Evie
Two weeks and a very awkward conversation later…
The ride back to the manor had been tense and uncomfortable. Which was generally how the vast majority of Evie’s interactions went, but it was a little more difficult to bear when so many people she cared for were in one place.
And they all hated each other.
Not only had Trystan been opposed to Gideon returning to the manor with them, he’d still wanted to kill her brother for how he’d gotten Trystan captured and kept his powers repressed while he was held in captivity. Evie had spent most of the flight on Fluffy tersely whispering to him about all her reasons for trusting Gideon and how those reasons were justified.
“I don’t understand what would prompt you to align yourself with my
enemies.”
Her face had reddened in anger, and a flash of intrigue won over her boss’s expression before it leveled back to rage. “I wanted to lock him up!” she’d hissed. “I wanted to never see his face again for how he betrayed our family. For how he betrayed me! But I put my personal feelings aside—for you!”
The Villain’s mouth closed, and he’d stared blankly at her before uttering one infuriating word. “Oh.”
“Oh?” She’d seethed, clenching her fists.
“Do they always fight like this?” Gideon had whispered loud enough for all of them to hear.
“Always.” Tatianna had nodded gravely.
“Not true!” Evie had yelled at the same time Trystan objected, “Hardly!”
Gideon had nodded as well. “Excellent. You’ve convinced me.” They clearly had not.
“Might I remind you,” Evie had continued whispering to The Villain, “he
helped me save your life! And besides, if he steps out of line, you can just kill him.” She had almost done so herself, after all, not so very long ago.
“He is sitting right here,” Gideon had said dryly.
Both The Villain’s and Evie’s eyes had darted for Gideon, who held his hands up in surrender.
“Look, for what it’s worth, I didn’t make this decision lightly. I’ve been planning on leaving the guard for years.” Gideon had grinned at her, keeping his hands up. “And I would never hurt my sister.”
Her boss had narrowed his eyes at her brother. “By my measure, you already have.”
So now, back at the manor, Evie left Gideon in a guarded room to change out of his Valiant Guard armor before any more of the Malevolent Guards saw him. It was a wonder Keeley didn’t string him up by his toenails in the courtyard, but the captain instead had offered to stand outside his door with another guard, Nesma, who had whispered to Evie that she’d keep Keeley from killing him.
Evie’s grateful smile carried her all the way back up to the office space, where Malevolent Guards and workers flurried about in a tizzy. “What’s going on?” Evie asked Becky as a pixie dove through her hair and three interns flew past her with stacks of paper and old-looking books. It was near the end of the workday, and the setting sun cast an orange glow over the room. This was usually when the office was at its calmest.
Becky sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re taking care of it,” she started. “But it’s the manor’s barrier. It’s become a little…faulty.”
Evie chewed nervously on her lip. That certainly didn’t sound good. “Shall I call maintenance?” Although maintenance was still repairing one of the walls the boss had tossed an intern through a few weeks ago—a not- irregular occurrence—and besides, if she was understanding Becky right, this likely wasn’t something the magical fixers could repair.
“Right now, it’s only a single door that’s visible,” Becky clarified. “Nothing to be overly concerned about, I’m sure, but I sent for an enchantress just in case. We’ll see if any of the ravens are successful in finding one.” Becky sighed again when Lyssa appeared, gripping the woman’s drab brown skirt. “Lyssa Sage, must you skulk about? I thought you were looking for your sister’s journal,” Becky scolded, but there was more warmth in that interaction than Evie had ever seen her display. It made her a little giddy.
“I can’t find it, Ms. Erring. I searched everywhere!”
Becky looked toward the ceiling. “I find it incredibly hard to believe you swept every nook and cranny of this office in such a short amount of time.”
Lyssa pulled some pastries from her pocket, handing one to Evie and then one to Becky—who held the powdered dough sphere like it was a dirty sock. Lyssa giggled at her expression, and Evie did, too. She’d let Lyssa stay innocent just a little bit longer before unleashing Gideon on her. Her little sister had been merely an infant when Gideon died—well, left—so Evie wasn’t sure exactly how she’d react, for one. But for another, she so rarely got to experience unfettered joy, and Evie so badly wanted to give Lyssa that—and so much more.
“There was one place I didn’t check, Ms. Erring,” Lyssa admitted as the three women walked farther into the office space, toward the boss’s closed black doors.
“Where?” Becky asked, lifting a brow.
The black doors were no longer closed. They slammed open, rattling the walls, rattling the workers, rattling Evie as The Villain walked out with her gold-foiled journal in hand. Opened right to the page she least wanted him to see.
The drawing. The sketch. The kissing. THE HORROR.
“Sage?” The Villain held up the notebook with a white-knuckle grip. “What in the deadlands is this? And why was it on my desk?”
Both hands flew over her mouth, one then coming down to grip Becky by the arm for balance. “He’s holding it.”
Becky said nothing, just stared at the journal with round, unblinking eyes, her usually stern mouth in the shape of an O.
“Becky, he’s holding it!” Evie hissed again.
Becky shook off Evie’s hand. “I have eyes, ninny!”
The boss pointed to the poorly drawn depiction of her, the doodled spiral curls giving her identity away. “This is supposed to be you, correct?”
Divert! Divert! “Um, sir, I have the stardust vial in my pocket—shall we get to work on using it to find my mother? The clock’s ticking, and the baby guvre is, um…growing.”
Becky brightened, which should’ve made Evie immediately suspicious. “An excellent point, Evangelina! I’ll go gather your mother’s letters at once! Come, Lyssa. I left them in the kitchens.” The HR manager turned to go, guiding Lyssa along with her—but not before throwing Evie a shrewd
smile.
Evie nearly fell on her ass as she scrambled to dive after them. “Rebecka, don’t leave me alone with—” She turned, and there he was, the boss, standing right in front of her with molten eyes locked onto hers. The shadow along his jaw was darker and fuller than usual, and his face held no trace of its usual subtle expressions. Just an intense, accusatory focus as he pointed at the drawing.
“This is you?”
She hesitated, then nodded. There was no point in denying it; she may as well cut her losses.
“Then who is this you’re kissing?” The boss raised a brow.
She nearly fainted on the spot. How could he not know? By the gods, it was so obvious! Either the sketch was truly terrible, or her boss was incredibly dense. Or both. She should just confess, lay her feelings out in the open, and let the chips fall where they may. But instead, all she managed to say was, “You wouldn’t…know him.”
She wanted to smack herself.
It looked like he was about to snap the book in half, but his face remained deathly calm. “Oh, no? Let’s see. Tell me his name.”
She had a feeling that whoever she named would mysteriously disappear by the day’s end. And though it shouldn’t have thrilled her, it did. Clearly, there were a few screws loose in her head, and they all fell out when she realized the boss was jealous.
Don’t make the boss jealous, Evie! Even if it’s really fun!
“No, thank you,” she said, rolling the vial of stardust in her palms before slipping it into her pocket.
“I think that looks like Terrence McChalice.” She nearly jumped out of her skin when Gideon appeared over her shoulder.
“Gideon!” she gasped. “How did you get out of your room?” Her brother had changed into a plain green tunic that highlighted the green in his eyes, and he wore mischief like it was the latest fashion.
Gideon shrugged, clearly aware of the boss’s pulsing vein. “Don’t worry, Mr. Villain. Terrence is the heartthrob of every woman in our village. Though if I recall, he only ever had eyes for Evie.”
It was a ridiculous thing to say, especially considering that Terrence McChalice didn’t exist.
The boss handed the journal back to her with a gentleness that contradicted the storm she knew was brewing inside him. He had his torture face on, and she had put it there with her silly little drawings. How thrilling. “Sir? Are you all right?”
He was contemplating his next move; she could tell by the way he swallowed, by the way he lifted his chin. “Yes, I suppose there’s no time to waste. The guvres have us on a ticking clock.”
She nodded, ready to head to the kitchens to scold the two traitors who had left her to fend for herself, but one of the Malevolent Guard burst in—a new recruit. Brutal and cruel. Damien.
“Oy! King-kisser! Get back to the cushy rooms they set up for you, or your next lodgings will be underground in the dungeons with your rutting father!” Damien grabbed Gideon by the arm, and Evie froze at the mention of Griffin Sage.
She had been avoiding the topic of her father for a reason. She hadn’t even said his name since that night. It hurt too much to think of him, to say it aloud. It felt like her chest had been cracked open, and all the pain was spilling out for everyone to see. She took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm herself, trying to hold back the burning tears in her eyes, but they wouldn’t stay hidden. They pooled in the corners of her eyes and then slid down her cheeks.
Workers passed by, staring at her. She felt exposed as tears rolled down her face.
Gods, at this rate, there should be an incident board for her tears.
*It’s been zero days since Evie’s last sob.*
“Eve?” Gideon said, stepping closer, concern etched on his face, but his path was blocked. Trystan loomed in front of her, shielding her from the room before handing her a light-blue handkerchief from his pocket.
The Villain’s voice echoed through the room, and even though she was looking down, she could feel his gaze like a touch on her cheek. “Everyone get out!”
The workers froze, and so did she. No one moved…until the boss boomed again, “NOW!”
The room emptied in seconds. Who knew where they went. The only ones left were her, Trystan, Gideon, and a furious Damien.
Her lip quivered, and she closed her eyes as she accepted the cloth from Trystan. The brief contact of her fingers against his skin soothed her.
“Sir, why did you do that?”
“Edwin’s almost finished with a batch of cookies, and I didn’t want to share.”
She blinked up at him. His dark eyes weren’t angry, nor were they filled with judgment; they were full of amusement. He was trying to make her laugh, to lift her spirits. Just like she always tried to do for him, for everyone. No one had ever done that for her before.
She didn’t think. She placed her hands on either side of Trystan’s head, as she had done that first time, that first day, and pressed a gentle kiss to his warm cheek. His stubble pricked at her lips, and her eyes watered again. Dropping back to her heels, still holding his face, she said, “Thank you.”
His eyes darkened, his brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t believe what she had just done. Excellent—that made two of them. She waited for him to reprimand her for such an unprofessional display.
But he didn’t scold her, and he didn’t look away from her face. “Here,” she said, carefully handing the blue cloth back to him. “Keep it,” he said gruffly.
Gideon winced as Keeley came in and practically dragged him away. To his credit, he didn’t resist.
“I’m going, Captain! I’m going!” Gideon called out, following Keeley with a resigned air. Despite his deceptions, her brother was someone she would always love, and if she loved him, she would protect him.
“Damien?” Evie’s tone was neither playful nor teasing nor malicious. She delivered her next words evenly, calmly. “If you ever threaten my brother again, I will take the dagger at my side and use it to carve out your heart, small as it may be.”
Damien was already halfway to the door when he muttered under his breath, “Two-faced bitch.” She flinched but kept her eyes on the handkerchief in her hands.
When she looked up at her boss again, he was glaring after the retreating guard. “Sage, if you don’t want to continue—”
She interrupted him. The last thing she needed was to be coddled. “What I want is to do my job, sir.”
There was a strange gleam in his eyes as he looked at her for just a moment. “Very well,” he said, though he still looked like he might chase after Damien. It seemed like he was physically holding himself back, rooting himself beside her to fight the urge.
“Follow me, Sage. I have an idea.”
