Chapter 19

Evangeline

THE NEXT MORNING, Ceven, Barto, Tarry, and Rasha all collected their things to prepare to head back to the castle. Quan and Xilo would stay with Evangeline and Lani, waiting a few days until they could make plans to move them out of the city. In the meantime, Ceven planned to recruit several men from the army—rookies he trusted, he said—and have a talk with his brother to figure out more about what the king’s goals were. If he didn’t return in a few days, he told them not to wait for him and to stick to the plan.

Evangeline waited to hear said plan, but Ceven’s lips stayed sealed on the matter and Barto gave him a nasty look, quipping with, “I’m sure the plan is secret from us Atiacans.” Nobody commented on it.

Ceven fixed the collar of his navy coat and checked his belt for his swords and the two daggers hidden beneath his lapels. “I’ll try to be back quickly,” he said, his gloved hand cupping her cheek.

Evangeline picked off a loose thread from his shoulder, avoiding his eyes. His words from last night, about wanting to leave with her, settled in her chest. It was an odd feeling: being wanted and loved. Unlike the tumultuous relationship she had with Lani, or the cold one she had with Ryker. This one she felt she could lose at any moment. Or ruin it, like she had with Lani.

“Be safe.” She hugged him and buried her head into his shoulder, soaking up all of him. It was possible it would be the last time she ever could.

They left, and the house turned quiet. Snow piled on the windowsill outside, but the fire Xilo started made the house toasty. Evangeline rolled up the sleeves of her oversized shirt.

Xilo checked on Lani, gave her something to drink to ease the pain, but she still wasn’t looking good. Evangeline attempted to talk to her, but Lani was unresponsive. She didn’t know if it was because of the pain, or if her friend hadn’t forgiven her.

Evangeline stood in the bathing room, trying to peer at the Caster mark Ceven had spied. She thought of grabbing some salt from the kitchen and being done with it—if Avana hadn’t lied to her about how to remove it—but if anyone would know where to locate a place, it would be Raiythlen.

She pressed on the mark, thinking loudly in her mind of the annoying, infuriating Caster with blue eyes she had once found pretty. Now, everything about the man ticked her off.

If only Ceven believed in me more . . . She frowned, wondering if neglecting to tell Ceven everything that had happened at the plaza was the right move. But knowing him, he would’ve had a fit and berated her for making such dangerous decisions. Mayhap even throwing her over his shoulder and marching off to the castle with her in tow. He was too protective and always felt she couldn’t handle herself. It didn’t help she had a horrible streak of proving him right in that arena—but blast it if she wasn’t trying.

“Come out, come out, Caster,” she whispered to herself in the mirror. She felt more and more foolish by the second. Did she seriously expect Raiythlen to magically pop up behind her? She shook her head. It was clear the mark was one-sided—that or Raiythlen never made it out of the west wing. That thought didn’t sit well with her.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Evangeline asked Xilo later that afternoon. She had thoroughly waltzed the house, attempting to glean anything helpful from it, maybe maps of the city, or a list of inns in the area, but no luck.

Xilo’s gaze was the same as always, indifferent but far more pleasant than Quan’s. He sat on the armchair by the fire across from the bald-headed Rathan, whose head had turned away from her as she came down the stairs. Evangeline swallowed a retort. She was used to the behavior from most Nytes and had gotten good at reading body language, at knowing when one of them thought her lesser. The refusal to look at her or address her, the scrunch of their nose whenever she entered a room, or the occasional insult thrown at her. Most Nytes didn’t bother acknowledging a human’s presence, but Quan made a show of it, as if making sure she saw his hatred.

Evangeline pretended not to notice the Rathan as she glanced at Xilo. At first, she thought he was reading a book, but when she got closer, she saw it was a journal, judging by the hand scribbles.

“Not at this time,” was all he said.

She bit her lip. Xilo had been around for most of her life, but she had never exchanged more than a handful if words with him. Did he hate her? Was he just good at disguising his emotions? “Are there any books here I could read?”

He told her about the study downstairs. It was nearly hidden behind a door, just a forearm’s length bigger than her frame with her head brushing the top of it, squeezed in the crevice between the pantry and the back door. She’d assumed it was a closet and hadn’t bothered with it in her initial exploration of the house. The air was cooler in the small, converted basement. She admired the shelves, the wood so dark it looked black. Odd bobbles and glass lined its spaces. She stood on her tiptoes to read the labels on the glass jars.

“Mugwort, rosemary, dandelion….” It was a list of herbs. At least she assumed so, only recognizing a couple from the ones Lani mentioned when talking about her work in the kitchens. Boring. The opposite side was more appealing, with colorful, both new and old, bindings. Xilo’s son was an avid reader as well. However, her excitement died when most of the titles were on herbal properties. But it wasn’t completely a lost cause: a few adventure stories grabbed her interest, and one on Caster magic. Something she’d never seen in the castle’s library. She still didn’t know if it was taboo or if the lack of knowledge was to fool the Aerians into thinking they were stronger than any Caster magic. Maybe both.

Evangeline would’ve preferred the couch upstairs but settled for the brown armchair at the desk, the arms frayed along the threading from use. It beat having to face Quan’s scowls or Xilo’s disinterest. Or Lani dying in front of her.

The book on Caster magic sat forgotten on the desk as the riveting story about a pirate, wielding scabbards and conquering the vast ocean, sucked her in. She imagined an expansive shimmering sea of blue and green, like the one Ceven told her about from his time in Atiaca. The two of them aboard a ship the size of this house, with the wind combing their hairs, blades at their sides and—

Squeak, squeak.

Evangeline yanked her feet off the ground and peered around the room. Her eyes narrowed at every dark corner, and she wrinkled her nose. What if it was Raiythlen’s ‘pet’ with another message, like the one she’d received before the ball?

A palm-sized mouse skittered by the stairs, staring at her with black eyes. She whispered and cooed at it, but it didn’t move. Maybe it only listened to its master.

She shrugged. “Go ahead, spy on me. Not like I’m doing anything interesting.” But what if it was just a normal mouse? She felt childish and returned to her book.

Squeak, squeak.

She flopped the book on the desk with more force than was necessary and stomped over to the mouse. She snatched it up before it could scurry away.

“I’ll put you outside, so you can stop chatting,” she said. The mouse squirmed in response, its plump torso trapped in her hand, its tail wriggling against her pinkie.

I wonder how it’d taste.

Evangeline dropped the mouse. It landed with a squeal and disappeared back into whatever hole it came from while she blinked at her hand. What in the blazes was she thinking? She waited for the disgust to come, but all she could think about was sinking her teeth into the squirming mouse. Its blood rolling over her tongue and warming her belly.

A knock later, Xilo came in to find her standing in the middle of the room, still staring at her hand.

“Miss Evangeline?”

She looked up at him, and he frowned but didn’t comment on her unusual behavior. Maybe he’d seen his share of it in his long life.

“I’ve prepared some food. Ceven advised me to keep you well fed.”

Evangeline broke from her odd mouse fixation. “Advised, or ordered?” she countered. Ceven had been watching her eat, disappointment written on his face as he glanced at her unfinished food. It was just because so much had happened, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she’s had much of an appetite for the past few months anyway. Except now for mice. She extinguished the thought and followed the stoic Aerian upstairs, but not before tucking her Caster magic book beneath her arm.