Chapter 30
Thirty
“ W here the fuck is she?” Atlas demanded, stalking about his study like a caged beast, ready to rip through the bars enclosing him. He slammed both of his hands on his desk, sending notes and pieces of parchment scattering to the floor. “Everinne should be back by now.”
He was furious with himself. With everyone.
He’d been unkind to her two nights before, when he’d thrown a towel at her and sent her from his chambers.
But damn it, she’d pissed him off. Left him infuriated.
He knew she’d been lying about the bond, he knew she could feel it, yet she’d seen fit to deny it, anyway.
If he’d been more rational at the time, if he’d managed to control his temper, he would’ve seen right through the impenetrable wall she’d constructed around herself.
He would have realized she was trying to push him away on purpose, but he still didn’t understand why.
His gaze flicked to the timepiece ticking steady against the far wall, its bronze hands creeping closer to the early morning hour.
“The guards are searching all of Prava for her, Your Highness.” Caedian straightened, tucking his hands behind her back. “They tracked her into the Deszvila Forest and then back to the city. But she went into the Mystic Obscura and never came back out.”
Atlas ground his teeth together, clenching his jaw so tightly, a painful ache throbbed at his temples, beating in time to his chaotic heart. “Something is wrong. This isn’t like her.”
“This is exactly like her,” Veros stated from where he sat in a high-back brown leather chair.
His elbow was propped on the rounded arm, and he had one ankle kicked up, resting upon his knee.
He gestured vaguely, his hand swiveling through the space between them.
“She hates this palace. She hates me. She hates you. Why would she want to come back?”
Veros’s chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s not your burden to bear, Veros. If anything, this is my doing.
I told her to get out, perhaps she took me at my word.
” Atlas raked his hands through his hair, turning to the window behind him where hues of pink and orange streaked across the eastern sky, pushing back the fading night.
Beyond the city walls, the tops of ancient evergreens were set against a backdrop of cold, snow-capped mountains. “Why would she go to the woods first?”
“My guess is she wished to see Zoryana,” Veros muttered, his voice tainted with remorse. “Many of the witches have fled Starysa to escape the possibility of being hunted.”
Hunted.
Atlas always hated that word.
“If Everinne is still in the Mystic Obscura, then I have to find a way to get her out.” Atlas spun back to face Veros and Caedian and gripped the edge of the desk, his nails biting into the glossy hardwood.
“And if what Valaina said is true, then I have to free Everinne from Reine’s hold. There’s no more time to waste.”
“We need a plan, Atlas.” Veros was attempting to reason with him, but it was futile. They both already knew what must be done. “You can’t just walk into the Mystic Obscura and?—”
Two heavy thuds sounded against the door of the study, like someone was trying to kick it open.
Atlas lifted one hand. “Caed, answer the door. Be mindful of who is on the other side.”
Caedian nodded sharply and strode to the door. He opened it a crack before yanking it the rest of the way, and when he stepped back, Atlas’s heart dropped.
One of his guards stood framed in the doorway, and in his arms was Everinne.
She was limp and pale, likely unconscious given the way her head lolled back, and her lips were a terrifying shade of purple.
Her skin was mottled with what could be mistaken for bruises.
The discolored splotches were everywhere, slowly spreading like ink through her veins, creating webs that crawled over her neck, legs, and breasts.
Atlas rushed toward the guard and collected her into his arms. Her body sagged against him, her breathing was labored, and the beating of her heart was much too slow. He glanced over at the guard. “What happened to her?”
“I think she’s drunk, Your Imperial Highness.” But the guard’s voice quivered, as though he didn’t quite believe it.
Atlas inhaled deeply, breathing in the faint scent of alcohol. But there was something else. It lingered beneath the layers of sweat and damp air. Suffocating ash. Acrid brimstone. The stench of a demon summoner.
Jarek.
Rage flooded Atlas’s veins, boiling his blood.
If that bastard had harmed her, if he had so much as touched a single hair on her head, Atlas would end his life.
His gaze raked over her, and it was then he saw it, the tender flesh of her shoulder was raw and pink, as though she’d been burned.
The impression resembled the shape of a skull, and the slightest whiff of metal still carried on her skin.
That fucking prick had marked her with cold iron. He’d branded her.
“Where did you find her?” Atlas asked, his tone laced with venom.
“I didn’t, Your Imperial Highness.” The guard’s back snapped straight and he stood at attention. “She was delivered.”
“What, like a package?” Caedian spat, fury radiating from him.
The guard ducked his head, shame coloring his cheeks.
“Davorin of the Morvayne vampire clan dropped her off only a few moments ago. He said he found her in the Marzena and that I should bring her to His Highness immediately. He also apologized for not being able to bring her to you himself…” The guard nodded behind them toward the window. “The sun, you see.”
“Thank you,” Atlas mumbled, then moved quickly through the connecting doors that led to his bedchamber, with Veros and Caedian on his heels.
He carefully laid Everinne onto his bed and she slumped against the plush mattress, unmoving.
“Caedian, fetch a healer at once,” Atlas commanded, pulling a small dagger from the inside of his boot. “Whatever is in her system, it is more than just alcohol.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Caedian bowed then bolted from the room, his retreating footfalls echoing in the stillness of the morning.
Veros leaned over from the other side of the bed, pressing the back of his hand to Everinne’s forehead, and then her cheek. “She’s feverish.”
“I know. Open the verandah doors.”
Veros did as he was instructed, flipping the latch and wrenching them open wide. A gust of frozen winter air flooded Atlas’s chambers. The fire in the hearth wavered and sputtered, and goosebumps pebbled all over Everinne’s flesh, but she did not stir.
Atlas looked at his friend, leveling him with a hard stare. “If you have any qualms about seeing your sister naked, look away now.”
He aimed the dagger at her bodice.
Veros lurched forward, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to cut her clothing off of her, it will be much faster than dealing with all the laces on the back of her corset.
” Atlas pulled his hand free, then slid the sharpened edge of the blade under the thick fabric and set to work.
“If we don’t get her out of this damned bodice, the poison will fester. ”
All the color leached from Veros’s face. “Poison?”
“She was drugged. I’ve seen it before.” Atlas bit the words out as the ripping of satin and snapping of the bone lining filled the space between them. “Now, either help me or don’t, the choice is yours.”
Veros helped.
He tugged on the satin ribbons, loosening them so Atlas could saw through the dense boning of Everinne’s corset.
Veros’s movements were frantic as he yanked and tugged, tossing the scraps onto the floor to free his sister from the constraints of her costume.
When Atlas tore the rest of the bodice from her, Veros averted his gaze, carefully unstrapping the heels she wore, and setting them aside.
When Everinne was left in nothing but black stockings covered in tiny diamonds, Veros walked away completely, going to stand by the open verandah doors, his back to Atlas.
He slumped against the solid frame, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
A moment later, the door to Atlas’s bedchambers burst open and Caedian strode in with a healer right behind him.
Caedian stumbled to a halt, his eyes widening in both horror and shock at the sight of Everinne sprawled on the bed, and he instantly turned back around, forcing the healer to maneuver around him.
“Thank the gods,” Atlas mumbled at the sight of Franseza.
She was one of the elders and had worked for the Korvny fae for well over a century.
Her thinning raven hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and deep-set lines showcasing her age wrinkled around her mouth and the corners of her gold eyes.
She smelled of dried herbs and lemon balm, and long beaded earrings drooped from her pointy ears.
Franseza bustled around to the side of the bed, wiping her aged hands on the tan apron that was smeared with stains from her latest remedy.
“Franseza,” Atlas pleaded, his voice strained as his gaze skimmed the tiny threads of blackened veins littering Everinne’s body. “Can you help her?”
“Don’t worry, Your Imperial Highness.” Franseza cupped Everinne’s cheek, her thumb tracing her chin as she moved her head from side to side. “I can save the future princess.”
“But?” Veros prompted from the opposite wall, still refusing to face them. He stood with his arms stretched out to either side, his hands gripping the door frame, like he was trying to breathe in the whole of the night to keep from losing control.