Fifteen
Rorik stood at the entrance of the library, his magic pulsing in heady waves with his hands fisted by his sides.
Some of his glamour had fallen away to reveal his pointed fangs and horns, and I swore he did it intentionally just to make himself look more feral.
He stormed toward us with agitated steps, only stopping when he was within reach of me.
I watched without speaking as a flurry of emotions toyed with his expression: rage, concern, indignation.
“You cannot do this,” he seethed. “You’ll die.”
“And? Is that supposed to be news to me?” I didn’t move. I couldn’t let him sway me, not when it felt like I found something that could help us all.
“Rorik,” Seville started as she stood, but he shot her a withering glare that had her biting her tongue.
Rorik turned back to me. “Where is your line? What will make you accept that this is simply the way it has to be? You can’t heal us; you’ll kill yourself in the process. You can’t harness my magic, because it drains you unnecessarily—”
“You’re the only one who thinks that,” I interjected. “We haven’t trained enough yet to prove anything.”
A fire lit in Rorik’s eyes as he kept going.
“But now you want to seek out Death? What, exactly, do you plan to do when you find him? Stab him? Rebellyn had a magical weapon. You don’t.
And even if you somehow get your hands on it from the Embergraves—and let’s not even address how asinine that thought is—remember what happened to Rebellyn.
Her bargain cursed her entire line. Every single descendant of hers, no matter how far removed. What do you think would happen to you?”
Power, fueled by my anger, bled to my fingertips.
It was a mixture of Fernglove magic and mine, of the sturdiness of the earth beneath my feet and the glow of moonlight during a midsummer night.
It exploded outward, and the vines climbing along the ceiling fell from the rafters to drape around me like writhing snakes.
“I don’t have to worry about my line being cursed because I won’t live long enough to have one.
” I spat venom with my words, but he didn’t balk at my fury.
Seville glanced at the writhing foliage, a proud look in her eyes and a small smile on her lips.
It was enough to keep me going. “I’m the perfect person to take on Death because I have no tomorrow to worry about. ”
“You’re delusional,” Rorik said.
“No, you’re delusional.” I let out a sharp laugh.
“How are you not fighting to live? How are you not fighting for them to live when this plan might actually work?” I threw my hand toward the open entry of the library where Amalyss and Tasia had gathered.
Vora rushed into the entryway beside the girls and halted.
A few of the vines snaking along the ceiling slithered toward them.
“At what cost?!” Rorik roared, and suddenly, his own set of vines surged around mine and snapped them in half.
His magic was overwhelming enough to squash the little control I’d gained, and the power in me sputtered out.
The house settled with a groan, and the air went quiet.
Even my threadmending glow flickered. Silence stretched between us as we glared at each other.
“Enough.” Seville put herself between us. “Take a break.”
Rorik formed fists by his sides, and veins bulged along his corded forearms. He stormed away and threw open the front doors, leaving behind nothing but the scent of his magic. The hint of oakmoss in the air doused the ire within me, and I stared at the floor.
“That was messy,” Vora said as she approached us. “I take it something happened?”
I recounted what I’d learned and how Rorik reacted with monotone words. My mind was already far away, lost down the golden heartbond stretched between us. I hated this feeling of restlessness, of despair. It felt like it stemmed from both of us, and neither one of us knew how to deal with it.
Like Rorik, Vora was adamantly against the idea of me putting myself within Death’s reach.
Amalyss and Tasia were in vehement agreement with Rorik, too, but none of it mattered.
I understood why they were rallying with him, but this was my choice.
My decision. They could help me prepare for it or not.
After a while, Vora and the girls left, leaving me alone with Seville again. She toyed with the end of her ponytail as she watched me from the corner of her eye.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Have I truly lost it to think that I can do this?”
Seville considered me for a moment. Then she turned so her back was pressed against one of the bookshelves.
“No, I don’t think that makes you delusional.
If anything, I think it makes you sound like an Ever—and I mean that as a compliment.
” She smiled more to herself than me as she continued.
“We’re always looking for ways to cheat death.
Why not let you have a try? I’ll help however I can. ”
“But what if something happens to you?” I asked. “Death loathes your kind.”
“Something is already happening to me.” She pointed to the spot beneath her ear. Glamoured as it was, I couldn’t see the festering blight marring her otherwise perfect skin, but I knew it was there just the same. “You’ve done so much for us. Helping you is the least I can do.”
“I don’t want you to die,” I said softly.
Seville pinned me with a tired look. “Don’t you think Rorik feels the same?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
Seville sighed before she continued. “This is hard for everyone. I hoped blending your magics would be the answer—both for you and for my family. Maybe it is the answer, but only time will tell. Unfortunately, time seems to be the very thing that is not on your side. So, if the solution really lies with confronting Death, then I’ll help you.
If we kill him, the blight should die, too. ”
I had only thought of forcing him into a deal, but if we just permanently erased him from existence . . . Maybe after I forced him to spare my life . . . “Can you even kill Death?”
Her smile was cold. “He said it himself in the parable you read. ‘Death comes for us all.’ Even him. The bigger question is, what happens after?”
“Seville . . .” I didn’t know what else to say, but she waved me off anyway and straightened.
“A discussion for later. Go. Just clear the air with Rorik before Kara gets here. We need him calm and collected, not looking for a reason to fight.” She pushed off from the shelf and left in the direction of the dining room.
I hesitated only for a moment. Just long enough to check my heartbond and feel tremors of anger fluctuating down our connection.
With a long exhale, I made a quick stop at my room for some boots and then headed out the front doors.
Rorik was exactly where I thought he’d be, training beneath the ancestor tree with his shirt off and a sword in one hand.
I knew he saw me because a flicker of irritation snapped between us, but I gritted my teeth and pushed forward.
I stood silently as he moved through his drills.
Which was perfectly fine, because I still wasn’t sure how to start this conversation.
Let him be the one to break the tension.
After several more painfully awkward minutes, he thrust his sword into the earth and turned toward me. Beads of sweat rolled down his sternum. “What is it?”
I flinched at the bitterness in his words. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re apologizing?”
“Yes. I could have handled that conversation better.”
“No,” Rorik groaned as he dragged a heavy hand down his face. “I was the one who was supposed to apologize first.”
My lips quirked in amusement, and the feeling was such a relief that I nearly burst out laughing on the spot. “You were quite an ass.”
His gaze snagged on my grin, and he took it for the olive branch that it was. His own smile stretched from one ear to the other. “You’ve been thinking about my ass again?”
“Well.” I made a show of leaning to the side, where I most definitely did not examine his backside. “Hard to say. There’s not much to work with.”
“I see.” With a shake of his head, he sighed and then sank to the ground. He patted the space beside him, and I obliged, sitting so I could face him. “I am sorry, though. There’s . . . a lot happening down this heartbond of ours, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I said. “Is it always this contentious for everyone?”
“I wouldn’t know. Never had one before. And Lydia and Clesian are sickeningly in love, so their opinion on the matter is somewhat skewed.”
“They are, aren’t they?” I mused as I stared at the sky. Puffy white clouds crept along the blue expanse, momentarily obscuring the sun and casting the world in shadow. “Seville said she’d help me confront Death.”
Rorik grimaced. “I don’t want Seville tracking him down, either.”
I sighed. “You can’t control what she does any more than you can control what I do. Seville wants to live without the weight of blight. If there’s a way to stop it, she’s going to try.”
“And likely cause major fallout in the process.” Rorik ran a hand through his hair and tugged on the ends.
“The only other hope is to keep training with me.”
“That is not a solution.”
Leaning forward, I gripped his hand in mind. “Rorik, how many threads do I have left?”
He stilled. “I told you. Not enough.”
“It’s not your magic that made them disappear,” I said gently.
“It’s what I did the day I killed Orin. And I don’t regret doing that for a second.
” His fingers flexed against mine, but I didn’t release him from my grip.
“I was fine back in Willowfell, but I wasn’t better.
I’ll never be better. Sitting around leading a boring, peaceful life won’t bring back what I lost. So, I want—no, I need you to understand. ”
I paused long enough for him to round his dark stare on me.
“I will not stop trying. With or without you, I will master this magic and I will face Death on my terms. I refuse to sit around and wait to slowly wither away. I’m going to live my life the way I want to.”
“How do you not see the flaw with this plan?” Rorik asked.
He yanked on my hand so I was forced to lean closer, mere inches away from his face.
His eyes roved over my features, searching.
Begging. “You’re putting your life on the line for a hope with no proof that it will work.
What if my magic doesn’t protect your threads?
What if you face Death and he injures you beyond repair?
What little you have left will be gone. You’ll be gone.
” His nose brushed against mine. “I cannot have that.”
His eyes slipped closed for a moment and he breathed me in. And then he squeezed my fingers once and let me go. Slowly, he got to his feet but quickly stiffened with a scowl.
“She’s here.” He nodded toward the entrance of the manor, where Kara was standing with her back to the doors and staring at us. “Let’s go.”