Chapter 13 #2
Everinne gently cleared her throat and Veros’s head snapped up. Immediately, he clicked his timepiece closed, shoved it back into his pocket, his magic vanishing right along with it.
“Everinne.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt, tugging on it lightly. He never liked to be caught off guard. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”
She crossed the floor to join him. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.” He stood, pulling out a chair for her. “Hungry?”
“Famished.”
She lowered herself into the seat next to him at the end of the table, then filled her plate.
She grabbed two biscuits, drizzling them with a hefty helping of honey, and snatched a dark chocolate and raspberry pastry from the platter in front of her.
Veros slid her a glass of water as well as a steaming cup of coffee loaded with cream and sugar, and while he was acting as though nothing was wrong, there was a troubling line of worry across his brow.
They ate in companionable silence—Everinne devouring the sweets on her plate first as Veros picked at what remained of his omelet.
Everinne licked a drop of chocolate off the tip of her finger. “Remind me to buy the ingredients to make these the next time I go to the market.”
Veros’s gaze slid to her, the corner of his mouth lifting into a mocking smile. “You know how to bake pastries?”
“It can’t be that hard.” She peeled away a section of the flaky crust, then popped it into her mouth. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”
Veros chuckled and she couldn’t recall the last time she actually heard him laugh, at least not in her presence.
But then he turned in his seat to face her, all remnants of amusement fading away with his somber demeanor.
His eyes, a mirror image of her own yet filled with cool precision, fixed on her.
“Everinne, there’s something we need to discuss.”
She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip, bracing for the inevitable lecture, when the noise of raucous voices echoed just outside the dining hall.
“What the…” Veros jumped out of his seat and positioned himself in front of her, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Always protecting.
She peered around him just as Atlas stumbled into the room, followed by three fae males she’d never seen before.
One of them had auburn hair pulled into a lopsided knot on top of his head.
He was rather handsome, in a roguish kind of way, and wore jewel-toned clothing that reminded her of a seafaring captain.
Like a faerie pirate. The other two males, however, were exceptionally well-dressed in trim suits, collared shirts, and carried themselves as though they were of noble birth.
She supposed they were brothers, given their similar facial structures and unusual hair color.
It wasn’t quite black, but more of a deep blue, like the darkest part of the sea.
“Veros!” Atlas waved his hand and sauntered forward, but then his eyes landed on her, widening slightly. “Everinne.”
He bowed and almost fell over.
Everinne stood, moving beside her brother. Every male gaze in the room, save for Veros, tracked her movement. She leaned close to him and whispered, “Is he drunk?”
Veros flicked his wrist, checking the timepiece he wore. “It appears that way.”
“At this hour?”
His only response was to grumble in annoyance and shove his hands into the pocket of his pants.
“Aran, you remember my closest friend, Veros Auvyre?” Atlas clapped Veros on the shoulder soundly.
“Ah, yes. The Lord of Time.” Aran, the redhead who seemed the least intoxicated of all of them, dipped his head in a show of respect. “We’ve met once or twice.”
“I thought as much.” Atlas gestured to her next, trying to maintain some sense of the proper decorum that was expected of him. “Then allow me to introduce you to his sister, Everinne Auvyre.”
He nodded to the three males in front of her. “Ever, this is Aran Ruhdneah, High Prince of the Autumn Court of Faeven, and his companions, Lords Tovian and Nyxian Starstorm Celestine of Aeramere.”
Aran tucked one arm in front of him and bowed. “It’s an absolute pleasure.”
Everinne preened, tossing her dark hair back behind her, and flashing her most brilliant smile. She could get used to being treated like one of the ladies of court. Perhaps she should show her face around the palace more often, after all.
“Nyxian, my lady.” One of the fae brothers stepped forward and clasped her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles.
Everinne forced herself not to stare at him, but he had the most startling eyes. They reminded her of pools of moonlight, except the left one had a vein of stunning blue slashing through it. He noticed her fascination and winked.
A flush bled into her cheeks when he released her.
Oh, that one was trouble.
The other brother, Tovian, captured her hand next. But instead of mimicking his brother’s gesture, he flipped her palm up and planted a kiss on the inside of her wrist, keeping his dazzling silver eyes on her the entire time.
“My lady,” he murmured softly.
Everinne damn near swooned.
They were good .
She knew nothing about Aeramere, had never even heard of it, but she was definitely certain of one thing—these two brothers knew their way around females.
She had no doubt they were well-practiced in and out of the bedroom, but it was the way they carried themselves that left her a bit flustered.
They were aristocratic yet dashing, graced with smooth manners, and impressive charm.
Usually she was the one who was overly flirtatious, she was the one who tried to lure males into her bed, then kicked them out before the sun rose the next morning.
But Tovian and Nyxian didn’t strike her as the kind of males looking for a quick fuck.
No, they were looking for mates.
She stole a glance at Veros to gauge his reaction. He’d been her protector for so many years, and he was incredibly wary of any males who showed interest in her. At least, the ones he knew about. But Veros wasn’t looking in her direction. He was watching Atlas, who was staring at her.
The slightest tick feathered along his jaw.
The golden-green of his eyes darkened, swirling with tempered rage.
His muscles bunched, tense and flexed, and though his arms were by his sides, his hands were clenched into tightly coiled, white-knuckled fists.
For a moment, she thought he was pissed at her for some unknown reason, but then she noticed how he cut down both of the brothers, Tovian in particular, with a look of warning.
Atlas wasn’t mad at her, he was jealous .
Under any other circumstances, she would find envy a pitiful characteristic. Yet when displayed by Atlas, it caused some traitorous part inside of her heart to stir with warmth.
She shook off the uncomfortable sensation and adjusted her sweater, so it slid a little bit lower. Tovian’s gaze sparked like shattered moonbeams.
“Will you be staying with us long, my lord?” she asked him, sidling a few inches closer to his side.
“Us?” Atlas ground the word out, and she ignored him.
“I’m afraid not, my lady.” He tucked his hands behind his back, a lock of deep blue hair falling onto his forehead. “We sail in six days’ time and then once more we will be out at sea.”
How disappointing. “I bet you’ve had a number of adventures.”
“Indeed.” He bent his head close, the scent of aged bourbon, vanilla, and clove surrounding her. “I wish I was afforded the opportunity to tell you about them sometime.”
Everinne grinned, a blush spreading to her cheeks. “I’d love that.”
“Sounds like a brilliant idea,” Atlas announced loudly. When he glanced her way again, his face was a mask of unexpected indifference. A chill had crept into his eyes. “My father is requiring me to host a ball in the hopes of finding a wife.”
Wife.
The word sliced through Everinne like the blade of a honed sword, piercing her.
She didn’t realize he was being forced to marry. Of course the kralv would pressure him to take a bride. Oldrich Skye kept a leash around Atlas’s throat, bending his son to his will while threatening him if he dared to disobey an order.
Atlas turned away from her to face Aran.
It was as though the topic at hand had sobered him in an instant.
His rueful smile was gone. He straightened, his posture morphing from lackadaisical and carefree into that of a polished prince.
“I imagine I can throw something together before the three of you set sail again. After all, it would give our Everinne a chance to dance with Lord Tovian.”
Our Everinne?
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
Veros clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest. “Everinne doesn’t participate in royal affairs.”
But she would certainly be willing to change her mind, if a certain star-kissed lord was in attendance.
“Oh, I don’t know, Veros,” she crooned, fiddling with the collar of aquamarines around her neck in an effort to hold Tovian’s attention. “I think I can make an exception.”
Atlas took one lurching step toward her, but Veros tossed out his arm, halting him.
“A ball sounds like an excellent idea.” Aran’s lilting, mild voice slivered through the tension in the dining hall. “My lords, would you care to attend the prince’s ball while he hunts for a wife?”
Nyxian laughed, his dimples flashing as he rocked back on his heels. “Sounds like exactly the type of party we’d attend back home.”
Tovian’s smile widened. Either he was completely oblivious to Atlas’s simmering rage or he simply didn’t care. “If it means I get to spend a few precious hours with Lady Everinne, then I can think of no better way to enjoy an evening.”
“She’s not a lady,” Atlas muttered under his breath, his words clipped.
Everinne disregarded his cruel insult, choosing to focus instead on the flattery Lord Tovian Starstorm so graciously offered her. “And will you save me a dance, my lord?”
He captured her hand again, pressing another wickedly charming kiss right on the inside of her wrist. “I’ll save every one of them for you.”
Everinne tossed Atlas a careless look, then coated her voice with sickening sugar. “Prince Atlas?”
She could’ve sworn she heard his teeth grinding.
“Yes, Ever?” he asked, maintaining a cutthroat smile.
“When will you be hosting your ball?”
His jaw ticked and he inhaled sharply. “Three nights from now.”
“Well, then.” She slid her hand from Lord Tovian’s grasp, letting her fingers link with his before releasing him. “I suppose I should go buy a dress.”
Veros arched a brow and Atlas’s mouth curved into a vile smirk.
Damn it.
She’d almost forgotten her promise to him. She was supposed to tell Veros about her new job at the Mystic Obscura.
Well, it was best to do it now and get it over with. Veros wouldn’t dare berate or admonish her in front of royal guests.
“Don’t worry, Veros. I’ve got it covered.” She rose up on her toes and gave her brother a quick peck on the cheek. “I work at the Mystic Obscura now.”
His jaw fell slack and his eyes widened. She may as well have told him she’d taken up a job removing her clothing for money at the Dancing Nymph.
Everinne slowly backed away. It was time to make her grand exit. “Well, this has been fun, but I promised Zoryana that I’d meet her for lunch before my next shift. It was so wonderful to meet all of you.”
“Everinne…” Veros warned, moving toward her.
“My lords.” She dropped into a quick curtsy. “Your Highnesses.” She would have to run if she wanted to make it out of the palace alive.
“Ev—”
“See you in three nights!” she called over her shoulder, rudely cutting off her brother and hastening her steps.
As soon as she left the dining hall and was out of their sight, Everinne broke into a sprint. She had no doubt in her mind that Veros was furious with her, but she didn’t particularly care to be reprimanded in front of three fae nobles. And certainly not Atlas.
The humiliation would be insufferable.
Chest heaving, she rushed down one of the corridors, her high heels slipping on the obsidian surface of the floor.
Flinging her arms out for balance, she kept her pace, refusing to slow just in case Veros came after her.
Knowing him, he had duties to the court first, but that wouldn’t stop him from coming to find her the moment he got a chance.
She shoved open the grand doors leading to the side entrance where she could safely hail a valade and make her way back to her apartment.
Everinne took a deep breath as the cold air slammed into her, cooling her burning lungs.
Squinting into the bright morning light, she forced herself to walk at a normal pace.
Even if the guards knew her, it would look incredibly suspicious if she was seen fleeing from the palace like she was being chased by the Wild Hunt.
She waved at the guards as she passed and they nodded in return, not the least bit suspecting.
The gates groaned open, creaking against the strain of bronze and metal.
Almost there.
Without warning, a gust of wind sent her tumbling forward, and the sound of beating wings echoed in her ears.
She whipped around.
“What the?—”
Everinne shrieked as Atlas collided into her. He snatched her into his arms then, shot into the cloudless blue sky.