Swallowing thickly, I lifted my chin and stepped forward so that I was no longer obscured by Vora and Seville. The rest of the room came into full view, and hushed murmuring rose from the other end of the table.
“Edira!” Amalyss and Tasia said in unison as they stood abruptly. Amalyss’s loose blond ringlets bounced against her shoulders as she stood on her toes, her smile growing impossibly wide. Tasia grinned and tucked her brunette locks behind one of her pointed ears. Their hazel eyes, brown flecked with specks of green, sparked with excitement. I half expected tiny, iridescent feathers to sprout along the tawny beige skin of their cheeks. They kept their magic at bay, though, and a small smile tugged at my lips.
“Well, this is a surprise,” the Ever beside them murmured. Lydia regarded me with a raised brow, her cunning eyes a stunning shade of blue green. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles, her honey hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her hand lightly clasped that of her own heartbond, Clesian. He’d rested one arm along the back of Lydia’s chair, displaying the broad length of his chest, and his brown skin was warm against the sage hue of his shirt. His umber gaze held mine for a moment before he tipped his chin in the slightest nod.
“What are you doing here.” Rorik’s tone was hard, no hint of a question lingering beneath his words. My temple throbbed as the anger brewing in my gut churned.
“We need to speak.” I forced myself to hold his gaze, to scour his face for any hint of those spiraling emotions I’d felt only moments ago, but his expression was a carefully crafted, stoic facade.
“Preferably alone,” Seville said as she eyed Ossanna.
Ossanna smirked but said nothing as she straightened and removed her hand from Rorik. Her slim-fitting gown was sleeveless, and when she folded her arms across her chest, the pointed tips of her nails grazed the swirling tattoos wrapping her biceps. The longer I stared at those cobalt lines, the more they seemed to move like that of a turbulent river. It was the mark of her family. Of a Waterstone.
“I should be getting back anyway.” She tossed one lingering look at Rorik before skirting the table. She paused for the briefest of moments before me, grinning and giving me a thorough once-over. “Edira. How fortunate death hasn’t caught up with you yet.” And then she gave a flippant wave and left, her footsteps fading into nothing as the front doors opened and closed.
Unease crept up my spine. Whatever her agenda was with Rorik and the Ferngloves, I doubted it was good.
“Edira.” My stomach clenched at the sound of my name on Rorik’s lips. “Why are you here?”
“I saw blight on your...” I searched for the word and failed, not wanting to utter it aloud in his presence. I didn’t know if it would cause the floodgates to open again, leaving me wholly unprepared for whatever he was feeling.
The tension in his jaw relaxed, and he rolled his eyes before skewering Vora with a bored look. “Didn’t I tell you everything was fine? Why did you let her come back here?”
I practically spit fire as I took an angry step toward him. “I am perfectly capable of doing whatever I please whenever I please. I don’t need anyone’s permission.”
Vora merely lifted a shoulder in agreement, but her stare had narrowed on Rorik with a hint of distaste. Seville pulled out a chair and slid into it, ignoring the empty plate and the prepared dishes lining the pale blue table runner. She passed up everything for the decanter of wine and poured herself a heavy glass.
“You never were a great liar.” Seville took a long pull before setting the glass down. Then, with practiced ease, she stripped her glamour and revealed the small pocket of blight marring the space beneath her ear. Amalyss and Tasia gasped, and they slowly sat as their gazes flitted between me and Seville’s illness. Lydia blanched, and her grip on Clesian’s hand tightened.
“I take it none of you are sick, then?” I gestured to Lydia and her family.
“No,” Clesian murmured. His gaze shot toward his daughters, peeling away their glamour to perform a quick examination. I knew he’d found nothing of concern when he let loose a heavy exhale.
“How long?” Lydia tipped her chin toward Seville, her voice wavering as canyons of doubt formed across her forehead.
“Not long.” Seville drained the rest of her wine. “Based on what Edira shared with me, I’m guessing Rorik’s blight came back shortly before mine.”
“Do I look sick to you?” He waved a hand along his body. “I know you can tear apart my glamour just fine.”
“But not your clothing. What are you hiding under there?” She chuckled to herself. “Not that I want to see, but that would explain why I dragged Edira back—”
Warmth flushed my cheeks at the same time Rorik launched from his chair. He moved so fast I barely registered that he’d been sitting and was now standing inches from Seville, his back within grazing distance of my fingers. Heat radiated off his body in tantalizing waves, and my core tightened.
“She was supposed to be done with this family,” Rorik hissed. Magic began to cloud the room and perfume the air with the rich aroma of freshly tilled earth.
It should’ve frightened me. But a slow-moving heat pulsed through my center at the display of his power. His magic lived in my bones, and my body recognized it on such a deep, visceral level that my breath caught in my lungs.
This heartbond would be the death of me. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and yanked him back a step. “I am tired of being spoken about instead of being spoken to.”
Rorik stilled. For a moment, his gaze dipped to my fingers, and I could’ve sworn I glimpsed a hint of longing buried deep in his eyes. But it was gone before I could blink. He turned fully to me then, giving me the weight of his glare while he tugged his wrist free of my grasp.
“I am not sick.” He took a step toward me. His breath was warm against my cheeks. “You should go.”
Indignation flared in me, and I leaned closer to him while fisting my hands by my sides. “I was already ordered around by one Fernglove and look what good came from it.” My words were a war decree, and the air snapped with electric tension as everyone fell deathly still. They all knew what Orin did. And they knew what I’d sacrificed to heal them all. Life threads severed in a breath, my days immediately shortened just so they could continue breathing. Living. All because of Orin and his words.
Never again.
“Yes, Seville wants my help. But maybe I have something to gain from this, too.” I folded my arms across my chest, daring him to dissuade me. Seville’s brows disappeared toward her hairline as her gaze momentarily shifted between me and her brother.
