Thirty-Two
EDIRA
The family was waiting for us on the steps of Fernglove Manor when we returned.
They watched me with wide eyes as I strode forward and plunged my hands into the soil.
Searched for the threads of blight weaving between the roots and siphoned the plague away with nothing more than a thought.
Again, fungi sprouted to mark the land. The sickness passed through me much the way it had when I’d possessed only the power of a threadmender; the horrid ailment became mine, filtered through my blood and bones, and then simply disappeared.
Except this time, I lost no threads in the process. I’d never lose any threads again.
Amalyss and Tasia bolted from the steps first to crash into me.
The blight had been stripped from their bodies, and happy tears streamed over their cheeks as they wrapped their arms around me.
Then Lydia and Clesian rushed toward us and joined their daughters, laughing and crying.
Lydia pulled me up and squeezed me so tight my bones creaked.
“Thank you,” she whispered into my ear.
“Of course.” I glanced around the quiet courtyard. “Seville? Has anyone seen her?”
“Present and accounted for,” she drawled as she sauntered up to the group, wicked grin on display. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?”
“No,” Rorik muttered beneath his breath, and I smiled.
Seville wrapped me in a tight hug. “You seem different.”
“I am,” I said softly, letting my arms loosely fold around her. “But I’m okay. Better than okay.”
A loud holler sounded from the manor, and I looked up in time to see Noam, Nohr, Lysa, and Vora running toward us.
I barely had time to brace myself for impact, and it still didn’t matter.
Noam and Nohr took me to the ground, a rumbling heap of tears and loud shouts of joy.
The shadows of my cloak flared outward with sudden motion, but even that didn’t sway their hold.
Nohr finally stood and pulled me to my feet. While his smile remained, there was a pained edge to his voice. “So you didn’t go just to keep us safe from the Embergraves.” Noam joined Nohr, his gaze downcast.
“No, I didn’t.” I toyed with the hem of my cloak. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything.”
“I so badly want to be mad at you,” Noam said, throat bobbing. “You could’ve died.”
“Maybe you did die, or at least came close to it.” Nohr studied my new appearance with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” I said, and Nohr grunted his agreement, “but I hope with time you’ll at least understand why I did what I did.”
“We’ll see.” A cautious smile pulled at Noam’s lips. “For now, though, I’m just happy you’re back.”
The two of them both pulled me into another hug, and I nuzzled against their chests. The warmth of their love filled me to the brim. Everyone was here. Everyone was safe. I’d eradicated the blight for good, and we could finally live in peace.
The next few hours were a blur of conversation and celebration as we feasted on food and drink.
My brothers consumed more wine than I’d ever known them to drink, and Lysa and Vora had to help escort them to their rooms before dinner even came to a conclusion.
Seville shared with us how she’d journeyed in secret with Kara to avoid the wrath of the Embergraves, and that when it was safe, she gave Kara the slip.
But there was a sliver of evasiveness in her gaze, a pleading look that begged, Don’t ask me yet.
Maybe the blood on her hands was too fresh. Maybe it was something else. Either way, I simply nodded and gave her arm a squeeze.
The girls wanted every detail about the fete, the good and the bad, and Seville and I indulged their fantasies much to Clesian’s pinched brow and loud sighs. Lydia didn’t seem to mind. She had eyes only for her girls and a wide smile that never fell off her face.
A chill scraped through the air, and I glanced around. Someone had died. There was nothing for me to do; my magic was everywhere. A simple fact of life. Eventually, I hoped to get to the point where I didn’t notice the deaths unless I went searching. Otherwise, the chills would become unbearable.
I’d briefly filled the family in on what had happened in the cave.
Lydia and Seville had paled; they all asked how I was faring.
Their concern was a touch overwhelming, because in truth, I felt fine.
A little heavier, a little more jaded, but also powerful.
Safe. And entirely in control. I’d reassured them I was fine, and they’d finally acquiesced and went back to conversations about the fete.
Rorik, though . . . My gaze slanted to him. He’d been quiet throughout the evening. His grin was genuine, but it didn’t reach his eyes and only intensified with apprehension if our stares crossed paths. When the wine ran out and our plates had been cleared, I poked at him down our heartbond.
What’s going on in that mind of yours?
His lips quirked up. Many, many things.
Care to share?
Let’s go for a walk. He stood and nodded a silent good night to the family before strolling away. A weight settled in my chest.
Lydia’s gaze lingered on me. “Rorik has seen and endured many horrific things throughout his life. But I have never once seen him this haunted.”
A fist wrenched my heart tight, and I stood. “I know.”
“Fill us in later.” Clesian grasped Lydia’s hand. “Go to your heartbond now.”
With a soft, knowing smile, I nodded and followed Rorik out.
He hadn’t gone far; he’d stalled at the edge of the courtyard, eyes scanning the quiet lawns where we used to train.
Insects and birds sang a lilting harmony, quiet chirps overlaying the trilling calls in a symphony of night.
The fall breeze was a gentle caress that danced through the grass and toyed with creaking branches of the trees.
It was beautiful and calm and everything I wanted Rorik to feel.
Intertwining my fingers with his, I looked up at him.
“Ready?”
He smiled. “Of course.”
We walked in silence down the path I’d once run.
Past the ancestor tree and its swaying limbs.
Past the place where he’d placed his hands in mine and we’d shared our first kiss.
Past so many memories I never wanted to forget.
We walked until the manor was just an outline against the dark sky, backlit by a moon so bright and full that the only shadows we saw were the ones rooting through the woods.
And the ones drifting near my ankles.
“Are those permanent?” he asked with a tight nod to my feet.
“I don’t have much control over them, but I think it’s more the fabric than me. Because I can take it off.” I shrugged out of the cloak and let it pool on the ground. It writhed for a moment like a bed of snakes before going still.
Rorik sank to the ground and patted the space in front of him. “Sit.”
I complied. Positioning myself between his thighs, I let out a quiet sigh when his hands began to knead the tired muscles in my back. “Your touch is divine.”
“I know.” He chuckled, but it felt stiff.
“What’s wrong, Rorik?”
His fingers tensed. “What I saw down there, what I felt . . .” He searched for words.
After a shaky exhale, he continued. “Edira, I lost you. You died. I still don’t understand how you’re here with me, and I’m so scared to question it in case this is some fucking dream.
And gods, I don’t want to wake up if it is.
I can’t go back to a reality where you don’t exist.
“So please let me keep dreaming.” His voice broke with raw, sharp pain. “Please let me live in this delusion a little bit longer.”
“Rorik.” I turned and clasped his hands in mine. Placed gentle kisses on each of his fingers. His chest shuddered. “I’m here.”
“Are you?” His glassy stare nearly shattered me. “Our bond was gone. I reached for you, called for you, and nothing. What happened, Edira?”
That was the question I’d been asking myself since I awoke in Rorik’s arms. Death had melded into me and sutured his life, his power, into my bones.
When I closed my eyes, I could still hear the scrape of brittle leaves over stone.
His ragged breath. He was a presence that I’d carry with me forever.
Death becomes you.
Slowly, I held out my palms to Rorik. “Place your hands in mine.”
He did without hesitation. Closing my eyes, I stepped into our shared consciousness, but this time, we weren’t standing at opposite ends of our heartbond.
We were directly in the middle of our golden tether of love.
We’d made it to each other. No matter the hurdles, no matter the trials and tribulations.
We have something new now.
And what would that be?
This. I tapped into the dark, oily magic hiding beneath the surface of our other powers.
Beneath the threadmending, beneath the beautiful earthly magic.
It slithered forward and brought with it a quiet stillness to our minds.
A single ribbon devoid of all color. This was the power of Death. And it belonged to me now. To us.
Rorik’s eyes flew open at the same time mine did, and he stared at the cluster of ink-black particles hanging above our hands.
“Edira . . .” He swallowed. Hard.
“I am Death. I am Life. I am yours.” I forced the particles to form a solitary sable strand. It wrapped our wrists in a gentle, icy kiss. “You don’t have to worry about how many days I have left anymore. We have a long, slow journey to the grave.”
He blinked. Twice. And then he pulled me into him with such force that we tumbled over. He buried his nose in the crook of my neck and let out a weak sob. “Thank the fucking gods.”
I pressed my forehead against his and wiped away the tears staining his cheeks. Then kissed both of his closed eyes before moving to his lips. He groaned, and his grip on my waist tightened. When he opened his eyes again, he brushed his nose against mine.
“I love you, Edira.” He grabbed my hand and placed it over his heart.
It beat in a frenzy against his ribs. Every vibration was a pounding declaration of his love.
I felt it in my palm. In my own heart. Down our bond.
I needed more. Needed to feel his skin against mine, to hear our heartbeats crash as one.
I tugged at the buttons of his shirt until they came undone, and he slipped out of it with ease.
My fingers trailed the grooves of his muscles, the divots and curves, the hard lines and soft skin. Desire made my stomach clench.
“I love you, too, Rorik.” My hands went to the nape of his neck, and I wrenched my fingers in his hair. “You’re everything I want. Everything I need.”
He kissed me so deeply, so thoroughly, that the world spun out of focus.
There was just me and him. Nothing else mattered.
He stripped us of the rest of our clothes, and suddenly we were naked beneath the moonlight.
We fell into each other’s embrace. Shared every deep and raw emotion down our strengthened bond.
And we came undone together. We were utterly, completely one.
When we were done, Rorik gathered me against his side and held me close. With gentle fingers, he stroked my hair. The silence between us was comfortable—beautiful—and enough of a lullaby to usher in the first whispers of sleep.
“We’ll go inside before you drift off,” he murmured. He moved his hands along my back, rubbing with a slight pressure to spark warmth. “By the way, you said something to me earlier, before we met with Zeverin.”
I let out a content hum. “I told you that Rebellyn was smarter than we realized.”
“What did you mean by that?” he asked.
“With her evervow, she found a way to bind Death.” I tilted my head up so I could hold his gaze.
“She made the deal of a lifetime. A blade in exchange for my promise to eliminate blight and protect her kin. And now that promise, that vow, belongs to Death. I cannot kill a single descendant of hers. Not with my hand. Not with blight.”
“Even if Zeverin decides to come calling? To exact vengeance? I don’t trust him not to try.” Rorik’s expression hardened.
All I could do was grin. “Well then, my loving, adoring heartbond, you’ll be my reaper. My scythe. And together, we’ll find a way to keep Everkind in check.”
“That we will.” He kissed me again. My heartbond. My love. My everything. Together, we would become the lord and lady of Death, and nothing would ever break us apart again.