Three
The next day, I woke to a mostly quiet house.
I could hear Vora in the kitchen downstairs, pots and pans clanging away as she likely busied herself with last night’s dishes.
Lysa had stayed late, and the boys had broken out some of our better wine to share.
It’d been a pleasant evening, but my headache sent me to bed early.
Thankfully, resting was actually a good idea—though I’d never tell Vora that—because I was feeling surprisingly refreshed.
No headache. No hallucinations. Minimal pain.
I groaned at the warm afternoon light spilling through my window. It’d been ages since I’d slept so late. I detested the idea of wasting so much of my day, but then again, what was I supposed to be doing with my time anyway?
Sliding out of bed, I ran my fingers through my hair and dressed in a clean blouse and linen slacks.
I doubted Vora would allow it, but at least I could offer to help with the dishes.
I made my way downstairs and found her humming to herself with a tin scrubber in hand.
A carafe of coffee sat beside her, small tendrils of steam curling toward the ceiling, along with two ceramic mugs.
Ywena was sunbathing on the windowsill, and the moment she saw me, she let out a series of happy chitters.
Then she was off, flying toward me with a lilting grace as she circled my head once before nestling into the crook of my neck.
“Good morning,” I murmured warmly as I stroked the top of her head.
“Morning? I must have forgotten how to tell time,” Vora called, a hint of a tease in her voice.
“Afternoon, Vora. You’ve been busy,” I said, eyeing the stack of clean dishes beside the sink. “Any left for me to do?”
“The only thing I want you to do is sit down.” She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the coffee. She rummaged through the cupboard to nab a few brown sugar cubes and dropped one into each cup.
“I guess I’ll comply since you’re bribing me with coffee.” My lips curled as I took my seat.
“I like to be prepared.” She handed me my mug and then plopped into the chair beside me. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better.” I savored the warmth of the mug between my palms. “Where are Noam and Nohr?”
“Nohr is training one of the mares, and Noam won’t leave Lysa alone for two minutes. I believe he’s spending the day with her family.” Vora chuckled as she glanced out the open window, her eyes targeting the path winding toward the town where Lysa and her parents lived.
My smile widened, but before Vora could question it, I took a long sip of my coffee. Better to burn my tongue than accidentally spill Noam’s plans.
Just then, a firm knock sounded from the door. Vora made a move to stand, but I rolled my eyes at her and beat her to it.
“I can answer a door. It’s probably Mrs. Marlow anyway.
We left market yesterday before she had a chance to collect her order.
” My pain balm did wonders for the joints in her knuckles, which often ached after a day of tailoring.
Ever since she’d discovered the Ferngloves were associated with my family, she’d insisted on buying remedies only from me.
I should’ve turned her away for all the subtle digs throughout the years, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t need her coin, but it gave me something to do.
“Fine, fine.” Vora settled back into her chair.
I headed for the front door and yanked it open with ease. “Come in, Mrs. Marlow. I have your . . .”
The air in my lungs stilled and my feet rooted to the ground.
Seville. She was as stunning as the last time I saw her.
Her sheetlike blond hair glowed with a luster that could only be explained by glamour, a magic Evers used to heighten their beauty and hide what they displeased.
Her sharp features were honed like the fine edge of a blade.
High cheekbones. Pointed chin. Meticulously shaped brows.
Her full lips curved up in a smirk, and her ice-green eyes flickered with a spark of power.
“Seville.” Her name was a quiet breath on my lips that seemed to shake the very foundation of my home.
“Edira.” She tilted her head by way of greeting. “Are you going to invite me in?”
“Please.” I stepped out of the way, allowing her to breeze into the foyer. She stalled by the stairs, casting a sweeping glance across the first floor of our home.
“I expected you to elevate your decor after you left with so much of our coin.” Her fingers brushed along the sheer fabric of her blouse, which did nothing to obscure the underlying midnight-blue corset cinched perfectly about her slender waist. Skintight silken pants clung to her legs, and she swiveled on boot heels that squeaked against the floorboards.
At her words, my shock dissipated, and I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Nice to see you, too. Shouldn’t you be off traversing the world?”
“Edira?” Vora came toward us and faltered, and her hands froze against her apron mid-wipe. “Seville. I’m surprised to see you.”
“Yes, I thought I’d just check in on things.” She strolled by us and took the first seat at the dining table in the kitchen. “Do you have any coffee to spare, Vora?”
“Of course.” She found a freshly cleaned mug drying next to the mountain of dishes and set it before her. Seville didn’t hesitate to fill it to the brim.
“What brings you to Willowfell?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside her.
“This is purely a social call.” Seville took a small sip of coffee and then set her mug down. “I’ve been hopping around Glaes, and now I’m on the way back to Fernglove. It felt like the right moment to pop in and say hello.”
Our country was large, a sprawling landmass filled with mountains and plains and a smattering of towns stretching from end to end.
The wilds separating us all were vast, the creatures untamed and relentless in defense of their own territories.
Traveling was dangerous for most, but for Seville?
An immortal with immense magic and control over the earth?
I doubted it was even remotely troublesome.
“What were you doing?” I asked.
“Sightseeing,” she said. “My travels are hardly your concern. I am curious, though, to know if you’ve seen anything out of the ordinary.”
My eyes narrowed. “Define ‘out of the ordinary.’”
“Oh, nothing serious.” Tilting her head to the side, she examined her cuticles. “Unless, of course, you’ve spotted some unfamiliar Evers in the area.”
The woman from the market. A sinking feeling tugged at the pit of my stomach.
“I haven’t noticed anyone.” Vora’s brow furrowed. “And I’d recognize an Ever if I saw one. Why?” Then she straightened, her eyes suddenly wide. “Edira’s not in danger, is she?”
“Danger? Why would I be in danger?” I asked.
I’d battled against Orin and won, simultaneously ridding his land and his family of blight while making him beg for mercy—which he didn’t get.
A feat only the Ferngloves knew about. Though there was the possibility that the Waterstones had noticed the lack of blight stemming from the area.
Their matriarch, Ossanna, was cunning beyond measure with her eyes set on survival—for herself, but mainly for her children.
I’d heard nothing about them since I left Fernglove months ago.
“No, no. You’re not in danger. I’m just being cautious. The last thing we want is another Starglen attempt.” Seville nodded toward me with a knowing look.
A chill swept over my skin as I recalled the night Dagas Starglen had tortured me in front of his heartbond and nephew.
He’d strung me up against their ancestor tree, its trunk an amalgamation of twisting thighs and protruding knees, its branches made of disjointed arms, and its twigs of bony fingers with ash-white flowers that sprouted from nailbeds at their highest points.
The wretched limbs of their past family members had anchored me in place.
Sometimes I still woke up from a cold sweat with the feel of leathery, aged skin against my neck or fingers digging beneath tendons and muscle, working their way deep into my body while Dagas demanded I threadmend his family.
It’d ended only when Rorik had ripped Dagas’s throat open and tossed his larynx on the ground.
“Thank the gods the rest of the Starglens fled,” I murmured.
“Yes, though they’re facing a much more permanent fate now.” Seville gripped the handle of her mug but didn’t take a drink. “I learned on my travels that they’d passed. Blight caught up with them. An entire family line just . . . gone.”
There was a strain in her words that hadn’t been there before, a slightly raised pitch to her voice. She didn’t look up from her coffee. Vora must have caught the shift, too, because she shot me a concerned glance.
“Seville, is something wrong?” I studied her closely.
She was the picture of health and beauty, but there was a tightness around her eyes I hadn’t detected earlier.
She pursed her lips, biting back words she didn’t dare say.
Her glamour was perfect as always, but there was a crack in her mannerisms that I’d never witnessed before. It rattled me to my core.
“I really should be going,” she said abruptly as she stood. “I’m glad everyone is doing well. Please let me know if—”
“Seville.” I gripped her forearm and forced her to look at me. “What’s going on?”
She held my gaze for a long moment. Then, without uttering a word, she gestured to herself with a gentle sweep of her fingers, as if drawing a curtain of glamour away from her skin.
The rippling magic fell off her in a glittering wave before dispersing into the air, leaving behind a still-gorgeous Seville.
I pressed my lips together as I scoured her appearance, knowing full well she’d let only one layer of her glamour fall away; otherwise, we’d be able to see her mosaic, glass-like wings and sharpened fangs, along with a smattering of other bestial features that all Evers seemed to have.
“What are you . . .”
My breath left in a rush as a heady ringing crashed in my ears.
Her smile turned sad. “I trust you see it now.”
My vision narrowed to a small, dark wound oozing with yellow loam and black sludge. It marred the space beneath her ear, and the edges of surrounding skin were curling and brown like withering leaves. The smell of death—roiling, rotting earth and sour blood—skated through the air.
Her blight was back.