Five
Setting foot on the grounds surrounding Fernglove was both familiar and foreign.
There were still the acres of gently rolling hills, with a massive clearing framed by densely packed trees.
But when the glamour had been stripped from the lands to reveal the blight hidden beneath it all, it’d been a portrait of decay.
Now, leaves of ocher, rusting red, and deep yellow bedecked the sprawling limbs of trees.
Autumn hung low over the quiet estate, the first whispers of bronze skating along the blades of grass.
The brook at our backs murmured over river rocks, and the crisp air was full of the scent of minerals.
It was all so breathtakingly alive. Even with the promise of winter, the grounds teemed with life.
Nightingales called as the moon crept over the horizon, and insects of every make chirped in a chorus that seemed to swell with our arrival.
The lands recognized that a Fernglove had returned, and Seville closed her eyes as she breathed in deep.
“It used to always be like this.” Her words were so soft I barely caught them. But already my focus was shifting away from her to the manor seated at the epicenter of it all.
My mouth fell open at the sight. It had been regal before, with dormers and balconies, pointed arches and pitched roofs.
But now the manor was something of pure, ethereal beauty.
It had been constructed in largely the same fashion as before, but the walls .
. . It was hard to tell what was handcrafted and what had sprouted from the earth itself.
A collection of massive trees had grown to man every corner of the structure, and their branches stretched across to form the base for the moss-coated roof.
Smooth limestone bricks filled the space between the trees, and sprawling ivy covered nearly every inch of it.
Countless windows were framed by darker, bark-colored wood, and for a moment, I was peering into the heart of a gargantuan tree instead of a manor.
I could have stared at it for hours. Studied every knot in the wood, every twining limb and draping of ivy.
But Seville was already moving, and Vora and I spurred into motion to keep pace.
Our bags jostled lightly against our hips as we passed through the courtyard.
The spring flowers I’d once wandered through were gone, replaced with star-shaped blooms of red valerian, lemon-yellow lilies, and upright stalks dotted with bright blue tubular flowers.
Low, manicured hedges framed the stone pathway, and fist-sized magic orbs were nestled in the roots.
Pale light akin to that of the stars glowed faintly in the center of each one, lighting the way to the manor.
A fountain with trickling water murmured gently as we passed, and I let my fingers drift through one of the lazy streams slipping from an overflowing bowl.
The wonder blossoming inside of me, though, came to an immediate halt when Seville placed a hand on one of the double doors leading into the manor. My pulse stuttered as anxiety wound through my gut.
“This ought to be fun,” Seville said as she glanced over her shoulder. Her sly smile did nothing to assuage my nerves. My grip on my apothecary case tightened.
Vora huffed before pressing her lips into a tight grimace. “No sense in waiting out here.”
Seville chuckled as she pushed open the doors, and we stepped into the open foyer of Fernglove Manor.
Even with its familiar layout, I couldn’t help but gape at the raw beauty of it all.
The massive foyer spilled into an open sitting room on one side and the library on the other, with a long hall stretching past the double staircase.
Paneling of white oak covered the walls, and the gargantuan trees I’d spied from the outside were fully visible in the corners of the rooms. Their sprawling branches connected high above to form living rafters, complete with dripping vines and lustrous, velvety leaves.
Rich moss crept along the floor and up the walls.
Flowers bloomed intermittently across the green canvas, creating a mosaic masterpiece of living, breathing art.
It was hard to tell where the outdoors ended and the indoors began.
Baby’s breath bloomed from the space between the floorboards closest to the front doors.
Potted plants teeming with the same outdoor flowers manned several credenzas, and the air was thick with floral perfume.
Muted laughter filtered through the air, followed by the distant scrape of silverware against plates.
Seville tilted her head to the side, her hair falling like a curtain over her shoulder, and her brows inched together.
She breezed down the hall without another glance.
Voices bubbled up and spilled out through the open archway, and Seville crossed into the formal dining room, Vora right on her heels.
I stalled a half step behind them, my gaze already locked on the person I’d vowed to avoid for the rest of my days.
Rorik sat at the head of the table, one arm lazily draped over the back rung of his chair.
His free hand cradled a wineglass with only a hint of liquid still clinging to its crystal pattern.
Burnished locks, glossy beneath the soft glow of the chandelier, skimmed the tops of his ears and framed his angular face.
Twin dermal piercings above his left brow winked in the light.
His amber eyes were full of mischief, and his smirk was on full display with the barest hint of fangs peeking from behind his lips.
His black shirt was unbuttoned beneath the collar, exposing the hollow of his neck, and the subtle rise and fall of his chest stole all my focus.
You’re stunning. I couldn’t help myself, even now. Even when the still-simmering coals of anger threatened to burst into flames at the sight of his hands, knowing they’d been the instruments responsible for my brothers’ blight.
Before any of us could say anything, a sultry laugh crested above the din of conversation, and a woman—an Ever—strolled toward Rorik from the far side of the table.
She snared a fresh glass of wine and, with her free hand, trailed the length of his arm in a slow, teasing ascent toward his shoulder.
The action was so smooth and full of unspoken intention.
Heat swelled in the pit of my stomach, and I bit down hard on my tongue.
Ossanna. Her glossy hair fell in a waterfall of black ink with shades of navy and ultramarine like the deepest parts of the ocean.
Her ruby-red eyes were piercing, her cruel smile even sharper.
She looked at Rorik like he was a target, and he didn’t seem to mind one damn bit.
Before I’d joyously sent Orin to his grave, Ossanna had orchestrated a bonding pact between him and her daughter, Issa.
With Orin no longer an option, Rorik was in her sights.
Neither Issa nor her brother, Flix, was present, though, and Ossanna let out another low, throaty chuckle as Rorik tipped his head toward her.
Maybe Ossanna wanted Rorik for herself instead of for her daughter.
“Rorik.” Seville wielded his name with an icy authority that brought silence to the entire room. “I didn’t realize we had company.”
Rorik stiffened for a moment as he fixated on Seville, and his grin tightened at the edges. “Seville. When did you get back? I—”
The world slowed as his gaze finally found mine, and then something snapped between us.
It felt painful and heated, stemming right from the center of my heart and tethering my existence to his.
My brows drew together as my breath hitched.
This wasn’t like any magic or ailment I’d experienced before. This sensation . . .
Our bond. My own emotions rose to meet Rorik’s head-on, and suddenly I was drowning in a veritable storm of conflicting feelings.
I lost what was mine and what was his as emotions roiled down the invisible current too fast for me to parse.
The bitter taste of anger and disappointment was fleeting before everything went cold.
Shock took over, and with it a chill that ravaged my skin.
I couldn’t look away from his eyes. In less than a breath he’d invaded my body, my bones, my very blood, and now he was gone.
The absence of his presence was somehow more agonizing than the unexpected intrusion, and a shuddering breath escaped my lips as I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around my stomach.
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.