“I’m certain you’ll be able to help us.”
“Us?”
“Mavis is part of our family.” He lifted a single shoulder as his hand fell away from my face. “Curing her would most certainly help all of us. We don’t want to see her like this anymore.”
His voice was soft, his eyes downcast. He seemed so vulnerable. Real. I didn’t know how to process his emotions when I’d spent my whole life convincing myself that Ferngloves were nothing more than self-absorbed Evers.
“Mavis’s glamour,” I finally managed to say. “Can you remove it?”
“Will it help?”
“Yes.”
“I...” He was breathless and his cheeks flushed. Why was he breathless? He wetted his lips and shifted closer. “Before she fell ill, Mavis was very proud. She didn’t like to appear weak, and when it grew too taxing to maintain her glamour, we elected to do it for her.” He absently tapped his fingers along his leg as he stared into nothing, as if reliving a memory I wasn’t sure I’d ever be privy to. “Stripping it from her when everyone in this manor has the power to flawlessly sustain that magic... Something about that feels wrong. I don’t want to hurt her.”
Gently, I angled toward him. Not because it was instinctual. Not because I wanted to soak up his heat. But because something in his tone gave me pause. “What about your glamour, then?”
“Mine?” He blinked at me.
“Yes. You said everyone here uses it. I read that your bodies are a product of ancient beasts being embedded into the first Ever.”
Orin’s brows flicked up in surprise, but he didn’t interrupt me.
“I’m curious to know what that looks like, if that magic somehow is responsible for your threads being so unusually difficult to work with.”
He hesitated for several breaths, his endless gaze peering directly into my soul.
When he didn’t respond, I leaned in closer. I needed...wantedhim to trust me. I didn’t dare examine why. Softly, I asked, “Is there a reason you’re hiding, too?”
“Oh, I’m not hiding.” His smile grew impossibly wide, and a flush of power rippled around his frame and heated the small space between us. “I’ve always just found that a more demure appearance is easier for mortals to digest.”
Orin dropped his veil like a slow-moving sheet falling to the earth in the wind. It fluttered and rippled until it faded away, and then he was there. Unfiltered and raw and heart-stopping in every sense of the word.
Four bone-white horns sprouted from his forehead and wrapped his hair like a crown. His ears elongated, along with the points of his nails and teeth. Glistening emerald scales lined his temples and disappeared into his hairline, and I caught a hint of more peeking from beneath the collar of his tunic. A thin tail that ended in an arrowpoint unfurled from his waist and fell to the backs of his calves.
“Orin.” It was all I could manage.
His grin deepened. “See what I mean?” With light fingers, hegrazed the crown protruding from his forehead—fitting for the head of his household.
“Courtesy of the first Ever, right?” I stared at the horns, fighting the urge to reach out and touch their bone-like surface.
“I love that you read our history.” Pure joy lit in Orin’s eyes. “What else do you know?”
“I only got through a handful of passages before Lydia rudely interrupted me.”
“You’re correct, though. Those original modifications, if you will, were for bolstering her abilities. As her descendants, we get slivers of that ancient power to boost our familial magic. For Ferngloves...” He twirled his fingers in a circular fashion, and the air warmed like it’d been kissed by a summer sun. The fragrance of wildflowers and rich soil filled the study, and a faint shimmer of green particles bloomed above his palm. “The earth answers to us, as well as its creatures. But it takes decades to master that kind of skill.”
I stared in awe at the magic collecting in his hand. “And other Evers?”
“Our powers are tied to our bloodlines. But even within families, we all present differently. Seville has the most beautiful wings, whereas I have none. It’s just how the power chose to mark us. Some Evers like to flaunt their unique appearance. Others feel more inclined to walk with mortals rather than look down upon them.”
I laughed, thinking of the way Seville and Lydia would forever consider humans “less than,” regardless of their perfect glamours.
“May I?” I stood and reached toward the cluster of emerald scales peeking out of his hairline. Something heated flashed in his gaze, but he nodded and pressed his lips together. I grazed their slick surface, and a trail of gooseflesh rippled over my arms at their cool kiss. We fell into silence as I moved from one feature to thenext, quietly studying. There was a definite thrum of magic that vibrated outward from his being, and it didn’t seem like something he could simply shut off. It had to be affecting his threads, too. It was all so foreign and captivating, and the power rolling off Orin in heady waves was intoxicating.
Orin stared at me the entire time, longing coloring his eyes something fierce. My heart hammered against my rib cage as the world seemed to slip away. We were in our own private bubble of shared breaths and unspoken words, and something was happening. Something I wasn’t sure how to comprehend and certainly didn’t want to acknowledge.
My fingers brushed his lips, and he stiffened beneath my touch. “Curious what those can do?”
