Evie
The sunset was spilling an array of pinks, oranges, and golds into an otherwise dreary room.
“Evie, dear? Are you in here?” Renna Fortis’s gentle voice filtered into the airy space of the infirmary, where only two sick beds were occupied: the first by Trystan and the second by Becky’s grandmother, Ramona. Both had been asleep the entire time she’d been up there.
Evie turned toward Renna, damp rag in hand. “I’m here, Lady Fortis.” “Oh, I wish you’d call me Renna or even Ren. That’s what your mother
calls me.”
It was strange to have a connection to her mother so close; so many questions floated up, threatening to boil over.
Renna grinned. “I know that face. Ask whatever you’d like.” But her question was somber. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Renna’s grin slowly dropped, her eyes darting to Ramona’s sleeping face. “I think—” She sucked in a breath. “I think your mother is one of the strongest people I know. You’ll be the best sort of reminder and motivator for her to get better. The best parts of her live in you.” She squeezed Evie’s hand.
And the worst parts, too.
“I wish I saw more of myself in Rebecka,” Renna admitted, walking over to her mother and re-tucking in her blankets, then laying the back of her hand to her mother’s head. “She’s such a mystery to me. Always so quiet and reserved. I worry she’ll shut herself off from happiness because she’s so difficult.”
“Becky isn’t difficult,” Evie said, her cheeks heating at the unfairness of the statement, at how little Becky’s mother truly knew her daughter. “She’s stern, of course, but her job sort of demands that.”
Renna smiled placatingly. “Please do not think that I am trying to say anything negative. Rebecka is my daughter, and I love her more than life, more than breath. I am merely used to her ways of being, and not all of them are good for her.”
It didn’t matter then that Renna was her mother’s friend or that she was kind to her. Evie plopped the rag in the bowl and stood. “Forgive me, but you know an entirely different version of your daughter than I. Becky is fair-minded and shows kindness in ways so subtle you almost don’t even know it’s happening. She doesn’t need the credit for it. She’s not showy or boastful even when she should be. She makes the office safe. Do you know how rare that is? I’ve never had that. You think I’m the best of my mother? Well, Becky is the best of The Villain’s office. Without her rules, that place would be in shambles, and while I appreciate your kindness and hospitality, I wish you would extend all of it to your daughter instead.”
Evie exhaled and sat back down. The boss’s hand moved slightly toward her own. Even unconscious, he could read her distress.
Renna looked mortified. “I, um—” Evie felt a small twinge of guilt. “Would you excuse me? There’s a plate of food for you just there, and one for The Villain when he awakens.” Renna was gone before she could blink a second time.
“As far as speeches go, I can’t bring myself to regret that one,” Evie said, dabbing more cold water against Trystan’s burning forehead. She hoped her mother’s friend would listen.
“Why did you lie?”
“Argh!” Evie dropped the cloth right onto the boss’s face with a hard plop. “Oh, sorry, sir.” She giggled nervously before swiping it off. He hadn’t awoken. “Deadlands, Becky, the bats in the office don’t lurk the way you do.”
“Stop changing the subject, you ninny. I was in the hallway and overheard what you said.”
Evie waved an accusatory finger. “You were eavesdropping.”
Becky folded her arms with a dubious lift to her lips. “Your voice carries.
I would’ve heard you if I was standing clear across the estate.”
Fair point. She shrugged. “Regardless, I didn’t lie. I meant every word.”
Becky looked vulnerable behind her lenses, her hair looser than usual, like being around her family unraveled her normal staid composure. “Y-You think my rules are important?”
Evie smiled softly, folding her hands in her lap. “Becky, without you, I likely would have died twelve times over by now.” She chewed on her lip. “I think I’ve gone most of my life without any sort of structure, and when you presented it so steadfastly, my first instinct was to hate it. But that isn’t fair, especially when it’s come to make me feel so secure and safe. Most of my life, I’ve been attempting in haphazard ways to fashion myself into a safe person for others, but I hardly realized when someone else was trying to be that for me.”
Becky looked deeply uncomfortable. “Well…I love structure.” She winced. “But I understand why it would be a difficult adjustment for someone who is not used to it. I’m…also…sorry.”
Evie laughed so hard she felt like she might cry.
When Becky saw the tears, she held up a frantic hand. “I beg you not to weep!” She pulled up another stool and sat beside Evie, rolling her eyes. “Even when I try to pay you a compliment, you are difficult.” Evie mimed zipping her lips shut. Becky rolled her eyes again, but Evie could tell it was in good humor. “I mean to say that when you first began working in the office, you were unprofessional, disorganized, and chaotic—”
Evie interrupted. “I’m still those things.”
“Can I finish?” she said pointedly, and Evie shut her mouth. “But I realize now how much those things are needed, how balance is needed. There was truly no one better for your job.”
Evie winced, feeling past regrets boil to the surface. “Becky, it should’ve been you. We both know you’re far more qualified than I am.”
This time, Becky did laugh—very loudly. Just as Blade walked in with a leftover dinner plate, fork poised halfway to his mouth as the sound halted him in place.
“Evie!” Becky said. “Don’t tell me you believed that stupid rumor!” She clutched her stomach, tears coming from her eyes. “I never wanted your job! Could you imagine?”
Blade wiped his mouth, putting the plate down, still looking a little dazed. “Then why did you move into her desk after she quit?”
Becky smacked her forehead. “Because, you fool, it’s the only desk that’s isolated from the others. I merely wanted to be alone. Not to make cauldron-brew runs for the boss.”
Evie’s head spun. “I’m so confused.”
Becky gripped her hands, commanding all of Evie’s attention. “Let me be
clear, then. My entire existence is getting to organize and order people about. It is my dream come true, and I would never want to do anything else. I have the highest salary and command a level of fear and respect I only ever dreamed of accruing. I am content where I am—and just to clear any remaining doubt…”
Evie leaned closer as Becky said in a hushed tone, “There was no villain’s assistant position…until he met you.”
Her breath stalled along with every thought she’d ever had. The world around her moved at a sluggish pace, save for the branch tapping against the window and the draft that seemed to follow, spreading goose bumps up her arms. “What? That can’t be true. He’d been searching for an assistant long before me.”
Becky looked at her with pity. “Evie, before you, the only thing that man had been searching for was solitude and quiet. The other workers weren’t allowed within five feet of his private office, and frankly, they were all too scared to get within ten feet of it regardless.”
Evie squeezed Becky’s hands, still clasped in hers, feeling a tinge of desperation. This was not at all how she remembered her start. Or how she’d been hired. Or…anything. It made her feel like there was a large bubble expanding in her head, inches from popping.
And it did when Becky saw the look on her face and whispered, “The day he hired you, he ordered custom chairs for his office. Very discreetly, but I saw the report, and he made a note that they needed to be comfortable for a woman of short stature.”
Evie wasn’t sure what to say, so that left the only thing she knew to do when she was uncomfortable. She laughed. It was an ugly, strangled sound.
The boss groaned beside them, still too weak to open his eyes. “Stop.” He groaned again. “Telling her things.”
Becky looked at him and then at Evie with a thoughtful expression. “I’m gonna ignore that order.”
Evie clapped her hands together and nodded earnestly. “Good for you.”
Becky rolled her lips inward. “Would this be a good or bad time to tell you that I shortened the leg of your desk chair in the hopes that you’d fall?”
Evie jumped up. “I knew it!”
They both broke into a grin at the same time—so big it felt like safety, like coming home. It felt in part like she’d just gotten a piece of her lost childhood back.
The simple joy of making a friend.
A voice rasped across the room. “All this chatter, and my Becky still hasn’t brought me the cookies I asked her to sneak.” Ramona had awoken.
Becky gave Evie one last smile before going to her grandmother and handing her a wrapped-up bundle from her skirt pocket. She murmured low words in soothing comfort, a soft grin playing on her lips, a few pieces of her hair tumbling out from her pins.
When Evie turned back to Blade, the dragon trainer was focused on Becky in wonder and then possessiveness, like he’d fashion himself a thief just for the excuse to have that smile for himself.
It was sweet, and if she remained in that room in that moment with all her confusion and hurt mingling together, she’d ruin it. She needed air and space and something she couldn’t quite name.
She charged for the door abruptly, knowing if she glanced back at her boss it would only complicate her feelings further. She just needed a moment, one moment to herself. She called back to them when she was nearly out into the hallway. “Might you two look after him while I step outside for some air?”
Blade plopped himself down on the stool she’d been sitting on. “Not to worry, Evie. I’ll keep sentry at his sick bed. I’m sure Tatianna will be by soon to look in on him as well.”
This comforted her enough to enter the quiet hallway and take a deep, shuddering breath. She kept walking until she hit a flight of stairs, then wandered down in a daze, and before she knew it, she was outside, the dusk air so sweet, she took heaping gulps of it as she gripped her hips.
The peace didn’t last—because she had terrible, terrible luck. The clanging of metal in the distance was not so discernible from the ringing in her skull; she almost didn’t notice it.
She looked hard through the trees and overgrowth and spotted a group of men. She squinted harder—Becky’s brothers. They’d taken their training outdoors. The exercise was a good aid to digest their dinner, likely. Her stomach groaned angrily.
Eat before you storm out in a huff, Evie!
She should return inside, for many reasons. For one, she was incredibly hungry; for another, she worried for Trystan and didn’t want him to be alone for too long after she’d made him a promise to stay. And if that wasn’t enough, she knew as well as anything that she couldn’t be around this many
handsome men at once without saying something that would haunt her at three a.m. in a cold sweat.
Moving to leave, she then heard Reid call after her. “Little assistant!”
She turned slowly, wincing when she saw all three of Becky’s older brothers staring at her, weapons in hand.
Reid stepped forward with a wide, welcoming grin. “Care to try your hand at combat?”
Her mouth dried out and her heart did an odd stutter at the prospect, but the dagger at her thigh hummed, the scar on her shoulder with it. “Oh, no thank you. I’m not much of a fighter.”
Raphael stepped forward then—the one who seemed to like her the least, perhaps because she’d called him an asshole… But his hazel eyes weren’t angry, merely stern as he assessed her with a speculative glance. “Perhaps you should change that, Ms. Sage.”
She took a step toward them, a sharp clarity cutting through the fog that had fallen over her senses, along with a pounding resolve.
Perhaps she should.
