Chapter 36

Evangeline

NIGHT HAD FALLEN, patches of moonlight hitting the creamy marble floor of the guest suite. Aimee advised Evangeline to get some sleep, as if she could with two guards by the door, watching her. The sheets were silky against her skin. The bed sank in perfectly to conform to her body. It was like sleeping in the clouds, but it was a temporary comfort. A temporary distraction from the hell that had been her life these past weeks.

And tomorrow would be the most pivotal moment in all of it.

 Let us prepare for the final act. She didn’t know what Aimee had meant by that, but it wouldn’t be easy. The Royal Guard surrounded the king at all times, and they were not the same caliber as normal guards. What possibly could she do against them?

She glanced down at her hands, remembering the way she had gripped those daggers, how powerful she had felt. Just what in blazes had happened? Was happening? The familiar pulse of darkness still stirred beneath its mental chains. This time, it seemed it was here to stay for good, but she didn’t want to lose herself like that again, to be . . . to be a monster.

Even if it’s to fight other monsters? The question probed her.

Aimee informed her that the execution would be held tomorrow at dusk. Evangeline had asked to see Ceven, to make sure he was alive, but unsurprisingly, the Caster refused. Aimee assured her he wasn’t going anywhere, that he and Raiythlen were being held in the upper floors of the dungeons. And the time to save them would be at the execution itself.

Most public executions involving destruction of property, slander against the king, and murder were often held outside in the plaza beyond the gates to the castle so all humans and Nytes could attend. However, on rare occasions, traitors or those that had committed treason against the crown were executed in the throne room by the king personally. With so many Nytes and people, it would be easier to create a temporary diversion, and with Aimee’s aid, Evangeline would have the opening she needed to kill the king. As if it would be that easy.

If we work together, there’s a chance everyone will win. You, me, and Ceven, Aimee had said.

What do you win? she had asked, not bothering to point out that if this failed, they would kill only her and Ceven. It made her wonder where Barto was, if he knew his best friend was going to be executed. If he even had the power to stop it or wanted to, after Ceven’s betrayal.

Why, the throne, of course, they had said. Which didn’t tell her anything. Did this Council member want the throne for power? Resources? Information? Was it to stop the king’s plan to go to war with Sundise Mouche? If that was who he planned to go to war with? Not that it mattered to Evangeline. Either she’d be far away from this place when it was all over—or dead.

But the idea of death was getting more and more comfortable, snuggling and taking up residence inside her brain like an uninvited guest. Of course, Evangeline wanted to live, but it was getting harder to survive. Like she was in the middle of a swordfight, but where everyone else had steel scabbards, daggers, and swords, she had a stick. She’d always had that blasted stick, waving it around like it was something more than it was. Or maybe now it was less a stick and more like sharp teeth that—

Evangeline rolled over, silk sliding against her bare legs. Aimee had only given her a knee-length nightgown to sleep in. Maybe it was from their own personal wardrobe. If it was, the Caster was a lot shorter and more petite than their Sehn-disguise. Evangeline would’ve preferred to sleep in her black leather pants and long-sleeved shirt—for the added protection and mobility. She felt like she was back in Ryker’s suite again, being watched, forced to dress like the Aerian court she despised, with no hope of escape. If only Aimee wasn’t her best bet at rescuing Ceven and getting her revenge, she’d sooner find a way to escape this suffocating bedroom with its marble floors, glass chandeliers, and silk sheets.

In a fit of fury, she kicked off the sheets and sat up. As if she were connected to a string, the two guards shifted. The silver metal mesh slid against itself as the brown-haired Rathan reached for the hilt of his sword, the pink-winged Aerian grabbing for his spear.

“Oh, calm down. I’m just going to the bathing room,” she growled, daring them to strike her. She was tired enough and angry enough that she could handle a few blows if they chose. It wouldn’t hurt any less than the slaps Ryker gave her, or Vane’s punch to her jaw, or the feel of his blade.

They relaxed, but she didn’t miss their glares. Even if they didn’t strike her, they definitely wanted to. How often did a human talk back to a Nyte, and a guard at that? Never.

She twisted the knob on the oil lamps, and the flame flickered against the blue and white tile of the bathing room. She shut the door and locked it. There weren’t any windows or any other exits, so it wasn’t like she could leave. She just wanted privacy—and to cool down.

Turning on the facet, she splashed cold water onto her wrists, then on her neck and forehead. She was burning up. It would be just her luck if she caught a fever. And this time Lani wasn’t here to care for her.

Evangeline clenched her teeth against the surge of emotion that blasted her chest and threatened to crumble her legs. Gods, they had been so close. She could’ve saved her . . .

Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused on calming her breaths. I’ll make it through this. I have to. I’ll save Ceven, even Raiythlen. And then we’ll all finally escape this place.

Her lips trembled, and an annoying buzz grew in her temples. No matter what lies she told herself, her body didn’t believe her. And in her heart, she didn’t believe it either. No matter what Aimee’s plan was, she couldn’t kill a king. Killing Ryker was an accident. Knowingly killing the king who always stood so high above her . . . A constant looming threat to her and Delani, who had orchestrated the lives that she and her friends had suffered . . . How could she kill a man she always imagined being untouchable? And if she somehow did, if she lost control of herself again like she had in the woods, what would that mean for her? Immediate death? A trip to Vane’s torture room? He’d surely love to open her insides to see how a human could bare fangs.

Enough, Eve. You can’t think like that. It won’t do you any good. She peeked at the door a moment before squatting down and pulling a leather flask from between the folds of cloths in the white wooden cabinet at her waist. She had stashed Quan’s saliver out of her coat pocket and somewhere safe before Aimee noticed. She thought about the magical hands that had shied away from her blood when she cut herself and the purple fire that had engulfed her. It didn’t protect against all magic, but it was far better than nothing. She closed her eyes and swallowed a breath of air before taking a small swig. And she immediately spat it out.

“Oh, Gods . . . it tastes like the back end of a stable boy’s boot.” She’d forgotten how blazing awful this stuff was. Her face scrunched together, and her stomach rebelled at the idea of making another attempt. But she had to. She refused to be defenseless.

The second time she didn’t breathe as the liquid hit the back of her throat, burning and clawing its way down, where it settled in a nauseating puddle in her stomach. How did Quan drink this every day? She struggled not to breathe lest she vomit back up as she stored the flask away.

As she leaned down, her head spun—but it wasn’t from the saliver. The buzzing got louder in her skull, and she squinted at the blue speckled sink. Her face flickered and frowned back at her in the glass bowl. Then it blurred, and she knew what was happening before everything faded.

She was in a large room. Concrete all around her. Bright white lights shined overhead.

“Kill him.”

Evangeline tested the weight of her sword before moving with immaculate precision. Her speed and agility were unmatched. She was fast. She was efficient. She was deadly.

Her blade came down hard, pausing right before the artery pulsing in the red-headed Aerian. The Aerian stared at her, ice-blue eyes betraying his own fear of dying.

She tossed the blade, and it landed next to her with a clang. “No.”

Evangeline was struck behind her knees. Sharp pain vibrated up, and she crumpled to the ground. A purple-horned Caster stood over her and struck her four more times with his metal baton before barking at her to get back up. Her limbs screamed, but she ignored the pain as she got back on her feet.

“You will kill him. That’s an order.”

“No.”

The next blow fractured her ribs. She coughed up blood.

“Kill him.”

Evangeline shook her head and prepared herself for the next blow, but a loud grunt interrupted them. Her blue-eyed Aerian slumped to the ground, his life spilling out of him. The black-haired man next to the body removed Evangeline’s blade from his torso and wiped it clean on the corpse.

“That was not your target, soldier,” the Caster barked.

“The end goal is all that matters. Am I wrong, sir?” he said without the slightest inflection in his tone.

The Caster snorted. “Return to your cells,” was all he said before he walked away.

The black-haired man lifted Evangeline off her feet. She gasped in pain.

“That was unnecessary, Jaden,” she ground out behind clenched teeth. “That Aerian was innocent.”

“If he was truly innocent, he wouldn’t be dead,” he said. She knew better than to argue with him.

Jaden carried her back to her room. It was small, dark, and cold. A stone cage fitted for an animal, like herself. Jaden said nothing, just held her in his lap. Evangeline closed her eyes, imagining the pain away.

Eventually, his voice broke the silence. “Could you kill me, Eve?”

Her eyes flew open to meet his. He was serious.

“Could you kill me?” he repeated.

Evangeline blew out a sharp breath. “Shut up, Jaden. I don’t have the patience right now.”

“Would you kill me if you knew I was willing to destroy the world for you?” He leaned down, his hair brushing her face. “Would you kill me then?”

Evangeline looked up at him. She brushed back his hair, tucking it behind his ear. “I’d rather stand by your side and watch it burn.”

A bitter smell drew Evangeline’s eyes open. She found herself in bed and not on the bathing room floor, where she last remembered being. A gold ornate tray was set on the table next to her, filled with eggs, breads, and cheeses that did nothing to stir her stomach. A steaming mug sat beside it.

“Breakfast and tea. Today is going to be a big day. You should eat and get all of your energy,” Aimee said, dressed in a high-collared gold shirt tucked black slacks embroidered with gems. Their long brown hair was held back by a matching clip.

Evangeline sat up and ran a hand through her own hair. It was a nest of knots. At least the guards from last night weren’t there to stare at her disheveled appearance. She wondered as she wrapped her fingers around the cup if they had been the ones to drag her back to bed. The scent of mint wafted towards her, and . . . orange? She didn’t care, grateful for its warmth as her hands curled around the glass, drinking the steam and smell in.

The Caster sat on the edge of the bed. Evangeline caught a whiff of vanilla and daisies, but beneath it she could now recognize the familiar smell of magic: metal and fire.

“Did you sleep well?” Their fingers twined around their own steaming cup.

Evangeline had squeezed two hours of sleep in. “No.”

They cocked their head, ignoring her irritated tone. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Maybe—”

“Just tell me the plan for today.”

Aimee raised a brow, their lips pressing into a thin line. “You have about the same manners as Ceven.” They got up from the bed, setting their empty cup on the tray next to Evangeline. Evangeline wondered if the same human girl from yesterday had brought it. If she had visited this Caster in Sehn’s suite when they had left last night.

“Well, first, we need to make you presentable,” they said.

Before Evangeline could ask, or have a chance to fully wake up, several humans were called in. Each had a specific task of changing Evangeline into a beauty that rivaled even the late queen’s. Evangeline had been to several executions before. The royals treated it as an event, dressed in the finest attire, and this one wasn’t just any execution, but a prince’s. One of only two princes of Peredia. It would be an event that would be talked about for years to follow. She just hoped it wouldn’t end with anyone’s death.

Well, except the king’s, she thought as her insides puffed and rattled against their chains.

She wondered what was going through Ceven’s mind right now, if he was scared or angry. If he was thinking about her. A pang of sadness shot through her chest. He didn’t even know Xilo had betrayed him, that she was still here. He’d be furious if he knew what she was about to do. And she was still going to do it anyway.

They scrubbed Evangeline down so hard that red streaks appeared in deformed patches on her pale skin where it had been rubbed raw. She wanted to smack the girl who had continued to yank out the knots in her hair while another grabbed her arm to put paint on her nails. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t their fault; they were just following orders. Orders that would get them killed or punished if they refused.

Still, when the brown-haired girl yanked out the fourth knot in her hair, she wanted to turn and snarl at her.

Aimee returned—what felt like hours later—with another tray of food. Apparently, it was now noon. Evangeline’s long blond hair had been curled and swept up in an elegant bun. Several golden pins stuck out, but Evangeline patted them back in. Her face had been powdered, drawn on, and pinched. The only thing left was her dress.

After Aimee set down the gold tray of small, square sandwiches, the same slim girl from last night came in with a mass of silk and velvet. Evangeline’s gaze fixed on the girl’s calloused hands and bandages wrapping her fingers, then at the dress. She bit down on her cheek, her newly painted nails digging into the sides of her nightgown. The Caster took the dress, casting the girl a smile that had her face darkening before she left the room.

They turned that smile on Evangeline, lifting the dress in all its beautiful glory. It was a deep gold, trimmed with burgundy lace and ribbons. The skirt was thick and rich, the sleeves cutting off at the elbows with spare material hanging loosely, to give the wearer a majestic and graceful appearance.

“It’s gorgeous,” Evangeline couldn’t help but say. And had likely been made by a girl only a few years younger than herself, forced to work on the layered Aerian attire, probably all night, to be ready for the upcoming event—Evangeline had had a similar task when she was seven. Fortunately, she wasn’t good at the needle and was then moved to work in cleaning the Aerian suites after that for a few short years.

She looked around to make sure they were alone. “How do you expect me to kill anyone in that?”

“Don’t fret, my dear. Killing the king will all happen in a matter of seconds.”

It didn’t answer her question, and she didn’t like the look of satisfaction Aimee was attempting to conceal by turning away from her. Evangeline didn’t know what compelled her to do what she did. If impatience had finally eaten away her insides and all logic, or if she was coming to despise this Council member more and more. Or maybe it wasn’t her moving at all, as she carefully reached for the knife under her covers. One she’d squirreled away from dinner last night.

Aimee didn’t turn around, even as Evangeline pressed the knife to their throat. “I’m sick of your games. Tell me what the blasted plan is, or I’ll make my own.”

Gone was the smile, but the rest of Aimee’s expression was hidden under a curtain of hair. “Tell me: were you always this bold with Ryker? Or did you kill him when he tried to beat it out of you?” Evangeline’s eyes widened as the knife in her hand burned her skin, the gold cutlery steaming and melting in her hand. She dropped it at the same time Aimee whipped around and snatched her throat.

Evangeline snarled and dug her nails into Aimee’s wrist, which stay fixed on her neck, but paused when she met their face. Gone were Sehn’s silver eyes, full lips, and square jaw. In its place, a scar mangled the left side of their cheek, tugging up the corner of their thin lips with slanted eyes that peered at her with violet irises and a look that screamed death.

“Don’t tell me you’re this foolish, Evangeline,” they spat. “You may be an abomination, a powerful spawn of the unnatural, but I can disintegrate you in the blink of an eye. I didn’t become who I am from mere words and placations.” Dots danced in Evangeline’s vision as their hold tightened. “And I’m far from forgiving you for killing my people. Watching them die as you lost control like some beast.”

The only place you’re going is in a cage, like the beast you are, Ryker had yelled at her, but he hadn’t been the only one to say that, even if she couldn’t recall where she had heard it before. She shook.

The dots danced faster in her eyes until they blurred and she lost all thought. Aimee released her, and Evangeline stumbled back, reaching for the bed to balance herself. This Caster’s words unnerved her to the core, stirring something inside her that had been festering since the rest of her kind had branded her an outsider for having an odd marking and no memory. For eventually being the first human adopted into the Aerian court. She smirked. “So, tell me, why don’t you kill me then?”

In a blink, Sehn’s features took shape, wiping away the scar and violet eyes. A calm expression took over, as if nothing had ever happened. They answered with a smile, telling her all she needed to know. Aimee wanted to kill her. That much was clear, but the Council’s mission included having her alive. Whatever plan Aimee hatched here today, it didn’t include Evangeline leaving with Ceven to ride off into their happy ending afterwards.

There was a knock on the door, and the high-pitched, scratchy voice filled her with dread.

Aimee raised her brow, as if this were her true act of revenge. “Speaking of abominations . . .” Evangeline’s next breath was labored as the Caster opened the door and Vane Jarr strode into the suite.