Sixteen #3
It should have been a horrifying moment, but my heart raged in my chest for entirely different reasons. Because in that moment, surrounded by minuscule particles of magic and wrapped in tendrils of dying smoke, all I wanted to do was run to him.
He’s why I won’t leave.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I looked away.
“Are you okay?” Nohr’s hands on my arms tightened. I’d forgotten that I’d stepped into his embrace at the sight of the flames, and I nearly jumped with his gentle squeeze.
“Yeah,” I croaked, thankful that I could blame my weak response on the fire.
“What was that?” Noam asked. He stood beside Nohr and me with wide eyes and a slack jaw.
“That was a warning from the Embergraves.” Rorik stalked back toward us, and his glamour slowly fell back into place. “It was in the shape of an E.”
“Kara?” I asked as I stepped out of Nohr’s arms and scoured the nearby forest line.
“Maybe.” Pure murder raged in Rorik’s eyes. “We may have accepted their invitation, but I imagine it was a parting gift. A reminder in case we changed our minds between now and when the fete is held.”
Just then, the sound of groaning wheels churning over loose dirt crested through the air, and we turned as one to see the Ferngloves’ slick black carriage heading toward us.
An attendant I didn’t know sat in the open driver’s seat, and he gripped the reins of two massive stags—one I recognized as Zota.
Standing twenty hands tall, he was as magnificent as always with ivy strands that sprouted from the base of his horns.
Clusters of tiny white flowers dotted his mossy hide, and he threw his head up and down in excitement at the sight of us.
The other stag let out a low groaning whine as he ducked his head to avoid Zota’s antlers.
“Okay, Edira.” Nohr blew out a long breath. “We’ll go.”
Relief sang through my bones, and I wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you.”
“It’ll be fun,” Noam said as he joined us. “A little holiday from Willowfell. Plus, we’ll get to see what they’ve done with the place.” The tears I’d been fighting spilled over, and I held them both close for several moments. Then Noam asked, “We’re still stopping by Lysa’s, though, right?”
A laugh bubbled from my lips, and I nodded as I finally released them.
“Sure. Go pack.” They headed indoors, and I made my way toward the road where Rorik was speaking with the driver.
Seville had exited the carriage and was listening intently to their conversation.
Several cases had been loaded into the boot of the carriage, and I shook my head, knowing full well those contained whatever she’d purchased.
“Hey, Zota,” I murmured as I ran my hand down the length of his snout. He chuffed in response, and I brought my forehead to his muzzle. “Glad to see you’re still healthy.”
Rorik waved off the driver and came to stand beside me. “He’s ready to go whenever we are. Seville is going to take the ley line back and alert the family of what happened here.”
“Good.” I pulled away from Zota, but not before giving him one last pat on the neck. “Though I’m surprised you’re not going with her.”
Heat flickered in his eyes. “If you think I’m leaving any of you unattended after a stunt like that, then you don’t know me in the slightest.”
“Fair enough.” I sighed. “Noam still wants to visit Lysa and see if she’ll join us.”
“That’s fine.” Rorik’s answer was curt. In fact, his entire body was rigid. His gaze bounced from one thing to the next, assessing where the threat came from and when it would strike again. “I’ll be sitting with the driver anyway. I’d prefer to have a clear view of our surroundings.”
“Rorik.” I reached for him, and while he let me grip his hand, he didn’t react to my touch at all.
“Get in,” he said with a nod toward the cabin as Noam and Nohr exited the house. “I don’t want to linger.”
I didn’t argue as I climbed in and slid across the tufted seats. Noam and Nohr joined me with small canvas bags packed full of clothes, and then Rorik slammed the door shut. The carriage creaked as he hauled himself up beside the driver, and before I could blink, we were heading back into town.
“And you still want to head to their estate,” Nohr muttered. He’d sidled beside me, knowing full well that if Lysa did join us she’d be cozied up with Noam on his bench.
“Not now, Nohr.” I rubbed my temples.
“I’m not letting go of this, Edira,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re already pushing yourself too far.”
“I’m fine, just tired.” And that was partially true.
With the sudden depletion of adrenaline, my body all too easily sagged into the overstuffed cushions of the carriage.
I rested my head against the paneling and stared out the window.
I couldn’t see Rorik out there, but I could feel his anger.
I had a feeling it would only fester as the days went on.
Still, the message was effective. Rorik wouldn’t dream of standing against the Embergraves if this was how they reacted.
And it was enough to push Nohr into coming to Fernglove.
My family was safe. We would attend the fete.
I would find that fucking blade and drive it through Death’s chest.
And then we would finally have some peace.