Evie
“Lyssa?” Evie called from the doorway to their room with no small amount of fear.
Gideon was behind her, fidgeting. “Should I stay out here?”
Evie softened. “No. No, she’ll want to see you.” She hadn’t yet told Gideon about their mother, hadn’t fully processed it herself. Becky’s hand had remained in hers for the entirety of the flight back to the manor; it had kept her grounded. The boss had stayed farther away, though she caught him sneaking peeks at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Move on, her mind begged her.
Nope, her heart said with a wild laugh.
She’d deal with it all later, when her sister didn’t need her so much.
Lyssa sat on their bed, feet swinging off it, dress dirtied and hair unkempt. It reminded Evie of all the days she’d come home from work to find Lyssa filthy from playing outside with her friends. Now the only beings she interacted with were pixies, trained killers, ogres, and villains. Oh my.
But her sister hadn’t complained, not once—not about missing her friends, not about Evie spending so much time on work, not about never seeing their father. And that was Evie’s fault.
Lyssa’s eyes welled with tears when she saw them come in. “Do you hate me?” she asked in a tiny voice.
Evie was beside her in seconds, her arms wrapped around her sister’s head, cradling her against her chest, the way she had when Lyssa was a baby.
“There is nothing you could do, ever, that would make me hate you, my love.” Evie kissed her sister’s head twice. Then Gideon sat on the other side of her, and Lyssa didn’t hesitate—she immediately buried her head in Gideon’s neck and wrapped her small arms around him. Gideon sniffed,
using his free hand to tug Evie closer.
It was the one beautiful thing Evie could find in this mess: being held by siblings who had been hurt by the same set of hands that had hurt her. She would never be known like that by anyone else.
They separated, and Evie swallowed hard, feeling trepidation at the thought of pushing matters forward, but there were questions that begged for answers. “Lyssa, how did you get down to the dungeons in the first place?”
“Someone slid a note under my door. It was from Papa, saying he wanted to see me.” Her sister looked away, guilty. “So…I stole the dungeon key from Ms. Erring’s desk and would pretend to come down to our room and write my stories at noon in between guard rotations, but really…”
“You were down conversing with Papa,” Gideon finished with a disbelieving laugh. “Our sister is an evil genius.”
Evie nodded gravely. “It would appear that way.”
Lyssa beamed, taking it as praise. “Do you really think so?”
Gideon rubbed his chin like he was stroking a long, scholarly beard. “Oh, yes. Very impressive.” Gideon was serious then, sterner than she’d ever seen her good-humored older brother. “Lyssa, did he hurt you? How did you end up in his cell?”
“No, I’m okay.” Lyssa frowned at her hands. “The first time I went down, I yelled at him, Evie, I swear.” Lyssa hopped off the bed and wandered over to the window. “But then he apologized and said it was all his fault, and I thought that if he was really sorry, maybe everything would be all right and we could let him out.”
It wasn’t her sister’s fault; she couldn’t blame Lyssa for falling for the machinations of a manipulative monster. But she could blame her father— and she would make sure he paid for every moment of pain he’d caused Lyssa, caused all of them.
Lyssa tugged on the curtain. The early-morning light was just peeking over the horizon. They all needed to sleep. But Evie couldn’t rest until she shared with her siblings the last bit of grief-inducing news.
“Lyssa, can you come over here and sit with us? I must tell you both something.” Lyssa wandered back, and Gideon hoisted her onto his lap.
Her brother knew—she could see it on his face. “She’s gone, isn’t she, Eve?”
She gripped Gideon’s hand. “Don’t blame yourself. I beg you.”
Lyssa frowned. “Mama? She…died?”
Evie’s breath hitched. She was unable to fight the burning in her eyes any longer. She pulled the vial of dark-silver stardust that was all they had left of her and handed it gently to her little sister. “Yes, Lyssa. I’m afraid her powers overcame her. I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better.”
Lyssa put both of her small hands up to Evie’s cheeks. “But, Evie, I still have you.”
Her heart twisted, and Gideon moved Lyssa from his lap gently and got up from the bed, trying for a small smile. “How’s anyone supposed to keep it together with all this sweetness?” he joked. But she could see he rubbed at his eyes.
“Lyssa, you’re not sad?” Evie asked, wanting to borrow some of that strength for herself.
Her sister smoothed out her skirt, feet kicking again. “I think I am very sad. But I won’t be forever.”
Words to live by.
And so they all retired to sleep.
Evie finally settled into the pillows, so weary, so unsure of what the future held beyond her hurt and grief.
Until she shot up, clutching her chest. The small nagging reminder she’d forgotten had become a sharp stab of realization. Lyssa continued to sleep soundly beside her as Evie’s quiet thoughts turned to a roar.
Who in the deadlands slipped Lyssa that note?
