“Well.” I made a show of leaning to the side, where I most definitely did not examine his backside. “Hard to say. There’s not much to work with.”
“I see.” With a shake of his head, he sighed and then sank to the ground. He patted the space beside him, and I obliged, sitting so I could face him. “I am sorry, though. There’s... a lot happening down this heartbond of ours, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I said. “Is it always this contentious for everyone?”
“I wouldn’t know. Never had one before. And Lydia and Clesian are sickeningly in love, so their opinion on the matter is somewhat skewed.”
“They are, aren’t they?” I mused as I stared at the sky. Puffy white clouds crept along the blue expanse, momentarily obscuring the sun and casting the world in shadow. “Seville said she’d help me confront Death.”
Rorik grimaced. “I don’t want Seville tracking him down, either.”
I sighed. “You can’t control what she does any more than you can control what I do. Seville wants to live without the weight of blight. If there’s a way to stop it, she’s going to try.”
“And likely cause major fallout in the process.” Rorik ran a hand through his hair and tugged on the ends.
“The only other hope is to keep training with me.”
“That is not a solution.”
Leaning forward, I gripped his hand in mind. “Rorik, how many threads do I have left?”
He stilled. “I told you. Not enough.”
“It’s not your magic that made them disappear,” I said gently. “It’s what I did the day I killed Orin. And I don’t regret doing that for a second.” His fingers flexed against mine, but I didn’t release him from my grip. “I was fine back in Willowfell, but I wasn’t better. I’ll never be better. Sitting around leading a boring, peaceful life won’t bring back what I lost. So, I want—no, I need you to understand.”
I paused long enough for him to round his dark stare on me.
“I will not stop trying. With or without you, I will master this magic and I will face Death on my terms. I refuse to sit around and wait to slowly wither away. I’m going to live my life the way I want to.”
“How do you not see the flaw with this plan?” Rorik asked. He yanked on my hand so I was forced to lean closer, mere inches away from his face. His eyes roved over my features, searching. Begging. “You’re putting your life on the line for a hope with no proof that it will work. What if my magic doesn’t protect your threads? What if you face Death and he injures you beyond repair? What little you have left will be gone. You’ll be gone.” His nose brushed against mine. “I cannot have that.”
His eyes slipped closed for a moment and he breathed me in. And then he squeezed my fingers once and let me go. Slowly, he got to his feet but quickly stiffened with a scowl.
“She’s here.” He nodded toward the entrance of the manor, where Kara was standing with her back to the doors and staring at us. “Let’s go.”
Sixteen
By the time we got to the steps, Seville was standing there with Kara, her lips pursed into a fine line. She didn’t invite Kara inside. I doubted Rorik would, either. Weak midmorning sunlight failed to warm the crisp fall air. It would still be months before the first snow stuck to the ground and the trees would dump their golden-brown leaves, but the turn of the season was inevitable. So was this meeting.
Rorik slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I’m assuming you want to know if we’ll attend the fete.”
“Yes.” She grinned, and mischief swirled in the depths of her dark eyes. “I mean, if you plan on declining, that will definitely complicate things.”
My stomach hardened as I waited for Rorik to respond. Nothing down our heartbond. No crack in his perfectly constructed, nonchalant expression. He couldn’t say no. He wouldn’t. I needed a way into that manor. I needed that blade.
“If you need some inspiration for making the right decision, I can remind you that Lord Embergrave is acutely aware of your threadmender’s whereabouts. Oh, and not just her whereabouts, of course.” Kara gave a whimsical sigh as she looked over the quiet lawns. With an easy flick of two fingers, she indicated over her shoulder in the direction of Willowfell. “She has two brothers, no? They’re strapping young men. While not to my particular liking, they might be of interest to several Evers within the Embergrave estate.”
My vision tunneled to her as blood rushed to my fingers. Noam. Nohr. My hands curled into fists. I’d finally,finally,saved them from blight and kept them away from the antics of Evers. She would not be the one to drag them back. Rorik must have felt the fury pumping through my veins, because there was a tender, yet insistent, poke in my consciousness.
Don’t.His voice was rich with the same ire I felt, but one look at his bored demeanor revealed nothing.They won’t get to Noam and Nohr. I promise.
I couldn’t bring myself to respond, but I let my hands slacken by my sides.
“A fact anyone could have deduced by simply visiting Willowfell,” Rorik said with a sigh. The detached calm in his voice was so artfully delivered that, if not for our heartbond, I would’ve believed he didn’t care two shits about my family. “Still, no need for empty threats. We’ll attend the fete, but only if our accommodations allow us to stay together.” If we were to stay at Embergrave Manor, I knew Rorik wouldn’t budge on this. Undoubtedly, he wanted one location to secure, not to have me or Seville placed in some random room far away from him.
Thankfully, Kara didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “That can be arranged. I’ll let Lord Embergrave know.” She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Oh, and don’t forget the theme, and do prepare your threadmender ahead of time for what to expect. Lord Embergrave will not tolerate a scene.”
Rorik’s lips twitched, but he hid it quickly with a lazy grin. “Of course.”
