Chapter 10 Eveera
Eveera
“You–you…” Devlen sputters, fumbling with Caz’s wound, who’s slapping his shaky hand away from the glass. Both of their faces have grown white as they stare down at the wound.
I turn on my bare heel, my breath coming out in pants while the adrenaline starts to wane. My eyes squint from the glaring beam of sunlight that streams through the cracked door, and I reach out for it a second time.
When no yank on my hair comes, I slip out through it. I’m halfway down the stretch of wall when I hear Devlen calling out to me again.
The alleyway is empty, so against my better judgement, I turn around. “You stabbed Caz.”
“Good to see your eyes work.”
His brow cocks, and he takes a cautionary step towards me. “Who are you running from?”
“You at the moment.”
He tenses at the comment and rethinks taking any more steps, pulling his lip between his teeth. “Maybe we can help.”
I drag my stare up and down his frame, debating how much of a threat I think he could be to me.
Devlen’s not a very tall man, but he’s certainly built.
His eyes are so blue they’re almost silver, but it’s clear from the smile lines at the corners that they’re kind.
His mahogany skin and dark hair remind me of Axel’s.
But where Axel kept his hair cropped, this man’s is braided into intricate cords adorned with gold beads that cascade down his back.
“Unless either of you can take me to the border of the Vast, I doubt it.” He’s quiet for a moment, and my patience thoroughly dissipates. “Right. Well, this has been fun.” I spin around, giving him my back again to walk off.
I nearly make it to the end of the alley, close to where the sounds of a bustling market start to filter in, when a hand lands on my shoulder. My feet come to a complete stop, craning my neck to see him standing behind me.
“We can help.”
How in the bleeding useless gods did I agree to this? My conscience chastises, my inner voice sounding a little too much like Vada.
Vada.
Wouldn’t she be a sight for two very sore eyes right about now?
Devlen didn’t take me back to the abandoned warehouse. Instead, he grabbed the aggravated and bleeding Caz, and I was escorted to the bungalow where they live.
Now I’m sitting in an absurdly large leather-backed chair, my palms clasped in my lap, while I listen to the whole place tick.
The metal tools – er machines – littering the place all pop and whir loudly.
Strange. I mean, we certainly have our own advancements, it's just that they’re magic-enhanced or infused.
This place looks like it’s never been touched by magic.
I never gave much thought to what the other kingdoms outside of mine looked like, especially the ones not laced with magic. They certainly, however, did not appear like this in my mind.
BANG!
Caz comes storming out of the hall and charges into the room, Devlen quickly on his heels. “Caz–”
He tears a stool from their kitchen area, dragging it in front of me to sit down. “What are they?” He demands, his finger pointing again at my shackles. “I asked you before, and then you stabbed me and took off. Which doesn’t make me feel too thrilled about you being in my house.”
“Actually, you asked, I ignored, I took off, you pulled my hair – not very nice by the way tsk tsk tsk,” he scoffs at my placating tone, “and then I stabbed you. But only because you pulled my hair.” My brow cocks up at both of them.
“Who are you?” Devlen breathes.
Caz huffs, turning back to look at Devlen, “this is pointless.”
“Miss… you said you needed help getting to the border. We can’t do that if you don’t help us a little bit first.”
I look between the two of them, a chuckle slipping past my lips. “Is he this trusting with everyone?” The question is directed at Caz, who just folds his arms across his chest, disengaging. “Look, does your help require you to know who or what I am?”
Both of them stiffen at the latter half of that question. “Just put her outside if she doesn’t want to be agreeable. She can find her own way to the border.” He huffs.
“No offense, Miss. But you don’t seem to be in any condition to trek through a city like Sabel on your own.”
What a disappointment.
I sigh, resigning myself fully to the situation. Caz gives me all of two minutes before he starts to get up, and Devlen throws him a pleading look.
“They’re mage shackles,” I call.
Caz stops in his tracks, and Devlen turns back to face me. “Mage shackles?”
I nod, rattling my wrists around so the two clank together. “They’re made to bind a Wielder’s magic to them. Render them fucking useless.” The words come out bitter.
“So you’re not–”
“I’m not local, no.”
His stare turns even more critical as the lines on his strikingly pale face furrow deeper, both white brows pulling taut. “So we ask again. Who? Are. You?”
I feel my dearly missed, cruel smile inch its way up my cheeks. Though without my tendrils I doubt it has the same effect. “The Queen of Obsidian,” I answer, rising from my seat. “And it’s time I go home.”
Caz practically dragged Devlen out of the room, leaving me to listen to their muffled shouting a second time.
That got boring very quick and I decided to move over and into their kitchen. Propping myself up onto their counter, I reach over the edge and pull open their drawers. To my luck, one of the many I’d opened contained a knife.
“Oooh,” I coo, spinning it between my fingertips. The blade slips easily underneath the band, and I start to saw back and forth.
“Great, she has a knife.”
A smirk plays on the corners of my lip, and I toss the tool.
Based on the gasp, I’m assuming I landed my mark.
My eyes lift to discover the mark I landed was Caz’s shirt, now attached to the wall by the knife tip.
“Never said I was meant to be a house guest. Now, could one of you find some sort of newfangled tool in this place, and break these off?”
Caz grabs hold of the hilt and pulls the knife out, freeing himself. “We are not breaking those off of you,” he snaps, waving the knife in my direction before whirling on his companion, “we are not breaking those off of her.”
“Why… not?”
He turns bright red, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets and onto the floor. “Wha–why not? She is a Wielder Devlen.”
“I’m also a queen,” I add, picking up some strange red fruit and biting into it.
“Caz. She told us what you wanted. She just wants to go home.”
I take another obnoxiously loud bite of the overripe fruit and bob my head up and down. “Yes, Caz. I just want to go home – you should listen to Devlen. It would make this much easier. You don’t want me here, and I really don’t want to be here.”
“Get off my counter.”
Devlen motions for me to follow after him, and I raise my hands in mock surrender. Curious as to where we’re going, I’m pleasantly surprised when he brings me to the once place I have been dying for – the bath suite. “Thank the damn gods,” I murmur.
He gives me a shy smile before closing the door and letting me sink to the floor in peace.
I have no interest in seeing myself in the mirror after yesterday’s glimpse, but I wouldn’t blame Caz if he ended up disinfecting every surface I’ve touched.
Peeling off the filthy dirt-crusted tunic and pants, I crawl my way over to the shower and turn the bronzed nozzle to scalding.
The water beats heavily onto my skin, each droplet singeing where it lands, while I unwind my thick knotted curls. The locks spill out around my shoulders as I pull my knees to my chest. Each new cut on my hands and feet sting, the water flushing out the grime, making way for them to heal.
There’s a pulsing in my head that I’ve ignored up until this point, that I’m counting on being cured by a few hours of sleep after I’m done showering. Just a day or so. I tell myself, and raise my wrist, dragging a finger down the faded mark scarred there.
Don’t be dead. I allow myself to think as the exhaustion waves over me. Please, princeling… don’t be dead.