Noam gave me one last sad smile, and then he and Lysa took off after Nohr. Amalyss and Tasia came around the table and offered me hugs of their own.
Amalyss lingered a touch longer. When she released me, her words were soft. “I know we’re not family, but...”
My throat bobbed. “You’re family. Thank you for watching after my brothers.” I looked from her to Tasia and prayed they could feel every ounce of love pouring from my body. “It means a lot to me.”
Once they left, I fell back into my chair with a groan. “They hate me.”
“Far from it,” Seville murmured. “Sometimes the hardest emotions to share—like love—come out in the most abrasive of ways. Doesn’t make it right, but...” She cast a furtive glance toward Rorik before meeting my stare again. “I wouldn’t hold it against him.”
The anger in me settled, and I nodded. “I won’t.”
“Well then.” She stood and grabbed the fabrics from her lap. “I’ll be in town for most of the day supervising our creations.”
“Enjoy,” I said as she walked out, leaving me alone with Rorik. He watched me carefully, his frame still tense.
“Are you all right?” he finally asked.
I waved him off. “Yes, I’m fine. This isn’t the first time Nohr and I have had a spat. We’ll figure it out later.”
“Good.” He pushed his plate away. “Because if you’re up to it, I think we should train.”
“Thank the gods. I’m tired of you holding back.”
He drilled his fingers against the table. “I’ve explained why I don’t want to do this. But I also think that we’re about to walk into a very dangerous place, and any power you have is an added benefit for your safety—so long as it’s a last resort.”
“I can agree to that,” I said through a grin.
“Let’s get to it, then.” He stood, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and then walked toward the door leading to the back lawns. I fell in line beside him and quietly drank in the tranquil morning. The trees rimming the clearing were just now beginning to drop their leaves, and half-barren limbs stretched toward the sky to soak up what they could from the sun’s rays. Birdsong coursed over the open fields, and I smiled to myself as we walked to the woods. We stopped at the tree line as a soft chittering lilted over the bird trills. I tilted my head to spy Ywena floating toward me on an errant breeze.
“Hey there. Are you enjoying yourself?” I extended my finger, and she happily perched on it. A lightness invaded Rorik’s expression, and I got to glimpse one of his rare, softer smiles.
Images of the sun cresting over the horizon and flowers opening to the day flowed into my mind. Then came the rush of a babbling brook and the startled look of a deer deep within the woods. Ywena had already done her rounds that morning, it seemed.
“We’re going to practice a bit. You’re welcome to stay.”
She kneaded her front legs against my skin for a few moments. Then she took off again, circling my head once before perching on the thick, moss-coated trunk of a nearby tree. She spread her wings flat against the bark and went still.
“Sunbathing it is,” I said with a chuckle.
“Always on the prowl for the perfect spot,” Rorik said. He nodded to the ground at the base of the tree. “Take a seat. I want to see what you can do without my hand-holding.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, trying and failing to ignore the smirk on his face. Sinking to the earth, I closed my eyes and steadied myself with several deep breaths. My threadmending magic came easy; it always had. My Fernglove magic was slower to react, but it came just the same. I imagined them like the threads I so often saw—one moonlit and dazzling like the everjewels the Evers coveted, and the other a sparkling resplendent gold. Fernglove magic itself often manifested with particles of green, but this power was a gift from Rorik. A by-product of our golden heartbond. It felt right to honor that, even if it was just within the confines of my mind.
I willed the two magics to twine together, to form a bond so strong that it couldn’t be split. They spun faster and faster in my mind, picking up speed with every breath, until I couldn’t tell them apart anymore. Until they’d finally, beautifully, blended into one gilded ribbon of pure magic that pulsed with the ethereal glow of the moon.
I gripped it tight.
My eyes flew open in time to see that my fingertips were ensconced in their signature glow, but there was an unmistakable shimmer to the air around my hands. Thousands of golden flecks hung like stars in the misty expanse. The moment I tried to focus on that, though, the power fled, and I slumped forward as exhaustion slammed into my bones. I groaned as an immediate ache threaded through my muscles.
“You keep trying to run before you can walk.” He sat in front of me with his knees against mine.
I nudged him. “That’s your fault. You’re the one who drilled running into my brain. It’s muscle memory at this point.”
He chuckled. “Still, I’m glad the magic is getting easier to access.”
Because we’d touched more in recent days than ever before. Because Lydia had been right about the effects of physicality and our bond. But I didn’t dare say that out loud. Not while Rorik was looking at me without an ounce of trepidation for once.
“That said, it’s probably best if we keep our heartbond a secret at the fete. You’re supposed to be sick and powerless, remember?” He dipped his head toward me and grinned.
