Nineteen
There is a vault, but it’s going to be impossible to access,” Clesian said, drink in hand.
The moment he and Lydia had returned that evening, Seville, Rorik, and I met with them in the library.
The others had all gone to bed, and while it saddened me that Nohr hadn’t sought me out, I knew we’d resolve things eventually.
For now, I needed my mind focused on this plan.
A plan that I wouldn’t dream of sharing with my brothers.
Lydia’s haggard expression matched her heartbond’s, and she took a heavy drink from her glass of wine. Gently, she slipped her free hand in Clesian’s. “It’s in Zeverin’s bedroom, and the lock is activated by his touch alone.”
“Of course it is,” Seville said with an exaggerated sigh. Sinking into the armchair nearest the fire, she crossed one leg over the other.
“Well, if I am the object of his attention, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince him to take me there,” I said. “It’s a coupling fete, so maybe—”
A resounding crack splintered the air, and my gaze riveted to the glass tumbler in Rorik’s hand. A clean break had shot through it like lightning.
“That’s out of the question.” The silken heat in his voice would’ve normally set my heart racing, but the hurt and anger still threading through my gut were excellent at squandering any desire.
“Is it now?” I folded my arms across my chest, daring him to cross the room and go toe to toe with me. “I think I am in charge of my own body and what I choose to do with it.”
“No one is saying you aren’t,” he spat as he took a solitary step in my direction. “It’s too dangerous. If you go into his quarters alone, he’ll never let you leave.”
My lips pressed together in a fine line, but before I could throw out another retort, Seville held up her hand.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I’m in agreement with Rorik.
You are not an Ever. You are supposed to be weak.
I’ll be the one to grab the blade from the vault.
And hopefully, we’ll walk out without anyone the wiser. ”
“And just how do you plan on accomplishing that?” Rorik scowled. I could barely stand to look at him. Not when part of me still longed to pick up where we left off earlier on the lawns.
“An irysdrop. We have plenty of time to prepare it.” Seville shrugged. “I’ll even have Edira help me. It’s a nice trick of Fernglove magic that she should be aware of.”
When Rorik said nothing, Lydia jumped in. “It could work.”
“Let’s say all goes according to plan. You get the blade, you leave unscathed,” Clesian said as he set his now empty glass on the coffee table. “What then? Will you seek out Death immediately?”
For a moment, I said nothing. I wanted to say yes.
Judging by how Rorik reacted at the sight of my threads in the cave, my time was even more finite than I realized.
But fear still snaked through me. Maybe I wasn’t prepared for this.
Rebellyn stood up to Death, and he fell prey to her whims because no one had ever challenged him before.
Slowly, I forced myself to look at Rorik.
He’d told me to live. And even if this wasn’t what he’d imagined for me—what my brothers had imagined for me—it’s what I wanted to do.
“I need to know where to look,” I said quietly.
Clesian and Lydia looked at each other, then shook their heads.
Nothing. Seville lifted a single shoulder while mouthing the word sorry.
If Death’s whereabouts had truly been lost to time, then all of this was moot.
A tingling sensation rooted in my chest as my thoughts began to spiral.
There had to be a way. There had to . . .
Another look at Rorik revealed that he’d gone unnaturally still.
My gaze narrowed, and I barreled down our bond and sent all the power I could muster behind my thoughts. What is it? What do you know?
He gave me a pleading look, and for the briefest of moments, my heart shuddered. But I couldn’t be stopped. Wouldn’t be stopped.
“Edira,” Rorik said out loud, letting the softness of his voice tease my ears.
“What. Do. You. Know?” I crossed the room to stand before him and angled my chin upward so he’d be forced to look me in the eyes.
An eternity could’ve passed between us in that moment. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. Swallowed hard. Scratched at the dermal piercings above his brow. But I never budged. Never let the weight of my stare lessen. And finally, he sighed.
“I don’t know. But Ossanna might.”
Seville straightened in her chair. “How do you know that?”
“Ossanna has been hinting at sharing family secrets ever since she set Issa up with Orin.” Rorik stepped away from me and glanced out the window.
“She mentioned once that water can be the boundary between life and death. At the time, I’d assumed she was being arrogant about the strength of her power. ”
“Can we have her over tomorrow? Will she explain more?” I asked.
“I doubt it. Not without getting something in return.” Seville reclined in her chair, her mind spinning.
“They already left,” Rorik said. “Ossanna wanted to get there early to make sure she had the opportunity to greet every possible suitor for Issa.”
“We’ll have to get the information from her while we’re there, then,” Seville said. Stifling a yawn, she stood and sauntered toward the exit. “For now, though, rest up. Tomorrow, Edira and I will harvest the irysdrop and get the brew started.”
“After that, more training.” Rorik didn’t even look at me as he strolled out of the room. Seville sighed at his back but followed after him. Clesian tucked Lydia against his side and draped one arm around her shoulders.
“This risk you’re taking . . . are you sure it’s worth it?” Lydia asked. Her hand lingered on Clesian’s chest, and a twinge of pain burned through my heart. If I got through this, maybe I’d have a chance to experience what they had. If I got through this, maybe Rorik . . .
I buried that hope down deep. “It’s worth it.”
The two of them nodded and headed upstairs. Tomorrow, then.
THE NEXT MORNING, SEVILLE AND I were standing in a miniature garden tucked deep within the woods behind the manor.
All sorts of root vegetables and berry bushes were in varying states of hibernation, but one plant stood out from the rest. It was a small, bulbous thing with broad, velvety leaves and pale yellow in color.
“Welcome to our hidden garden of obscurities and oddities,” Seville said with a grin.
“We don’t have all the rare plants in the realm, but we have a few.
” She’d worn tan slacks with a white blouse, and her hair was pulled back in a loose bun.
A few strands had fallen about her face to frame her cheeks, and she brushed them away as she knelt on the ground.
Following her lead, I knelt and gently stroked one of the leaves.
“I recognize this from A Collection of Rare Flora, back when I was researching how to cure blight.” The hue and texture had been described in painstaking detail, right down to the tiny white fingerling hairs lining the edges.
“I don’t remember its significance, though. ”
“It can only be harvested once every few years, and even then, it’s not a guarantee,” Seville said. “We’ve managed to keep one or two thriving with our magic. When they get to a flowering state, we leave them alone until we absolutely need them.”
“Like now,” I murmured.
“Like now,” she echoed. Gingerly, she peeled back the layers of leaves to reveal a palm-sized, iridescent pine cone. “I’d let you try this, but considering we only have one available, I hope you’ll understand.”
I held up my hands in agreement. While I trusted that my fingers could forage even the most delicate of herbs, I was far from practiced in dealing with anything magical.
Seville buried her fingers in the earth on either side of the plant and then ignited her magic.
Sparkling green particles bloomed outward while the scent of florals perfumed the air.
When her magic coated the irysdrop, the leaves turned brittle and ocher.
“Magic-touched irysdrop is poisonous. It’s not fatal, but once consumed, the person in question will be highly susceptible to suggestion, and their memories while under the influence will be altered to match.
” Seville extracted her hands from the earth.
With dexterous fingers, she gripped the base of the pine cone center and gave it a twist. The stem broke with ease, and she gently wrapped it in a silk cloth she’d pulled from her pocket.
“That’s incredible,” I said.
“Indeed it is. And now you can perform this act, too, should you ever need a draught of your own.” She stood up and clasped the core between her hands. “Another family secret, if you will.”
Together, we headed for the kitchen, where she had me grind the core into a fine powder with a stone pestle—apparently anyone could do this without risk of destroying the draught—and then she poured a thin stream of steaming water over it in a circular motion.
Once water filled the mortar to the brim, she draped the silk cloth over it and tucked it away in a cabinet for safekeeping.
“In a couple days, that’ll be ready for consumption.
Clear, sweet, but not overpowering. A perfect addition to any glass of wine.
” She linked her arm with mine and steered me toward the main hall of the house.
“Now, I do believe I’m supposed to drop you off with Rorik for more training. I trust that’s going well?”
“About as well as you could imagine,” I muttered.
“Keep at it. One of these days, he just might pull his head out of his ass.”
“What was that you were saying about love and abrasiveness?” I said with a smirk.
She scoffed. “I was hardly referring to me.” But her smile told me otherwise, and even though things were still tense between Rorik and me, Seville left me feeling more hopeful than I’d been the night before.