Chapter 20 #2
Magic slammed into Atlas, dragging the air from his lungs.
Colors faded into muted blurs. Across from him, Caedian’s eyes went wide, frozen in shock.
Gilded threads unraveled around him, each one scored with runes and numerals.
Showers of silver light rained down as he stood completely still, unable to move his body, his heart thudding loudly.
The sound of it a low, dull thump like that of an archaic timepiece.
The scent of worn leather, fresh earth, and ink upon aged parchment overwhelmed him, and his gaze tracked to the far side of the training field where Veros’s arm was outstretched, controlling the hands of time.
He stepped forward, plucking the suspended sword out of the air—the very one whose blade had been aiming for Everinne’s heart.
Atlas’s stomach dropped.
He didn’t know she was watching, he didn’t realize she’d been standing there at all.
He’d been so consumed with bitterness and resentment…
he never would’ve thrown the damn thing if he thought she would be in harm’s way.
Veros had been his closest friend for 132 years, and this was the first time Atlas had ever witnessed him use his magic to save a life.
Veros inspected the sword, his gaze turning frosty when his eyes landed on Atlas. “Lose something?”
The stillness distorted his voice, making it sound as though he was everywhere at once.
In the next breath, the Lord of Time rescinded his magic, and Atlas stumbled forward, Caedian following suit.
“Shit.” Atlas rushed toward them, wiping the sweat away from his brow with the back of his hand. “Everinne, are you alright?”
He skimmed her briefly, checking for any sign of injury.
But even that was a mistake. She wore tight dark purple leather pants and glossy black boots laced up to her knees.
Her silver sweater draped off both of her shoulders, the fibers somehow twinkling like crushed diamonds.
She’d worn her hair up, twisted into a messy bun on the top of her head, and tiny pieces had fallen loose to frame her face.
Her cheeks were flushed from the wind and her lips were painted a delectable color that reminded him of ripe berries.
“I’m sorry.” He tore his gaze away from her and accepted the sword Veros held out to him. “Apologies, Veros.”
The Lord of Time shifted his shoulders, tucking his hands behind his back. Always calm. Always collected. “You rarely let your temper get the best of you.”
“It was my fault,” Caedian piped up, taking the sword away and placing it back on the rack with the rest of the weapons. “I was goading him.”
“It wasn’t you.” Atlas shook his head, shoving some longer waves of hair back from his face. He roughed a hand along his jaw, annoyed by his own lack of composure. “I was distracted.”
Veros checked his golden timepiece, where magic still seemed to thrum and whir around its circular shape, then slipped it back into his pocket. “It’s understandable. You’ve had a lot on your mind these past few days.”
Atlas dared a look at Everinne, who boldly met his gaze without hesitation. “So, Ever…what are you doing here? It’s not like you to grace us with your presence twice in one week.”
Her brows narrowed slightly, and she crossed her arms, cocking one hip to the side. The gold rings around her pupils flared with irritation. “Veros is taking me to find a dress. For your ball.”
If she was attempting to provoke him, it was working.
“Right,” he drawled, barricading his mind. The last thing he wanted to know was the truth of her thoughts, especially where he was concerned. Instead, he grinned at Veros. “Going shopping, then?”
The corner of Veros’s mouth lifted into a smile, and he flicked his wrists, loosening the cuffs of his gray sweater. “So it would seem.”
“It was your idea,” Everinne countered, poking him roughly in the chest with her finger. “You’re the one who said I needed something suitable to impress…”
Her voice trailed off and she bit her bottom lip, taking up a sudden interest in the cropped hem of her top, where a swatch of lightly tan skin was on display.
So. Veros was taking his sister shopping for a gown to help her catch Lord Tovian’s eye. Not that she needed any help in the matter, but the idea of his mate being matched with anyone else fueled him with insurmountable fury.
Atlas ground his teeth together. The muscles along his shoulders and the back of his neck grew taut, tense with feral rage. He popped his jaw, desperately trying to hold himself back from reaching out and strangling Veros.
“We’re going before my shift at the Mystic Obscura. And yes,” she continued, waving a hand dismissively through the air so all the bracelets she wore jingled in unison, “I’m looking for another job. I might try to get a position at Belladonna’s Atelier.”
Atlas made a derisive sort of noise. A witch’s bauble shop was better than the Mystic Obscura, though if he had things his way, Everinne wouldn’t need to be looking for another job at all. She’d be living in his palace. Lounging in his arms. Sleeping in his bed.
“Come on, Ever.” Veros guided her away from the training field, nodding to Atlas on his way. “Let’s go before the shops close for the night.”
As they walked down one of the corridors, Atlas simply stood there, half hoping, half wishing, Everinne would turn around once. All he wanted was for her to cast a casual glance over her shoulder, maybe even flash one of those damning smirks. He told himself it would be enough.
But she didn’t look back, and he didn’t look away.
Deflated, he let out a shallow, painful breath.
Caedian strolled up next to him, dusting the dirt from his pants. He planted his hands on his hips, tracking Atlas’s line of sight. Then he loosed a low whistle. “You’re really going to stand by and let her marry some lord from another realm?”
Atlas sighed. Veros may as well have stuck a dagger in his back when he’d made that fucking vow. “I don’t have a choice.”