Evie
“I’ve never been tied up before,” Evie said, “but I am almost certain you could be doing that more gently. I’m going to get rope burn.”
“Theodore, gag her like we did The Villain! I can’t listen to her squawking any longer.”
Anger pulsed as Evie was jostled against her boss, who for some godsforsaken reason had done absolutely nothing to get free of his own bindings. Why wasn’t he using his magic?
To his credit, he was not shy about using brute force.
As soon as the largest of the men—Theodore, she believed—yanked her back and shoved a rolled-up cloth in her mouth, The Villain went berserk. His feet, which were not bound, came up and kicked the goon hard in the nose with a loud crack. Three other men were on him in seconds, pinning him as he yelled against his gag, a furious, muffled sound.
Evie choked on the cloth as Theodore shoved it even farther in and then covered it with another cloth tied around the bottom of her face. She couldn’t talk her way out of this, just listen to the rattling quiet as the boat carried them down an unknown canal to an unknown destination. She felt sick.
Creak, creak, creak.
Her breathing became labored as she felt the bile rising in her throat. The leader of the group, who was being called Fritz by his companions, had silver hair, but he otherwise appeared young, perhaps only a decade older than Evie. He grinned at her, but it wasn’t friendly.
“You look awfully familiar,” Fritz said as he inched even closer. The Villain began thrashing again, but Evie didn’t move. She was through with letting herself be intimidated by men. “Did I take you to bed last month?”
She frowned and shrugged, looking down at the gag still in her mouth.
The intrigue in Fritz’s eyes only grew as he untied the cloth, and Evie spit the filthy-tasting handkerchief from her mouth. She smirked. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever been that disappointed.”
Fritz paused, raising his hand like he would strike her, but the blow never came. Instead, he brought his hand down against his thigh hard, then hollered, “That was very good, little lady! Disappointing in bed!” He motioned to a quiet blond man with glasses in the corner. “Write that one down, Douglas. I wanna use it in the next performance.”
Performance?
Douglas gave Evie a considerably distasteful look before turning to write in his tiny black notebook.
The boat jostled again, and The Villain finally settled back against the seat. Use your magic! she urged him with her eyes. But he didn’t. He merely sat there in silent fury.
She didn’t have magic. She didn’t have physical fighting skills. But she did have her mind and her optimism. They would have to be enough.
Evie pushed her shoulders back. “If it’s gold you want, The Villain can double whatever the king’s ransom is.”
Fritz laughed again and pointed at her like they were buddies sharing an ale over a rowdy game of cards. “Ah, but can he pay his ransom and yours, Evie Sage?”
Her mouth parted and her pulse climbed as the man pulled another WANTED flyer from his pocket. This one was a perfect rendering of…her.
THE WICKED WOMAN EVIE SAGE
WANTED FOR TREASON
COLLUDING WITH THE VILLAIN ARMED
DANGEROUS
REWARD: 300 GOLD PIECES
The sketch was a semi-faithful rendering of her face, but the eyes were angled in a dangerous tilt, her curls flying wildly about her head like a large gust of wind was drawing them back.
“Sir!” she said, feeling sobered but still lightheaded from the flower. “I have a wanted flyer!”
The Villain looked concerned, glaring at the slip of paper and then back to
her face as if he was worried she was about to cry.
“Isn’t this…exciting!” She grinned, more flattered by the word “dangerous” than she ought to be. “We can certainly pay you both reward amounts, gentlemen. The Villain has been stealing from the nobles for more than a decade and has amassed a fortune from doing…odd jobs, we’ll call them.” They were hired-out mercenary missions, but these goons didn’t need to know that.
Fritz leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m not taking you to the king. I’m taking you to our boss. You see…” He paused. Evie and The Villain exchanged a look before waiting with bated breath to hear what the head goon had to say. “I’m training for my lead role in our autumn theatrical production at the local playhouse. My character is a kidnapper, and I like to be method.”
Evie’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead before she looked at her boss and uttered, “My guess wasn’t even kind of close.”
If the boss could’ve pinched the bridge of his nose in that moment, she had the incredibly strong belief that he would’ve. Which was nice, actually
—there was a comfort in knowing someone well enough to be able to anticipate what they’d say and do next. She had that familiarity with so few people.
The boat rattled to a jolting stop. Fritz leaped up, nearly banging his head on the ceiling.
“Bring them in, and be sure you’re not seen. The boss will be right angry if any of the guests catch wind of this.”
Firm arms hoisted her up and dragged her out of the rocking boat, back into the burning sunlight. The air was wet with moisture that dampened her skin, making her dress cling uncomfortably to her body. She heard raucous yelling and the bustling of human activity behind the door long before they were pushed through it, and once inside, she was accosted by the smells of sweat and old shoes. A wall separated them from what she guessed was the playhouse on the other side.
The Villain struggled against his bindings and against the three men hoisting him in. It was like the beginning of a bad joke. How many theater performers does it take to bring down The Villain?
She chuckled to herself and mumbled, “Douglas, write that down.”
The Villain rolled his eyes at her, but before she could blink again, they were down some small side stairs, through a wood panel, and in a small but
surprisingly clean cell.
“Used to keep the rowdy patrons down here in the water cellar to dry them out after too much drink,” Fritz explained. The water cellar lived up to the name. Long, rectangular windows were spaced evenly along the upper walls, with nothing beyond but the sloshing water of the river canals. They were belowground, below the river line. “Should be nice and cozy for the two of you until morning.”
They both stiffened. The Villain made a low noise behind his gag, and Evie’s mouth opened. “Did you say morning?”
The rest of the men filtered out, but Fritz stayed behind just long enough to give them a little salute. That vicious smile from earlier, the one he’d made when she looked uncomfortable, had returned.
“Sit tight, lovebirds.”
