“I forgive you, Rorik.” I wanted him to hear the words spoken out loud so we could put an end to the maelstrom of grief plaguing our bond. I also needed to feel the weight of those words on my tongue, to measure whether I was truly ready to move on. And I was. Rorik’s actions, as misguided and horrific as they were, had been entirely orchestrated by Orin. I’d nearly lost my brothers because of them, but Rorik had been powerless to stop Orin’s rule. Still, the more I sat with the weightlessness and relief that came with reconciliation, the easier it was for me to remember everything else he did to try to save me from the nightmare Orin had devised.
I wouldn’t have survived without Rorik.
Gently, I cupped the side of his face and angled him toward me. His gaze was thick with emotion, and a tendon flexed in his jaw. So much raced through his stare that it was impossible to catalog it all—even more so because, at that moment, he’d sealed his feelings away behind an impenetrable wall at his end of our heartbond. It was so sudden and staunch that it left me reeling, and a chill swept down my spine.
“You should’ve stayed away.” Rorik’s throat bobbed as he scooted out of our comfortable cocoon, and then he simply stood up and walked away. I blinked at his retreating form while anger and frustration raged in my mind.
Why?What just happened?Why just... walk away?I sent every ounce of my irritation down our bond, trying in vain to break down the icy exterior he’d erected on his end, but it didn’t even shudder under my wrath. All I could do was fume alone.
Gritting my teeth, I flopped onto my back and glared at the evening sky, headache now on full blast. He was such an ass. I’d known it from the start, but something about this exchange felt different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it reminded me of those unnamed emotions quietly snaking down our heartbond. I could never pin them down. Just like Rorik. Exhaustion tugged at my senses, and I blew out a long breath. A twisting pain spiraled down my neck and infiltrated the muscles Rorik had just loosened. I couldn’t help but wince. Maybe it wasn’t the magic feeding the aches in my bones, but the wielder himself.
Eleven
Irested for a full day, yet every minute felt like punishment. Anxiety had crawled beneath my skin with the restlessness of an ant mill, perpetually spiraling with no end in sight. Hundreds of tiny legs scratched at my insides, and the feeling only worsened as time crept on. The only way out of an ant mill was death. But that wouldn’t be my fate, not yet. I itched to get back to training, to harness the magic I’d unearthed with Rorik. Even now, it was coiled painfully tight in my core, just waiting to be summoned, and I wanted to see what it could do.
I wanted to see what I could do.
I wanted to see if I could summon my threads and coat them in Ever magic like I’d done all those months ago. I wanted to chase away the chill in my bones and wrest control from Death’s grasp. And maybe I was arrogant—likely Rorik’s fault, with his asinine emotions mingling with mine down our heartbond—but I felt like I could save myself. Maybe I could find a way to help the Ferngloves stop their blight from spreading, too. I just had to find out where to start.
The next morning, I practically dragged Rorik from his study to the pristine lawns outside. Soft light bathed the earth in an ethereal glow, and dew glinted like minuscule diamonds across the blades of grass. The rolling fields appeared to be studded with gems, and only a few birds had risen from their nests to greet the sun with tentative, lilting calls. Crisp air ruffled the loose braid across my shoulder, and gooseflesh rippled up my neck. Rorik watched me closely, without an ounce of emotion in his hardened facade.
“I was hoping you’d sleep in,” he drawled.
“I’ve done enough resting.” I shifted my weight and settled into one hip, delivering Rorik what I hoped was a look of disdain. The anxiety creeping through my veins had fizzled out at the prospect of training, of mastering my power. And, despite my lack of sleep, there was only the barest murmur of a headache simmering behind my eyes.
“I see.” His gaze flickered over me, and he paused when he met my eyes. His next words were softer. “Long night? Any more aches? Pains?”
“Outside of the one you’re giving me right now with this line of questioning? No.” I scowled at him, knowing full well he’d use any whisper of an ailment to postpone our work. “Training is exactly what I need to be doing to prevent all of that from happening, by the way.”
“So says you and Seville, but neither of you have any proof.” Rorik lifted a shoulder. “Using my magic could just as easily drain you instead of bolster you.”
“Then we go until I’m tired.”
Rorik frowned. “It’s just after dawn. The attendants haven’t even started breakfast yet. Why don’t we wait to eat first?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Edira—”
“Don’t.” I glared at him. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I need to dosomething. Anything.”
His eyes narrowed as he shook his head. “I understand more than you know about wanting control.”
At that, the indignation brewing within me was effectively doused. Of course he knew about facing an impossible fate. Orin’s evervow had been no more escapable than death. Until I came along, anyway. My chest loosened, and I tipped my head to the sky to let out a long, calming exhale. When I rounded my gaze back on him, some of the tension in his frame had dissipated.
“Seems like we could both use an outlet of sorts this morning,” I said. It was an apology without actually apologizing, and Rorik merely rolled his eyes.
“The only thing I need is a day free of the stress and anxiety that follow you around like flies,” he said as the hint of a smirk teased his lips.
“Ever think you might be the source of your own problems instead of me?”
“Maybe save the character analysis for after a day’s worth of meals and several glasses of alcohol.” He reached out with one finger and lifted my chin toward his face. “But you might be right. It feels like we could both benefit fromsomething.”
I balked and batted his hand away. “That’s not the kind of activity I had in mind.”
“Isn’t it, though?” He pointedly dropped his gaze to my chest, pinpointing my traitorous, cantering heartbeat.
Heat bloomed across my cheeks, and I shoved him. He didn’t move. “You are so infuriating.”
