Five #3
“You can use those feminine wiles he finds so alluring,” Seville mused.
I rolled my eyes. “And what about your blight?”
“No threadmending.” Tasia gripped the edge of the table and leveled me with a firm stare so like that of her mother that I couldn’t help but raise my brow. “Rorik is right. You’ve done enough.”
“Don’t try to convince her otherwise, either,” Lydia said as she tipped her chin toward Seville.
“I won’t.” Seville’s gaze was locked on an indistinct spot on the wall. “But maybe learning how to salvage her own life will provide insight on how to prevent the blight from spreading further. Instead of curing the incurable, we can protect what’s left.”
Amalyss’s eyes widened. “That’s right! What can you do? Have you figured out how to call on the earth yet?”
Seville smirked. “She can’t do anything.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly rude?” I growled, shooting her a glare. Seville threw her hands up in mock apology.
“We can help you,” Tasia said as she gestured between herself and her sister. “I mean, we’re not tutors by any means, but we spent years listening to”—a look of disgust marred her expression, but she forced herself to continue—“Orin. Plus, Mom has taught us a few things along the way.”
Lydia watched me carefully for a long moment before dropping her gaze.
“I’m sure we could help to a certain extent, but it would go faster if her heartbond were the one to guide her.
This isn’t some latent family power that has always lived in her blood.
This was a gift.” She looked at Clesian with such warmth that it felt wholly wrong for us to witness it. I could never look at Rorik like that.
Clesian extended his hand, palm up, and curled his fingers inward for a moment before a cloud of green mist hovered between his fingers.
With it came the fresh scent of spring and a tingling sensation of warmth, the hint of sunbaked air.
“I couldn’t do this before Lydia. But I learned quickly with her by my side.
It would be the same for you if . . .” He trailed off and his power dissipated, leaving the room strangely cold.
“I’ll talk to him, but just in case”—I rotated my glass once more—“any help would be appreciated.” I wanted to know if there was a chance I could live just a little longer with his magic twisting through me.
If I could protect my threads, then I would have more years to spend with Noam and Nohr.
Maybe even the ability to mend without ramification.
Maybe . . . maybe a different future. Lydia and Clesian merely nodded their agreement, and the conversation stalled as attendants appeared from the kitchen to clean the last of the plates and food.
When they cleared out, Seville stood and stretched her arms toward the rafters.
“Well, we have quite a bit more time this go-around.” She looked at me for a moment and then turned for the hall. “Don’t push yourself.”
With a flick of her wrist over her shoulder, she sauntered out and left me to say good night to the others.
Amalyss and Tasia wrapped me in tight hugs before promising to go through what was left of their texts in case there was anything on bonding magic I could use, and then Clesian ushered them out with a gentle nudge between their shoulders.
Only Lydia remained, perfectly poised on the threshold between the dining room and the hall.
She pivoted to give me the full weight of her stare.
“I know I thanked you once before, for what you did for our family, but . . .” She wrung her fingers together before flexing them out and letting them fall limply by her side.
“Rorik might be right about this, Edira. I’m not sure you should have come back. ”
I rubbed my hand along my neck as I glanced away. “Even if it could help prolong my life? Lead to knowledge that could help save Seville?”
“There’s no proof that using his magic would help. And what if it has the opposite effect? What if it drains you further?” Her words were far from unkind, and I hated how they clenched my heart tight.
I said nothing as I sat with her thoughts.
She wasn’t wrong. A threadmender had never accessed Ever magic before.
If mending caused my life to shorten, would using Rorik’s powers do the same?
And yet our magic together had made it possible to eradicate the blight .
. . mostly eradicate. Plus, if Rorik was sick .
. . I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t know if Lydia saw all the uncertainty in my eyes, but her shoulders rolled forward, and she smiled gently, privy to some secret I didn’t yet know.
Another question for me to discover and answer.
“Well,” she murmured, “I’ll help you however I can. Good night, Edira.”
“Good night.” I watched her go as I lingered in my chair, eyes transfixed where Rorik had been sitting. He’d rail against me every step of the way, of that I had no doubt. And as much as I hated to admit it, a small part of me knew I wouldn’t be able to do much of anything without his help.