Twelve
My mother loved this place,” Rorik mused as he looked around.
He said something else about magical properties and water and healing effects, but it was all muddled in my mind.
I’d seen him shirtless before, but only once, and I’d been fueled by too much ire to really appreciate what I’d seen.
But now I could look. I noticed the wide frame of his shoulders, how his back tapered to narrow hips, how his carved muscles rippled with even the slightest move on his part.
The Fernglove crest stole most of my focus, though.
Its hilt started at the base of his neck with the blade perfectly centered along his spine.
Butterflies, moths, beetles, bees, and a variety of insects were all in perpetual flight around the shined metal, and bone-white flowers filled the empty spaces to create a cohesive masterpiece.
My fingers immediately went to my own emblem, and despite their shared composition, his was by far the most beautiful tattoo I’d ever seen.
Without warning, he undid the buttons to his trousers and tossed them beside his shirt.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, voice unnaturally high. I hated that I was so thrown by the mere sight of his body, but fuck, those thighs. His undergarments clung to his skin and were tight enough to reveal . . . everything. I tore my gaze away before I lost my sanity entirely.
He turned halfway, giving me a quick look at his chiseled chest, and I silently cursed the gods. With raised brows, he tilted his head to the side. “Were you not listening to a thing I said?”
“No, sorry, I was highly distracted by the fact that you were undressing without any warning,” I seethed.
He smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay over there.
” After pointing to the far side of the cavern, he dove into the water.
And because it was so obnoxiously clear, it was impossible not to see how the contours of his muscles flexed as he swam.
When he emerged, he ran an errant hand through his hair, sweeping the strands out of his face, and leaned against one of the stones lining the pool.
“We pull from this water source for our baths at the estate. It’s rich in minerals that help with healing.
It’s deep in the middle, but there are a few shelves along the edge where you can stand or sit. ”
Everything about his sly expression told me that he knew exactly what he was doing.
Two could play at that game.
“Fine, I suppose it’s only fair.” I edged closer to the pool and stripped out of my shirt, revealing beige undergarments trimmed in white lace.
Rorik kept his gaze level. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that your siblings have both seen me undressed.” I moved to my pants next, making a show of slowly easing them down my thighs before nudging them to the side with my foot. “Wouldn’t want you feeling left out.”
“I hate that in so many ways.” Heat flared in his eyes as a current of indignation trickled down our bond.
“I imagine it’s quite hard for you.” I shrugged.
“Or perhaps not.” It took everything in me not to look at his waist and confirm my assessment, and instead I peered into the depths of the water.
The bottom of the pool was covered in thousands of small river stones, and each one had veins of emerald green streaking through their surface.
Rorik growled, his gaze trained intently on me. “Get in already.”
“I suppose I’ll listen to you this time.” I dove into the pool, only to quickly regret doing so. The water was biting cold, and it effectively doused whatever sultry behavior I’d managed to summon in an attempt to tease Rorik. I broke the surface with a yelp and glared his way. “It’s freezing!”
“I said we were here to cool off.” He still hadn’t moved, but I finally noticed the telltale pearling of gooseflesh ravaging his skin.
“Gods, how long do we have to stay in here?” I shivered as I searched for the shelf along the edge. Once I found a smooth place to sit, I curled my knees against my chest to salvage what warmth I could. Water splashed near my chin, and I barked out a shaky curse.
“Not long. Just relax. We’ll be done before you know it.” He tilted his head back. Closed his eyes.
Yeah, right, I thought. The cold was near insufferable, but Rorik was right. Already the soreness in my body from training had lessened, though I refused to admit it out loud. It was likely just the cold staving off the ache anyway.
A minute scraped by in agonizing silence, save the chattering of my teeth. Rorik had settled deeper into the water, allowing his back to slip down the side of the wall so just his chin remained above the surface. How he wasn’t entirely ice by this point was beyond me.
Does your brain ever shut off? His voice was silken in my mind. I glared at him, but his eyes were still closed, and he seemed otherwise unbothered by my existence.
No. I eyed my clothes and debated abandoning the pool altogether. Does yours?
He opened his eyes and speared me with a harried look. No. But what plagues my mind is hardly any concern of yours.
Maybe I want to know. Maybe I just want to understand you. I held his gaze, daring him to break away first.
I don’t want or need to be understood.
That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I sighed and cast my eyes to the ceiling. There was some deep, unnamed feeling rooting around in my chest that I didn’t want to examine, and the more time I spent with Rorik the more it bled to the forefront of my mind.
I want what I shouldn’t, and I’m afraid to lose what I don’t have.
His words were soft in my mind, so much so that I thought I imagined them.
But when I rounded my stare back to him, he was still looking at me with a weighted expression that was steeped in a strange mixture of longing and despair.
An ache stemmed from my heart, and I itched to close the gap between us and hold his hand.
He’d been through so much in his life: abused by his father and brother, cast aside by his sister—recent actions notwithstanding—left alone in a loveless household.
Sometimes it was easy to forget just how scarred Rorik was.
He hid his emotions behind walls of glamour and stone, leaned on sarcasm and acidic words to keep people at arm’s length.
I wondered if anyone had ever asked him what he wanted.
So I did.
What do you want? I’d forgotten about the cold at this point and uncurled my legs from my chest. Leaning forward, I gripped the lip of the stone seat.
It would be so easy to push off the edge and swim to him.
We didn’t ask for this position we found ourselves in—tied to each other in a heartbond born out of fealty and guilt—but I didn’t want him to suffer.
He always said he wanted me to live. I wanted him to live, too.
Emotions flared down our bond, never fully coming to a head as if he were stopping them before they became too noticeable.
Another minute ticked by, and I wasn’t sure he’d answer me at all.
But I wasn’t ready to let go of this strangely vulnerable moment.
Rorik had given me so much, and if our arrangement really was this for that, maybe it was time I tried to share with him. Just a little.
Do you want to learn how to see threads?
“No,” he said aloud, the word soft but firm as it reverberated through the cavern. “You are not obligated to share your magic with me. I never expected that when I offered to bond with you.”
“I know.” My heart hammered in my chest as I swam toward him.
When I got close enough that our hands could touch, I found a seat beside him and settled against the stone.
“But simply looking at threads doesn’t drain my magic or shorten my lifespan.
Looking”—I couldn’t help but steal a glance at his body—“doesn’t hurt. Promise.”
“I don’t know,” he hedged.
“What if you see something I can’t? What if you’re able to piece together a way to blend our magics better so I can live longer?” Between strengthening his magic within me and teaching him how to recognize mine, maybe there was a better chance of learning how to protect the threads I had left.
He watched me carefully, a flicker of curiosity threading through his otherwise hardened gaze. Slowly, he nodded. “Fine.”
“I’ve never done this before, so bear with me.
” I turned toward him and held out my hands on the surface of the pool.
Water slipped between my fingers and over the lines of my palms until he covered my hands with his.
Heat bloomed from his touch, and the warmth settled me.
I smiled, reveling in the rough scrape of his calloused fingers, and centered myself with a breath.
My power was eager and ready, and it blossomed outward from my body like the petals of a flower greeting the sun.
The tension in Rorik’s frame evaporated, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
I felt him poke at our bond, searching for the source of my magic.
A sudden, tender warmth spilled through me and sent a gasp from my lips, and his eyes flew open.
Concern laced his features, but I shook my head.
“I’m fine.” I watched as a moonlit glow ensconced his fingers and an ethereal glow bloomed outward from his eyes. “Seems like you found it.”
His throat bobbed. “It’s . . . I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I know.” I couldn’t help but grin. Threadmending was so much more than a power to be harnessed; it was the very essence of life.
It was an appreciation for what existed and an understanding that all things came to an end.
It was precious and warm and fleeting. It was the water slipping between our fingers.
A thing that could only be caught for a moment.
“I don’t know how this will work,” I said after a few breaths, “but I’m going to look at your threads now.
Typically, threadmenders can’t see their own, so I have no idea if that will hold true for you or if your magic has shifted the nature of things.
” I thought of how, when I first accepted Rorik’s heartbond and channeled the blight from the earth, I’d seen all my threads.
They’d been coated in the resplendent gold shell that protected our bond, and I’d commanded them with a vigor I’d never known. Still, I hadn’t seen them since.
“Will I be able to see yours?” he asked, voice barely audible.
“I think so. Threadmenders can see other threadmenders’ lifespans, just not their own. I don’t see why it would be different for you.” I tipped my head toward him and met his gaze head-on. “Ready?”
“Yes.” That single word was so gravelly and heated and full of emotion.
I wanted to understand him completely, even if he didn’t want or need my attention.
Centering my power, I willed it to bloom further and watched in awe as his life threads unfurled from his frame, peeling away from his body like ribbons dancing in the wind.
They were a resplendent and dazzling aquamarine, and their light reflected with the brilliance of polished gems in the clear surface of the pool.
I spotted the one damning, wayward thread coated in wretched black tar, and it dimmed the budding awe in my chest. My power thrummed in recognition of the sickness, begging me to find the source of the blight and root it out. I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Edira.” Rorik wasn’t looking at me directly but around me, and I stilled.
This was the first time he’d be able to see threads, and now that he knew how to access my magic, he’d likely be able to do it again on his own in the future.
Just like I hoped to do with his magic. And yet, his broken gaze told me that he wouldn’t be looking again anytime soon. Slowly, he shifted his stare to me.
My stomach plummeted to the bottom of the pool. “How many are there?”
Rorik’s throat bobbed. Once. Twice. “Not enough.”
The headache from earlier returned, a dull murmur behind my eyes. I winced but tried my best to smile. This wasn’t a shock. Maybe to Rorik, but certainly not to me.
“Edira . . .” His voice was painfully soft. I couldn’t stand how it made my fears crawl to the surface.
“It’s okay,” I said gently, pulling back my power and quietly erecting my own barrier on my side of our heartbond.
He opened and closed his mouth to speak, but no words came out. I’d never find out what he intended to say, because at that moment Ywena came fluttering through the cavern. Her endless chittering was a shrill warning that echoed through the cave, and both of us riveted our eyes to her.
Something was wrong at the house.