Twenty-Four
The crisp, salt-tinged breeze rolling in from the ocean cliffs swept over the lawns and toyed with the decorative chimes dangling from the handful of gossamer canopies.
Long tables laden with finger sandwiches and wine were manned by attendants, and Evers milled about while munching on food and exchanging pleasantries.
Some of them proudly showed off their bestial attributes, while others kept everything tightly wrapped up in glamour.
Much like before, Seville guided us through the growing crowd for the first couple of hours, ensuring every face acknowledged our presence.
Rorik, on the other hand, posted up along one of the wooden columns of the canopy and defaulted to crossing his arms while wearing a practiced look of boredom.
As we passed a group of Evers all sporting varying types of tails, I tilted my head toward Seville. “Does everyone here have familial magic like you and Rorik?”
“The opposite, actually.” She finger-waved to a woman near the wine fountain, but didn’t pause in our route.
“Most Evers just have basic powers: expedited healing, beast features, evervows, glamour, a few simple charms for comforts like you enjoy at the estate. Anything beyond that is considered rare.”
“Hence why everyone wants to bed you.” I couldn’t keep the disgust from my voice.
Seville laughed. “They can try.” Her gaze rounded on Zeverin.
He’d been watching us for the past several minutes.
It was hard to say if he was more interested in Seville or my power, but I had no doubt in my mind that he’d steal both of us away if he could.
Seville steered us toward the edge of the crowd where the lawns gave way to winding cobblestone paths and neatly trimmed hedges.
“I’m going to talk to Zeverin and lay the groundwork for later,” she said with a gentle pat on my arm. “Enjoy the fresh air. Don’t let Rorik burn holes into your back.”
I laughed at that. “As if I could stop him.”
Seville grinned. “I suppose not.” Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she strolled away, leaving me to stare at the grounds.
Beside the network of hedges was a sprawling, well-kept garden.
I recognized a few herbs immediately, and a familiar twinge of longing coursed through my fingers.
As much as I complained about digging in the dirt and brewing tonics, my time as an apothecary had been simple and scattered with small moments of peace.
Now . . . My gaze shifted to a man with white hair standing in front of a sage plant, admiring the velvety gray-green stalks and lavender flowers.
Dermon. Now my life was like his, tied to an Ever family, though mine felt like a choice, where his, it seemed, was not.
“Hey,” I said as I approached him. “Are you versed in flora, too?”
He let out a soft hum, studying me out of the corner of his eye. “I know a little. It was one of the first things I researched when coming here. Any pointers?”
“I tried a bunch of variations myself.” I scoured the freshly watered soil and thriving vegetation. “I didn’t find anything that helped.”
Guilt threaded through my stomach. I knew what could help, but I couldn’t tell him without risking my safety. Plus, I wasn’t sure letting Zeverin in on the secret that heartbonding meant access to a threadmender’s power was a good idea, either. He’d use Dermon just like Orin tried to do with me.
“Helped?” His laugh was brittle. “I’d rather them hurt.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Understandable. Will you be attending the gala tonight?”
“I doubt it. I’m Zeverin’s only employed threadmender at the moment, and as he’ll be otherwise occupied, he won’t be able to ensure I’m not whisked away.” Dermon let out an almost wistful sigh.
“I take it he’s protective,” I said.
“Protective?” Dermon’s laugh was sharp. “Possessive is more like it. A distant relative of his once made a comment about borrowing me for a week or two, and the next thing I knew, she was buried at the foot of that creepy tree with the rest of his deceased kin.”
“I hate how dangerous it is for you.”
“It isn’t for you?” He tilted his head to the side.
“Yes and no.”
We wove around plants, our feet quiet against the rich soil.
I knew Rorik was watching us. I could practically feel his heady gaze worming between my shoulder blades, but I didn’t turn around.
Dermon and I were just two threadmenders aimlessly wandering the gardens, seeking reprieve from an Ever-filled event. There was no reason for alarm.
“You know, I’m supposed to be needling you for information.
” He glanced at me. We veered down another row, where most of the plants had stopped flowering with the chill of fall.
“Truth be told, even if you told me how to remove as much blight as you’ve managed to do with the Ferngloves, I would lie. ”
“Really? Why?” I followed him toward the far end of the garden.
A few Evers had ventured away from the main luncheon setup to wander along the paved pathways surrounding the plot.
The nearest canopy was still within eyesight, and a quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that Rorik was, in fact, still staring daggers my way.
What are you doing? He sent his question down our bond, and it rumbled with irritation and worry.
I’m mingling. Being seen. You know, what Seville asked us to do? Go socialize. I cut him off then, knowing full well he’d grumble at me later.
“Because I’m tired; aren’t you?” Dermon asked as we came to a halt. “At this point, I’d rather die on my own terms than heal for one more minute under Zeverin’s rule.”
Tired didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Besides,” Dermon continued when I didn’t say anything, “I don’t want you to end up stuck here like me. I’ll tell Zeverin there’s no secret to your magic, that everything was a fluke, and hopefully tomorrow you’ll be able to leave with the rest of the guests.”
Sadness crept through my chest as I studied Dermon’s face. Somewhere beneath that hardened facade was a young man who never really got to live. And here he was, still doing everything in his power to give me a chance at a different life.
“There you are!” Seville called to us from the edge of the garden. I lifted my gaze to meet her stare, and she waved me toward her. “Let’s head inside and prepare for the evening.”
Dermon tipped his chin downward by way of goodbye, and I gave him a soft smile before heading toward Seville. She looped her arm through mine and guided us toward the steps where Rorik was already waiting.
How’s Zeverin’s mender? he asked down our bond.
As good as he can be, I suppose, I thought back. He’s not interested in helping Zeverin in any capacity, so he’s the least of our concerns.
Good. The tension riddling Rorik’s shoulders lessened.
Seville glanced between us. “Ready for tonight?”
Rorik’s disdain was palpable, but I nodded as we passed through the double-door entry to the manor.
A handful of attendants were stationed there, including the woman assigned as our retainer, and she smiled at us as we approached.
Seville requested tea be brought up later for refreshments, and the woman bent low into a bow that had her hair spilling over her cheeks.
Again, when she brushed them aside, I got the strange sensation that she was wiping away the features of her face, if that was even possible.
Her round cheek smudged into a sharper angle for a beat, but when she righted herself, her expression was perfectly smooth, smile placid.
Worry gnawed at my gut. If this was a new brand of hallucinations starting to plague my mind, then I really didn’t have much time left at all.
AFTER THE ATTENDANTS DELIVERED OUR tea, Seville settled into the armchair with a long sigh. She cradled her cup between her hands and gently blew steam away from the surface.
“Everything’s ready to go.” She nodded toward the table where a slender vial of perfume no larger than my pinkie rested next to an assortment of jewelry.
After waiting for the irysdrop to steep back at Fernglove, she’d made the decision to bottle the opalescent liquid in something suited for the night’s activities.
“And just how are you going to get Zeverin to drink that?” Rorik asked softly as he folded his arms across his chest. The attendants had left long ago, but I doubted he’d risk anything more than a whisper at this point.
Seville took a sip of her tea. “I’ll slip it in a glass of Douselle Kiss. He’ll jump at the opportunity if I’m the one offering it. Then later, when he’s dreaming of all the things we didn’t do, I’ll use his hand to open the vault. Easy.”
“Even if this works,” Rorik drawled, “who’s to stop him from checking it first thing in the morning after you’ve entertained him?”
Seville let out a haughty laugh. “You misunderstand the power of male dissonance. If I weave a tale of him as this dominant sex god that left me breathless and limp—and I have no problem lying in his bed until he wakes just to sell that picture—the only thing he’ll be doing is strutting out the door with me on his arm like a proud little peacock. ”
I snorted. “I can’t wait to see that.”
“It’ll be great fun.” Her eyes lit up, and she set her cup down. “Now, it’s time to get ready.”
Rorik pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank the gods we’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Go to your room,” Seville said as she batted him on the arm. “Get yourself together. Remember, we’re to be seen. That is vital for tonight. No slipping away early, no hiding in corners. Until I leave with Zeverin, everyone needs to think we’re willing guests—not plotting thieves.”
Rorik pinned her with an annoyed look. “I’m neither a willing guest nor a thief.”
“And you’re certainly no help,” I ground out. “Now, leave us alone for fuck’s sake.”
“Yes,” Seville said with a coy smile. “Because tonight is all about fuck’s sake.”