Twenty #2
A pearl-colored carriage with a gilded frame veered in our direction, and the driver waved to us before calling his buckskin mare to a stop.
He was a spry elderly man with twinkling blue eyes and a toothy grin that stretched from ear to ear.
He hopped down from his seat with ease, straightened his silken vest, and then walked toward us.
“Here for the fete? We’re to bring all Evers directly to the estate. Free of charge, of course.”
Seville stepped forward and offered the man her widest beam. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
He stared at her for a hair too long but recovered quickly with a fervent nod. “Of course. It’s a short ride, lady. I’ll have you there in no time.”
Between him and our attendants, our bags were quickly loaded in the boot, and we filed into the plush interior.
The panels were a soft pink with champagne-colored filigree, and sheer curtains were tacked to the sides of the windows, giving an unobstructed view of the surroundings.
I sat on the cushioned bench and stared outside, not ready to engage in any conversation with Rorik beyond what was strictly necessary.
As we pulled out of the main town, there was a stretch of road that contained nothing but wilderness.
It was beautiful: An endless range of snowcapped mountains extended along one side, their sharp peaks lost in the fluffy, purplish clouds dragging across the sky.
There was a small pine forest flush with the base of the mountains, and a meadow dotted with hundreds of tiny white flowers.
On the other side, there was a calm stretch of sea that was storm gray, thanks to the sun’s masked presence.
It was the first time I’d ever seen the ocean, and I marveled at its endless expanse.
Several impressive boats were docked at the piers, with large sails of immaculate canvas and brightly colored flags.
As I inhaled slowly, the mineral taste of salt skated across the back of my tongue.
The absence of buildings lasted for only a few minutes, though, and soon houses began to crop up along the road.
Some were nothing more than single-room cottages, while others were small mansions in their own right.
They shared a similar architectural style to that in Stormsend, but there was something different about the people.
They were colder. Sharper. I frowned as I peered closer. My heart stilled.
They were Evers. All of them.
Everywhere I looked I saw bestial features.
Wings made of glass and feathers and scales.
Pointed ears and fangs, claws and tails of every shape and size.
And, of course, the glamour. It was impossible not to notice their flawlessness.
My mind raced to catalog everything, and I was lost in awe of all the variations of power they displayed.
I wanted to know what kind of magic they wielded.
Were they as strong as the Ferngloves? The Embergraves?
Or were they all like Clesian before he met Lydia—able to maintain some simple magics, but nothing more?
“Is this all part of Stormsend?” I asked.
“No.” Rorik flexed his hands. “This is the Embers. The outskirts of the Embergrave Estate.”
“Evers without families or land will come here and live under the protection of the Embergraves,” Seville said as she scanned the surroundings.
“Lord Zeverin is powerful and cruel, but he does take care of those within his borders. He believes all Evers should thrive for eternity, as Rebellyn intended. And with ownership over the ports and the nearby everjewel mines, he’s capable of making that happen.
Everyone here would die for Zeverin if he asked. ”
“Many of them will attend the fete, but there are very few who are invited to stay within Embergrave Manor itself,” Rorik said.
“Which is why half of these fools are glaring at us and the other half are wondering what they can do to get into our good graces so they, too, can be chosen by an Embergrave.”
Unease trickled down my spine. Rorik was right. I hadn’t noticed it initially, but a growing number of onlookers had gathered by the road, and their piercing stares were far from kind. I pushed away from the window and settled into my seat. The last thing I wanted was more undue attention.
The carriage groaned to a temporary halt before a large iron gate with a ruby E engraved in the center.
After a few moments, the gates swung inward, and we were off down a winding gravel path that led to an imposing structure made of gleaming black stone.
Grand windows were placed in perfect symmetry along the walls, and the gabled roof was made of the same black material as the building itself.
It was more like a chateau than a manor, and it stretched on for ages across a wide-open plot of land that abruptly ended in sheer cliffs above the sea.
The driver maneuvered down the main road, around fenced-in, manicured gardens with small walking paths and trickling fountains.
Yet the thing that stole my focus entirely was their ancestor tree.
It appeared on the horizon before we were even near the end of the path.
It stood proudly at the rounded bend of the road where carriages were dropping off guests, and I couldn’t keep my gasp at bay.
“It’s massive,” I whispered in awe, and Seville nodded once beside me.
“They’re the oldest family. They’ve buried the most,” she said.
The trunk was a gnarled mass of legs wrapping over legs, the varying skin tones creating a whirlpool of color as they all intertwined.
Even if Rorik, Seville, and I all locked hands and formed a circle around its base, we wouldn’t be able to fully wrap around it.
Muscled arms locked around disjointed elbows and jutted outward to form knobby limbs that stretched toward the sky.
I couldn’t count all the hands. Worse, the thing seemed to move.
An invisible breath ran through the tree, the bone-white leaves at the top shimmering like a weary sigh.
My eyes widened, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“I thought they only moved if they were told to by a family member,” I murmured.
“This tree has a mind of its own,” Rorik said, his glare tight. “Rebellyn rests there. Many suspect it’s her rage that still burns and causes it to move.”
“Her rage?” I asked as the carriage drew us closer.
Rorik lifted a shoulder. “Well, clearly Death found her after all. She outsmarted him for a time, but not forever like she wanted.”
We fell back into silence as his words sat heavy in the air.
I dragged my gaze away from the looming tree to the surrounding lawns, trying and failing to shake the weight of its foreboding presence.
The entire estate reeked of danger and death.
My nose twitched as my power vibrated beneath my skin.
Arriving here was much like arriving at Fernglove that very first night.
I could feel the presence of blight deep within me, but I couldn’t see it.
There was a dull, muted scent in the air; a hint of must and death that couldn’t fully be suppressed.
The Embergraves had glamoured everything to perfection, but I knew what lay beneath the picturesque scene they’d painted: a rotting manor of decay.
The carriage came to a halt, and the driver hopped down from his seat to open the door. With a wide gesture to the house behind him, he smiled. “Welcome to Embergrave, friends. I hope you enjoy your stay.”