Evie
A man and a small child spilled into the room.
A room that Evie could not seem to stop marveling at, despite Becky’s earlier warning. The walls were alive. It wasn’t like the magic within the manor but something else, something that ebbed and flowed. Every flower, every leaf greeted them—when she entered, a small vine from the largest plant off in the corner had curled out and around Evie’s ankle, as if it were saying hello.
What an enchanted place.
And what seemingly enchanting people lived here.
The older male was handsome. He looked like Becky—light-brown skin, wide cheeks, his hair shaved down, and his most notable feature: the set of round glasses sitting atop his regal nose, almost hiding the short scar that ran across it.
“Bex!” The younger of the two—perhaps a year or two older than Lyssa, with longer dark, curly hair—barreled into Becky, throwing both of his arms around her. “You came home! I missed you.”
Becky wrapped tentative arms around the little boy, her mouth pulling up into a small smile. “Rudy, I saw you two months ago, and I send you letters every week.”
“But we never get to see you here!” Rudy unfurled his arms, and the plants in the room moved and sniffed at his feet like loyal hounds and laid against his shoes in an affectionate manner. “You always make us come to you!”
Becky’s smile faded when she looked toward the older man, who had a soft look in his friendly expression. The lithe line of his shoulders told Evie he was a warrior, someone who would fight with honor, but his eyes and the curve of his lips told her he was kind.
One of the vines snapped against her foot—probably because she was staring. “Ow!” Evie hissed at it. She swore it shook as if it was laughing at her.
“Sage.” A hard voice behind her made her freeze. “What are you doing?”
She blinked at her boss with an innocent expression. “I’m being made fun of by the houseplants.”
“That means they like you,” a gentle voice cut in from the very man she’d been admiring, and the plant slapped her foot again.
Becky winced only slightly when the man moved forward and wrapped his arms around his sister. “We missed you, Bex.”
Blade’s throat bobbed as he adjusted his vest, trying to keep a steady expression when he questioned, “Bex, eh?”
Becky rolled her eyes as she and her brother parted. “An old nickname.
How are you, Roland?”
Roland—Becky’s brother, older if Evie had to guess—stepped back and assessed the rest of them. His eyes arrowed in on Blade with suspicion, protectiveness in his gaze.
Good. She liked that there was someone to look out for Becky the way she seemed to always be doing for other people.
“I’m well,” Roland said. “But I suspect you didn’t come all the way here just to ask after my health.” Roland lifted a brow and folded his arms, stretching the gold-lined white fabric of his tunic. “How did you get in? I thought Mother confiscated your key.”
Becky looked different for a second—more alive, more determined. “I stole it back when I left. If she takes issue with that, she can pry it from my fingers herself.”
Roland adjusted his glasses, looking to the side. “You never shy away from saying something unpleasant, do you, little sister? Mother misses you dearly; she’ll be thrilled that you’re here. She doesn’t care about the key.”
Becky lifted a brow. “I’m sure.”
It surprised Evie to hear that a family who thrived on goodness and honor would try to cut out one of their own, but then she remembered Rebecka’s warning and the danger of their coming here. It could very well be that Becky had deserved to be ousted from her family for actions Evie wasn’t aware of, but it didn’t matter. She was firmly planted on the side of the HR manager, no matter what.
“There’s already a dinner being planned with all of your favorites. Father
is arranging it for our guest of honor, or I suppose…” Roland smiled toward the rest of them. “Guests of honor. And Grandmother will be so happy to see you. She’s missed you most of all, I think.”
“How is she?” Becky asked quietly.
“The Mystic Illness wears on her, but she perseveres. You know she has a good attitude about these things.”
Becky absorbed the information with a neutral expression. “And where are Reid and Raphael?”
“Where our brothers usually are.” Roland grinned playfully. “I couldn’t pry them from the Trench. But they’re eager to see you, too.”
Evie rounded on Becky. “You have more brothers? Are they all this handsome?” She gestured to Roland, and he looked upon her with interest.
So many things should stay in her head. Most things, in fact.
She blushed, and the boss glared as Roland took her hand and planted a kiss on the back of it. “Evie Sage, I take it? Rebecka writes of you often. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Evie folded her hands in front of her, grinning at Becky, who was staring at her brother with treacherous fury. “Becky, you write about me?”
“He didn’t say it was nice,” she grumbled.
Roland laughed, a hearty guffaw. “As for our older brothers, Ms. Sage, I assure you they are far more handsome than I.”
Scrunching her nose, Evie said coyly, “I think I will be the judge of that.”
Roland’s eyes sparkled behind his glasses, and Becky glared in tandem with The Villain. “Stop flirting with my brother.”
“Yes,” The Villain said through clenched teeth. “You’re making Rebecka uncomfortable.”
Tatianna’s eyes dipped down to where their boss gripped the back of a wooden chair. “You’re bending the wood, Trystan.”
Roland’s face signaled alarm as he turned in Trystan’s direction. “Wait, you’re The Villain? We have to get you away from—” But it was too late.
Plants from every corner of the room shot out at once, wrapping tightly around the boss like a serpent wrapping around its prey. And then they squeezed.
Clare yelled, Tatianna’s hands began to glow, and Blade pulled a switchblade from his boot, ready to cut at the vines, but Evie was quicker.
“No!” she screamed, her dagger already drawn as she ran to cut at them. Kingsley ran alongside her, leaping on the first vine and biting just the way
she’d taught him. The vines didn’t take well to being attacked; they slithered around, trapping the frog along with her boss.
But Roland grabbed Evie’s hand and twisted until she dropped her blade. “You can’t hurt them!” Roland pleaded, apology in his tone.
An anguished shout came from Trystan, his eyes never leaving hers as one of the vines wrapped around his mouth, and before another word was said, the plants enveloped him completely, dragging him across the room and through a hidden passageway behind the bookcase that shut tightly as soon as he was through.
He was gone.
“Let me go!” Evie cried.
Roland didn’t release Evie’s wrist until Becky landed a hard punch to her brother’s face. He dropped her, and Becky tugged Evie close. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Roland?” Becky screamed. “That was my boss!”
Clare sprinted to the bookcase, trying to get it to budge, but to no avail. “Where are they taking him?”
Roland held his now-bleeding nose, glasses dislodged. “Where all villainous intruders with dark magic are taken if they enter Fortis land.”
The entire room stood still.
Becky finished his sentence, whispering in horror: “The Trench.”
