29. Evanee #2
His deep, gritty voice sent another wave of excitement through me, my toes curled in my slippers as exhilaration skittered down my spine. I kept my head high as I unabashedly met his intense gaze, offering a nod in acknowledgment.
At the end of the introduction, they offered to train me.
I refused.
I thought that Aiden was playing a cruel trick on me, or testing me, fear coiling tight in my chest. But after much convincing on Aniah’s part, I hesitantly agreed.
We trained. And I felt more alive than I had in months.
I never saw either male outside of our lessons—not among the guards, nor in the servant quarters. Not even at the festivals I was graciously allowed to attend.
I once asked Malachai why that was, but he shrugged it off, saying it was just a coincidence that we never ran into each other. So I let it go.
After the first month, Malachai stopped participating in physical training and instead always sat with Aniah under one of the nearby shade trees, shouting advice from time to time.
It made me feel as if I were alone with Ryker.
And that excited me more than it should.
It was a dangerous game, and I'd grown too comfortable with it.
In all of that time, Ryker was never much for words, yet we grew close.
He'd share tidbits of his childhood in the ocean-side village on the other end of the realm.
About an elder named Watka, who was like a Father to him, even though his own Father visited from time to time.
He told me about his mother, who I'd learned died within the past year, and I could see the anguish he still carried in the vigor with which he trained during our lessons.
I told him stories in turn, about my own life.
The countless times I’d sneak out to train with my crudely made weapons, and how my mother would react.
It was one of those stories I shared that made him smile at me for the first time.
It added to his already devastating features, sending my heart into a flutter.
But the first time he laughed—the sound was straight sinful, making my belly tighten in a way I'd never felt before.
When I was around Ryker, I was able to escape my cage for a while as he shared his stories and taught me proper technique with a dagger, then with a bow.
My favorite was when we worked on hand-to-hand combat.
Despite my ferocity in which I'd go at him, he was always so careful when he'd flip me or pin me in the lush grass. Always deflecting my attack.
Then one day, things changed.
Ryker had been teaching me a defensive maneuver—how to get out of an opponent’s grasp. He grabbed me from behind, towering over me, hard body flush against mine as he told me to free myself.
I did as he instructed.
My heel stomped down on his boot with every ounce of strength I could muster.
I threw my head back—though I only reached his throat—and when his arms loosened, I spun, curling my fingers toward my palm to strike up into his nose with the heel of my hand.
However, he grabbed my fist and swept my legs out from under me, sending me crashing toward the ground.
Only, he never let me crash; instead, he cradled my head so I wouldn’t hit hard, but as he lay on top of me, pinning me beneath his body, his eyes stayed locked on mine as his scent enveloped me and his thumb grazed my cheek.
After that day, it was as if a crack had opened in a door, and with each secret graze of our fingers or lingering looks, that crack widened.
Over that year, I saw the story unfold in my memories of unknowingly falling in love with him.
Each stolen glance.
Shared secrets—a lifeline thrown to me in my beautiful imprisonment.
The harsh reality always pulled me back, cleaving me in half, knowing I couldn’t call off the wedding—could never truly be with him.
Every moment with Aiden grew increasingly unbearable as Ryker dominated my thoughts. My heart ached with an unspoken longing I dared not voice, for fear of my mother’s life. Ryker and I never discussed my situation with Aiden, but I knew he was aware of what kind of male Aiden was.
When I showed up to our session with a purple, finger-shaped bruise on my arm where Aiden had grabbed me, Ryker looked murderous. He asked if I was okay, his voice a mixture of concern and restrained fury.
After a warning look from Aniah, he forced it aside, and we trained as usual.
Though I remember him sparring with Malachai, showing me different offensive hand-to-hand combat techniques, his movements were furious and unrelenting as he advanced on Malachai, anger simmering beneath his sharp eyes.
Malachai had taken every hit, every kick, as if he understood Ryker’s wrath stemmed from more than the bruises on my skin.
Every movement was a silent promise that there was more to us than circumstance allowed.
Before I knew it, the dreadful year had passed. My freedom would truly be over.
No more training sessions.
No more Ryker.
What we'd been doing was dangerous enough while I was engaged. Married and matched to Aiden… I couldn’t risk it. I wouldn’t risk him.
We were supposed to celebrate the blooming moonflowers the night before my matching ceremony and marriage.
I snuck off on my own during the day to our usual meeting spot just outside the castle, and I waited.
The overwhelming need to tell Ryker how I felt made me feel like I was about to burst. He needed to know that if I could call off the wedding, I would. Two hours passed. Ryker never showed.
Disappointment mixed with paranoia at his absence as I readied myself for the festivities. Had we been found out? Could he be in a cell below? Or maybe he was done with me now that I was getting matched? The uneasiness stole the light from my eyes and twisted my stomach into a knot.
Then something unexpected happened that night as I prepared for the festival, alone in my room. Something I couldn’t tell a soul. As I shifted forms to paint the customary symbols of peace and longevity on my body, my Gargoyle color had changed.
The gray was completely gone, replaced by a color I'd never seen before—and instinct screamed that something was wrong.