Twenty-Seven
We found a winding, narrow path down the water-slicked cliffs a few miles away.
Dusk had claimed the sky, painting the world a lavender shade, and the first glimpses of stars dotted the darkening expanse.
Rorik and I hadn’t spoken much on our trek; most of his energy went to keeping a stoic expression to try to bury the pain I knew he must’ve felt.
The moment we hit the jagged, rocky beach, however, Ossanna’s magic died—and with it, Rorik’s relief.
He nearly crumpled right there but managed to grasp a nearby boulder and bite out a curse.
Panic crested in my chest, and I scanned the rough beach to find the cabin a short distance away.
“Come on, we’re almost there.” I helped him stand and shouldered some of his weight. Rorik’s face blanched. He’d long since replaced his glamour, but that didn’t stop his blackened skin from cracking to reveal trails of blood and raw flesh. My mind whirred.
“I thought Evers were supposed to heal quickly?” I asked, trying in vain to keep the fear from creeping into my voice. If I’d been injured like he was, I doubt we would’ve made it this far. Even with Ossanna’s help. Silently, I thanked her again as I kept my arm wrapped tightly around him.
“It takes longer to heal from Ever magic, but I will. Eventually.” He grimaced.
I whispered an apology as I jostled his body to prevent him from slipping on a misshapen stone.
There was hardly any life on this beach.
What sand existed was hidden beneath layers of hazardous stone, and the cliffs at our backs had little to no outcroppings for vegetation of any kind.
But as we neared the cabin, a glimmer of relief filled my limbs.
The land surrounding it had been mostly cleared of rubble, and a few shrubs had managed to grow.
Their needlelike yellow flowers swayed in the ocean breeze, and the barest hint of coconut drifted in our direction.
An idea bloomed in my mind. “This way,” I said, guiding Rorik toward the cluster of shrubs and away from the front door.
Rorik frowned. “Why?”
“Trust me.” I eased him to the ground and leaned his back against the weathered, wooden planks along the cabin’s exterior. Then I kneeled before him. Steadying my breath, I focused on what I’d learned before the fete, when I’d sat with him on the grounds and practiced molding our magics into one.
“Edira,” Rorik growled, but I shook my head once.
“Quiet.”
Closing my eyes, I pictured both of our magics: my moonlight river of healing energy and the golden heartbond we shared.
I found them both easily this time, and I willed them to twine together.
I wove them into a resplendent gilded thread of power that pulsed with the light of the moon.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and was rewarded with the sight of not one but two of my threads.
They responded more quickly this time, reaching for the ground without much additional prompting from me and burrowing deep into the sand.
The scent of earth and florals and tall swaying pines filled my nose, and then came the distinct aroma of coconut from the nearby flowers.
They’d bent toward me, harkening the call of my magic, and spilled their life force into the sand through their roots.
And my threads had woven around them. Life flowed into me as the leaves withered and the blooms dulled.
Now the hard part. With my threads steadily robbing the foliage of their vitality, I turned to Rorik.
The moonlit glow ensconcing my fingers was flecked with gold, and I turned my palms up to the sky as his aquamarine threads peeled away from his body.
They were brighter than the stars in the dusk light and even more captivating, rippling through the ocean breeze like ribbons.
There were several, though, that were unusually damaged.
Their frayed ends were limp against the ground, their color dulled. I pursed my lips together.
“I’ll be fine, Edira. Just let it be.” Rorik made a move to stand, and I acted before he could escape my grasp.
I snatched the nearest damaged thread out of the air and bathed it in my magic.
It stilled instantly, soothed by the healing power now pulsing from somewhere deep in my core and rolling out of me in hypnotic waves.
Rorik halted, too. When I pinched the ends of the ragged thread and began coaxing them to rejoin, I felt him reluctantly tap into our heartbond and access my power.
Curiosity, it seemed, had won out. His eyes were now glowing like twin moons rimmed in gold, and he watched in wide-eyed fascination.
The blackened skin along his forearms crackled like brittle paper and then flaked away.
Smooth, undamaged skin was left behind, and my own arms began to itch.
Gritting my teeth, I cast a cursory glance at my limbs, expecting to see a burn splattering across my arms. Instead, though, there was only the faintest blush crawling from wrist to elbow and a minor needling sensation. One of the plants by my side withered to something resembling a tumbleweed.
It’s working. A smile tugged at my lips as I moved to the next frayed thread and repeated the process.
More of Rorik’s damaged skin peeled away, and another nearby bush was totally sapped of life.
One thread left. The last one came to me eagerly, sliding between my fingers and presenting itself for mending.
Rorik still hadn’t moved, but his gaze had slanted to the remaining shrub behind me that was quickly losing color.
I repaired his final thread before the last leaf curled on itself and fell to the sand.
My magic receded, and I slowly gauged the aftermath of healing something so drastic.
The tingling in my arms had died and the flush was gone.
Only the slightest tightness remained, the sensation like a layer of dry skin just begging to slough off.
Rorik hesitated for a moment as the glow of threadmending magic still lingered in his eyes. He stared around me, likely inspecting my threads, and then let out a terse sigh. He pushed off the ground and offered me his hand. “That was reckless and entirely unnecessary.”
“Just say thank you for once.” I took it and stood. “I take it my threads are still intact?”
He mumbled a yes beneath his breath as he led the way to the wraparound deck.
The wood creaked beneath our weight as we took the steps up to the porch, and he gave the door a forceful tug until it swung open.
Musty, stale air with a hint of salt flooded my nostrils.
Rorik grumbled as he navigated through the dark, avoiding shadowed furniture until he crouched before what appeared to be a hearth.
He made quick work of some kindling and leftover wood, sparking a fire to life with the help of a flint stone that had been left on the mantel.
“We’ll rest here tonight,” Rorik said as he stared at the growing flames.
Ocher light bathed the cabin, and I closed the door behind me.
The cottage was quaint, with well-worn furniture in pastel blues and a low coffee table made of driftwood.
Cobwebs clustered in the corners and draped across the rafters.
To the left, there was a woodstove in the kitchen and butcher-block counters covered in grime.
A threadbare throw blanket was draped over the back of the couch, but otherwise, there wasn’t anything in the way of decor.
No pictures or paintings or knickknacks of any kind.
Crossing the room, I headed for the solitary closed door and opened it to find a large four-poster bed.
The maple frame, at least, seemed in decent shape.
I couldn’t say the same for the linens themselves, though.
A layer of fine gray dust was masquerading as a blanket.
The only other piece of furniture in the room was an armoire with its doors hanging open.
A few clothes and shoes had been left behind, but nothing more.
“Tomorrow, we’ll head home.” Rorik tilted his head toward me as I closed the bedroom door.
“Home? But what about this?” I took off the pouch and set it on a nearby end table. “Death isn’t far.”
“That was the plan before Seville was taken. Now we’re shorthanded,” he said as he stood. Images of her unconscious body slung over Kara’s shoulder filled my mind. My stomach tightened. I’d shared what I’d seen with Rorik on our journey to the cabin, and he’d only managed a groan in answer.
“So, we go save Seville, then come back for Death.” I parked my hip on the arm of the couch and glowered at Rorik.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t underestimate Seville. She’d throttle you just for the mere suggestion that she couldn’t take care of herself.”
Temper colored my words. “You’re not the least bit concerned? What if something happened to her?”
“Of course I’m concerned,” he said. “But we can’t go back to Stormsend right now.
I’ll get you back to Fernglove, away from this mess, and then I’ll search for her.
Seville suffered burns, not a mortal wound.
I wouldn’t put it past her to be faking just so she could get the upper hand on Kara.
” He stalked toward the kitchen, ignoring my huff, and then sucked on his teeth once before heading for the front door. “Stay here. I’ll be back with food.”