She gripped the handles and pulled the doors open. “Let’s go.”
My feet wanted to root to the ground like the great trees of the surrounding forest, but I forced myself to join her and did everything in my power to bury my fears deep beneath the surface.
Vora deposited me outside of Orin’s study before excusing herself, and I was left to knock on the monstrous mahogany doors alone. They swung inward of their own accord, revealing a circular room with a high ceiling and polished rafters. Curved bookshelveslined the back wall, and a heavy desk with gold foil inlays sat beneath an unlit chandelier. Sunlight poured in through an oversized window, and I spied the lush, rolling lawns sprawling from one end of the estate to the other. Dense woods clambered against the edges of the clearing, forming an impressive barrier between the Ferngloves and the rest of the world. Orin looked out over it all from his place on the window bench. With his back reclined against an array of pillows, he’d propped an open book against his knee. His fingers held his place while his gaze shifted from the grounds to me.
A warm smile claimed his lips. “Edira.”
A foreign tingle trickled through my limbs, and I wasn’t sure if it was awe or fear, but it was impossible to deny just how beautiful he was. Perhaps it was the way the sun caught on his tanned skin, painting him a healthy bronze. Or maybe it was the boyish curl to his lips or his relaxed, inviting posture, but his eyes were alight with a curious glint I couldn’t quite place. Intrigue? Mischief? Good or bad, I didn’t know.
After a quick swallow, I found my voice. “Good morning. Vora said you wanted to see me.”
“Come. Sit.” He sat upright and patted the tufted cushion beside him. “I trust you feel better after seeing your brothers.”
Betterwas an interesting word, but I settled for a simple nod as I dropped to the space he indicated. “How long can they survive like that?”
“I’m uncertain. If they were Evers, I’d say a decade or so. Humans...” After setting the book down beside him, he shifted so his knees were angled toward me. “You’re so much more fragile than us.”
“I’ll work quickly, then.”
He clasped his hands over mine. “Good. Now, there’s the matter of making it official.”
“Official?” I frowned. He had my brothers encased in floating coffins, minutes away from death without his magic, and he wanted something more concrete than that? I’d never leave them. I’d rather die trying to save them than walk away.
His grip on my hands slid to my wrist, and he shackled me in place with tight fingers. “Every member of Fernglove wears the mark. It’s customary. Plus, at least in your case, it will act as a warning.”
I bristled at that. “I hardly need the warning.”
Orin blinked, genuine shock tugging at his brows. “Not for you. Gods, no. It’s a warning to our neighboring Ever families. While we’ve established a tenuous peace, I wouldn’t want them getting any ideas that you’re available to work for them.”
“I suppose branding me like cattle is one way to get the message across.” I scowled but didn’t fight his hold. I could live with a tattoo if it meant saving my brothers.
“It’s for your safety. Not to mark you as property,” Orin said as he gently thumbed my wrist. His gaze fell to the floor. “While I understand your hesitation, I still must insist.”
“Is it permanent?”
“Yes.”
With ease, he twisted my wrist to expose the pale skin of my inner arm. He dragged smooth fingers from the crook of my elbow down to my upturned palm. They danced across the lines of my future, and I wondered if he could see this moment etched in fate. After a breath, he moved his hand back to my inner arm and placed it against my skin.
“Are you ready?” he asked, voice low.
“I’m not entirely sure I have another choice.”
His smile was timid. Soft. “I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t necessary.”
I hesitated for a breath. We’d known each other for only a handful of days. And yet, he’d saved my brothers. He could have just walked away. But he didn’t. He didn’t even balk when I askedto bring Noam and Nohr with me to Fernglove. Orin had listened to my concerns and complied. I could do the same, at least just this once.
“Do it.” I speared my bottom lip with my teeth, preparing for pain, and was instantly rewarded. Heat exploded from his touch, singeing my arm and imbuing the air with the scent of burning flesh. My body tensed as I pressed my eyes shut, and then all at once it was over. His hand was gone, the cool rush of air jolting against my raw skin. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked down at my arm.
And there it was. The Fernglove tattoo. A broken sword detailed in an array of grays and blacks, framed by a horde of vibrant, colorful insects. It was horrifying. It was beautiful. It was a brand I could never escape. But considering my time on this earth was perhaps more limited than that of the Evers in this manor, I would wear it without complaint. Death didn’t care about families or crests—it came for everyone just the same.
“Not so bad, is it?” Orin gently trailed one finger over the mark, and the last remnants of pain faded away.
I stared at the fresh ink, trying and failing to ignore the different, subtler heat brewing from his touch. “It’s not absolutely horrid to look at.”
Slowly, methodically, as if he were aware of every heightened nerve ending in my body, he raised my arm toward his lips, then brushed the gentlest of kisses against the blade. A trill of excitement raced through my limbs, and he smiled against my skin.
“There,” he whispered. “The final touch.”
