“Semantics,” I bit back.
“Come on. I’m carrying you.” He didn’t bother with his shirt, only his pants, and then moved toward me.
I backstepped out of his reach. “Excuse me, what?”
“Don’t test me, Edira,” he growled. Then he ran his hand down his face. “Please.”
His voice cracked, and with it went my stubborn resolve. I nodded and let him scoop me into his arms. I ignored how perfectly I seemed to fit in his hold, how even with the cold water from our bodies seeping into my clothing, I felt warm. His fingers pressed tightly against me, and then he was running.
I thought I’d run fast before, but I’d been so very, very wrong. Rorik moved through the forest with uncanny speed, and the brisk air was a harsh slap of cold against my already tender skin. I burrowed further into his chest and felt his grip deepen. Still, he didn’t let up. He barreled through the woods like an arrow let loose from its bow, and if a tree or branch dared to get in his path, he shoved it to the side with his magic. His glamour stripped away as the wind tore through us, and once the network of branches above our heads had cleared enough for us to see the sky, he launched into the air.
Flying. We were flying. A startled gasp flew from my lips as the world fell out from under us. His hardened forewings snapped out behind him with a resounding clap, and then the hindwings buzzed to life. Shimmery gold and near translucent, they moved at an impossible speed and propelled us forward, and if my added weight affected Rorik at all, he didn’t show it. We raced above treetops, their heads like the pinpoint of needles beneath our feet.
It was magnificent. If circumstances had been different, I would’ve set my pride to the side and pleaded with Rorik to fly me through the air for hours. Knowing him, he would’ve done it just to see me beg. But his eyes were locked on Fernglove Manor, his expression already shifting to one of bored indifference and dangerous nonchalance. His preferred mask. He wore it with such efficiency that even now, seeing him slip so easily behind that carefully constructed facade gave me pause.
You still with me?I thought quietly, not wanting to distract him from flying and send us spiraling to our deaths from this height.
Rorik’s eyes softened a fraction, but his grip on my thighs did not.Of course.Then he shut me out completely, leaving me cold and alone in the shared consciousness that our heartbond provided.
Within minutes, we were at the manor. We descended with ease, and he gently placed me on the ground before calling back his wings and replacing his glamour. The moment my feet hit the stone steps, the front doors swung open, and Seville was standing there with her own tight look of unease. Her lips were pinched into a fine line, and her stare was sharper than glass. She took one look at my damp shirt and his bare chest and mumbled something beneath her breath about “horrid timing.” But other than that, she simply ushered us in. She and Rorik shared a private look as attendants moved silently through the foyer. Rorik signaled one, and they rushed away only to return with a fresh shirt for Rorik and a knit cardigan for me.
“She’s in the library,” Seville said.
“Who is she?” Rorik buttoned his shirt quickly and then was off, Seville and me following close behind.
“She won’t say until you’re present. I have her with Lydia and Clesian now. I sent the girls to their room.” Seville cast a quick look upstairs. I doubted that would keep Amalyss and Tasia from eavesdropping.
“How did you not notice her? Back in Willowfell?” Rorik hissed.
Seville averted her gaze, but her lips curled back in a snarl. “I’m not sure.”
“What does she want?” I asked as I adjusted the hem of my moss-green sweater.
Seville glanced at me, then Rorik. “You haven’t told her?”
Warning bells crashed in my ears. “Told me what?”
“Not now,” Rorik growled.
I swear to the fucking gods, if this has to do with me and you haven’t told me, I will end you,I practically screamed down our bond. I wasn’t sure if he would hear me, but he shot me a glare that told me my words must have slipped through some small crack.
We passed into the library where Lydia and Clesian were seated on the couch, their own frames tense and their tea untouched and cooling on the coffee table before them. The woman was standing before one of the shelves and aimlessly dragging her fingers along the bindings. She hummed softly as she moved, not at all perturbed by the tension that sat heavy in the air. As we came to a stop before the table, I was once again struck by her beauty. It seemed effortless, like it was simply a natural extension of her. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware of it. Her lips curved in a smile, and her eyes crinkled as she gave me a teasing finger wave.
“Hello there.” She gave up on her perusing of the shelves and rounded on us fully. “You left before I could properly introduce myself the other day.”
“I believe you were the one who left,” I said. She’d disappeared so easily into the crowd. At least here she’d have a harder time slipping away. I doubted Rorik would ever let her.
“Go on and introduce yourself, then.” Rorik shifted from one foot to the other, and he cast a disinterested look to the windows. He played at unbothered, unwilling to give this Ever the full weight of his attention. “We all have things to do.”
“Rorik, is it?” Her gaze sharpened. “I must say, you do share a striking resemblance to him.”
Rorik didn’t react, but Lydia and Clesian stiffened on the couch, and their stares fixated on the Ever with a dawning sense of understanding. Even Seville’s eyes narrowed as she carefully, precisely, placed one hand on her hip. Seville’s entire stance was a dare. An invitation to this Ever to try to cross whatever invisible line she’d just constructed with her words. And the Ever woman seemed to sense it, because she let her gaze shift to Seville.
“I’ve heard rumors of your beauty and your temper from many Evers who’ve graced our halls.” Her gaze roved the length of Seville’s body, and then she chuckled to herself. “At least one of those things has proven to be true. I do hope the other is as well.”
“Your name,” Seville bit out.
“Ah, yes.” The Ever sank into one of the armchairs and let out a soft groan. “My name is Kara. And by the looks you all are giving me, I assume you’ve deduced that I’m here on behalf of the Embergrave house.”
