Evie
Evie’s mind spun through endless disastrous scenarios, then played them all the way through, beginning to end. Between the catastrophizing and the yawning ache in her stomach from sleeping through dinner, when the clock softly chimed midnight, she knew she’d hit her breaking point.
I can’t spiral through my anxieties without proper nourishment!
She softly padded out of bed, using the guiding light of the stars peering through the window, then found the latch of the door and swung it open. The hallway was considerably colder than the warmth of the bedroom, though it was well lit by the torches hung on the walls. Lyssa’s quiet snores resounded behind her as she latched the door shut and tiptoed across the long corridor, rubbing her chilled arms. A clang farther down the long, winding hall made her startle and stumble, stubbing her toe on a raised stone in the floor. “Damn it!” she cursed quietly, gripping her foot in her hand and hopping on the other for balance.
Another low curse echoed through the hallway—so like hers, she thought her voice had somehow reverberated off the walls. Until another series of crashes sounded, followed by more cursing and a low growl.
The vial of stardust, nearly glowing, rolled down the hall until it landed right at her feet, almost greeting her. “Uh…” was the only noise she could make as she realized the vial was essentially moving of its own accord and was leading the person behind it on some sort of goose chase.
“Where are you going, you demonic reprobate?” The Villain seethed from a doorway down the hall, head knocking back in surprise when he saw her. “Sage?” His eyes scanned from her messy hair all the way down to her thin wisp of a nightgown before coming up and fixating on her face. He seemed quite determined to have them stay there.
“I was going to look for a snack,” she said bluntly.
The boss pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t referring to you.”
The vial kept rolling, like it knew it was the topic of interest, until it was atop her foot. She bent low to pick it up, her mass of curls spilling forward, covering her front. Rolling it in her palm, she watched as the contents of the vial almost danced.
“Well, I am very glad to see you.” She scrunched her nose in delight. “Aren’t you a curious bit of magic?”
The boss’s next words rumbled out of him as he plucked the vial from her hands. “It’s not curious—it’s cursed. It rolled into my room earlier like it had an appointment. Then the blasted thing began to glow so bright, I could barely see. And then it burst from the room like an escaped criminal.”
Evie felt happiness, true happiness, for the first time in a while at the image of this intimidating, fearsome man traipsing up and down the halls, chasing stardust like a dog off its leash. His nostrils flared at her amusement. His black shirt was untucked, exposing most of his chest in a loose V—it was clear he had either been lying in bed or preparing to do so.
Don’t think about the boss in bed, Evie! But that ship had sailed so far beyond the horizon, it practically lifted its middle finger in farewell.
He cleared his throat, and she realized she had been staring at a patch of skin on his chest, imagining laying her lips to it. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment as blood rushed to her face.
Trying to redirect the conversation, she blurted, “I missed dinner.” Well, that and she’d thought she lost the dust. How had it ended up in the boss’s room?
“Oh, of course.” He licked his lips, releasing his tightened fist. “Wait here. I’ll return.” He dropped the vial back into her palms, and the magic inside vibrated like it was about to explode. She clapped both hands on it, watching the boss disappear down the torch-lined hallway. A few anxious moments passed as she shifted from one foot to the other, trying to keep the thing in place.
“I understand better than most not wanting to be still, but if you could just give it your best attempt? My fingers are tiring,” she told the vial politely, and miraculously, it stopped. That was, until the boss appeared back down the corridor, surprisingly fast, holding a covered plate and looking at her with tired accusation.
“Are you talking to inanimate objects again?”
She threw her eyes skyward, gripping the vial, but it jumped out of her
hands. “Does this look inanimate to you?”
The warm covered dish was thrust into her hands as the boss dove to catch the vial, banging his head on the wall as he clasped it in his fingers. She clapped a hand over her mouth at his bark of pain. “Did that hurt?” she asked, cringing.
“No, it felt as good as my torture rack,” he said dryly, rubbing his head and holding tight to the vial. “This dust wants to be used, and I cannot spend the night trying to keep it contained. I’ll go mad.”
Whatever was beneath the cover of the dish smelled divine. Her mouth watered, and she darted her tongue out to lick her lips. “Perhaps we should just use it on the letters now instead of waiting until morning. Get it out of the way.” She contemplated the idea, grimacing. “Though I think Becky has the letters, and I would hesitate to go through her desk without asking her first.”
He stiffened. “She handed them off to me earlier. They’re…in my bedchamber.”
Oh. Oh dear.
The best course of action would be to wait there in the hall while he grabbed them and then they could head to a more neutral location. Her tangled thoughts didn’t much care, however, as jumbled words spilled out of her lips like an overflowing dam she was about to drown beneath. “Then we’ll go to your bed!”
He stared at her, expressionless, but she saw his mouth tighten. Never a good sign. She kept speaking, unfortunately. “I meant to your bedroom. Your bedchambers. Not your bed. I would never go to your bed, sir. I assure you!” She laughed, trying to clear the awkwardness, but she failed miserably. It was in the air like noxious smoke.
His brow twitched, but other than that, his face didn’t move. “Prefer to share a bed with Terrence McChalice, do you?” The low words prickled along the top of her scalp like someone was running their nails over it.
“Oh, um—no?” That didn’t sound convincing, so she tried again. “That is, I don’t really have an interest in sharing a bed with anyone again for the foreseeable future. Every time I was with Rick…” She paused. “You remember him? We used to court?”
“I do.” She wasn’t sure what expression he was giving her—she was too busy staring at her fingers. But his tone sounded serious. Hard.
“Well, he was always so… I don’t know, every time we were intimate, I
just always felt so lonely and unsatisfied after. I think I don’t want to be with someone like that again until I’m sure they can give me everything I want.” There! She’d waded through the embarrassment rather eloquently, if she did say so herself.
But her opinion on that changed when she saw her boss standing so rigidly before her, she thought he might crack in two. “Sir?”
He turned down the corridor. “Just come,” he barked. “And bring your plate.”
She scurried after him until she was right beside him, holding tight to the food. “Sir, did I make things very awkward?”
His whole body remained rigid as he moved, like he was made of tin. “No.”
“Then why do you look like you might weep?”
They reached a black door at the end of the hall, surrounded by several torches. It was the brightest point of the corridor. He yanked it open and gestured her forward with one hand. “In,” he ordered.
She didn’t hesitate, just poked her head through first before entering. The Villain’s bedchambers.
Oh, cruel world.
