Chapter 43
Evie
“Run it back from the beginning, boys! We’re on in three days! I’m going to need you to get your shit together or get the deadlands off my stage!”
Evie’s cousin Helena was, in a word, terrifying. The actors scurried about like worker ants across the wide stage at even the hint of her displeasure, all jumping at her barking orders except the men playing security at the back entrance.
“I should’ve just remained at your house. This feels risky,” Evie pressed, shame and guilt pressing in, too, pushing on her lungs until no air remained.
Oh my gods, she’d fucked up.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Helena flipped her thick, dark hair behind her shoulders, fiddling with the sapphire dangling from her neck. “The Heart Village is in public opposition to King Benedict. We border two kingdoms, he cannot make any orders on our soil, and nobody here would report you.”
Helena slapped her forehead when Fritz, Evie’s former kidnapper from her first visit to the Heart Village, stumbled over his lines on the stage. It was outlandish to think, but her memories of that jaunt, of nearly dying with Trystan in the theater’s dungeon, now felt like a happier, simpler time.
Trystan. He’d survived what she’d done to him—physically, at least. Her heart spoke gently to her that he’d forgive her, that he’d understand. He’d stood by her through every ounce of hardship. What was one more? They’d finally agreed to move forward together.
And I nearly stabbed him in the heart.
There was no need to take a match to her life. It was already burning.
As was the disastrous play she was witnessing.
Two more men she recognized were dressed for some sort of horror spectacle, the gory makeup taking a back seat to their beaming grins. “Hello, Ms. Sage!” It was one of the larger goons; she tilted her head, certain it was the same man who had gagged her during her first visit.
She made to greet him in her usual friendly manner, because really, that was hardly the worst thing that’d been done to her in the past few weeks. But before she could, one of the other actor/kidnappers elbowed him in the gut.
“Oi! No one’s supposed to know she’s here, dunderhead.”
“I know that! That’s why I didn’t say her first name!”
“I’m surrounded by buffoons.” Helena groaned into her hands, not moving a single muscle when the men broke into fisticuffs.
“Should we stop them?”
“The men in this play are meant to be torn from battle. We’re really just saving the makeup department time.
” Her cousin sighed, her eyes going to the gray corners of her theater, moving over the walls.
Color remained, magic still present, but it was growing fainter by the day.
Evie had yet to be there a full seven days and had already watched that gray patch grow farther on the wall like a spider’s web.
You fucked up, Evie.
“I ran, Helena,” Evie said quietly, feeling her heart seize and her stomach fill with rocks. The cool air coming in through the open windows blew against the sweat at her neck, chilling her. “I’m no better than my mother.”
“Evie.” Helena looked at her, unamused. “You sent a detailed note to Gideon with instructions for every possible situation after the missive arrived with Trystan’s status of life, and then exchanged several more with him to check in. You’ve been gone seven days. Aunt Nura left for ten years.”
Evie flinched, feeling the dark magic rising in her chest, but it was almost instantly pushed down, blocked by the bridge trolls’ magic ever since she’d entered the village. “I was still a coward,” she whispered, because she had been. She’d given up.
“I think you’ve earned a few days of cowardice, cousin.
” Helena began to roam the theater, ticking things off on her clipboard, inspecting safety equipment.
Evie followed her like she did when they were little girls.
“You’re undergoing quite the career change.
Assistant to Villain in a matter of months?
You’ll make movers and shakers in Fairy Tale Weekly. ” Helena laughed.
Evie squinted her eyes and scrunched her nose. “No. Don’t be alarmed. I’m laughing on the inside,” she muttered dryly, bumping her cousin with her shoulder when she heard her answering snort.
“So you’re being labeled the kingdom’s doom. Who cares? You’re a woman in possession of great power being torn down by some insecure men. I know you’re traumatized and all, but that doesn’t actually make you special. That happens all the time.”
“Oh, sure.” Evie waved a hand. “A casual Friday.”
Helena snapped, grinning. “Now you’ve got it. Oh. I meant to ask—how attached are you to your fingers?”
Evie looked left to right. “Is this leading to a dirty joke? Where’s Douglas and his notebook?” The glaring man was nowhere to be found, nor was his tiny book he was constantly writing in. A shame—she was on a roll.
“No, I just figured with the bounty on your head, they might give us half the reward money for a body part you wouldn’t miss.”
Evie’s lip twisted in revulsion. “Helena, that is disgusting.”
Her cousin replied solemnly, “So is inflation.”
“Helena! The new security team is here!” Fritz called down, sporting two blooming bruises upon his face that he seemed quite pleased about.
“Let them in, Fritz! Take someone with you!” Helena ordered. “And let’s take a five-minute break, okay?” The performers gratefully exited stage left.
“If the entire village is meant to be trusted, why do we need security?”
With a sweep of her golden gown, Helena practically twirled away, running a gloved finger over one of the armrests.
“The security is merely to protect the performers by ensuring that no one comes in with any sort of weapon. Plus, we’ve had a few in the crowd get handsy in the past, so I thought it easier to stop them before they need to be punished. ”
“But isn’t it expensive?” Evie whispered.
Helena shrugged, uncharacteristic vulnerability creeping onto her face for just a moment before she winked back into her indulgent smirk.
“As ruthless as I can be, I won’t sell my soul to keep one more coin.
If there’s money to spare for security, then we pay for it.
There’s money to spare. That’s all it is. ”
Evie wondered what it was about the people in her life not being able to accept praise for a kind act. Evie herself didn’t need the praise to be kind, but it was always nice when someone acknowledged the warmth you chose to give others.
The sun still shone without any praise, but Evie liked to think it brightened when she complimented it anyway. It was a happy thought. She had too few of them lately.
It was killing her spirit. It wasn’t who she was. Is. She had never been the sort to wallow, to allow the pain to lessen the joy that kept her going. But perhaps that was the problem. How many times could she bounce back before she destroyed what remained?
“I’m surprised my mother didn’t return here before I did,” Evie said woodenly, disappointed but not surprised by the rejection.
Digging her fingers into the pockets of the dress she had borrowed from Helena, she noted it was just a tad big in the chest, but her cousin had expensive tastes, and the pool of soft blue silk spilled over her curves in a distinctly feminine way.
“I wouldn’t have accepted her back here; give me some credit.” Helena frowned. “Maybe she’ll return to my father. Wouldn’t that just be a disaster?”
“He’d turn her in,” Evie guessed, knowing her uncle was too hard a believer in their corrupt kingdom. It was easy to ignore them when the bad things weren’t right in front of you, but it didn’t make them less real.
Helena looked grave, placing her clipboard down on an empty chair. “My father is ignorant and unwilling to learn. Two very dangerous things. Let’s hope your mother is smart enough to know that about him.”
A commotion at the back entrance to the theater pulled both their attention.
Evie’s heart pounded in her chest. Was it him?
Had he come for her? And what a contradiction, the hope stirring, because she’d simultaneously been desperately trying to shake the image of him hunched over on the ground, hurt by her own hands.
Evie believed there were things a person was never meant to see in life. That pain and fear in Trystan’s eyes had triggered a terrifying premonition. A life where they were enemies, true enemies, nothing between them but hatred.
It somehow didn’t seem conducive to a healthy long-term relationship.
And yet, regardless of every reason she knew she shouldn’t, she wanted it to be him badly enough that it crushed her when it wasn’t.
Don’t be a raging hypocrite, Evie!
Be a raging bitch instead. It’s more fun and hurts less.
The new guards came in to switch posts by the doors, all keeping their heads low to the ground in deference to Helena. It made Evie smile. “You’re really the queen of this castle, aren’t you?”
Helena tapped the top of her head. “And yet I’m crown-less.” They laughed, Helena’s usual smirk twisting into something genuinely happy. “Drink?” She nodded toward the empty stage, and moments later, there they sat, Helena dumping another bit of gin into Evie’s cup.
The stage lights were on, the sun on the verge of vanishing for the day.
Evie knew she had to go home—gods knew how Lyssa felt, having their mother gone and then Evie within a few days of each other.
But for the moment, she would let herself indulge in this simple pleasure of drinking with her cousin.
She took another hearty swig, feeling the warmth rush down into her belly, her limbs relaxing slightly as she rocked back on her hands.
“Helena?” Evie asked, then swallowed another gulp before clumsily pouring herself a second glass. “Do you believe in true love?”
“Sure.”
“That’s too casual a response to a heavy question.” Evie wagged a finger in her cousin’s face.
Helena turned her head away, but Evie could still see the soft smile on her cousin’s lips when she answered, “Of course I do, goose; I’m not so cynical. Not yet, anyway. I’ve seen it firsthand.”
“When?” Evie asked warily.
“Not with you and Maverine,” Helena deadpanned, waving her hands and howling in laughter when she spied Evie’s face. “I’m kidding! Oh my gods, you are so unfunny when you’re having an identity crisis.”
“Sorry my life being in shambles isn’t entertaining for you. How can I be more fun?” Evie asked hollowly.
“I don’t know. Do some jumping jacks or something.”
Evie stood and did ten of them, the gin pooling in her belly and making her warm and languid.
Helena clapped and shook the empty gin bottle with a huff of disbelief. “The gin was stolen by invisible pixies.”
“I’ll get more! Where?” She turned, holding her hands over her eyes as she squinted toward the spotlight.
“There’s a cart around the corner.” Helena tossed Evie her coin purse and popped up to fiddle with a set piece out of place.
Evie stumbled down the stage stairs and toward the back of the theater, where the three security guards stood, stoic and unmoving. “Excuse me?” Evie took a step closer. “Could you move? I have to run a quick errand.”
“Allow us to escort you, miss,” one of the guards said under their breath, head tilted down. But the voice was familiar.
Warning bells blared, and though she could not tell the difference anymore between actual danger or the hint of it, she still knew caution was safer.
“Oh, thank you, but that is not necessary. It is right around the corner, and I’d prefer to go alone.
” She delivered this answer with her shoulders back, looking at them head-on, letting them know she was not intimidated.
I am doom!
And not just in a bad pun sort of way. Like actually.
The guard nodded stiffly, stepping aside to let her through.
Her hackles were up until she was outside, the pretty colors in the sky and the brisk evening air sending goose bumps down her arms in a pleasant refresh, with the alcohol heightening the effect.
All at once, she felt a weight lifted, walking the water’s edge of the Heart Village in a peaceful quiet.
The villagers were making their way home to their families, most not sparing her a second glance.
Most but not all.
Because while Evie was rip-roaring drunk, she had not trained under The Villain of Rennedawn and come away with nothing. Her peace fell away like worn thread when she realized—she was being followed.
Dodging the cart selling the alcohol, she made another right turn until she’d done a full ciruit around the square. The presence still loomed, and she had no magic to protect her. Her dagger had been left behind. Inside Trystan’s chest.
She turned down another street, this one empty.
The art of surprise was to her advantage, but Evie was vehemently opposed to the word “subtle,” so on a cry she turned and swung her fist, connecting with hard muscle. A grunt followed before she was lifted off her feet, and when she saw the man’s face—
She screamed.