Chapter 12

Ceven

SOMEONE HAD CLOSED all the curtains in the house at one point. It could’ve been evening or night. Ceven didn’t know, but either way he was beyond exhausted, only having stolen a couple hours here and there of some much-needed shut-eye. Tarry’s blood covered him, his back and legs aching from hunching over his friend for so long. But they’d managed to patch Tarry up, and he was on his way to recovery.

After dozing off for a bit, Ceven woke to Quan’s snore droning from the couch and the clattering of utensils from the kitchen as Xilo cooked. Barto and Rasha were nowhere to be found. He sat up, and over the stirring of pots and pans, he could make out the faintest creaking and whispers from upstairs. His lip curled, and his thoughts turned sour. Were the two of them discussing a way to kidnap Eve? To bring her back to the empress to be killed for crimes she didn’t commit? Rasha’s loyalty to the empress matched Barto’s, if not more so. It was only a matter of time before his friend betrayed him.

Eager to find out for sure, Ceven rubbed his hands on the red-stained towel beside him and crept up the stairs. He wasn’t as agile as his Atiacan companions, but it was enough to pick up the tail end of their conversation.

“. . . her mark may be the key to figuring it out. It’d be best for us to leave now.” They were in the bedroom, closest to the stairwell.

“With everything going on? It’s better to figure out what the king is up to and—” Barto’s sentence cut off.

A moment later, his friend opened the bedroom door.

Ceven flashed him a chilling smile. “Maybe we can all have an open discussion together downstairs. We’re all friends, after all, right?”

Barto’s lips curled, showing a row of sharp canines. “Friends don’t eavesdrop on each other.” He shoved past him downstairs.

Rasha folded her arms, her gaze across the hall where Lani and Evangeline slept. Ceven stepped in front of her. She narrowed her eyes but shrugged and followed Barto. Ceven watched her leave, his stomach feeling as if he had guzzled a bed of nails.

The bathing room was nowhere near the size of Ceven’s in his suite, but the water was just as hot and cleansed him of the blood that coated his hands and parts of his neck where the exposed skin was in his armor. The black-and-gray cotton slacks and shirt were a lot easier to move around in than his plated metal.

If he had to find a bright side to his current situation, it was at least he didn’t have to uphold the mask of formality he wore for the king and nobles inside the castle. I need to return soon, before the king wonders about my whereabouts. But first he needed to figure out a plan, and what the blazes Evangeline had been up to.

He gently rapped on the door before peeking in. Evangeline was curled up next to Lani, both sound asleep on the four-post bed, wrapped in a colorful quilt. Xilo had checked on both of them after attending Tarry.

“Miss Evangeline may have fractured one or more ribs, but if she rests and takes it easy, she will be fine,” Xilo had told him. “Delani, on the other hand . . .” The two of them had shared a look, and the Royal Guard didn’t have to say anything more. It was going to be a hard truth for Eve to swallow.

For a moment, all of Ceven’s frustration and worry melted at the sight of Evangeline’s sleeping form. She looked better, at least. Her cheeks rosy and clean of blood, her hair falling messily across her face. It reminded him of the times they would nap together as children after their tutoring sessions with Ryker. Before he got to the age where he wanted to do more than just sleep beside her.

Ceven brushed back her hair, and she stirred awake. “There’s food downstairs.”

She rubbed her eyes and glanced at Lani.

“Let her sleep for a little while longer.” He turned his gaze away, knowing she would see the resurfacing anger in it. “Besides, we have much to discuss.” He left her to change into whatever clothes Xilo’s son had lying around and went downstairs.

The living room reeked of blood and alcohol, but it was worth it to see Tarry conscious. His Aerian bodyguard was leaning against the couch, chatting with Quan, who was shoveling down the contents of his bowl. Tarry looked pretty nonchalant for having more bandages on him than clothing.

Xilo offered Ceven a steaming bowl of roasted beans and rice with a slice of bread, but he declined. His stomach seemed to have an appetite for knots. Rasha and Barto were at the table, discussing Barto’s sisters. Something regarding the letters they had been sending to Barto, asking about the castle, and if the Aerian royalty was as stuffy as Barto made them out to be. At least it wasn’t about Evangeline.

The creaking of the stairwell alerted him to Evangeline’s presence. She clearly had struggled to tie the simple shirt and loose brown breeches into a somewhat presentable attire. Everyone stared at her, and if Ceven didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he was in the city’s plaza, about to witness an execution.

Barto stood up. “We need to talk.”

Ceven scowled at him. “At least let her eat first.”

Barto’s black-furred ears flicked back. “Of course, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

To his childhood friend’s credit, Evangeline kept her head high even as she walked through the invisible thickness that lingered in the air. She sat across from Rasha at the round table, the worn wooden chair shifting as she slid in. At least Xilo had cleaned up the spoiled food that had been sitting out upon their arrival. Ceven had never gotten around to asking Xilo where his son was.

Evangeline no longer favored her right side, and in the overhead light, her skin was chalky white, her eyes more vibrant than he remembered them ever being.

Xilo set down what would’ve been Ceven’s bowl in front of her.

“What is this?” She leaned in to smell it.

“Food, and that’s what should be important.” Rasha crossed her arms, leaning away, as if she were diseased. Ceven wanted to tell the she-beast off but knew it would only stir more tension.

Evangeline looked insulted but didn’t hesitate to take a spoonful, as if to prove a point.

“Did you sleep well?” Ceven asked, breaking the hanging silence.

She nodded. “How is everyone?” She looked at Tarry, then Quan, but when she met the Rathan’s brown eyes, he turned away. “And how did you find us?”

“We’re better, though if you asked Quan, you’d think I’d butchered him.” Barto glared pointedly at his friend. Quan shrugged.

Ceven smirked despite himself. “Admit it, you have much to learn from Xilo’s needlework.”

Barto threw up his hands. “What do you expect? I’m a warrior, not a seamstress.” His cheeks darkened, and he gave Xilo a small smile. “Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you.”

Xilo raised a brow but didn’t reply, turning and scrubbing down everyone’s plates and bowls. It was odd seeing his bodyguard, an Aerian whom he had watched take down countless enemies without his expression wavering from its intense focus whenever in battle and with a bloody history of something far from mundane or holy, in such a relaxed setting. Ceven had to admit, seeing the older, quiet Aerian surrounded by beige tile and hovering over the wide-set copper sink was disconcerting. As if he were dreaming.

He grimaced. After everything that had happened, with Evangeline potentially wanted for murder, his bodyguard almost dying today, and his friend planning to go behind his back and kidnap the woman he loved, he really wished that he was.

Ceven pressed his lips together. “Sehn told us where you were. If he hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

Evangeline frowned and looked at the extra bowl on the table, still hot.

“I should take this to Lani.” Evangeline went to stand, but Ceven placed a hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t going anywhere yet.

“I’ll take it,” Xilo said, drying his hands before taking the bowl from the table. “It’ll give me a chance to check on her wounds again.” He looked Evangeline over. “I’ll need to check yours later on.”

Evangeline smiled at him, and he left. Ceven sat next to her. He didn’t have to say anything; she knew him well enough to recognize his expression.

She sighed. “I’ll tell you everything. And before you ask, I had good reason not to come to you.”

Ceven leaned back, crossing his arms. “Do you?”

“You lied to me first, remember?” she retorted, then glanced around the room, pink blooming in her face. “We should speak privately.”

Ceven had lied to her about Lani’s well-being that day in Ryker’s suite, but it was to protect her from running off and putting herself in danger. Like escaping to the west wing and almost being a beast’s meal.

Before he could speak, Barto interrupted, “We’re all in this together now. We need to clear the air, figure out what’s going on.” The sun-kissed wrinkles around Barto’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Ceven believed his friend cared about Eve. But if he did, he wouldn’t be wanting to drag her off to be killed in Atiaca.

“You’re right,” she started. “Let’s clear everything up.”

She explained about a letter she’d found in Lani’s room that said Vane had kidnapped her friend and how, after the ball, she’d discovered Lani was in the west wing.

“Who was the Caster helping you?” Rasha said, but it was more of a demand.

Evangeline flinched. It was a guess, but judging by her reaction, it was now confirmed. Ceven would’ve felt bad for her being put on the spot—if she hadn’t lied to him about everything.

“I can’t say their name.” Her hand tightened on her spoon. “If I did, it would put mine and Lani’s life in danger.”

Rasha glared, and Evangeline stared at her bowl.

“Where are they now?” Ceven asked, surprised by the curtness in his voice. He’d thought he was doing a decent job of keeping his emotions in check. Apparently not.

“Dead, maybe, I don’t know. We got separated, and that’s when I ran into the king—”

Ceven slammed his hands on the table, and she jumped. “You ran into the king!”

“Well, it wasn’t on purpose,” she spat, her face as red as the shirt that kept sliding off her shoulders.

“Well, I’d certainly hope not.” Barto put a hand on his hip. “I’m sure the old man wasn’t happy to see you.”

It won’t be long before the king finds out she was behind his advisor’s death. And nobody, not even you, can protect her from the wrath of the Peredian army and its bloodthirsty king. Sehn’s words rang inside his skull. “Maybe we do need to speak in private.”

Rasha directed her glare at him. “What happened to clearing the air? Something you’d like to add, Your Highness?”

Rasha’s jab dug under his skin. Since arriving in Peredia two weeks ago, she had been mostly quiet, probably adjusting to her new surroundings and calculating all possible threats. Very different from the woman he had first met in Atiaca’s capital city, Kazummar, whose tongue fired off faster than one of Xilo’s throwing knives. At the time, he’d respected her bluntness and ability to get straight to the point. But right now, it ticked him off.

“Stop acting like I didn’t catch you two whispering alone upstairs. Maybe there’s something you’d like to share?” Ceven cocked his head, pointedly daring her to say anything else.

She didn’t respond, and he couldn’t help but feel smug.

Evangeline shook her head. “She’s right. Having secrets isn’t going to help.”

Rasha raised her brows but kept her focus on Ceven.

His hands curled into fists, which he kept tucked into the folds of his arms. He wanted to keep it a secret from Barto and his friends. Who knew what they would tell their empress—maybe even King Calais. But he already had plans to get Eve far away from the Atiacan warriors. Sooner rather than later.

He kept his stare even and released the blow. “Did you kill Ryker?”

The room turned deadly quiet.

Evangeline’s head dropped, but Ceven witnessed the truth in her horrified expression. Her unsaid admission ended up throwing a punch to his gut instead of hers.

“It was an accident. . . .” Her voice was small, but it caused him to explode.

“Gods blast it, Eve! What . . .” Ceven stood, the floorboards straining as he paced the room. “Anything else you’d like to share?” he snarled.

“I was tricked!” she exclaimed, color rising throughout her face. “He was supposed to fall asleep, so we could find out more about the missing people!”

Rasha’s expression didn’t change, but her brown eyes roved over Evangeline, re-assessing her. “I’m assuming your Caster friend put you up to this. And that is how you found out your friend was in the west wing?”

Evangeline nodded but added, “I wouldn’t say ‘friend.’”

Ceven paused and demanded, “And did the king know?”

Barto snorted. “If she’s alive, I’d say not, unless she’s more silver-tongued than we thought.” Quan made a noise that sounded insulting.

Evangeline crossed her arms, but her shoulders trembled, and some of his anger dissipated. “The king doesn’t know . . . yet. But I’ve learned what they’re doing, what’s happening inside Castle Peak. The point of kidnapping all those humans.”

She showed off her mark, the bold lines and runes reminding Ceven that, as much as he didn’t like to admit it, she was somehow involved—whether it be as a victim or something more sinister. She continued to explain what her mark meant, that it was ancient Caster magic, used to open a channel between two people. Soul to soul. Ceven shook his head, the others looked skeptical as well, but Evangeline argued that what they had all seen in the west wing was proof of it. That her mark was being manipulated and used on these humans to drain them. Peredia was empowering itself off the backs of Caster magic and human lives.

He asked her how she knew all of this, but judging by her expression, he assumed the information came from her Caster.

Tarry sat up, and only the slight furrow of his brow indicated the pain he was probably in. “I saw those cells. They didn’t look human anymore,” he said. “It’s something I believe my old employer would do, but not the king.”

Ceven was surprised Tarry would bring up his past. He and Xilo rarely talked about it.

“We all saw that monster, the markings on those soldiers with more strength than a small army. What the blazes does the king want with that kind of power? To go to war? To have the ability to say he’s the strongest country in the world?” Barto shook his head. “Why can’t he just be satisfied with winning an arm-wrestling match or something instead?”

Quan’s lips twitched. “All he would have to do is play you once to feel all-powerful.” Barto was close in taking out the Rathan’s furless ears, which bent back in the nick of time.

“Well, Your Highness, what now? After all, you are the prince of this kingdom.” Rasha raised her brows, the comment also acting as a jab. She knew his weight as a bastard prince was only a little better than one of the drunk nobles pawing at Rasha and every other female at the Aerian ball. He grimaced. If only he could do more.

Ceven forced a smile. “Your favorite, Rasha. It’s time to come up with a plan.”