Hope fluttered, but she doused it with a merciless bucketful of reality. “Does it even matter? I’m leaving for Earth, and you’re not.” He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she held up her palm. “I’d like to return to the palace, please.”
His brows crashed downward. “If that’s what you wish.”
She caught one last glimpse of the festival. Two girls chatted and giggled by the moon cakes. A mother shook her head as a pair of little boys darted through the crowd. A man cradled a woman with his arms as they danced.
These people belonged here, and she did not. To Evelyn, belonging had always meant finding someone to love and be loved by. Though Draven cared for her, it might not be anything more. He could just be a flirt who would say sweet nothings and bestow hot kisses on the next girl who came along—like Mason.
“Yes, it is what I wish.”
It was best to leave this place, so she didn’t have to be reminded of what she didn’t have. After all, she had an escape to prepare for tomorrow.
“I knew, the moment I saw him, that I’d have to use his build against him,” Draven’s voice echoed through the passage. “So I rolled the log just as he lifted his foot. You should have seen his face.”
Evelyn laughed. “I was there, silly. Of course I saw his face.”
Ever since Draven had picked up on her darkening mood during the crawl through the tunnel, he’d tried to tease a smile out of her.
They stopped in front of the entrance to his room.
“Once I ensure no one is in my quarters, I’ll call you up.” He climbed up the ladder and pushed up on the trapdoor above them, causing light to stream into the passage, before he disappeared into the room. “Come. No one’s here.”
She scaled the ladder, but before she could scramble into the room herself, Draven cupped her waist with his hands and settled her on the marble floor next to him. Her breath hitched at the sweet gesture and the feelings it stirred. “I could’ve done that myself.”
He smiled down at her. “Now you’re scolding me for being a gentleman?”
“You are many things, but a gentleman?”
He winked. “How well you know me.” He nodded toward a divan, off to their right. “Please, have a seat.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.” She stood and headed toward the secret passage panel leading to her room. “If someone discovers me here, we’re either dead or imprisoned.”
And spending more time with him would only make leaving hurt more.
Draven covered the distance with a few strides and slid in front of her. He folded his arms, looking noble and majestic in spite of his mud-flecked cotton shirt. “No one will ever know. I promise. And we have a secret passage. How would someone discover that you’ve been here?”
She shook her head, her chest growing heavier with each movement. “I can’t.” She nudged past him and settled her hand against the smooth panel. With a slight push, it’d click open.
“Just for a few moments, I promise you. We have things between us we need to discuss.”
She shook her head. “What does it matter? I’m leaving tomorrow, remember? I’m going to Earth, and you’re staying in Torva, and that’s that. End of the story.”
“Only if you want it to be.”
She peered over her shoulder.
His hands and jaw were clenched, but not in anger. It was closer to hopelessness, like he’d been so close to reaching something but it had danced just out of his grasp.
“What are you proposing?” she asked.
“We could still escape the palace, freeing you from your bondage to the King, but instead of going to Earth—”
“No.” She turned around and squared her shoulders. “I’ve spent my whole life waiting to find my mother, and I won’t give that up.”
“You said your family didn’t want you.”
Her certainty crumbled beneath his gaze. “I was lying to get you off my trail. I think my mother… may want me.”
“May want you?”
Evelyn strode toward him and pulled the golden heart necklace from her neckline. “My mother left me with my father and ran away with another man, as you know. But she left me this.”
Draven bent toward her and fingered the necklace. His lips moved as he silently read the words. She suppressed a shiver as his breath dusted her collarbone.
“And you think that if you can find her, she’ll want you?” he asked.
She nodded.
He released the locket. “Evelyn…”
“Okay, look, I know you probably think I’m just a desperate, pathetic teenager.”
“I don’t—”
“But this is something I’ve wanted my whole life.”
Draven led her to the divan with a gentle touch to her back. He seated himself beside her, but far enough away that she couldn’t feel the cushions sink with his weight. “And what, exactly, is that? What do you want, Evelyn?”
She stared at her lap; the sympathy in his eyes was unbearable. “When I was little, I’d sneak to the second floor and sit outside my sister’s room, just after my bedtime. My father would already be in Kimberly’s room, singing her a lullaby. I’d press my ear to the door, close my eyes, and pretend—” Her voice caught.
“Pretend what?”
“I’d pretend he was singing for me. I’d pretend that I was the daughter he cared about. And that’s what I want, Draven. I want someone to love me, even if I don’t deserve it.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until Draven brushed her cheek with his fingers, his touch soft and uncertain. An ache crackled across her chest, threatening to reduce her to a sobbing mess. Why wouldn’t these memories stop plaguing her? Was that too much to ask for? Perhaps she could be happy and content, if only she didn’t know what a real father’s love looked like.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his hand cupping her wet cheek.
She opened her eyes, gazing at him through wet, spiked lashes. Her heart grew a little lighter. He was hurting along with her, helping her with this burden. Relief engulfed her, flooding every cell in her body. Finally, someone understood.
His arms wrapped around her, intimate in a way they’d never dared to be before. “We’ll find your mother, Evelyn. Together.”
Together. She cradled that word close as he leaned toward her. The hand cupping her cheek slid into her sticky tar-like hair before angling her mouth closer to his. He kissed her with a passion that singed the air in her lungs.
With a soft sigh, her lips parted. Lightning zinged through her veins, shaking her to the core until she grew faint from the sheer power of it. She felt like the floodgates within her had opened up, revealing the deepest parts of her soul. Her fingers curled around locks of his hair, which were stiff beneath her hands. What would it be like to comb her fingers through his hair when it was soft and washed of ink?
She softened beneath his touch, weakening beneath the intensity of his passion. He drew back for a beat before kissing her with renewed fervency, as if the seconds slipping past would never be regained again.
She loved him.
A resounding thud echoed around the room. After a few seconds they both slowed, their lips still locked, their hands tangled in each other’s hair. Though her heartbeat roared in her ears, surely it wasn’t that loud.
Draven’s door rattled as the pounding resumed. “Open up.”
Tuteno. She disentangled herself from Draven.
His jade eyes widened. “Use the secret passage.” He rolled to his feet, combed fingers through his hair before grimacing at the stickiness, and strode to the door.
She darted to the secret passage and managed to close the door behind her just as she heard Draven say, “Gentlemen, how can I help you?”
“We’ve been sent to summon Queen Evelyn.”
Tuteno. Tuteno. Tuteno. Evelyn darted up the stairs of the passageway without waiting to hear more. Who had known she’d been with Draven? And how?
She stopped after 192
steps, fit the key into the lock, surged into her room, and locked the passage door shut behind her. A stitch gnawed at her side as she stumbled to the vanity. Evelyn plopped into the seat and grimaced at her reflection.
She was sweating profusely enough that black ink smeared her cheeks, where her hair had touched her dampened skin. She ran her fingers though her hair and they came away slicked in ink. Tuteno. She had to wash this off. If someone found out about tonight’s excursion, she was toast. No, not just toast. Charcoal. Blackened, burnt charcoal.
The hinges of a door creaked.
No time to get out of her disguise—she had to hide. She rolled beneath her vanity, her movements as fluid as a spy in an action movie. Except for the part where she didn’t duck low enough and rammed her head into the vanity. She fell back, tripped over the vanity stool, and slammed against the floor with it.
“Evelyn?” The King strode into her room and stopped five feet away.
“I, um, hi.” She ran her fingers through her hair, going for a casual, innocent gesture, but her hands came away with more ink. Yep, she was charcoal.
A slit of emerald shone through his tightened eyelids. “Where were you?”
“Where was I? Oh.” She stood slowly, detangling her legs from the stool. “I was just here. Playing dress up.”
“You weren’t here a half-hour ago. I checked.” His voice grew cold and fluid like ice water.
She suppressed a shiver. “I guess you just didn’t see me.”
“Or you might have been enjoying Duke Draven’s company.”
Blood rushed away from her face, and she stumbled against the bed for support.
“Yes, I know. I may be a fool, but I’m not blind.” He sighed, and the anger fell from his expression, leaving a deep weariness in its wake. “Is this true?”
She nodded slowly. He obviously already knew. Telling him a lie would only make things worse.
He reached toward her. She jerked in surprise but didn’t move. Alaric spun a tendril of hair around his finger before delicately tucking it behind her ear, smearing his skin in ink. His gentle touch and sorrowful eyes made him seem fragile.
Something inside of her chipped at seeing him like this.
“I did this, didn’t I?” he asked.
Her eyebrows launched upward. When was he going to accuse her and tell her this was her fault?
“I knew you spent much of your time with him, and I was willing to allow it if it meant getting the companionship you needed, the companionship I neglected to provide. But it seems things went further than I intended.” He pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry.”
She blinked several times. He was… sorry?
“I’m afraid I’ve allowed my fears to become a barrier between us.” The King paced in front of her bed. “You may sleep in my room or I’ll post guards in your room.”
“I’m sorry—what?”
He stopped pacing to stand in front of her. “Your guards have remained outside your door this entire time, and you haven’t left using the hallway. There must be a passageway leading to him from somewhere within your room.” She began to shake her head, but before she could protest, he continued, “And I suspect you’re not of a mind to reveal this passage’s location so it can be blocked. Either you must remain in my room or allow guards in yours. I won’t have you visiting the Duke until we have things sorted out between us.”
She folded her arms. “Fine. Guards in my room.”
He pursed his lips, as if disappointed she hadn’t chosen the former option. “Very well. You are to remain guarded in your room until I say otherwise. Good night.”
He turned on his heel. The door thudded shut behind him, and after some hushed conversation in the hallway, her guards entered her room. They stood on either side of the door, gazing at her curiously.
At least the King hadn’t realized her guards were actually hired mercenaries. They would allow her to escape without protest; that’s what they were hired for. But she still didn’t like the thought of them in her room, watching her as she slept.
Evelyn used a washbasin to clean the ink from her face and her hair. She fingered the fabric of her dress before slipping into bed still clothed. She was going to have to wear it in a few hours anyway; she might as well keep it on.
She drew the covers to her chin, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the mercenaries’ presence. That had been her last conversation with the King. Tomorrow, he’d be busy at court all day, assuming she’d be right in her room when he came for her in the evening.
But by then she’d be long gone.
16
His Means to an End
The Next Day
Thus far, the escape had not gone as planned; Draven had been summoned to a last-minute Council meeting.
Evelyn shoved the flagstone back into place and ghosted into a nearby alley. She avoided the main streets, since only nobles and knights were allowed to traverse them, and she didn’t want to be recognized. But with her hair dyed, maybe she wouldn’t be recognized anyway.
Someone stood in the back doorway of a shop, beating a rug against the wall. Evelyn drew her hood over her head, wishing Draven were here to guide her. He said they would both leave to find her mother together, but first he had to attend that impromptu Council meeting. If he were missing, it’d arouse suspicion, and they’d be sooner caught.
She was to climb onto the city wall next to Cadian Gate and wait for Draven to arrive at noon. A knight strolled through the alley, heading her way, and she ducked into a narrow street.
Armor clanked as the knight picked up his pace. “Woman, wait!”
She pumped her arms and stretched her strides as far as they would go. Though she didn’t dare glance behind her, she heard the knight gaining on her, his labored breaths and heavy steps getting closer.
And then she skidded to a stop. A dead end. There was nowhere else to run.
She wasn’t going to be dragged back to the palace without a fight. She’d worked hard and waited long for this escape. Evelyn whipped around, her hand on the hilt of her dagger hidden beneath her cloak.
The knight slowed, his hands raised. He cleared his throat and glanced pointedly at the hand she’d tucked into her cloak. “If you wouldn’t mind releasing your dagger…”
“Do you need something, Sir Knight?”
He extended a palm to her. His fingers uncurled to reveal three golden coins. “You dropped these.” His gaze skimmed her dress. “You shouldn’t be carrying your dowry money around with you. It could be lost or stolen.”
Her shoulders sagged as she took the coins from his palm. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He gave her a long stare and left.
She began to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear before remembering the ink and lowering her hand. Well, that could have been a disaster. Hopefully the rest of her escape would be rather uneventful.
She made it to the gate without anyone giving her a second glance. She tilted her head back until her neck ached from the severe angle. Now she just had to get to the top of the wall. Judging from the sun’s position, it was a half-hour until noon. She’d made good time.
She hiked up her mud-rimmed dress and jogged up the flight of stairs. A month ago, the climb would have winded her, but she had become accustomed to walking up and down the endless flights of stairs in the ten-story palace. She stopped at the top and set her elbows against the edge of the wall, staring out over the thick carpet of forest.
Draven would be here any minute.
One minute passed. Two. Fifteen. Thirty. Wind tugged at her cloak, and she pulled the hood firmly downward. Where was he? It wasn’t like him to be late. Evelyn turned to glance at the ever-moving city below.
Masses of people flowed in and out of the gates, which were wide open during the day and shut tight at night to protect the city against the Malakrai. She stepped closer to the edge of the wall, peering down at the people below. She blinked hard. Was it just her nerves or were there more knights w
andering through the crowds than there’d been a half-hour ago?
Evelyn massaged her locket beneath her thumb, feeling the whisper of the imprinted words against her skin. Nah. She was just being paranoid. Draven had probably just been delayed by some prissy nobles talking politics. Rain tapped her hood, and she tilted her head downward. If she got her hair wet, the dye would run.
Something glinted off to her right, and she glanced up. A knight was strolling along the wall, his armor glistening with rain. He stopped near a hunched man enjoying the view.
“Excuse me, sir? We’re searching for a commoner woman. Likely, she has black hair, and she’s very small…”
Evelyn turned as calmly as she could and padded down the stairs to the city below. There were lots of commoner women with black hair… but then why had the knight said “likely”? Did they know she’d dyed it?
She could think of only one explanation: they’d caught Draven and interrogated him. But how? She glanced farther down the stairs, and her heart crystallized into ice, piercing her sternum with its chill. Three knights were marching up the stairs, toward her.
She turned and delicately picked her way back up the stairs.
“Halt!”
Tuteno. She darted up the stairs, her heart thrashing so hard in her chest it threatened to burst. By the time she’d reached the top, her lungs were tight with the need for air.
The other knight who’d been chatting with the man glanced up. His eyes widened, then narrowed.
It was then that she realized that during her sprint up the stairs, the wind had shoved her hood off. Now rainwater seeped into the ink, and rivulets of black stained her neck and dress. Double tuteno.
She turned the other way and dashed across the wall’s walkway, staying far away from the open ledge toward the city. How could she lose these guys? Even in armor, they could probably outrun her.
Up ahead, a dense crowd of people blocked the walkway. There wasn’t any safe way to worm through without putting someone off balance and potentially making them fall off the ledge into the city. They really should’ve put some railing on that side.
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