Chapter Two
Evelyne was not much of a drinker, but tonight she set herself to the task. Hope was gone, why not make a scene? If her father punished her, so be it. Before today, she’d had some vague hope that eventually the king would die of bitterness and old age.
But now she had two captors lined up. Even with the general being more than twenty years older than her, hoping for two men’s death in order to be free was too great a weight to hold.
What was the point of anything now?
Father and General Vinyes would keep her from even the escape of death.
She had no doubt they could, based on how close two of her father’s guards stayed to her throughout the afternoon, ceremony and now reception.
So far, her only respite had been to use the restroom, and they’d been waiting for her right outside when she was done.
Any room with windows, they followed her into. Like she’d fling herself from one given the chance.
But the worst part was she didn’t want to die. She simply didn’t want to suffer anymore. Was that so wrong?
She downed her third glass of champagne, and since the guards didn’t stop her from doing such, she went over to the bar to procure her fourth. She’d ask for something harder, but she was afraid they’d stop her. So she’d settle for drinking as much champagne on an empty stomach as humanly possible.
She could already feel a pleasant fizzing sensation in her mind, in her body. She felt a little unsteady and liked it.
It was the only thing she liked. The guards, she knew, were a hint of what was to come, and it made everything…
horrible. Because while she’d spent some twenty years devising ways around her father’s punishments—mental and physical—this seemed to be the last unsurmountable challenge to finding an even somewhat pleasant life amid her royal shackles.
“Good evening, Evelyne.”
The voice was familiar, but she was surprised to find a hand on her elbow to go with it. Gabriel Marti never touched her. Her brother’s best friend tended to avoid her. If he could not, he often treated her like an amusing but spoiled child.
It grated, and he knew it. She had no doubt that’s why he did it. He was the kind of man who read a room and behaved accordingly. Sometimes she wanted to hate him.
But sometimes, she could admit, she wanted to throw herself at him. Handsome and competent, people laughed when they were with Gabriel. Gabriel himself smiled and charmed.
There was none of that in the palace when he wasn’t around.
So she could admit surprise, and a flutter of interest, at his large hand on her elbow, a warm, steady strength and counterpoint to all the upheaval inside her.
Saying nothing else, he expertly navigated her away from the bar before she could get that next glass of champagne—smart move—and toward one of the terrace doors.
“It was a lovely wedding,” he said, his voice low and pleasant in her ear.
“It was.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Alexandre stood with his bride while they spoke to a couple Evelyne didn’t recognize. “I hope they can be happy.” Someone should be. Maybe Alexandre didn’t love Ines, but if they could find some solace in each other, maybe…
Gabriel opened a terrace door, but before he ushered her out into the glittering evening, he smiled at the guards who had fallen into step behind them. “I will keep an eye on her for a bit, gentleman. The prince’s orders.” Then he led her outside.
Onto the terrace, but he didn’t stop there. He kept pulling her along, down the grand staircase and into the gardens that were lit with fairy lights and candlelight and little bonfires so guests could enjoy the grounds despite the chill in the air.
“They’re still following us,” Evelyne pointed out. She would never be free. Never, ever, ever. Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to cry again. She’d had a nice jag over Jordi. Now…
Now what?
“Yes, but they’ve given us more space. There’s a lot we can do with more space.”
She glanced up at him. He didn’t deliver it like innuendo, but she had to admit that’s where her mind flitted.
The alcohol probably. And the fact he was outrageously handsome.
So tall, his dark hair swept back in a careless kind of style that somehow felt both casual and perfectly suited for a royal wedding.
His eyes were a kind of hazel, she supposed, a fascinating array of greens and browns with a hint of blue.
His suit was dark, elegantly tailored, but simple when compared to Alexandre’s royal costume for the wedding.
This close, she could smell expensive aftershave, champagne and the hint of something else, smoky almost. Intriguing.
And it was nice, to be intrigued, to notice all these things, rather than drown in her own misery.
Gabriel moved her through the maze of pathways, arm in arm, talking lightly of the weather, of Alex, of Ines. The guards kept their distance, one even peeled off and lit a cigarette. They must trust Gabriel to keep her in line or keep her from hurtling herself onto the nearest sharp object.
She considered if she trusted the charming, roguish Gabriel.
He and Alexandre had been friends since they were boys, and so Evelyne had always known Gabriel in a distant kind of way.
She knew Alexandre trusted Gabriel implicitly, though they were as different as night and day. A point in Gabriel’s favor.
She had gone through phases of fascination with him, but she hadn’t seen him in Alis for at least a year if not longer, and all her male infatuation had been on Jordi in that time.
Jordi. Had he ever loved her? Would anyone ever love her? And would she even care if there wasn’t marriage to a sadistic general on the other side of that?
She hated that she wasn’t sure. That it felt now like she’d simply convinced herself to love Jordi. Because it had been a choice she could make, a hope she could have. Was it about wanting something? Or was it about wanting Jordi?
She hated the answer almost as much as she hated him rejecting running away with her.
“Does Alexandre love Ines?” Evelyne asked abruptly, because she assumed Gabriel would know. Maybe he wouldn’t tell her, but he would know.
Gabriel did not answer right away. He pulled her around another corner of shrubbery, under an arbor that somehow smelled of spring though winter was on its way.
“It is not something he has spoken of, one way or another,” he said at length.
Evelyne was not sure if he sounded distracted because he was or because he was trying to lie. Though a nonanswer was hardly a lie.
“I hope he does. At least a little bit. I hope she can be a bright spot.”
“I hope so too.”
She looked up at him then, surprised to find that his voice sounded…
at least somewhat earnest. But she shouldn’t be surprised.
If there was one thing she knew, it was that Alexandre and Gabriel cared for one another like brothers.
She’d always thought that Gabriel might be the sole person in the world who knew Alexandre’s inner troubles—because he made sure their father didn’t, and he didn’t want to worry Evelyne with them.
It was dark where they were now. She couldn’t make out Gabriel’s expression at all, but his hand was still hooked in her arm. He stopped their forward progress, so they stood in the dark, the only sound the rustle of the breeze and their own breathing for a few moments.
Everything suddenly felt odd and tense, when Gabriel was usually the life of the party. Not serious and silent like her brother.
“Gabriel—”
“Shh.” His hand curled around hers so that they were holding hands.
What on earth was going on?
“Come,” he said, his voice low and sensual in her ear. “We must hurry now.”
Hurry?
He pulled her along, and she had to all but jog in the painful heels to keep up with him, because for a moment she didn’t know what else to do but obey. Maybe she was just too used to obeying.
When he finally came to a stop, it was at a car. She blinked at it, even as he dropped her hand and opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in. When she didn’t move, he crossed back to her and pulled her along.
“Get in the car, Evelyne.”
It felt suddenly…threatening or sinister. Why did he want to get her into a car? What was this about? She pulled at his hold, but he did not let her go.
Twin but opposite feelings fluttered low in her stomach.
A seed of fear, a sparkle of interest. But since hope was dead, she figured she should listen to the fear.
When had she ever been able to trust a man who wasn’t her brother anyway?
Men, it seemed, were all the same. Maybe even Alexandre was underneath it all, and she only didn’t see it because she was his sister.
“Unhand me, Gabriel,” she ordered.
He did not. “Do as you’re told, Evelyne,” he said in a quiet, authoritative tone she’d never once heard from Gabriel.
She lifted her chin, stopped trying to pull her hand from his grasp, and used all her royal training to sound threatening. “My brother will kill you if you take advantage of me.”
Gabriel muttered something in Italian, though she couldn’t make it out. It reminded her that while he was from Alis, he had spent much of his adolescence and all of his adult life in Italy. Free from Alis and her father.
Free.
And friends with her brother, who she had no reason to doubt. No reason to distrust, male or not. Alexandre had been nothing but a protector in every sense of the word, and it was a sad state of affairs indeed if she let Father, the general and Jordi change her sturdy belief in her brother.
“I am not taking advantage of you,” he ground out, though he did not loosen his grip. “If you have any sense at all, you’ll get in the car.”
He glared down at her in the dim light of the palace garage.
He was really quite handsome, particularly in a scowl, which she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen on him. It heightened his angular features, did interesting things to his mouth.