After several moments, she asked, “Why?”
So that I can live,I thought.
“To stop blight once and for all,” I said instead. Both could be true. Ossanna didn’t need to know my motivation—that would never sway her. But if there was a chance that we could eradicate blight, grant her children the happy, healthy lives she so desperately wanted them to have, then she might be moved to share her family secret.
“Evers have certainly tried,” she said, studying me closely, “but never a threadmender. I take it you know how to summon him?”
Seville nodded. “We just ask that you keep this plan between us.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. Obviously Ossanna would know what we would need if we were going after Death; she could easily go to Zeverin and let him know of our intentions, effectively putting an end to our heist. Sharing our plans with her was a risk. Ossanna set her food down and braided her fingers together. Her stare slanted to Rorik. Then me.
“And what if you fail?”
“Then you’re not out anything,” I said, taking a step forward. “You’ve told me a secret, and when I die, I’ll take it with me.”
Rorik let out a low hiss.I hate this,he thought, his words flowing down our bond.
I won’t die,I answered. I hoped he believed me.
Ossanna narrowed her eyes as she studied the three of us. “I suppose that’s true,” Ossanna said, reclaiming her food. “And if you succeed, then the health of my children is worth the price of that secret tenfold.”
Seville’s shoulders slackened, and she leaned back in her chair. “Tell us how to get to him, then.”
“It’s quite simple, really.” She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Then she held out her hand palm up and summoned a tiny sphere of churning blue water. The scent of mist and rain filled the space. “What is water but the very current of life? Nearing its end, it streams toward death.” Four separate rivers split off from the sphere and fell over her hand. The streams trickled to the floor, but before they could spill across the carpeted rug beneath our feet, they suddenly shifted directions and converged together.
“There are hundreds of crossroads in Glaes, but only one where four quiet brooks defy the very rotation of our world,” Ossanna continued, her eyes full of respect as she studied the current of her magic. “They converge in an underground cavern to swirl endlessly around an island of black glass. Here, Death will appear if properly summoned.”
Mesmerized, I stared at the point where the streams converged. “Where do we start?”
Ossanna curled her fingers inward, and her water retreated into the sphere before disappearing entirely. “There’s a small fisherman’s cabin not far from here, just south of Stormsend. One of the coves is rarely trafficked because the ocean bed is treacherous, and the beach is littered with sharp stones. But there you’ll find the beginning of a small stream that runs not to the sea but away from it.”
“All we have to do is follow it,” Seville said softly.
“Thank you.” I tipped my chin slightly. She may have been conniving and vile and any number of horrific expletives, but I understood why Ossanna did what she did. Family was everything.
Ossanna watched me for a moment. “You’re more interesting than I initially thought you’d be. I hope you live for a few more years.” She stood then, brushing a few stray crumbs off her slacks, and beckoned to Issa. “Come, dear. Let’s head to the gardens and mingle.” They left without offering a goodbye.
“Now for the hard part.” Seville shifted in her seat to glance at us.
“Everything about this is hard. And foolish,” Rorik grumbled.
“Well, first things first—the luncheon. We need to be seen at all the events to keep suspicion off us. If we’re early, grand. The more eyes on us the better.” She stood up and nodded toward the door. “We’ll leave to prepare for tonight’s gala when enough people have already done so.” Without waiting for Rorik to complain, she linked her arm through mine. “Let’s go.”
Her hope was infectious. I felt it seep into my skin from where her elbow knocked against mine. It was a warm, cautious thing that set my stomach aflutter. I wanted so badly to believe that we could do this. That she’d somehow find the blade, and we’d walk out of here unscathed. There was a nagging sensation in the back of my brain, though, that I couldn’t quiet silence. One that was rooted in fear and dread.
I was weak. I was sickly. I was mortal.
And while that’s exactly who I needed to be to summon Death, it also meant I’d be that much easier to kill.
Twenty-Four
The crisp, salt-tinged breeze rolling in from the ocean cliffs swept over the lawns and toyed with the decorative chimes dangling from the handful of gossamer canopies. Long tables laden with finger sandwiches and wine were manned by attendants, and Evers milled about while munching on food and exchanging pleasantries. Some of them proudly showed off their bestial attributes, while others kept everything tightly wrapped up in glamour. Much like before, Seville guided us through the growing crowd for the first couple of hours, ensuring every face acknowledged our presence. Rorik, on the other hand, posted up along one of the wooden columns of the canopy and defaulted to crossing his arms while wearing a practiced look of boredom.
As we passed a group of Evers all sporting varying types of tails, I tilted my head toward Seville. “Does everyone here have familial magic like you and Rorik?”
“The opposite, actually.” She finger-waved to a woman near the wine fountain, but didn’t pause in our route. “Most Evers just have basic powers: expedited healing, beast features, evervows, glamour, a few simple charms for comforts like you enjoy at the estate. Anything beyond that is considered rare.”
“Hence why everyone wants to bed you.” I couldn’t keep the disgust from my voice.
