Chapter 12
Gideon
As a child, Gideon had often considered the repercussions of saying the wrong thing.
Evie had always been more generous with her words, no matter the consequence, which meant it was a stroke of luck that most of the things that came out of Evie’s mouth were endearing—and therefore written off as the silly musings of a young girl.
Whereas Gideon had been revered by their parents as a future knight. They spent the bulk of his childhood encouraging their son to train for that future, yet they had neglected to guide Evie in the same ways. They’d propelled him up and pushed her to stay small.
No one cares to remember to be gentle with me.
It occurred to Gideon now: no one had even tried.
A scrape of wood against the ground pulled his focus to his sister, who was attempting to give Maverine a wide berth while simultaneously sitting in the chair beside him.
Maverine, for his part, had already taken his seat at the meeting table, fixated on a piece of paper in front of him, focus unbroken even as he unceremoniously reached over and dragged Evie’s chair with little effort until she bumped the side of his.
Her eyes flew wide, and she gripped the sides with a high-pitched squeak, staring at Maverine in astonishment.
“Bosses sit at the head, Sage.”
Evie didn’t seem appeased by this, her gaze turning shrewd. “Then I’ll sit at the other end.”
Maverine’s head snapped up, eyes sharp on Evie, his voice low. “I dare you to try.”
Evie’s cheeks pinked, and Blade cleared his throat with a grin, pulling a chair out for Ms. Erring. “Are we having a meeting? Or should we all leave for your next conjugal visit?”
Gideon recoiled, feeling bile rise as he gagged. Ms. Erring’s head fell into her hands, and Keeley, who had just walked in, flashed an obscenely pleased smile. He had a moment to enjoy it before she spotted him, and then it promptly disappeared.
Flattering.
“Gushiken, I’d avoid going outside for a while,” Maverine advised coolly, his eyes back on his papers.
Blade frowned. “Why?”
“Something might fall from the sky and kill you.”
“Like what?”
“A brick,” Maverine deadpanned.
Keeley attempted to intervene. “Sir, I—”
“Might it wait a moment, Captain?” Maverine cut her off, standing to address them. “First things first. Are the dungeons secure?”
Keeley nodded. “Standard locks have been added on all the doors exiting the dungeons, and several Malevolent Guards are posted there.”
“No locks on the cells themselves?” Evie asked, frowning.
“I’m afraid we didn’t have nearly enough on hand.
” Keeley folded down into the seat across from Gideon, and even amid this crisis, he felt his heart rate pick up speed at her nearness.
“I’ll put in an order for more, but I’d imagine demand for them is about to skyrocket, what with all the magically enchanted locks starting to fail. ”
“See that you do,” Trystan advised, and then, turning to address the rest of the table, he noted, “Tatianna and Clare aren’t here. Where are they?”
“I haven’t seen either of them all day.” Ms. Erring’s brow furrowed, her fingers fiddling with her glasses as she scanned the room. “Not since the incident this morning.”
“What incident?” Evie asked warily.
“It was nothing. A misunderstanding.” Ms. Erring placed her glasses back atop her nose, clearly unperturbed by whatever had occurred.
“Clare was acting a tad odd, but I would, too, if I’d just lost my father.
” The reminder of Arthur Maverine swept through the room like a wave, grief knocking everyone’s shoulders downward along with their eyes.
“We should begin without them,” Becky continued.
“Tatianna may be working on the cure for Marv.”
“What?” Keeley snapped. “You’re going to cure the traitor?” There was something incredibly sharp in the question. Gideon made note of it as he awaited the answer.
Maverine sighed, gesturing toward Gideon, then Keeley. “You both were the ones to find him out—you heard his tale of woe. You also know that Marv is not a mastermind; he’s been used as a puppet. Besides, I won’t have any such poison dispatching him before I know who is responsible.”
“But—”
“Keeley.” Maverine’s voice was firm. “I respect your advisements, but I’m afraid on this matter, I am decided.”
There was more the captain wanted to say—it was clear by the pinching of her lips—but she deferred to her higher-up and nodded. “Understood, sir. Now, how would you like us to proceed with plans to steal the book of Rennedawn?”
Gideon stood so fast, his chair tipped over. “You’re planning to steal the book of Rennedawn, and you didn’t think to consult me? The only one who’s actually seen it?”
“Believe it or not, Gideon, I endeavor not to think of you at all. Ever,” Maverine answered flatly. “Our meager pages of the book have been burned by some reprobate on the property, and they were hardly enough to begin with.”
Maverine rubbed at his temple and continued.
“I am making the fair and correct assumption that the book of Rennedawn contains far more than the prophecy alone can give us.” Maverine’s air of boredom did not reflect the gravity of their circumstances.
“The magic in the manor—what’s left of it—could give way at any moment.
The prophecy must be completed before then.
” He slid the paper he’d been scanning to the middle of the table.
It was the parchment etched with Rennedawn’s storybook prophecy.
Gideon picked it up first.
At the start of the world, the magical gods knew
That color would bleed and all would undo.
So to save this place they knew humans would break
They enlisted the tools of Destiny and Fate.
The beauty of stars that gleam at night
The children of Fate, created in light
And the magic that balances all dreamed of
Is the key to saving the world in true love.
The person who rescues the magical lands
Will take this Fate’s youngling well in hand.
When luck and starlight must fall together,
The land will belong to you forever.
But beware the unmasked Villain
And their Malevolent dark—
For nothing is more dangerous
Than a blackened good heart.
And when the tides turn
All will be as it was
The heart of the true prince
Will save his fated love.
Where sunlight beams unvarnished
Rennedawn’s magic will begin mending.
Evil will fall, kingdoms will rise.
Heed this prophecy and all of Rennedawn
Will have its happy ending.
“We need to decipher the meaning exactly, to ensure we are not making any mistakes,” Maverine was saying as Gideon slid the paper over to Ms. Erring, who scanned the page at twice the speed, then passed it to Blade. “There is no more room for error.”
“‘Sunlight beams unvarnished,’” Blade murmured, his amber eyes moving rapidly over the words. “I’ve heard that before.”
“When we read you the prophecy the first time?” Maverine added dryly, planting his hands on his waist.
Blade rubbed at his chin, frowning. “No. No, that’s not it.”
“‘When the tides turn all will be as it was.’” Evie repeated the prophecy’s decree with a thoughtful expression. “Anyone have any idea when that will be?”
Keeley cleared her throat. “I might.”
Gideon didn’t like the ominous statement, tugging his lip inward when she pulled a large piece of folded-up parchment from her pocket, flattened it with her hands, then turned it over for the room to see.
Evie’s hand flew up to her mouth as she stood from her chair with a choked sound, dark mist spilling out from her fingers and surrounding her legs. “No.”
Keeley’s face softened, sympathy pulling down the corners of her mouth. “They’re being spread all about the kingdom. Some say even across Rennedawn’s borders.”
“The king dies tonight,” Maverine growled, stalking for the door.
“No.”
Maverine halted at Evie’s command.
The word was resolute, but her eyes—gods, Gideon had never seen such sadness as he did now in the way Evie observed the etching of herself.
The wanted flyer was not as the others were, with her malevolent depiction and sinister half smile, the Wicked Woman painted sharply above.
No. This wanted flyer was a proclamation.
WANTED
THE TRUE VILLAIN
CORE HEALER KILLER
EVANGELINA SAGE
The portrait wasn’t frightening or exaggerated this time, nor was it a caricature. It was merely Evie’s sweet smile, her bright, open eyes. She looked kind and happy. And Gideon knew by the way his sister looked upon it, the likeness of her there cut so much deeper.
“It’s true,” Evie whispered. “So why shouldn’t they declare it?”
Gideon knew broken hearts were metaphors for pain, but a small part of him believed something inside his chest had just cracked.
Evie continued. “It’s time people stopped treating the wrong person as the pariah.”
“You think I give a damn how the citizens of Rennedawn feel about me?” Maverine spat the words in disgust. “Benedict didn’t do this because it is the truth. He did it to make it even more difficult for us to leave the manor, to fulfill the prophecy.”
“He told us a mistake was made twenty-four years ago.” Evie was swaying, and Trystan surged forward to catch her before she caught herself with a hand on the back of her chair. “He’s simply undoing it.”
“To my understanding, Benedict orchestrated all of this, Evie.” Becky stepped up beside his sister to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and Evie let her.
“You surely aren’t going to credit him for fixing what he purposefully damaged.
He’s trying to put focus on this to distract people from whatever atrocity he’s committing this week. ”
“Or perhaps…I am the atrocity.” Evie nodded absently, her curls having dried in wild patterns, framing her face in vines of dark strands.
“I’m feeling a little tired. I may go and lie down.
” Evie managed a small smile that Gideon suspected cost her something dear. “Don’t worry after me. I’m all right.”
No one stopped her when she drifted past them and out the door. All were frozen in the wake of watching the brightest person in the room…dim.
Yes. Evie had always been generous with her words.
And Gideon feared the consequences had finally arrived.