Twenty-Seven #2
“Wait—” I tried to stand, but he was gone before I could push off the couch.
I let out a wordless, stifled shriek of frustration before fully settling onto the cushions.
Logs snapped and popped in the fire, and for several moments I did nothing but stew and stare into the snarling flames.
As the anger ebbed, I tore off the granny boots I’d been wearing and grimaced.
When I’d dressed for breakfast, I’d hardly expected a brawl followed by a cross-country trek.
My feet ached from walking in heels for so long, and the embroidery along the leather sides was damaged beyond repair.
I’d have to force my weary feet back into them eventually, but for now, my toes could breathe easy.
I reached for the pouch and pulled out the blade. The metal was a void unlike anything I’d ever seen. Even the light from the flames seemed to dim in its presence, and there were no splashes of orange or flickers of yellow in the blade’s reflection. Just absolute nothingness.
Like death. I rotated the hilt once. It was a comfortable weight in my palm, perfectly balanced and warm to the touch. I’d only just started practicing with a knife, but something about it felt strangely right.
I’ll save your kin. I promise.
A chill crept down my spine. The weight of the evervow was etched into my very skin, a cold reminder that I would have to be the one to take down Death.
Once we were free of Embergrave lands, I’d shared with Rorik how I’d used earthly magic to get the ancestor tree to reveal the hidden blade, but not that the first Ever herself had managed to place an evervow on me.
The door swung open, and Rorik stormed in, still wearing a scowl but now carrying a makeshift spear with two fish impaled on its pointed end. He closed the door behind him and then walked to the fire. Gently, he propped the spear above the flames so the fish could cook.
Sizzling met my ears as remnants of salt water splashed against the wood.
We sat in silence for what felt like ages.
I still hadn’t taken the wall down around my end of our heartbond, but I’d removed a few bricks.
Peeked to the other side to see if he was listening.
I couldn’t tell. The river of emotions flowing between us was unnaturally still.
Quiet. I hated it, but I didn’t want to be the one to break first. Not after I’d bared myself to him in more ways than one. Not after he’d turned me away. Again.
At some point, he ventured to the kitchen and secured some mostly clean plates and forks, and then he slid a fish onto each one.
Without a single word, he took his seat beside me on the couch.
The silence grew heavier as we peeled the skin off our fish.
It carried through the first several bites, and my frustration mounted higher with each second that passed.
“I’m not going to bend on this one, Rorik. I have the blade. I’m going to find Death.”
He didn’t look at me. “No.”
I resisted the urge to smack him and instead placed my plate on the coffee table. “That was the plan all along. Why are you fighting this so hard?”
“Because there’s no reason for you to do this. Not anymore.” He maneuvered the tines of his fork around thin, brittle bones, securing a flaky white morsel of meat. “You healed my burns outside without damaging your threads. If you keep practicing, you’ll be able to mend whatever you please.”
“Like blight?” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
“Not blight.” He shook his head. “There’s no point. It will keep coming back.”
“Then I’ll keep healing it.”
Rorik swallowed thickly. “You’d have to try first. And what if it didn’t work? What if it did? Are you just going to siphon life from the world to keep me alive for as long as you please?”
Yes. I would drain the world dry if it meant keeping him safe. But as much as this was about keeping him alive, it was about saving myself, too.
“I want to do this for myself, Rorik. Maybe I don’t want to live by just . . . siphoning life from something else. What if I want the power to be free of that? To move as I please, to use magic as I please, without the risk of hurting myself? What if I don’t want to leave rot in my wake?”
“It’s better than letting yourself rot in the ground,” he said.
“What would you have me do, then?”
A muscle twitched along his clenched jaw. “Right now, I want you to eat your fish.”
“Fuck the fucking fish, Rorik!” Launching to my feet, I picked up the plate and threw it into the fire. The ceramic shattered against the back stone wall, and what was left of my meal was devoured by the flames. “You are such a colossal pain in my ass. I don’t even know what I’m still doing here.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire time.” He set his plate down—much more gently than I did—and slowly stood. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Anger exploded deep within my core. “All I’ve ever done is try to help you.”
“I never asked for it.” He looked away, refusing to meet my stare. “When we get back to Fernglove, I’m going to set you and your brothers up with a carriage and funds to start a new life somewhere else. It isn’t safe in Willowfell anymore. Not until I deal with Zeverin.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I seethed.
“Why?” he drawled in that feigned, disinterested voice I loathed so much.
And in that moment, I couldn’t keep it in.
All the emotions I’d felt for him, everything I’d been trying to ignore.
I knocked down the wall hiding my feelings from him and spilled everything I had down our heartbond.
The lust I felt when he set me alight with just one look.
The safety that rooted deep in my gut whenever his arms wrapped around me, no matter the scenario.
The joy and laughter and teasing banter. The love.
That last admission rattled through me with such force that tears pricked my eyes.
It was so heated and painful, so dangerous and absolutely terrifying.
And yet it was true. I’d fallen in love with him when I shouldn’t have.
He was all that I thought about, all that I wanted.
I should’ve hated him to the ends of the earth, but I couldn’t.
I had been holding myself to some unseeable, unreasonable expectation, because I should want someone else—but says who? He was the only one I wanted.
His gaze snapped to mine as every raw emotion filtered down our bond. Then he placed one hand over his face, but not before I caught the despair wreaking havoc on his expression. His shoulders rolled forward as he let loose a heavy breath and let his hand fall away.
“I’ll have Vora accompany your family, too. And Ywena, of course, but that’s largely up to—”
“Rorik!” Tears streamed from my eyes in hot rivers of pain. “What do I have to do to get you to acknowledge me?”
He took several steps back toward the hearth. “Edira—”
But I couldn’t stop. Now that everything had been undammed, the words simply flowed. “How can you send me away? Do you even care when I’m not around? Or am I delusional?” A brittle, manic laugh bubbled from my lips. “This can’t be completely one-sided. Can it?”
He said nothing as he stared at me, but the air was thick with unspoken words. I just couldn’t see them. Couldn’t grasp them. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and I was so fucking tired of guessing at his wants while second-guessing my own.
My lips trembled, and I swallowed. “I hate the way you look at me. Once I deal with Death, I’ll grant your wish and finally fucking leave.”
He broke then, slamming his fist against the mantel and striding toward me. “Don’t you get it? You’ll die if you go through with this. How am I supposed to protect you from Death?”
“Well, maybe when I’m gone you’ll finally admit that I meant something to you. Maybe you’ll finally fucking miss me.”
His eyes burned brighter than the sun as he towered over me.
“I miss you every fucking second we’re apart.
I’ve never wanted anything, anyone, in my life the way I want you.
And that scares the living shit out of me because here you are, the only thing I care about in this gods-forsaken world, actively putting yourself in harm’s way. ”
“Then why?” I practically shouted. “Why push me away?”
“Because I wanted it to be enough for you to finally leave. I would break my heart, I would break both of our hearts, over and over again, if it meant you got to live one more day on this earth.” His words were so pained, so gruff and full of heat and love, that I could do nothing but stare at him.
Slowly, I clasped my hands around his and intertwined our fingers. “One more day on this earth means nothing to me if you aren’t in it.”
He let out a shuddering breath. “Stubborn little mender.”
“Brutish fucking Ever.” As I answered his call with our familiar banter, I pressed my forehead against his sternum and reveled in the sound of his rapidly beating heart.
He was most certainly a brute. And an Ever.
And I wanted him to be fucking me into next week, if he’d simply take what I was offering.
But most important, he was my brutish Ever. The only one I wanted.
“You will be the death of me,” he murmured into my hair. He let go of my hands then and slipped his arm around my waist, tugging me flush against him.
“As will you,” I said.
He chuckled softly. “To the grave, then?”
Tilting my head up, I held his gaze. “To the grave.”
Pinning my chin between his forefinger and thumb, he leaned down and kissed me.
The velvet warmth of his lips sent a wave of relief and joy through me, and I crumpled into his arms. More tears spilled from my eyes as I deepened our kiss, exploring his mouth with my tongue and allowing him to do the same.
His hands slipped beneath my ass, and suddenly I was lifted in the air and my legs wrapped around his waist. His kisses turned brusque, demanding, until he pressed me against the wall between the hearth and the bedroom door.