Evie
Evie chased her brother into the open office space, interns and pixies darting out of their path. She knocked into a desk, and papers flew, one of them sticking stubbornly to her face. “Gideon, stop!” she yelled.
Thank the gods he was halted by Marv, who just so happened to be entering right as Gideon was about to escape. They danced around each other for a second. “’Scuse me, sir,” Marv said politely.
“Marv, don’t let him leave!” Evie screamed, rushing forward. The workers around her eyed the blood caked to her skin and watched the scene with open-mouthed shock. Even though blood wasn’t an abnormal sight here at Massacre Manor (especially during intern orientation), she couldn’t fully blame them. She probably looked like a nightmare.
Marv, bless him, didn’t need to be told twice. He threw his short, stocky form right into Gideon, tackling her brother to the ground. “Got ’im, Ms. Sage!”
She softened for the man as she walked forward, appreciating that he hadn’t batted an eye at the blood or her dishevelment. “Thank you, Marv.”
“And who do we have here?” Marv asked.
“Gideon Sage. A pleasure,” her brother choked out—Marv still lay flat on top of him.
Marvin smiled like they were shaking hands and not getting intimately acquainted on the office floor. “Lovely to officially meet you, Mr. Sage. We’re all very fond of your sister around the office.”
Gideon smiled. “Our mother will be thrilled. Employee of the month, is she?” Though she knew it was a jest, it was in poor taste, all things considered.
She huffed as she sat on the floor beside them. “If he lets you up, will you tell me the truth?”
Gideon nodded, looking at Marv and smiling. “Well, kind sir, I think that’s your cue.”
Marv’s cheeks pinked, but he quickly jumped off her brother. “I was coming in to tell you and the boss, Ms. Sage: Keeley and the others said there were Valiant Guards getting closer to the manor borders. The Malevolent managed to distract them and lead them in a different direction for now, but parts of the manor keep becoming visible again.”
Evie’s heart pounded double time. Clare and Tatianna had still had no luck finding an enchantress to reset the barrier, and though non–magic users could still set invisibility spells, they didn’t seem to be sticking for very long. It was obvious they were only buying themselves a little bit of time.
“Thank you, Marv.” Evie smiled gently, not wanting to alarm the guard any more than he already was.
Marv’s cheeks pinked again as he scurried out of the room and back to his post.
Evie remained on the floor, watching Gideon as he watched her. “Well, we could continue to stare awkwardly at each other, or you could tell me everything you’ve been keeping from me,” she said.
Gideon folded his lips inward. “Staring awkwardly sounds delightful.”
She rolled the dagger handle in her palm and scrunched her nose. “Even if I carve out one of your eyes?”
Her brother frowned. “I don’t recall you being this bloodthirsty.” “Hazard of the occupation.”
He adjusted his shoulders, setting them back. “I always wanted to be a knight, Eve. Surely you remember that.”
She did, vaguely, along with her own aspirations to be a queen or a sheep herder. Or the summer before her tenth birthday, when she’d tried her hand as a fire-wielding trapeze artist and had promptly fallen off the roof.
And burned a hole in the grass that never grew back.
But those were childhood notions. Evie had always thought that Gideon would settle within their village, perhaps take on the butchery for their father when he grew older. She hadn’t thought their youthful ramblings could make any sort of way for actual employment.
If that were the case, she should have a herd of sheep following her and a crown on her head, which, admittedly, wouldn’t be the strangest sight this office had been witness to, but it was far too close to the week’s end to give her boss a burst blood vessel. Though she likely already had, darting out of
the cellar and chasing her brother down the hallway like she did, coated in blood that did not belong to her—because she was tracking it on the floor, not because of the blood itself. Her boss hated mess.
“Before I continue…” Gideon frowned. “May I ask: Did you murder our father?”
“Gideon, that’s a horribly rude question.”
“My apologies. Shall we first sit and ring for tea?”
She slapped him on the shoulder and wiped some of the blood from her chin. “I didn’t murder him. I merely stabbed him in the thigh.”
Gideon blinked. “And then decided to use his blood for face paint?”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I slipped on my way out of the cell, and this was the result. Are you happy?”
Her brother’s hand flew over his mouth. “You slipped?” Though he was attempting to hide it well, she knew he was laughing beneath the shaking appendage. “In the blood of your victim?”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I don’t see why that’s so amusing. Blood is slippery. Isn’t it, sir?” she inquired, having felt his presence coming up behind them.
The Villain cleared his throat, probably finding the whole spectacle unsavory. “I suppose it could be described as such.”
Gideon lifted a brow and leaned an arm against his propped knee. “But have you ever fallen in it?”
The Villain scoffed in indignation. “No, that would be ridiculous.” But when his eyes fell upon her pinched features, his face took on an uncharacteristic panic. “Not that you are— I did not mean—” Her boss sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. “Would you like me to kill your brother for you?”
“No.” She smiled sweetly, and The Villain took a step backward. “That would be ridiculous.”
But Gideon interrupted their back-and-forth by pushing himself to his feet and reaching a hand down for her. She took it hesitantly, trying not to stumble over the heel of her boot. “After I recover from the carriage wheels I’ve been thrown under, shall I continue?” he asked.
The rest of the workers returned to business as usual, or at least pretended to. Evie caught more than one of them pretending to write, their quills hovering about an inch from the actual paper. This interlude would no doubt be a source of gossip for employees to speculate on beside the fountain that
magically spewed water tucked into the back corner of the office. All the best rumors started there.
“I was doing schoolwork in my room when Father first came to me about the king. I was perhaps twelve or thirteen.” Gideon shifted nervously. “I had dreamed of being one of the Valiant: noble, brave, beloved by all. I remembered seeing them ride through our village, and I couldn’t believe such men existed outside of the stories we were read at bedtime. I wanted it so badly, Eve.”
Her brother turned away and sauntered toward the nearest window, clearly not wanting to face her during whatever he said next. “All magic awakens from a trauma, and mine was awoken after I’d caught that fever from one of my teachers.” Evie knew this of magic, as well as the myth that magic could also be awoken from the purest joy. But that wasn’t real, just a fable. The real magic in this world was always brought about by pain.
It hadn’t been the Mystic Illness, according to the healer who had come to evaluate him. But Evie remembered how worried she’d been for her brother
—and her mother, who was well into her pregnancy with Lyssa. Gideon had survived the fever, but he grew distant from her after that; she’d thought it was her fault. She’d been in the habit then of thinking everything was her fault.
“After that, Father had me begin training with a magical specialist in secret. He said it was too small a village to let anyone know about how powerful my magic was. It was a blocking magic of sorts—I was able to suppress other people’s magic, no matter how powerful, no matter how strong, and it made Father wary. He wouldn’t even let me tell Mother, said it would cause stress to her and harm the baby.” Gideon was facing the other direction, but she could see his body shudder, like regret was a physical torment.
“And then I met the king,” Gideon said. Her boss stiffened beside her, clenching his fists tightly. “He was thrilled by my magic and even more so by the development of Mother’s. She’d just had Lyssa, and her starlight magic was flourishing. He said it was the magic of a savior…and that it would be too powerful for her to wield all on her own.”
Warning bells rang in Evie’s head. She knew where the story was going, knew it had a tragic end. Because unlike the beauty of fairy tales, real life didn’t end in a neat and tidy bow.
“They asked me to use my magic to suppress the fullness of Mother’s
power so it wouldn’t overwhelm her. They told me it was safe and I was doing my duty to the kingdom. So, every night after she’d fall asleep, I’d use my magic on her. She’d been withdrawn because of Lyssa, and once her magic evened out, after I’d helped her, I thought all would be well again. But I fell asleep early one night, and when she woke, her power came out full force.”
That early morning, dawn, when everything changed—the dandelion fields, the day her childhood had ended.
Gideon turned around and ignored everyone else, looking only at her with genuine tears in his eyes, and it broke something inside her. She saw him at fifteen, then at twelve, then at seven, until the earliest memory of her brother slammed into her.
“It’s my fault. What happened to Mother,” he said. “Her losing control of her power. I tampered with her magic for the sake of the kingdom, for the sake of the knighthood… And then I destroyed her.”
