EVAN
I’m livid.
This isn’t a new thing for me, I get angry at the drop of a hat lately. It’s no surprise, I mean come on. Who wouldn’t be mad? Hell, I’d figure today of all days I would get to just be sad.
I put my parents to rest today. I should be crying into a big glass of bourbon right about now.
Nope.
Not me.
Instead, on the first day of my rule, I not only had to fight for my life, but I also had to fight to fight for my life. I was treated like a child by the very men I am supposed to lead. Sure, I killed the men who conspired to murder my parents in probably the worst way I can think of, but in the grand scheme, I didn’t get the head of the snake. I don’t even know who the fucking snake is.
That will have to come later.
And then I have Idiot One and Idiot Two trying to keep me from fighting alongside my family.
I don’t fucking think so.
I take a look around at the aftermath of the gorge. Other than some scorched rock, you’d never know so many lost their lives here. In the silence, now that the guns have spent their rounds and the weapons have all been sheathed, the only sound apart from the rush of the water over the rock is the faint beat of Mena’s wings as she searches for another threat.
She won’t find one.
Wraiths rarely fight if they think they can’t win. This is why we’ve lived in ‘peace’ for so many years. Why start a war when you can just kill someone in the dead of night and blame somebody else?
Wraith logic. We are a sunny bunch, aren’t we?
Mena circles once, twice, and then finally lands on a large boulder jutting into the water from the shore. Phasing almost immediately, she jumps from the rock into Asher’s arms, and a new ache wrenches in my chest. West.
He didn’t come.
He didn’t stay.
He didn’t help.
The ragged edges of my heart start bleeding once again. I know I released him. I know I told him I never wanted to see him again, and it’s true – I don’t. I couldn’t keep relying on someone who was never going to choose me – who was never going to stay with me.
I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that he knew we were mates. He felt it with me and decided to deny me. For one hundred and nine years he’s denied me.
You’d think I’d know better by now.
I guess I finally wised up. Only a little, though, because I’m still shocked he didn’t even come to the funeral.
Shocked.
How fucking stupid can I be?
A lot, apparently, because I’m still stinging with jealousy from watching Mena and Asher, and I just can’t take one more thing today. Before I can leave, my best friend in the entire universe grabs my hand. I’m not looking at her, but I know it’s Aurelia. The pain in my chest eases for a moment, and I have never been more glad she is here with me.
Saving me from the fire from the very first day we met, Aurelia knows me better than anyone – even if I’ve been keeping huge secrets from her.
“I’ll only be able to stall them for a few minutes so you can get your shit together, but only a few minutes. The house is empty, so use your time wisely,” she whispers into my ear.
I can work with a few minutes. That is just enough time to sling back a shot of bourbon and get out of this stupid gown. Who decided to make funerals formal attire only, for fuck’s sake? I don’t take the time to ponder this. Instead, I travel from the multicolored rock floor of the gorge to my room in the cliff house.
It is an opulent room – far too rich for my blood – but Mama decorated it for me, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t to my taste. Now, I can’t imagine changing it. The walls are papered in a lightly textured, luminescent cream. In fact, most of the room is in shades of white and silver from the wallpaper to the mirrored side tables. The only color – and my only contribution to the design of the room – is from a plush magenta area rug that is begging me to walk on it. I detour around the white leather sitting chairs just so I can walk across the soft shag on my way to the liquor nook hidden away by an antique-white paneled cabinet.
My mother and the white. I’m not a virgin, Mama. That ship sailed a long time ago.
I pull a squat tumbler from the lowest shelf and splash a healthy measure in the glass. I only get a single swallow in before Cam and Aidan bust my door open like an episode of Cops. They file in my room like they are my wardens, and I realize now, letting them get away with the shit they pulled in the gorge was a mistake on my part.
“Well, that was unnecessary,” I say before I can stop myself, and I’m happy it comes out calm as you please instead of the seething rage bubbling in my chest.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Evangeline?” Cam thunders, his hulking form fills the doorway, the black of his clothes making him look only more ominous. He is chastising me like a naughty toddler.
Yep, big mistake on my part. Sorry, Papa.
I take another swallow of my bourbon, carelessly fling the glass back in the cabinet, and before the tumbler can stop spinning on the bar top, I’ve traveled to the pair of them and have Cam face first on the tile with his hand pinned behind his back.
First my parents, then West, now this. I am already shitting the bed at this whole leader thing. I am done failing, and if there is anything I learned from my father, it was sometimes lessons need to be taught the hard way.
As my talons gouge into Cam’s face, I turn my black eyes to Aidan, and by his expression, I can tell he didn’t expect me to know how to fight nor did he know I could take someone much bigger than myself down.
He should have. We have fought together. He should know better.
“I assume this tantrum is because I left the gorge?” I ask, and Aidan hesitantly nods. Cam doesn’t move an inch, and I don’t blame him. One wrong move and his eye is going bye-bye.
“I have some issues with your behavior in the gorge. First and foremost, you held me back from fighting,” I say calmly.
“We did our job. We were keeping you safe,” Aidan gently pleads and while I appreciate the sentiment, I can’t abide by it.
“Would you have refused to let my father fight? Would you have tried to take that away from him?” I ask, and I can tell my question hits home. He has undermined me without meaning to.
Aidan and Cam have been with my family long before I was born. They see me as a child, a little sister, and while I trust them with my life, I can’t trust them to guard me against the dangers of this reign for another second without this lesson.
“No. You wouldn’t,” I scold.
“But you…” Cam begins.
“Do. Not. Presume to tell me what I can and cannot do. I am your Queen, your leader, and you will treat me as such or I will make you regret it.” I say through gritted teeth, and while I feel slightly guilty for smashing his face on the hardwood floor, it has to be done.
I love Cam, he is the big brother I never had. He has tended to more scraped knees than any grown man should, but family or not, he cannot keep playing big brother.
It will get us both killed.
“I love you both, but I will release you and get someone else if you can’t get it through your thick fucking skulls that I’m not a delicate little flower. I know how to handle myself. And if you undermine me again, I will make your release the permanent kind. Do you understand me?” I question as I retract my talons from his face and travel to my feet.
I get a reluctant nod from Cam as little bubbles of blood well from the cuts in his cheek. Cam and Aidan both take a knee of supplication, and when they rise, five little ribbons of red have made their way down Cam’s cheek.
“Good. If it makes you feel better, I will continue my sparring sessions with Aurelia to keep my skills sharp. She’s been training me for a decade already, I see no reason to change things up now,” I admit to a stunned Aidan.
“West let you…” Aidan says, and his eyes widen as he trails off realizing his mistake. Just the sound of his name slices into my chest, and I steady myself against the blow.
“West was not aware. He was my Guardian, not my keeper. I don’t want to hear his name again. Now, no offense guys, but I need some time alone. I’m going to go drown my sorrows in some bourbon and take a bath. I want the door fixed before I get out. Oh, and if you bust in my room again, I’ll cut your dicks off. Understood?” I ask, but it isn’t really a question. They both got a freebie pass for pulling that bullshit in the gorge. I can’t be that lenient again.
I walk back to the cabinet, snag the bourbon and my glass from the bar top and head to the en suite bathroom, gently closing the door when I want to slam it. Flipping on the taps before moving to the walk-in, I pull the zipper down on my dress and slip it from my shoulders. Carefully putting it on the thick, wooden hanger, my mind finally catches up with me. Black gauzy fabric, heavy, black beading, I hate this fucking dress.
I want to burn it. I want to rip it to shreds. This is the last thing I wore when I saw my parents for the final time.
It’s tainted.
It’s infected with the bitter loss I’m trying so hard to stomp down into nothing. It’s then that I let myself break a little and hug the now-cold dress to me as I crumple to the plush carpet.
I allow myself three minutes. Just three to vent some of this agony. I have to let it out now – where no one can see. I can’t be weak. I can’t break completely.
I stem the flow of the pain leaking from me and climb to my feet, hanging the dress on the rung. I can’t let it go now. It was the last thing my mother picked out for me, the last thing we ever shopped for. Had I known at the time it was going to be my funeral dress, I wouldn’t have ever bought it.
I reach up and straighten the strap on the hanger before running my fingers down the bodice.
Miss you, Mama.
I suck in a huge breath and let it out in a gust, shoring up my walls again and turn from the closet to turn the taps of the large claw-footed tub off. Filling the tumbler to the brim, I set it in the fancy teak bath tray spanning the width of the tub, and before I can think better of it, I plop the bottle of bourbon right next to it.
One night to grieve.
I need this time. Time to deal with losing my parents. Time to put on my big girl panties and rule as good or better than my father did. My father had to worry about his mate, and that guided his decisions. Some of those, I hate to say, treaded the safe path rather than the right one. He stayed safe to keep his mate alive. I don’t have one of those, and I probably never will.
Nope.
Safe is not for me.
I’ll do the right thing instead.