Chapter Eight
Tem glanced immediately at Caspen, who stared blankly back at her.
“Uh. Why?”
Evelyn gave her that sugary sweet smile again. “I thought it would be nice to get to know each other.”
“Why?” Tem said again. After the dinner they’d just had, she knew plenty about Evelyn already. And none of it was remotely good.
Evelyn’s smile widened. There was no joy in it. “Because you and Leo were…close.”
Tem knew she’d purposefully chosen not to say the word “married.” Always diminishing.
Always deflecting. “I see,” said Tem, even though she didn’t.
She couldn’t think of a single rational reason why she and Evelyn should get to know each other.
She’d rather hoped they would never have to speak again after tonight.
Tem looked at Leo, who was watching the two of them with his brow furrowed. Had he suggested this? Surely not. He couldn’t possibly want his former wife and his future wife to get to know each other. It defied logic.
“Perfect. Then it’s settled,” Evelyn said. “We’ll have some girl talk. Boys, will you excuse us?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Tem didn’t have time to wonder what the men were supposed to do while left alone in the dining room before Evelyn turned on her heel and walked into the library.
With one last desperate glance at Caspen, Tem followed, feeling as if she were walking toward her grave.
The moment she entered the library, memories crashed over her like a wave.
Leo sprawled in the leather armchair with lipstick on his neck, his hair mussed.
The taste of whiskey when he’d kissed her.
The hourglass was still sitting on the desk, the delicate flakes of gold piled in a mountain at the bottom.
Did Evelyn have any idea what had happened in this room?
So many lines had been crossed here—so many things had been said.
This was where Tem had allowed herself to kiss Leo without thought of the consequences, where she’d indulged in him for the first time on her own terms. How things had changed.
“So,” said Evelyn as she sat in one of the leather chairs. “How are you feeling, Tem?”
Tem remained standing. And silent.
“Please.” Evelyn gestured. “Sit.”
It was the last thing Tem wanted to do. But she also didn’t want to prolong the evening, and she had a feeling Evelyn wouldn’t let her out of this room until she’d gotten what she wanted out of this conversation.
So Tem sat.
Evelyn leaned in. “I imagine you’re feeling quite overwhelmed.”
That was certainly one way to put it.
“I know I’m feeling overwhelmed. There’s just so much happening with the wedding.”
The stupid wedding again. Tem resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was beginning to get whiplash from the way Evelyn changed her personality. One moment she was cold and dismissive, the next she was fostering a false sense of intimacy with her “girl talk.” Tem hated it.
“Besides,” Evelyn continued. “I’m dying to know more about you. Leo’s so secretive. I thought I’d go right to the source.”
Now Tem was beyond confused. Leo, secretive? He was anything but. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, to the point of inconvenience. There was nobody in the world who was easier to read than Leo.
“Well…what do you want to know?” Tem asked.
She had no idea where this conversation was going and was starting to wish she’d never allowed herself to be dragged in here.
She could have resisted—she could have screamed.
How could Caspen let this happen? Or worse, Leo?
They were both at fault. She would reprimand them later.
Evelyn leaned forward. “Did you love him?”
Kora. That was certainly getting straight to the point.
Tem noticed how Evelyn used the past tense—how she didn’t ask do you love him? It was an interesting distinction, and one that framed Tem’s relationship as something of the past no matter which way Tem answered. She decided to simply respond with the truth: “Yes.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “How long?”
“Excuse me?”
“How long did you love him for?”
That was a trickier question to answer. It implied there was an end to her love. But the truth was that Tem still loved Leo. She always would. “Why do you want to know that?”
Evelyn shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance, but the gesture came off stilted. “I’m just interested in your history.”
“Our history shouldn’t matter to you.”
Tem’s tone was a little harsher than she intended.
But it was true—Evelyn’s history with Leo was far more impactful than Tem’s.
Of the two of them, Evelyn was the one who had deeper roots with the current king.
Tem should be curious about her, not the other way around.
And yet Tem found that she didn’t want to know anything about their history.
She’d much rather pretend they didn’t have one.
That, at least, was easier than picturing the two of them together.
“Of course it matters,” Evelyn said. “You were important to him.”
Again, past tense. Tem couldn’t know for sure, but she would bet everything she owned that she was still important to Leo. He was still important to her.
But enough was enough. Tem didn’t owe Evelyn any details about her feelings for Leo, past or present. Evelyn was not in charge of this conversation just because they were in her home. Tem decided to take matters into her own hands.
“Where did you go?”
Evelyn crossed her arms defensively. “When?”
“When you decided to leave Leo.”
Tem could play with language too. She was purposefully framing Evelyn’s actions as her own choice, not one that was influenced by some letter.
“I went to a neighboring village.”
Tem frowned. The closest village was less than a day’s journey away. She couldn’t believe Evelyn had been so near yet hadn’t been tempted to return.
“And yet you never came back? Not even once, just to see him?”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “I thought Leo wanted me to stay away.”
This again. But Tem was done believing it. “But surely you would’ve tried to return at least once, just for a chance to change his mind, to ask him if he was really sure?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I didn’t want to risk it.”
“No? I would’ve.”
A testy silence fell. Then Evelyn said, “The letter was quite convincing.”
“And yet you destroyed it.”
“It was a painful memory for me.”
“So you said.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “Have you ever been broken up with, Tem?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“Then you can’t possibly imagine what it feels like.”
“I can imagine I wouldn’t accept being broken up with via letter.”
“Even if I had come back, his father wouldn’t have allowed us to be together.”
“I wouldn’t have accepted that either.”
“Then you don’t know Maximus as well as I do.”
“And how well do you know him?” This time Tem was the one asking pointed questions cloaked in innocence.
But Evelyn was clearly done playing games. She stood, crossing to the liquor shelf and gesturing at the bottles. “Shall we have some champagne?”
“I don’t drink champagne.”
“Oh, you must. It’s fabulous.”
Tem opened her mouth to protest again, but Evelyn was already pouring her a glass. She handed it to Tem, who took it with a grimace.
“This is our best champagne,” Evelyn said. “Worth its weight in gold.”
Tem looked down at the sparkling liquid with disgust. Anything worth its weight in gold was hardly worth anything to her. She’d bet that each sip probably cost more than her childhood cottage.
“Try it,” Evelyn insisted.
Tem raised the glass to her lips and took the world’s smallest sip. It tasted like dust to her.
“Well? Isn’t it delicious?”
Tem set down her glass. “Were you ever planning on coming back? After Maximus had died, say?”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows. She took a delicate sip of her champagne. “That’s quite morbid, don’t you think?”
“Not really. Everyone dies.”
Another sip of champagne disappeared down her throat. Then: “Life here was…difficult…as I’m sure you know.”
Was Evelyn referring to her own life in the village? Or was she attempting to relate to Tem, referencing her childhood on the chicken farm? Tem was surprised she knew anything about that, considering Leo was supposedly so secretive.
“Yes,” said Tem stiffly. “I can. But surely being just one village over was no less difficult?”
Was it her imagination, or did Evelyn avoid eye contact at the question?
“Well.” She played with the flute of her champagne glass. “It wasn’t…so bad.”
Tem’s senses pricked. Had she met someone? Was that what made life one village over not so bad? Had she fallen in love with a man who wasn’t Leo? But if that were the case, why had she returned? It would have been impossible to leave a new husband without making a scene.
“And what wasn’t so bad about it?” Tem prompted. She even raised the champagne to her lips to look like she was drinking it.
Evelyn shrugged, still looking down at her glass.
She was avoiding the question. There was something going on here, and Tem was determined to figure out what it was.
“I know if it were me,” Tem said pointedly, “I’d want to check up on Leo, just to make sure he hadn’t moved on.”
Silence.
“Then again, if I’d moved on myself, I wouldn’t care whether he had as well.”
A razor-thin pause. Evelyn’s eyes met hers. “Is that what you think? That I moved on?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
To her surprise, Evelyn let out a small laugh. “I didn’t move on, Tem.”
The way she said it made it seem like it should be obvious. But nothing about this conversation was obvious. Evelyn was proving impossible to figure out, and Tem was tired of talking in circles. She leaned in. “Then why did you leave? What did Maximus write in the letter? Did he threaten you?”
“Of course not. A king would never stoop so low.”
Tem snorted. A king certainly would. “What, then?”
Evelyn slid her finger up the flute of her champagne. She didn’t answer.
Tem stared at her blankly. What could be worth leaving Leo? She herself had only done it because she’d assumed he’d be better off with Evelyn. An assumption, she was rapidly learning, that was a categorically false one.
Still, Evelyn said nothing.
In the silence, Tem’s brain worked furiously. Why had Evelyn really left? She didn’t believe for a second that a letter would have done the trick. Not if she were truly in love. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t add up. There had to be another reason.
How much did Evelyn know about their current circumstances?
Did she know that Tem was the reason they were even sitting here—that Tem had been the one to order Leo to find her?
Tem would have thought it would’ve been the first thing Leo told her.
But according to Evelyn, he was secretive.
He was keeping things from her. He was lying.
But Tem didn’t care whether Leo lied. She cared whether Evelyn did.
Perhaps it was all an excuse—the letter, Maximus, all of it. It was Evelyn’s way out—her story to tell so that she didn’t seem like the villain. Her lie.
Tem leaned in.
“Do you want to know what I think? I think Maximus never wrote you a letter. That’s why you don’t have it.”
Evelyn’s lips pursed. She didn’t reply.
But Tem couldn’t stop. “I think you wanted to leave him. I don’t know why—that’s between you and Kora—but I think you were too much of a coward to tell him, so you left town.
When he came to find you, you made up the story about the letter so he would take you back.
And now you’re looking to me for support, to corroborate your lie. But I won’t do it.”
Evelyn still didn’t reply. She was watching Tem with shrewd intelligence, analyzing her.
“I’ll tell Leo,” Tem said.
A cruel smile tilted Evelyn’s lips. Finally, she spoke. “Will you now?”
A tenuous silence fell. The two women stared at each other.
“You don’t know my story,” Evelyn continued, her voice dangerously low. “And you’d better be absolutely sure you’re right before saying anything to Leo.”
Despite herself, Tem faltered. Evelyn hadn’t confirmed her theory.
She’d only smiled in that creepy way—hardly an admission of guilt.
Tem had no proof that she’d left Leo of her own accord.
Only suspicion. And she could not go to Leo with a suspicion.
It wasn’t enough. It would ruin everything, and what if Tem was wrong? What then?
Evelyn leaned closer. “He might have been yours once, but he began as mine and he is mine again now.”
Fury built in Tem like a storm.
“You think you know Leo, but I know him better,” Evelyn continued. “And I always will.”
“If you hurt him, I will—”
“What will you do, Tem? You are the one who hurt him. You left.”
“You left too.”
“I came back.”
Tem had nothing to say to that, no way to counter her argument. It didn’t matter, ultimately, whether Evelyn only came back because Tem had stepped aside. She was right—she had come back.
Tem stood abruptly. “This conversation is over. And I won’t be meeting with you in such a way again. Good night.”
With that, Tem swept from the room.