12
Don’t Let the Razor Net Bite
Who would set up a net in her room? She would have guessed the Scorpio, but how would they have had access to her room? Then again, someone had snuck in the gardens during the wedding, so why should her room be any safer?
Evelyn stepped back slowly, but her foot slipped on the slick rug.
The silver threads constricted around her as she was yanked into the air, making the room spin. Once the net had settled, she glanced down. The ground was at least ten feet below her. She squirmed, trying to work herself into a sitting position, and a fierce stinging cut across her palms. She lifted her hand. Red lines slashed across her skin. And then she knew why the strands had sparkled. The entire net was glittering with micro-sized barbs, almost too small to see.
“Help!” She hoped her voice was loud enough for the King to hear.
Evelyn twisted in the net, trying to stand. Maybe she could climb out the top, if she could bear the pain of her palms being sliced.
A moment later, her guards burst into the room. When their gazes landed on her, they showed momentary surprise before racing toward the net until they stood beneath her.
The King’s door swung open, his expression tense. “What is—” He glanced at the net, and his irritation melted away.
Seriously? Had he thought she was crying wolf or something? So much for her act—it seemed the King still didn’t think very highly of her.
He strode to join the guards, studying the net. “Don’t move, Evelyn.”
She rolled her eyes. As if she could do anything else.
He turned toward the guards. “If you’ll lend me a dagger, I’ll fly up and sever the net from the top.”
The guard handed the King a dagger, and the King unsheathed it before flapping his wings. He rose above the ground, carefully maneuvering around the net and her bedframe. His wings appeared even larger than usual, spanning half her room. With each flap of his wings, he ruffled the fibers of the carpet and sent a few papers on her vanity fluttering to the ground.
Evelyn briefly forgot the stinging prick of the net as she stared at his wings. She was becoming accustomed to their presence, but seeing them shift and flex as he flew still filled her with a sense of awe.
The King passed her and hovered beneath the ceiling. He gripped the rope with one hand and used the other to saw at it. One by one, the tiny threads snapped until the rope had been severed. Then the King lowered the net to the ground.
Though the carpet was soft beneath her, she could feel the pinpricks of a thousand needles as she lay on top of the netting. At least she could get out now.
Evelyn grabbed the netting and lifted, searching for an opening. Nothing. It was as if the opening had suddenly been swallowed up. She yanked at the threads again, ignoring the fierce sting in her palms.
The King landed beside her. “Evelyn, allow me—”
Her heart fluttered erratically, like a one-winged bird trying to fly. She pulled at the sagging part of the net. When it didn’t yield an opening, she yanked harder at the fibers. Though air flowed easily through the gaps and she could see her room, she suddenly felt claustrophobic, as if the net were gradually constricting around her.
“Evelyn, stop! You’re tangling it.” The King knelt beside her, and the guards approached. “Guards, untangle the net. For the Great Queen’s sake, Evelyn, hold still.”
His words finally registered, and she stopped thrashing against the net, though every instinct within her screamed to resume her struggle. She tensed her muscles, imagining them hardening into stone.
The netting whispered against her cheeks as the guards fumbled with it, scraping shallow cuts into her skin.
The King glared at them. “Careful. As you untangle the net, hold it above her face so it doesn’t cut her.”
The guards did as instructed. With the King’s help, they eventually peeled the net away from her. Part of it clung to her dress. The King cut off the snagged fabric to free her.
She stood, and dizziness flooded her.
“It’s all right.” He swept her into his arms. “I have you.”
Evelyn hadn’t realized how badly she’d been shaking until she felt how solid and still the King was. She held up her palms. The scratches bled profusely, but they didn’t seem terribly deep. The King’s hands were coated in blood as well—probably from trying to free her.
He left her room and jogged down the stairs to the level below. She sagged against him, too tired and numb to care. She could only think of one party that would set out the net: the Scorpio. But why? Had they intended to kill her? Could the net’s fibers have been coated in poison? And how had they gotten into her room? It seemed like she wasn’t safe anywhere.
The King followed the hallway and turned left. During their tour, Draven had identified this room as the infirmary. Those strange light bulbs stood on rods, and veils had been draped over their tops to dim them. The yellow light poured over the room to reveal rows and rows of cots, most of which were empty.
One cot held a woman with her foot in a cast. Another cradled a man with a pale, waxy complexion. A second man’s face was purple and yellow with bruises. Someone in a ghostly robe flitted from patient to patient.
The King edged around the cots and faced the man. “The Healer. Is she in her room?”
“She is, Your Majesty.”
The King strode to a tiny door tucked into the back. He opened it to reveal a dark room with only an arch of moonlight to illuminate it. “Healer.”
Someone sat up from a pallet on the floor, and her silvery white hair poured over her shoulders. “What is it, Alaric?”
Evelyn had never heard someone address the King so casually. Who was this woman?
“The Queen had a tangle with a razor net.”
The woman was suddenly on her feet, her white hair gliding two inches above the ground. “A razor net?”
The King nodded. “I know not how, but that will be remedied shortly. I don’t believe it was poisoned, but I’d like you to check her and tend to her cuts.” When the Healer gestured to her own pallet, the King set Evelyn down, pivoted, and strode toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Evelyn asked.
“I have business I need to attend to.”
The Healer’s gaze darted between them for a moment before settling on the King. “Surely the guards are capable of investigating on their own, Alaric. If the Queen wants you to stay—”
“She doesn’t.”
Evelyn tilted her chin up. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I didn’t say that.”
The King stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the dark. “Regardless of what you may or may not want, as I stated previously, I have other business to attend to. I have ensured your safety, and that is all that is required of me, so now I’ll bid you a good night.”
He slipped out without a backward glance.
Evelyn stared hard at the door. It felt like her ribs were curling around her chest to crush her lungs. When she poisoned him, she would do so without any regrets. She shook her head. What had she been thinking to imply she wanted him to stay? He’d made no effort to conceal the fact that she was a necessary inconvenience—no más, no menos.
The Healer, as the King had called her, opened a drawer and withdrew one of the wireless light bulbs, lighting up the room. The Healer smiled at her wide-eyed expression. “These are Lux stones. They’re expensive but more effective than torches.”
The Healer snatched a jar off of a shelf, knelt by her, and unscrewed it. A sharp scent filled the room, so pungent Evelyn’s eyes watered. The Healer tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing slightly pointed tips.
Evelyn had heard something about elves going extinct, but this woman sure looked like one. “Are you an elf?”
“Not a full-blooded one, but I do have some elven blood, which is why I’ve lived as long as I have.”
“And how long would that be?”
She smiled. �
��A very, very long time.” The Healer swiped two fingers through the goop in the jar and dabbed it onto Evelyn’s cheek. “He cares about you, you know.”
A violently loud snort blew through her nose. “Who? The King? You’re either blind and deaf or joking.”
The Healer glanced up. Her eyes were an unearthly shade of pale blue, no doubt made lighter by the moonlight. “I assure you, I’m not either. I’ve known him for longer than anyone, and I can tell he cares for you.”
Yeah. And she was a fire-breathing unicorn… Did they have those in Torva? That would be cool.
“But he’s afraid.”
Afraid? The King? Evelyn recalled how he’d jerked away from her touch. “You mean he’s afraid to touch me?”
“He’s afraid to love you.”
Apparently, this Healer person also doubled as a matchmaker. Fantastic. “And why is that?”
She smiled. “That’s for him to reveal, when the time is right.”
Fool.
Alaric beat his wings faster, until the joints welding them to his back ached. The chill air struck his cheeks, a refreshing and well-deserved slap. His mistakes concerning Evelyn were growing too numerous to count.
Breaking his promise to her.
Not heeding her cries when he’d first heard her.
And caring for her. Why did he care so deeply for this tiny half-human? Why did he care whether she entered his room because she required something or merely for his company? Why did he care if he was hurting her by pushing her away?
But what other recourse did he have? As long as she sought escape from Torva, he couldn’t allow her any closer than necessary lest he begin to trust her. And what was most disturbing was that he knew she was scheming something.
He lifted his wrist, examined the bracelet he’d worn since his mother had died. On one side was her name, Amara. On the other side was the seal.
Why had Evelyn wanted it? He knew she hadn’t been trying to read the words—she could have done that simply looking at it on his wrist. He’d simply allowed the excuse because he’d known he wasn’t likely to coax the truth from her if she was in hysterics. And he didn’t like seeing her so terrified; he was supposed to protect her from those she feared, not incite fear himself.
And then, when she’d screamed from the other room, he’d suspected it was more of her scheming. His chest felt strangely hot and tight as he vowed to not fail her again. To protect her where he hadn’t protected his mother.
Alaric’s chest heaved with a sigh as he ceased circling about the palace to land on his balcony. Now, more than ever, it was imperative Evelyn remained unaware of the depth of his feelings for her, even if that meant hurting her. Should she discover how much he cared for her, she wouldn’t hesitate to use that to her advantage.
13
Finding the Scorpio
The Next Day
She knocked twice on Draven’s door.
“Enter.”
She opened the door and shut it behind her, leaving her guards in the hallway.
Draven glanced up from his desk. “Evelyn. Your lessons aren’t until this afternoon.”
She covered the distance to his desk in five strides. “I want to go into the city.”
“What? Whatever for?”
She held her hand over his desk and uncurled her fingers. A crumpled piece of paper fell to the wood.
Draven smoothed it and read it aloud, “Don’t let the razor net bite.”
“Do you see that weird ‘m’ at the bottom? Do you know what it means?”
His brows dipped, shadowing his eyes. “It’s the symbol for the Scorpio. Where did you find this?”
“Someone set up a razor net in my room last night. When I turned in for bed, I found that note beneath my covers.” She scrubbed a hand over her face, only to wince when the movement stung the cuts in her palms. After reading that note, she hadn’t gotten much sleep. “But who exactly are the Scorpio? And what are they trying to do? Scare me? Kill me?”
Draven slid the paper toward her. “I don’t know.”
“Surely someone in the city does.”
He shook his head, and the morning light danced across his golden curls. “Who, Evelyn? This is an enormous city. Let’s just focus on the escape. Once you’ve been stripped of your title, surely they’ll stop pursuing you.”
“But what if they don’t? What if the only way to escape alive is to stop them?”
“You’re not going to stop them; it’s an enormous organization formed by the four most powerful crime lords in Torva.”
Evelyn glanced around his room. “You have a secret passage somewhere in here, right? You said something about using secret passages for our escape plan. We can use one to get into Octavya unseen.”
Draven moaned. “You’re not listening to me, Evelyn.”
“Sure I am. I just don’t think you’re making a very convincing case.” She set her palms on the desk and leaned forward. “They’re trying to kill me or torture me or something, Draven. What’s the point of escaping if I’m dead?”
“You’re not going to die; I won’t allow it.” The fierce intensity in his gaze stole her breath. Could Duke Draven actually… care about her? No, that was silly.
“But I almost have died. Several times.” She peeked up at him through her lashes. “Please?”
Draven massaged his temples. “Should I take you, I don’t want to hear any more about trying to find the Scorpio.”
Which meant she’d have to make this trip count. “Of course.”
“And only this one trip, Evelyn. We can’t become sidetracked by a mission to defeat all of the Scorpio. Understood?”
She nodded. It was better than nothing, and hopefully by learning a bit more about them, she’d manage to escape the next assassination attempt unscathed. “So, do you have a disguise for me?”
“You think I do?”
She rocked back on her heels. “Since the plan is eventually to go into the city, and you haven’t asked me to procure a disguise, I thought you might have one for me.”
“Excellent observation.” He strode over to a dresser and withdrew a pale blue maid’s dress. He closed the distance between them and draped it over her forearm.
She glanced from Draven to the dress and back. “So where do I change?”
He gestured toward the corner of the room, where an elaborate wooden screen stood next to a nightstand topped with an ornate hourglass. “You can change behind my screen, if you feel comfortable enough doing so.”
“Sure, I trust you.” She squinted her eyes at him. “So long as you don’t peek.”
He smirked. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Evelyn strode to the other side of the screen, and after a few minutes of fumbling, wriggled out of her gown. She slipped on the maid’s dress and reached behind the dress only to touch fabric. Right. This dress didn’t have laces, but it still squeezed tightly. Obviously, it had been designed for someone with a slenderer figure—like a Torvan.
She rounded the edge of the screen. “Ta-da.”
Draven leaned with his hip propped against the desk. His copper-threaded clothes had been replaced with a wool shirt and trousers, and a brown cloak hung from his broad shoulders. His lips seamed in disapproval as his gaze ran up and down the dress. “Hmm.”
Evelyn ducked her head. “Yeah, it’s not a perfect fit. But look at the bright side: in this dress, people won’t even give me a second glance.”
His gaze shot to hers. “Why is that?”
She smoothed the fabric over her hips. “Because it’s not very flattering on me.”
“It displays your figure quite well.”
“Exactly.”
He studied her, a faint crease between his brows. “And what’s wrong with your figure?”
She glanced down at herself. Though the dress hid them, she could still imagine her rounded thighs and flabby hips. Back on Earth, people had always commented on her cute figure and flat stomach. Though she’d never be a model
, Evelyn had thought herself pretty enough. But by Torvan standards…
“Evelyn?”
She shook her head. “Forget I said anything.” Heat washed over her face. Thanks to her blabbering, now the Duke knew all about her physical insecurities. Just what she needed.
His dusty boots slid into her line of vision, and he stopped when the toes nearly touched her dress.
She glanced up.
For once, his jaw was set and a smile didn’t linger at the corners of his mouth. He looked more solemn than severe. “Obviously, someone has suggested your figure isn’t up to par, and no one has said anything to the contrary—for what reason, I can’t imagine.” He lifted his hand, stilled as if conflicted, and placed it on her shoulder, his thumb resting in the hollow above her collarbone.
She hoped he couldn’t feel how violently her heart pounded beneath his touch.
“But for what it’s worth, I think you’re quite lovely.”
She waited for a twinkle to dance in his eyes or a smirk upon his lips, but none came. Her lips parted softly in surprise. For once, he was serious.
His chest rose and fell faster, harder.
Evelyn sucked in a sharp breath, and they both stepped back, as if only now realizing how close they were. What was wrong with her? They were supposed to be discovering more about the Scorpio, and here she was gazing into his eyes like some love-struck moron.
“Right.” Draven cleared his throat. “We’d best get going if you want to make it back before you’re missed.”
“How are we going to get out of here?”
Draven circled his desk and beckoned her closer. He ducked beneath it before lifting a panel of the floor to reveal a ladder dipping into the darkness below.
A secret passage. Perfect.
The buildings were so crowded and the alleys so tight that Evelyn could only see a strip of sky above them. Even though manure and broken pottery littered the ground below while patchwork canopies and clotheslines crowded the space above, it was obvious this district had once been lovely. Crumbling arches, scum-smothered fountains, and broken stained glass attested to its former beauty.
Captive and Crowned Page 12
