Chapter 13 #3
Yet the more awake I became, the more memories from the dream I was able to recall…namely the illusion of Evander warning me against trusting him. Nothing about his charming smile and dancing grey eyes seemed to bear any ill will…which only made him all the more dangerous.
The best way to figure out the reason for the warning given by the dream version of Evander and whether or not it could be trusted was to investigate him myself.
Faith extended beyond words; with time, Evander would prove whether or not he was worthy of mine.
Until I knew for certain, I didn’t want to discount the assistance of the one person who might be able to help me.
At my continued silence, some of his show of confidence faltered; he looked down at his feet, posture haunched in a manner that momentarily made me remember the dream version of him…
if that was really him at all. Part of me hoped not, so I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being the literal man of my dreams.
He appeared so nonthreatening in this moment, even innocent.
I couldn’t quiet the secret part of myself that wanted to trust him, a dangerous desire that went against my previous determination to always keep my distance from others.
I’d always been an independent thief, and so far he hadn’t proved reliable enough to change that…
though the risk certainly provided additional thrill.
“If I were to partner with you,” I began cautiously. “What would you need my help with?”
Evander hesitated. “I don’t particularly remember.”
For a moment I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “Pardon?”
He simply shrugged, as if to say ‘it can’t be helped,’ as if forgetting one’s goals that would require the services of a master thief was commonplace.
I sighed. “Do you at least know where whatever you’re after is?”
Once again he shook his head. So the man was not only unhelpful towards my goals, but now his own as well.
This certainly complicated matters—I’d undergone many difficult heists, but at least I’d had something to go off of.
Should I accept his request, this would be the first one I navigated almost entirely in the dark.
“Is there a particular reason why it’s my help you’re after?” He didn’t appear to be one who’d need to engage the services of a thief—or even a princess if it was my fake role he sought—but I more than anyone knew that appearances could be deceiving.
“You do possess quite the unique skillset, and your role as a royal grants you access to any part of the castle.” He lowered his gaze, a show of vulnerability that only persuaded me to his plea; if the man was a master manipulator, I was succumbing to his spell at an uncomfortable pace.
“Then there’s the small matter that you’re the only one who can see me. ”
He’d spoken the magic words—ones that should have assured me I would enter the exchange with the advantage.
I was the only one who could see him, the only one he could appeal to.
For all its risks, the power being firmly in my control made the partnership feel safe enough to accept—the dangerous wish some secret part of me had already chosen.
Yet rather than celebrate my triumph, I found the certainty oddly difficult to hold onto.
I tried to ignore the disquiet pooling in my stomach as I took his hand.
Unexpected warmth bloomed from the point of contact, slipping through my careful defenses before I could stop it.
My pulse fluttered, and for a fleeting, reckless instant, I found myself wanting to hold on.
I hastily yanked my hand away. I’d learned not to trust anything too perfect, especially not dreams that bled into waking. And yet here I was, striking a bargain with a man who may or may not exist, whom I’d been warned couldn’t be trusted.
Evander had a maddening way of making every exchange feel like a contest I had not agreed to and yet couldn’t resist playing.
Every time I thought I’d gained ground, he met me there with a smirk, a deflection, or a teasing quip that tipped the balance again, so that I was no longer certain who held the upper hand.
I ought to have found the sensation intolerable.
Instead, to my growing alarm, I found myself drawn to it.
I had spent my life priding myself on my ability to outmaneuver traps, to stay three steps ahead of anyone who might try to corner me.
But each time Evander slipped from my grasp and seized the advantage for himself, some treacherous part of me thrilled at the challenge.
I liked that he could best me. The more often he slipped beyond my reach, the more keenly I felt the thrill of pursuit.
Which meant he was more dangerous than any lock, any guard, or any curse this palace had yet thrown in my path.
I had spent my entire life outmaneuvering traps. Yet somehow, with Evander, the danger wasn’t losing the game—it was that the longer we played, the less certain I was that I wanted to win.