Chapter 35

Evangeline

THE CARRIAGE WAS warm. The hot coals in the iron brazier had fogged up the glass windows. Evangeline had only been in a carriage twice. Once when she was brought to the city as a child, and again when Ryker dragged her back to the ruins where she was found. But both times, never had she sat on velvet upholstery or had expensive glass fixtures dangling on either side of her head. Or been cuffed to the walls with chains made of tazmite, like an Aerian or Rathan prisoner.

Council member Aimee mirrored her, minus the handcuffs—unless she counted the tight gold cufflinks that matched the trim of their waistcoat and brought out the cream tunic and slacks, nothing at all like what she’d last seen them wear—with one leg crossed casually. But their gaze was anything but casual.

To Evangeline’s extreme good fortune—or misfortune depending on how she looked at it—the false Prince had conveniently appeared behind her when she confronted the guards at the city’s gates. The shock and confusion on the Nytes’ faces would have been priceless if it had been any other day. And she didn’t know if it was because they doubted she truly was human, with her being covered in blood and lacking the proper fear a sane human would have after being caught beyond the walls, or if it was the disguised prince’s sudden appearance. The false prince and their carriage had appeared—almost magically—from the Olaaga woods behind Evangeline, supposedly returning from a “brief retreat for solitude.” Or so they had told the guards. Evangeline saw the questions and doubt forming in their faces as Aimee yanked her inside the carriage, letting the six Royal Guards that surrounded the carriage on horseback ease their doubts and allow them entry into the city.

Aimee’s intense stare continued to sear into Evangeline’s skin, despite their attempt at light conversation. Evangeline ignored them. Her gaze was as cold as the snow-covered rooftops that whizzed by.

With a heavy sigh, Aimee leaned back. “For one mere girl, you sure have cost me a lot.” Unlike their earlier attempt at politeness, this time impatience seeped through. Perhaps even a hint of anger. “I’ve been searching all night for you. Then you show up, seeking me out, and now you ignore me. The audacity.”

Why? Evangeline didn’t ask. If they had been searching for her, she obviously meant something to them. And the fact she was still alive meant they needed her to be coherent. She stored that bit of important information away for later.

“Now I’m sure those damned guards will cause a stir with rumors and gossip about my whereabouts and why I was in the company of a hu—a girl covered in blood and rags for clothes.” Another sigh. “And of course you don’t care. You haven’t the slightest idea the gravity of the situation.”

That this may ruin your cover? That the real Prince Sehn is far, far from Peredia? Evangeline remained silent and kept her gaze out the window.

Aimee didn’t attempt another conversation, and the silence stretched the entire ride. Only the occasional rattle of her chains whenever they hit a bump on the path broke the silence. In between, the soft whistle of wind and the stampede of hooves filled the quiet until they stopped in front of the castle gates. Evangeline peered out the window as the two guards waved them through. As a joke, she attempted to wave back, but her bindings held her too tightly, resulting in her fingers twitching. She had walked up the winding hundred-plus stairs every single day to get to the castle gates. Now, she sat in the future king’s carriage. If the two guards recognized her, they didn’t show it.

“Now, no bolting away. Or else it’ll look suspicious,” Aimee said as the door opened and a blast of cold air invaded the toasty carriage.

“I obviously don’t plan on it,” she said for the first time since stumbling upon the false prince again. If she were going to run, she would’ve had a better chance standing in the woods, before she entered the wagon with a deadly Caster.

Aimee left the chains on her but kept them hidden under an additional coat they threw on top of her before leaving the carriage. As if the disguised Council member didn’t trust her, they settled their arm behind her back and dragged her closer, her head brushing their shoulder. It reminded Evangeline of how tall she was, knowing most humans came up to the chests of most Aerians, and even then, they were mostly male. Curiosity struck her. Was the real Council member this tall? Or was this part of the illusion?

They climbed cleanly-cut stone steps, passed the God of all Gods statue—Evangeline gave it a disdainful glare—and entered the castle.

Evangeline was grateful to lean on someone, even if it was Aimee. Here, she felt vulnerable. Humans and Nytes stared at her. Some stopped dead in their tracks, others dropped whatever they were holding—mostly trays, except one girl who dropped a bucket of sudsy water. It sloshed over the sides and sprinkled Evangeline’s leather boots and riding breeches—another oddity to be stared at. Not only was she a human out of uniform, but lacking the proper corseted dress for women of the Aerian court. Though she wasn’t a part of that court anymore (she wasn’t really to begin with) now that Ryker was dead.

It was no surprise Nytes and humans fought to get a better glimpse. The infamous Evangeline, the first human to be adopted into court, being escorted by Prince Sehn himself. That piece of gossip would trickle to every wall of the castle—alongside Ryker’s murder.

She had no choice but to continue to walking. Each step, almost mechanical. Her gaze fixed straight ahead, as if the gears in her neck had rusted over. She wanted to crawl back into that carriage and have the driver send it straight off this mountain.

As they passed humans in their long black-sleeved and purple apron uniforms and Nytes complete in floor-length gowns with low-scooped necklines and frock coats held together by a few buttons, Evangeline assessed the fake prince. Like Sehn, their crimson wings were large, so large that they dragged on the floor behind them. Each feather shifted and danced of its own accord, ready to take flight at a moment’s notice. If they were fake, they didn’t look like it. Their long mahogany hair was swept half-up, half-down, with a gold ornate pin matching the gold assembly of chains hanging against their shirt, which was unfashionably buttoned up all the way. When Evangeline had first seen “Sehn,” she’d assumed his stay in Sundise Mouche had affected his new style, but now it made better sense, because it hadn’t been him at all. It seemed Council member Aimee didn’t have a taste for the court’s fashion.

They took several flights of black marble staircases, glass chandeliers dangling precariously above them from the high arched ceilings. Vases of white lilacs dusted the air with a light and refreshing aroma, contrasting against the purple and gold floor runners spanning the length of the hallways. They were in the castle’s main hall, where Evangeline had spent a good chunk of her life. She didn’t miss it one bit.

They weren’t on the top floor of the castle, which meant they weren’t going to Sehn’s suite, but somewhere else. They entered a room at the end of the far wall with two Royal Guards standing in front of it. “Guest room,” Aimee informed her.

The room, as expected, was half the size of a royal suite, but not lacking in Peredian taste. With soft pastel walls and marble flooring, it fit the mold of the castle’s decor. A large canopy bed was settled in the middle of the room, furnished with a purple satin comforter and an array of dress pillows. The fireplace, which was half the size of a horse, was on the opposite wall, accented by a dark purple loveseat and one chair. The heat of it hit her all the way from the entryway.

Her gaze lingered on the balcony. From this side of the castle, she could see the garden that stretched the main hall’s length. It was where she’d ran into Sehn, or who she had thought was the young prince. To think a Council member had been playing them all this time . . .

A slim human girl with nut-colored skin came in and bowed. Never once did she look up. Aimee asked for refreshments and then some food as an afterthought, while glancing at Evangeline with an unreadable expression. The Caster sat on the loveseat, the shadows from the flames dancing across their skin. Evangeline had yet to see any flaws, any imperfections in the disguise. Was this really a Council member?

“Please, sit.” They patted the spot next to them.

Evangeline pointedly rattled her chained hands.

“Your legs aren’t chained.” They gave her a look that second-guessed that decision. “And after that remarkable display you put on earlier, I have to be cautious, dear. Now, sit.”

It was no matter she defended herself beyond those walls, that she had let that . . . thing inside her take over and attack those Casters. That for a moment in time she hadn’t been herself or . . . human. But standing here, chained, cold, and crusted over with blood, she felt anything but powerful. Despite that, Evangeline still fantasized about fighting her way out of the room, like she had in the woods. Destroying Aimee and saving Ceven from Gods-know-where, both of them fighting their way out before escaping through the city’s gates on horseback, as if they were in some sort of adventure novel. But this was reality. And she was as trapped as she’d always been. Stuck inside this blasted castle.

But at least this time it had been her decision.

Evangeline sat next to the Nyte, albeit as far away as she could get on the loveseat. Aimee’s stare sent her skin crawling, and it was more unnerving than the passing looks of those in the halls.

“It’s remarkable. You look absolutely ordinary, but you’re far from that. A true mystery,” Aimee said.

“Did I kill that Caster?” That had been on her mind for some time now. Evangeline didn’t know why the idea bothered her so much. They’d attacked her first.

Aimee went quiet for a moment. “Do you not remember?”

Evangeline wanted to squirm, to break these blasted chains. “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.” As if she were back in Ryker’s suite with the former advisor, she waited for a slap or some kind of blow for her retort. Instead, the Caster raised a brow.

“You snapped her neck and massacred the rest of my team,” they said. Evangeline jerked, cold needles prickling up her spine and neck. She had remembered none of it. Aimee continued, “It’s strange how some of our spells didn’t affect you. Was it because of you, or perhaps something else?” The question seemed to be directed more at themselves.

Evangeline did remember how the smoke hands had withered when she’d sliced her leg. Had it been because of the saliver running in her blood? “Where’s Prince Ceven?”

 “Ah, yes, the young prince. That’s the real reason you came back, isn’t it? I’m sure it wasn’t to chat with me.” Evangeline didn’t deny it, though that wasn’t the entire reason she’d returned to this dreadful place. It was a risk to use Prince Sehn as a way back inside the castle, but she knew her limits. Even if the weak, movable boulder within the wall still existed, there was no way she’d make it through the city and into the castle without someone recognizing her and the guards dragging her off straight towards the king. Or possibly being murdered outright.

Aimee leaned back and placed an arm along the back of the couch, their hand resting behind Evangeline’s head. The Caster’s thigh brushed hers. “Do tell, what is your relationship with my brother?”

“He is my prince, Your Highness,” Evangeline said carefully, gauging their reaction.

“My dear, there’s no need to be so formal. After the night we’ve had, I’d say we’re beyond formalities.” Their gaze never strayed. “Much like you and Ceven,” they added coyly.

Evangeline balled her hands into fists. Even if this wasn’t Sehn, they were just as good at playing mind games. She’d prefer to face the Council’s brutality than this flimsy falsehood of friendship.

“Tell me where he is,” she demanded.

Aimee’s face hardened, but before they responded, a girl rolled in a cart of food. Her eyes focused on the ground as she placed silver platters on the knee-height table in front of them.

“Do you require anything else, Your Highness?” Even her voice was small, delicate.

The disguised prince flashed a charming smile. “No, my sweet. I will see you tonight.”

The girl blushed and bowed before leaving.

Evangeline stared at the food in awe of the pure gluttony of it. There was more than enough here to feed several human families. And it looked a lot more appetizing than Xilo’s beans and toast. An ache formed in her chest.

Lani was dead. Xilo had betrayed her. And worst of all, she was more than crazy. She truly was a monster.

Suddenly, the corners of her lips twitched, and laughter bubbled in her throat. Life was just one big joke. Almost unreal.

Aimee waved their hand. “I’m sure you’re hungry, please eat. Unless there are other things that would satisfy your appetite.”

The memory of that Caster’s blood filling her mouth was enough to make her stomach cramp in anticipation while she felt ill, but Evangeline didn’t want to give this Caster the pleasure of rattling her. She picked at the honeyed hams and whipped potatoes that should’ve made her drool but didn’t stir any hunger in her. There were even pieces of peppermint chocolate and sweet rolls glazed in icing and cinnamon—her favorite—and still she had no desire to eat any of it.

Aimee shifted, their arm on the back of the couch now resting against Evangeline’s nape, her braided hair brushed over the side of her shoulder. The feel of them on her exposed nape made her skin break out in bumps as Ranson’s snapped neck sliced her thoughts, then the Caster’s as she’d sunk her teeth into their flesh as if she had bitten into a sweet roll. She gagged on a slice of ham and set the uneaten half back on the table. Her stomach recoiled, and all the food before her seemed a waste now, as she couldn’t bear to touch it.

There was a scrape, like claws on marble. It came from under the bed, then rounded the corner and—

Evangeline bolted onto the couch. “A wolf!”

The wolf in question didn’t move but sat on its hind-legs, its pink tongue licking its white-and-gray muzzle. Aimee looked amused, their fingers brushing back the wolf’s fur. “No need to be frightened. He’s harmless.”

Evangeline sank back down but kept her eyes on the wolf. It looked like the same one that had chased her outside of Lani’s slave quarters. And if that was the case, it was far from harmless.

When Evangeline settled back on the couch, Aimee’s wings curled around them, forcing her closer. She stiffened and caved her shoulders in.

The Caster mistook her stiffness. “He acts more like a dog than a wolf. Isn’t that right, Fastah?” they cooed to it. The wolf snuggled into their hand, urging to be petted.

It hit her. This was Aimee’s familiar, the same one that had been following her around.

Raiythlen’s words, from when Ryker had thrown her in the dungeons, echoed in her brain. There have been footsteps outside Lani’s window, fresh prints, nearly every night. But when I try to catch them, they are just out of my grasp, as if they know that I am watching you as well. How long has Aimee been stalking her? Evangeline scratched her skin as it crawled, leaving raised flesh in its path.

Aimee’s eyes slid back to study her as Evangeline stared at their familiar with growing horror.

“Something you’d like to share?” They cocked their head, their fingers leaving Fastah to curl beneath their chin.

Evangeline wished her wit was as fast as the beat of her heart. Blast it. She said, “Have Casters always been employed under the oldest prince?” Referring to the black-clad Casters that had taken down the Aerian soldiers.

Their gaze narrowed, and Evangeline straightened.

Yes, I know your secret. What are you going to do about it?

That same darkness unraveled inside her gut, stretching its claws, but she tamped it down, imagining the chains she wore binding it as well. She didn’t want to lose control here. She didn’t want to lose her mind.

“I was wondering how long you would hold this charade.” Aimee moved—fast. Fingers gripped Evangeline’s chin, and the silvery lines of their fake eyes—or they could’ve been real, for all she knew—were a finger’s width away from hers. Her squeak was trapped in her throat, but their touch was gentle. “I think you know full well who I really am. But at least now we can be completely open with each other.”

Evangeline jerked out of their grasp. She would’ve fled from the couch as well—if Aimee’s fake wings didn’t trap her in.

“I don’t care who you are. I want to know where Ceven is.”

The Caster’s face dripped with interest. “So bold, you are.” Their lips curved into a seductive smile. “What if I told you that Raiythlen needed your help as well?”

Evangeline wasn’t surprised that Aimee knew of his presence here. Raiythlen had insinuated as much. “Where is he?”

They didn’t move, and Evangeline was starting to think this Caster didn’t know the definition of personal space. Still, she met their gaze straight-on as they said, “In the dungeons.” Then, as if divulging a juicy secret, they whispered, “And tomorrow, he will face a public execution by your king.”

Her mouth peeled open. He got caught? She’d thought the Caster assassin was infallible, untouchable. That the king would kill him tomorrow in front of the entire city was inconceivable.

“And?” Evangeline forced a nonchalance she didn’t possess. Inside, she was a storm of emotion. She owed Raiythlen nothing. He may have helped her find Lani, but he had also poisoned her friend and threatened their lives. He had tricked her into murdering her foster father.

 Aimee tapped their chin. “No remorse for your Caster friend? Even if he and Prince Ceven are taking the fall for the murder of Ryker Ardonis? If they’re reaping the consequences of your actions?”

Evangeline’s jaw slackened. “What?”

Their brows rose as if surprised. “Oh? Did you think everyone had forgotten about poor old Ryker? That his murder would go unnoticed? Someone had to pay the price, Evangeline.” Aimee moved away, grabbing the glass teapot on the table. The smell of ginger was strong.

Everything around Evangeline dimmed—the sounds of the fireplace crackling, Aimee sipping from their glass, the red and orange hues of the oil lamps. Everything faded away as Ceven’s dead face, his eyes upturned, his skin cold, blared at her mind’s eye. Just like Ranson’s face. Like the woman who died in her hallucination and the Caster whose neck she had ripped open.

Like Lani’s cold corpse.

The laughter bubbled up again, tickling her throat. It wanted to burst free, but Evangeline squelched it. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she was far away from here. Back in the garden with Ceven before any of this happened. Sunlight kissed her cheeks, her hair. Water trickled somewhere deeper within, and nothing but the smell of jasmine and Ceven’s wood and spice surrounded her.

When Evangeline opened her eyes, Aimee was sipping their tea, their other hand petting Fastah. They didn’t press her to answer, and Evangeline was glad their gaze was fixated on something else.

“Raiythlen . . . he used to work for you. Do you not care that he will die as well?” Was that her voice? It was too calm and collected and . . . distant. It sounded like a stranger to her.

They took another sip before setting the cup on the table. Fastah whimpered when they removed their hand. “Of course I care. I’ve known him since he was eight. Like his parents, he turned out to be an excellent agent. I will mourn for him as I do all of my members who sacrifice their lives every day for our country.” The glimpse of a scowl slipped through. “Including those you killed beyond the wall.”

“You attacked me first.”

“If you had stopped and listened, you would’ve realized I was there to help. Then you became . . . unstable. I had to protect myself and the others.”

“If you really are here to help, then stop this,” she said, this Council member’s words spurring the embers in her belly. They were acting like Raiythlen was already dead. “He doesn’t have to die.” Ceven doesn’t have to die. They both heard those unspoken words.

Aimee stood, flipping their coat behind them. “But he does. When he decided to put his own endeavors above the Council, he terminated his contract. He knew what he was getting himself into. He’s no longer that eight-year-old boy, but a man now.”

“And Ceven? Did he not fit into your plans, either?”

The Caster faced the fire. “On the contrary, he’s vital to my plan. And so are you.”

The weight of Aimee’s words was ruined when they turned, the large red wings knocking over the cup of tea and platter of ham and potatoes. They hurled a curse as Fastah eagerly chowed down on the spilled food. Light brown liquid seeped into the porcelain platter of sweet rolls, and a chill ran down Evangeline’s spine as the liquid dripped onto the floor, staining the carpet. Like it had when Ryker clawed at his throat, gasping for air right before he collapsed and died.

“I hate these bloody wings.” They shoved the wolf out of the way, trying to salvage the food. When they realized it was pointless, they threw up their hands and let Fastah resume their lucky meal.

Evangeline didn’t move. She couldn’t, and it wasn’t because of the chains still sagging down her wrists and arms. It was as if she’d been glued together and moving would cause her to shatter. “I don’t think you brought me here just to tell me that my friend is about to be slaughtered. What do you want from me?”

“And I don’t think you came back just to see Ceven,” Aimee said a bit impatiently. They sat back down with a sigh and grabbed a cloth from the table. The blue cotton linen soaked up the steaming tea, but Evangeline knew from experience that a towel worked much better. And faster. “While you’ve proved to be much more . . . unpredictable than I would have liked, I believe our goals align quite well.” They waited for a response, but Evangeline remained silent. They shrugged. “I want you to eliminate Calais LuRogue.”

Evangeline went still, not because she hadn’t expected Aimee’s answer, but because of the sudden hot, putrid rage that knifed her gut. It had almost been enough for the darkness to break the mental chains she had put on it. The Aerian who had started it all. Who oversaw and employed others for the enslavement and torture of hundreds of humans for his own benefit. Who had watched this dark magic eat and corrode away at their skin and not feel a thing as people like her precious friend, Lani, died slowly and painfully.

Aimee hadn’t been wrong. Even if it was foolish, Evangeline hadn’t returned just to warn Ceven, but to seek revenge. She didn’t know how, nor did she have a plan, but one way or another, she would make them pay for the atrocities they’d committed.

Make them suffer, Eve. Like they’ve made us suffer, Jaden whispered in her ear from a memory past.

After some time, and when some sense returned to her, she said, “And just how do you expect me to accomplish that?” She took in their expression. “I don’t know what happened out in those woods. I . . . I had lost my mind. I’m not doing that again.” Not if Ceven and other innocent people were going to be close by. “Not to mention the king is always surrounded by the Royal Guard. I’d never get close enough.”

Aimee tossed the sopping cloth on the other side of the table, where it landed with a wet slap. When they looked at her, Evangeline flinched. There was nothing gentle in their features. “So you think the king deserves to live?”

Evangeline was at a loss, confused by the sudden change in them. But before she could answer, there was a soft brush of velvet as they slid closer. Gone was the charming smile, the curious glint in those gray eyes. This time it was menacing, calculating. “Do you not hate him?”

Evangeline didn’t trust this one bit. Like if she answered wrong, she was going to be killed right there. She channeled her anger, using it to burn away the cold hole in her chest. “I do, but to kill the king—”

The Caster lunged at her.

Gold and beige blurred before Aimee gripped the loveseat on both sides of her face. “Are you telling me you’re okay with the king murdering hundreds of humans during the Red Wash? Painting these halls with their blood? Whipping, beating, and torturing your kind for his gain?”

Evangeline stopped breathing. The world went silent. She was both entranced and terrified by the fire in Aimee’s eyes. “No,” she whispered.

“For treating you and Delani like vermin, picking the next rodent to carve his blade into, to mar their backs like he and Ryker did your friend? To laugh and revel in her pain every time they carved another symbol into her skin, knowing it was sucking the life out of her.”

The darkness stretched and yawned against its mental chains. “Stop it.”

“Or maybe you’re okay with the king chopping off Ceven’s head? Watching him get drunk off his own power and status as his blade cuts through your lover’s neck—”

It rattled and yanked harder, itching, screaming to be let out. “Stop.”

“—slicing and splitting him open as his head pops off, leaving a bloody trail across the throne room—”

She wanted to kill him, kill this Caster, kill all of them. “Stop!”

“—his eyes staring blankly at you while you stand there and do nothing. Ceven, Lani, Raiythlen, all of them dead because of—”

“Stop it!” Evangeline screamed at both Aimee and herself. The darkness seeped through its chains, creeping up her limbs and throat with a burning fire laced with an insatiable hunger. She couldn’t let it escape. Not now. Not ever. She clenched her eyes shut, imagining Ceven’s eyes lighting up in the sun, his face crinkling into a smile as he looked at her. The way he tossed his head back, his brown hair teasing his handsome face as he laughed. She imagined Lani’s warm embrace and the smell of dough and sugar clinging to her apron after a long day in the kitchens. The happiness Evangeline felt when Lani would sneak her sweet rolls.

 When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Aimee’s smile, and the blood dripping down their index finger, a rune prepped on the skin of their forearm.

“So, you can control it after all. Interesting . . .”

Quiet, angry tears streamed down Evangeline’s face. She shuddered from the air that she couldn’t seem to get into her lungs. She hated this Caster for making her cry. They pulled out a silk cloth from their trouser pocket. Evangeline heaved as Aimee dried her face, the silk soft against her skin. A warm hand tucked a stray blond hair behind her ear.

“Poor Evangeline. Life has always been so unfair to you. But here’s your chance to save your friend and yourself.” They smiled. “And seek revenge for Lani.”

Evangeline bared her teeth, but she nodded. If only to get them out of her face.

Aimee tilted her chin up, and Evangeline read the words from their lips as they spoke them. “Then let us prepare for the final act.”