Back in Death’s domain, a hand palmed my face. “I’m here.”
My eyes snapped open. Color had returned to her cheeks, and there was a steady rise and fall to her chest. With a tenderness that left me speechless, she grazed her thumb down the length of my jaw before tilting her head upward.
“I heard you.” She studied my lips. “To the grave, remember?”
Tears leaked from my eyes. “To the grave.”
And then I kissed her deeply. Her hands wrapped around my neck, and we clung to each other until we were satisfied that this wasn’t a dream. That we’d found our way back to each other.
“What happened to you?” I whispered.
Edira looked at her hands. “I became Death.”
I stilled. “What does that mean?”
“It means that his power is mine. I can feel it. Right here.” She touched her heart.
I swallowed once. Twice. “Did you know this would happen?”
“No, but now that I think about it...” She let out an easy laugh. My heart nearly broke at its lightness. “Seville said killing Death would shift the balance of this world. He must exist in some form. I guess that’s me now.”
“Are you all right?” I watched her closely. A twinge of darkness I couldn’t quite place enveloped her. She didn’t seem to mind.
“I think so. Come,” she said as she extracted herself from my arms and stood. “There’s something I have to do.” She strolled toward the sphere, her gown flowing behind her. Shadows licked the edges of her dress. Every subtle movement caused them to writhe to life like snakes at her feet. She was a harbinger of death, and I prayed whoever stepped in her path was ready for what she’d deliver. With one hand, she palmed the sphere, and a black mist enshrouded us. Reaching for me, she snared my wrist and tugged me closer. “I’ll explain more later. Promise.”
And then the mist rushed over us, and we were swept away down an inky expanse and into a void of nothingness. It lasted for only a handful of breaths before we manifested on the lawns outside of Embergrave Manor in a cloud of smoke. The few attendants who’d been lingering in the gardens immediately ran for the mansion. Edira followed them with slow, unhurried steps. Shadows unfurled around her feet and snaked through the grass. Anxiety prickled beneath my skin. She was Edira, and yet... otherworldly.
The front doors banged open, and Zeverin launched from the manor to storm in our direction. Magic gathered in my palms, and the ground trembled beneath us as a growl ripped through my chest. I’d only just gotten Edira back. No one would threaten her again.
But she merely grabbed my hand and smiled. “Let me speak first. Then kill him if you wish.”
I raised a brow. “Gracious of you.”
“I’d do it myself if I could.” She lifted a single shoulder. “But I think Rebellyn is smarter than we realized. I think she knew all along I’d end up here.” I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but Zeverin was before us with twin balls of snarling flames hovering above his hands.
“How brazen of you to return,” he seethed.
“Hello, Zeverin.” Edira clasped her hands before her. Her gaze roved the length of his body, and she chuckled. “I’ll make this brief: From this point forward, you are never to seek revenge against the Ferngloves or my family. If you ever set foot in Willowfell, you will die. And in exchange for your... cooperation, I’ll remove the blight from your lands.”
My mind whirled. Zeverin didn’t know about the evervow she’d made with Rebellyn, otherwise this would be a moot bargain. Pursing my lips, I kept my words at bay. My cunning heartbond would break Zeverin without ever letting him know he had the upper hand.
He narrowed his eyes. “And how do I know you can do something like that?”
“I’ll show you.” Raising one hand near her head, she snapped her fingers. The glamour that’d been masking the estate withered away in a second. There was no slow removal, no peeling of layers, just a ripping of the proverbial bandage as she exposed the wound that was Zeverin’s home. The putrid scent of rot and mulch filled the air, and yellow loam pushed through the slabs of stone holding the house together. Black sludge ringed the building and crept over the lawns like arteries shooting off from a rancid vein.
And, of course, there was Zeverin, too. His hair lost its luster, and the hollowness of his cheeks was stretched paper thin. Pockets of blight marred his neck and festered with loam and pus.
Edira held out her hand, palm upward and fingers curled slightly toward her. “Just remember, what I can take away...” The ground quaked with sudden vigor and blight erupted from the earth in a column of decay that she summoned to her palm. It streamed toward her and somehow into her, becoming one with her blackened veins but leaving her otherwise unscathed. And then she flicked her wrist to the side and sent the blight burrowing back into the earth. “... I can also send right back.”
Zeverin’s face blanched. He swallowed once. Twice. “Understood. I’ll keep to my lands and you to yours. You’ll never hear from me again.”
“And Seville? Where is she?” Edira asked.
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her or Kara.”
Is he lying?Her words were quiet, deadly, down our bond.
I don’t think so.
