29. Evanee
Evanee
Memories didn’t dance through my mind like a beautiful epilogue to a story. They slammed through, one after the other, jumbling together, each one fighting to take center stage.
One memory cut through from my childhood with my mother at our estate.
Then, I was grown, solemnly walking down dark hallways. Back to swinging from a vine into a pond, my mother screaming at me that I’d ruined my pretty dress.
I couldn’t grasp them—each one a transparent thread I couldn’t hold onto.
They blurred into one another until nausea clawed up my throat.
In some images, it was as if I were an outsider, observing my younger self sneak through the window out to the courtyard on our estate, practicing with the wooden sword our stableman had made for me—each swing a rush of adrenaline, pretending I was one of the warriors for the kingdom.
I watched myself barely survive my teenage years, changing from awkward and gangly to a young female Gargoyle.
Back to my early days, when I changed forms for the first time, the steel-gray color dulled against my hair and eyes.
I relived my first flight—the rush of air beneath my wings, the strain of lift, the wild exhilaration as I climbed higher. I chased the moon until my lungs burned and my heart felt too large for my chest.
Then the images began to slow down and regain order as they sped forward to my adult years, right up to my betrothal.
I didn’t want to be in the court life. I wasn’t civilized enough for it, despite my upbringing.
While other females were fawning over the Prince at the palace balls, I’d sneak off into the armory and admire the different weapons they stored there, along with the different battle leathers they had on display from legendary warriors before my time.
Once, I even stumbled upon old tomes that told stories of those magnificent warriors and how, hundreds of years ago, some could wield magic in battle.
I’d seen Aiden at the balls, though I never paid him much attention. Marrying the prince wasn’t my ambition. What I wanted hadn’t mattered in the end.
Soon after our betrothal was announced, the Queen said we'd have a one-year engagement to allow time for proper planning. My mother and I were forced to move to the castle under the pretense that it was for “our safety.”
My mother could visit our estate.
I couldn’t.
Court customs dictated that a betrothed future Queen must reside within the palace walls—a symbol of her new role and dedication to the crown.
Tradition, they called it.
It was a gilded cage, one I could scarcely escape, even to walk the grounds.
Loneliness set in quickly. I became a prisoner to a life I would never have chosen.
Aiden hardly paid me any attention. When we did have our weekly arranged courting, it was strained. He wouldn’t attempt conversation; instead, he’d always be working on something he deemed more important. Like sharpening his sword, reading reports, or whatever else he could dredge up.
I tried to speak to him the first few times—to make the best of the hand I’d been dealt. But his cold eyes would look at me with thinly veiled contempt. So I stopped.
One day, I finally worked up the courage to ask him if I could train. If he would train me. I'd thought it might give us a way to bond or at least build a friendship.
I’d been naive.
He laughed, the first sign of emotion—but it was cruel.
“Do you honestly think I'd let my future Queen train as a soldier? Let’s get one thing straight. You’re here because my mother believes something ancient is in your blood.
Powers that died out in Gargoyles centuries ago,” he sneered.
“If she’s correct, it’ll pass to our children—and when it does, the Witches will extract whatever lies within our offspring, and give it to me. ”
A lead weight filled my stomach as his words settled over me.
“Aiden, I have no powers—”
“You are beautiful.” He smirked. “I’ll give you that. But you’re here to smile, be the beautiful face the kingdom needs to see, and most importantly, provide me with the means to gain whatever my mother believes is buried within you. That’s it.” He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm.
“I will not live my life on my back or at your beck and call. I’m not a fucking whore! You and your mother are delusional if you both think I have something remarkable in my bloodlines.”
The back of his hand cracked across my face.
The world tilted, stone rushing up to meet me.
I reached shaking fingers to my cheek as he crouched in front of me, cocking his head to the side.
Fear curdled in my stomach beneath his baleful expression.
“I suggest you learn your place quickly. This can be done civilly. Mutually. Or I can take what I want.” The blood drained from my face at the implications of his words.
“From what I hear, the crown paid off your mother’s debts as payment for you.
You belong to me now. You’re mine. Should you think otherwise, you’ll find yourself motherless and alone. ”
He stood over me, straightening his jacket.
“Don’t speak that foul language again. It’s not befitting of a Queen,” he said before walking away, leaving me on the floor in the middle of the hall, speechless with hot tears falling.
Days and days passed, and I became a ghost, wandering the Castle aimlessly with three guards always one step behind. A husk compared to the being I was before—scared to do anything.
I simply existed.
When my mother was there, beaming and going on and on about how extravagant my life would be, I put on the mask of happiness. She didn’t see my hollow cheeks or the weight I’d lost.
On the nights the royal family flew together, and I was permitted to join, she didn’t notice I’d cringe next to Aiden in his larger, dark blue form.
She didn’t see me flinch when he grabbed my hand in his, giving the facade that we were a happy new couple.
She never recognized the side of him that was a monster.
One day, Aiden wasn’t there. A Witch sat in his usual seat instead.
She radiated beauty from her elegant cream gown to her flawless amber skin and pristine, brown hair.
Even the unnerving red eyes didn’t scream malice, unlike how his blue ones did.
Her face and demeanor conveyed only warmth and kindness.
She demanded that my guards stay outside the door.
When they protested, she merely snapped her fingers, and they obeyed.
She'd told me she was there to help me acclimate to court life.
Those feelings replayed within me—dread, fear, wariness. I’d thought she was going to help further stamp out who I’d been.
She’d asked several times if she could help me adjust. I was too scared to tell her anything—worried it would get back to Aiden and affect my mother. And as nice as she was, I didn’t trust her.
So I stayed silent.
We had several meetings like that where she'd ask questions—never pressing for answers—or haphazardly tell me court rules and customs. I didn’t care, so long as it meant less time with Aiden.
Then one day, while the castle was sleeping in preparation for a festival later that night, she pulled me from bed, telling me to be quiet. That we were doing our lesson a little differently.
My guards were gone.
Panic and curiosity warred within me.
I hesitated before following her wordlessly through the silent hallways, then to a series of tunnels smelling of dirt and musk. My trepidation grew, instincts screaming at me to run back to my rooms before Aiden found out, but then—
We were outside of the castle, the sun bright and fierce, burning eyes that had grown accustomed to the dark and shadows. I threw an arm up, shielding myself from the onslaught.
Fear choked me, and paranoia glued my feet, keeping me from crossing the threshold. Aniah waved her hand across my face, and my skin prickled as the metallic taste of magic coated my tongue, settling over me. Instantly, the negative feelings washed away, replaced with reassurance that I was safe.
I followed her to some trees and stopped short when two huge males turned toward us. They were both in traditional human fighting leathers—all black—armed to the teeth. My gaze flicked to Aniah, but she only smiled and urged me forward.
The one on the right had beautiful, sleek, dark skin and a myriad of braids pulled back with a leather strap.
The smile on his face was as warm as his sun-colored eyes.
He had a bow in his hands and a quiver on his back with a sheath of daggers across his chest. More daggers were tucked into his black boots, the golden hilts shining. He bowed his head to me.
I was frozen, as my attention went to his companion.
His presence closed in around me—dark, intoxicating, inescapable.
Far beyond anything I’d ever felt from another male. Where Aiden tried to convince others of his power through bullying and abuse, this male radiated pure power.
A current of electricity ran beneath my skin as he raked his gaze over me, a spark flickering to life inside my hollow being.
He was the most beautiful male I’d ever seen—massive, muscular, towering even by our kind’s standards. His sleeveless black top clung to him, the leather stretched tight over a body carved from stone, accentuating the bulge of his tanned biceps.
My gaze climbed higher—over the ink on his shoulder, to the hard lines of his jaw, full lips, and high cheekbones, framed by wavy white hair that curled at the base of his neck.
His eyes—electric blue, threaded with silver—were intense enough to frighten anyone else, but not me. His quiet dominance called to me in a way I didn’t understand.
I straightened as his strong jaw clenched. He, too, assessed me. Sweat beaded on his brow as if they’d already been out here a while.
“Evanee, I want you to meet Malachai, he’s part of the King’s guard.” Aniah had motioned to the male on the right. “And this is—”
“Ryker.”