Chapter 5 Threads in the Mist #2
Awareness turns to terror, and I remember the stories. I remember what they say about the women and men the Evers used to steal. The Ever-touched. I know the nursery rhymes we heard as children.
Don’t give them your name,
Don’t sup at their table,
They’ll feast on your heart,
Escape while you’re able.
The stories say Everfolk can muddle your mind until nothing else matters. Until your thoughts aren’t your own and your body aches to please them, to serve them. Until you’d steal, lie, and betray everyone you love for one more taste.
They say the craving starts like this: the heat of skin, the pounding blood, that helpless flush of want you do not choose.
This is how it begins. Helplessness. Confusion. Hunger.
Shame for something outside your control.
And now, pinned beneath the Ever, gasping, heart hammering, aware of the way he looks at me, I begin to understand.
Given his wound and the danger he poses as a Rider, I’d forgotten that fundamentally the Ever is still an Ever.
The real fear isn’t that he’ll kill me. It’s what’s in the stories, the fear that he’ll do things that make me want him so much that I will wish that I was dead.
The thought renews my strength.
I twist under him and flex every muscle to throw him off.
He leans even closer, so close I can taste the sweetness of his breath as it comes in ragged, uneven gusts.
“Where are the things you stole?” he demands again. “My ring and sword. The damned letter from General Mora.”
A twig snaps somewhere, and I want to scream for help, but the words won’t form in my throat, and I know no one is coming to save me. There’s no one left at the keep who’d come out to search for me, not yet.
The Ever’s forearm shifts to press against my throat. Not to crush it, just enough pressure to make me feel the threat. The choice.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he says, low and cold. “You will regret it.”
The menace is there, but there’s also a wavering, desperate note to his voice.
Strands of his silver-gold hair cling to his temples, and his cheeks are flushed with fever. I can use that to my advantage.
A growl somewhere nearby raises the hair on my arms, a low rumble of anger like dogs snarling. I can’t see anything, and I’ve no idea where the sound comes from. Then the Ever’s attention flicks over my shoulder, his brow furrowing.
Magic whispers in my mind, and that moment of distraction is all I need.
I drive my hips down into the moss, using all my strength.
The Ever doesn’t budge, but I reach for the power inside me and use it to draw magic from the root-threaded soil and the stone that lies beneath it.
I pull the magic into myself the way I do when I call the sword into being.
The three rings flare hot in my pocket, hot enough that I feel the heat through my skirt, and they give me another stream of power. My blood burns as magic pours into me, the rake of it an agony as sharp as nails. Suddenly, I’m flooded with more than I’ve ever dreamed of wielding.
Too much.
Raw power explodes from me in a burst that shakes the ground and pitches me upward, throwing the Ever off. Pain leaves my teeth buzzing and every cell inside me raw.
The Ever lands on the moss while rocks rattle and trees shake around us, scree and pebbles tumbling downhill from the ridge.
I throw myself on top of him before he can collect himself, pushing my hand against his wounded chest so I can use his pain against him. With my other hand, I press my dagger to his ear hard enough to make him hesitate.
Leaning in close, I separate each word. “I took your valuables to keep them safe. You were out of your head, and someone on the road below could have heard you or seen you. You’re welcome to take them back now that you’re awake.
The swords are over the ridge, where I left the two Ever bastards you wanted buried.
Your mare is tied by the stream. Not that you seem concerned about her, but she’ll recover if you handle her carefully. ”
The Ever’s jaw clenches, his eyes wide as he stares at me.
I release his chest and pull the rings and the letter from my pockets. The crystals hum louder in my hand, and they’re charged and hot, like lightning coiled within my palm. I throw them down beside the Ever’s hand.
“There, now you have everything back. And if you have the strength to attack me, there’s nothing to stop you from walking over the ridge, retrieving your horse, and leaving.
The military road will take you all the way to the Western Sea if you survive long enough.
But if—when—you inevitably collapse, do me the courtesy of waiting until you’ve gone beyond the next two villages so you’re outside Domhnall territory.
Your kind has brought enough ruin to our clan already. ”
I push myself to my feet and stand a moment, looking down at him. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. For one treacherous second, I hope for a word, anything to show he isn’t the monster he’s proven himself to be.
My hands won’t stop trembling. I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds—the sting a welcome anchor.
I need something to focus on other than the Ever and the terrifying truth that part of me wants to excuse what he’s done, to believe it’s pain and fever and fear.
Part of me still wants to heal him, to help him—and not just because the gallows loom over us as long as he remains on Domhnall land.
I can’t afford to think like that. The Ever has shown me there are things I fear more than I fear the gallows. For that and many other reasons, the sooner I’m rid of him, the better.