Twenty
The next few days were a blur of training. Rorik pushed me to expand the radius of my magic, so that I siphoned larger portions of vegetation to bolster my threads. And once I hit my max range, he had me hold on to my power for as long as possible.
“Think of it like pushing a muscle to the brink. For it to grow, you have to rip it, so when it heals, it adds bulk and strength,” he’d said. I’d merely groaned from my back while staring up at the leaves of the forest, my breath hitting hard and fast.
When I hit my limit, he’d swap over to teaching me the basics of knife handling.
“You’re entirely too clumsy. Grip the handle tighter, with purpose.
There’s no need for flourishes; you just need one swift move to bring him to his knees,” Rorik had said.
While I’d rolled my eyes at his note about my inept and bumbling fingers, he was right.
There wasn’t time to train for an actual knife fight, and I’d likely have only one chance to drive the blade into Death’s chest.
On and on we went, to the point where I thought Rorik might’ve been right about pushing myself too hard.
My bones ached. My head throbbed. There seemed to be a permanent cool sweat dampening the collars of my blouses.
But I refused to let that slow me down. Rorik grimaced whenever he noticed the lingering effects and would stop fighting me.
As for my brothers . . . Nohr’s attitude had softened with time, and while he still hadn’t outright apologized, he was at least speaking to me again.
If he were to find out that I was straining too hard, though, he’d dig in his heels just like before.
Which was why I refused to tell him or Noam and Lysa about my plan to confront Death.
Fortunately, the Ferngloves complied with my wish and kept their mouths shut.
When the morning of the fete came, the entire family was waiting in the foyer to send us off.
Amalyss and Tasia rushed toward me first, and while I could sense the worry and concern in their tone, there was also a curiosity that couldn’t be squelched.
“Tell us everything that happens,” Tasia said with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle.
“Spare no details. If you do, I’ll . . .” Amalyss chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes lit up. “I’ll trick you into an evervow again and force you to tell us anyway.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not there to have fun, but I promise I’ll tell you about everything I see.”
I gave them each a one-armed hug, and then Lydia approached us with an amused smile.
“Go on, let her go already.” The girls complied, strolling back to their father’s side while whispering beneath their breath about the unfairness of being left behind from a coupling fete when they were rightfully of age.
They even roped Lysa into their conversation, and her pale skin tinged a bright red as the girls started detailing the purpose behind the fete. Lydia just rolled her eyes.
“Be careful,” Lydia said. She gripped my hands in hers. “Clesian and I will keep your family safe. I’d vow it to you, if you’d let me.”
My chest tightened at her offer, but I shook my head.
“I trust your word, Lydia. That’s good enough for me.
” Months ago, I would’ve lunged at the opportunity for an evervow; it was a magical promise that had serious ramifications if reneged.
That type of security was something I once needed to feel safe within these halls, but now these immortals were my family, too. I trusted them.
Lydia hugged me tightly and then let go, making way for my brothers.
“This better not be the last time we see you,” Noam said as he pressed me against his chest. One arm instinctively went around his waist while I reached for Nohr with the other. He melted into his usual place, and I hugged them both.
Guilt sat heavy in my gut. “It won’t be.”
“Good.” Noam pressed his nose to the crown of my hair. “I want you to take the longest vacation of your life when you get back. A permanent one.”
A wayward tear streaked down my cheek. I wiped it against Noam’s shirt before anyone could notice. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Can you?” He said so much with his pointed look that all I could do was swallow.
After a moment, he gave me another squeeze and then released me.
Already he was maneuvering his way back to Lysa, and I hoped he was able to successfully pry her away from what appeared to be a very uncomfortable conversation for her delicate ears.
“Why does this goodbye feel more real than any other one we’ve said?” Nohr asked. He still hadn’t let go, and his warm palm was firm against my back.
My chest threatened to cave in on itself. “Because I’m going someplace dangerous.”
“You’ve always run into danger,” Nohr said with a sigh. “Edira . . . I’m sorry. For the other morning.”
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I just . . . I know they’re your family, too.
I just felt like I was losing you, and I wasn’t ready.
I’m still not ready.” His grip on me tightened, and he blew out a shaky breath.
“But I’m glad you’re not alone. At least this time you have that prick to protect you.
” He glowered at Rorik, who’d been waiting just on the other side of the open doors with his back to the courtyard.
His flinty gaze never met mine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been watching me the entire time.
“He’s . . . difficult,” I muttered. “But he will keep me safe.”
For a beat, Nohr said nothing, and then the words slowly tumbled from his lips, as if he had to pry them from his mind with far too much force.
“I get it, Edira. I get why you chose him. I didn’t at first, but just being here these few days and seeing how he is .
. . how he watches over you . . . I get it. ”
Whatever he saw must have been before our kiss. “There’s nothing between us.”
Nohr pulled out of my hug and shook his head. “Are you trying to convince yourself or him? Listen, just say the word. If you want to run away right now, we can leave. Gods, I think Rorik would even let us. Makes me hate him a little less.”
The sad part was Nohr was right. Rorik would celebrate if we waltzed through those doors and promised never to return. I gave Nohr a tired look, then squeezed his hand one more time for good measure. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Always.” He pulled me in for another quick hug. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“All right, all right. We’re coming back, you do know that, right?” Seville sauntered over and gently tugged on my wrist. “But there is etiquette to consider with these things, so we really must be going.”
I waved goodbye to the family as we funneled out the door, three attendants in tow.
They’d follow us to Stormsend with our bags and return to Fernglove within the hour.
Part of me wanted Rorik to brand Nohr, Noam, and Lysa with his family’s crest just so they could understand the perks of ley line travel.
We walked through the courtyard in strained silence, the only sound our heavy footfalls thudding first against cobblestone and then dirt after we crossed the bridge and reached the marker.
Rorik placed one hand on the marble stone and offered me the other.
I didn’t take it. Instead, I palmed a free spot opposite his fingers and tried my best to ignore Seville’s raised brows.
Thankfully, she said nothing, and the attendants knew better than to comment, though I imagined they’d be sharing gossip with their friends the moment they returned.
Rorik grimaced, then activated the ley lines that would shepherd us halfway across the continent in no time at all.
Magic whipped around us as the world spun beneath our feet.
“It will take longer than usual, given the distance.” It was the only thing Rorik said for the duration of our travel.
Minutes ticked by in awkward silence, and Seville’s glances between Rorik and me were far from subtle.
There was even a slight curl on her lips that suggested she was thoroughly enjoying the mounting tension.
I wanted to reach around and pinch her, but that would’ve only made things worse.
Instead, I gritted my teeth and glared at the swirling depths of the ley lines.
When they finally receded and my feet hit solid ground, I let out a long exhale.
We’d manifested on the outskirts of a sprawling town that buzzed with activity.
Townsfolk dressed in fine clothing milled about the clean cobblestone streets, and the buildings were made with an off-white stone that was free of any filth or grime.
Their architecture was bold, with sweeping lines and large windows framed by dark shutters and even darker roofs.
Polished carriages with well-groomed horses traversed the roads, and iron lampposts manned the corners of sidewalks.
“Stormsend,” Rorik said tightly. “Stay close.”
“It seems fine?” I watched as a troop of children ran into the street with a ball and kicked it among themselves.
Their laughter bubbled above the clacking of horse hooves, and some unseen parent in the distance half-heartedly chastised them for not being careful.
A few people nodded in our direction as they passed, but they were otherwise uninterested in our arrival.
The ley line marker—a large sphere that came up to my hip and was made of the same stone as the buildings—sat proudly among a collection of wooden barrels that housed trumpet-shaped purple petunias and intensely pink flowers with spiky blooms that I didn’t recognize.
Everything felt so peaceful.
“Stormsend itself is fine,” Seville said as she glanced around. “But everyone here is unflinchingly loyal to the Embergraves. They have little interest in other Ever families.”