37. Evanee
Evanee
The fog kept me obscured from view, its guidance a caress, as if it were Ryker’s hand brushing over my back and arms.
The castle loomed over me, the moon reflecting in the obsidian stone. My skin prickled the closer I got—my instincts warning me to turn away.
I gritted my teeth and pressed on.
We’d watched for some time from deep in the woods, noting the servants coming and going from a side entrance. With Ryker’s coverage, I swiftly crossed the grounds to that entrance. My breath caught, eyes locked on the door as I descended the stairs.
This was where the plan wasn’t great—we didn’t know the layout.
The fog lingered at the stairs as I eased the wooden oak door open, wincing as the hinges creaked. I exhaled, seeing that the small entry hall was clear, and eased inside.
Sweet aromas drifted to me from the kitchens—it was unnerving to have such a normal, warm smell in a place that was cold and evil.
The clatter of plates echoed down the hall, followed by a shout from the cook about muffins. I hesitated as the shouting moved my way—it stopped, returning the way it came.
Moving carefully, I turned left, away from the commotion, senses sharpened to everything around me. Pantry, cupboard, a washroom. My feet stayed silent on the stones as I scanned every room.
Rounding the corner, I came upon stone steps that led to a door.
Light flooded through the closed frame. I barely breathed, careful not to scrape the steel strapped to my back against the wall, and pulled a dagger from my boot, palming it as I ascended.
Breath stalled in my throat as I pushed open the door a hair—another hall.
Air slipped past my lips as I eased through.
Another fork at the end of the short hall. Left again.
Voices sounded ahead.
I slowed, pressing myself against the wall once more. Only the light squeak of my fighting leathers rubbing together filled the hall.
The voices went from normal chatter to urgent shouts. I waited until they disappeared. Whatever Ryker was doing, I could only hope it kept the Fae and whoever else was here away long enough for me to find Aniah.
An archway stretched ahead, leading into a grand room. I peeked through the cracked door, then pushed through once I confirmed it was empty.
It was rustic and bare—paintings on the walls of old Fae nobility, along with the heads of various otherworldly beasts, similar to the useo—one with gnarled black horns twisting to sharp points, rows of jagged teeth.
Another with pits for eyes and sickly, hairless, pale skin, mid snarl revealing rotted fangs.
One head caught my attention, though—three sets of eyes with slits like a snake and beautiful teal scales that turned violet where the head was severed.
My heart tugged as those glass eyes seemed to look at me, asking why I couldn’t help it—I grimaced, tearing my gaze away.
Howls and shrieks sounded outside. I hurried to the window, peering out, brows raised.
A blizzard, thick and angry, was in full effect.
Snow blew in every direction, making it nearly impossible to see.
A snow-filled tornado tore past with something large inside it—a Werewolf twirled within the vortex, crying out, eyes bulging.
I bit down a laugh, knowing the image would be printed in my mind forever. Ryker’s distraction would definitely keep the enemy busy.
Silently crossing the room, I pressed my ear against a closed door and waited. Listened. Boots hitting the stone thumped by, with angry shouts. When the voices grew distant, I carefully cracked open the door.
All clear.
I slipped out, moving quickly across the grand entry to the shadows beneath the stairs.
Another set of footsteps echoed—too close. I pressed back as far as I could in the shadows, but I knew that one look in my direction, and I’d be caught. My hand squeezed around the dagger.
The footsteps slowed.
My pulse quickened, panic clawing inside me. I held as still as the stone wall at my back.
Aiden.
Black fighting leathers molded to him like a second skin, blades glinting in the torches’ glow. My breath hitched. How did I not remember him at all? Anger burned through me. My knuckles whitened as I squeezed my weapon harder. He’s right there. I would only need to aim true with my dagger—
He stilled—then drew in a slow breath through his nose.
Blue eyes flashed bright as they snapped open.
My stomach knotted tight enough to hurt. I pressed into the shadows harder, hoping they would consume me. Cover me. Protect me.
He turned his head until his glare was aimed directly at me.
Every slow click of his boots drove deeper into my nerves.
“Captain, this fucking weather—it isn’t natural, and the Shadow Stalkers can’t track a damn thing. I don’t know if we’re under attack, but even if we are, we can’t see or smell shit!”
“Evanee,” Aiden snarled, then stalked off in the opposite direction toward the main doors. My brows creased.
Surely he saw me.
I blinked as I cautiously moved and looked back at where I’d hidden—I could see it all. Especially with my enhanced sight. Why hadn’t he?
The shadows shielding me shifted—like a living thing. Coiling and twisting like a snake until they squeezed through the cracks—just gone. Uneasiness settled in my gut. No time. Keep moving.
After two more near encounters with passing guards, I deduced Aniah wasn’t on the lower level.
I ascended the stairs quickly and quietly, ducking into a hidden alcove, listening. Manacles clinked down the hall, making my pulse quicken. I followed the sound to an unguarded door. It wasn’t even locked.
“Evanee!” Aniah whispered hoarsely. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. Relief rushed through me as I clicked the door shut and put my dagger back in my boot.
“Aniah,” I smiled. “My memories are back, thanks to you. You didn’t give up on me—” Something moved to my right, and I damn near jumped out of my skin.
“Great moon!” I hissed.
Malachai smirked, those gold eyes looking at me not with the coldness I'd been so uncomfortable with these past weeks, but the warmth of friendship I remember at a time I needed it most.
“I thought…” I swallowed thickly. “You’re back,” I said, the words barely making it out before I lunged forward and hugged him.
He winced. “So are you. I’m sorry. I tried to keep him away from you. The spell—”
“I know, Malachai.” I pulled back, frowning. “You’re hurt.” His wings were out and twisted unnaturally, and he was covered in blood. “Shit—what happened?”
“We’ll explain later,” Aniah said, hurriedly. “We need to go. The Coven Council is here, and if Aiden or the King get their hands on you…” My mouth pressed into a firm line as I gave a sharp nod at the implications of that. I didn’t need the reminder.
“Aniah, you need to call on the bond—call Thaddeus,” I said as I looked around, my sight cutting through the bare room for anything that could possibly help remove the iron from their wrists.
Malachai growled behind me. “What bond? Aniah, what have you done?”
“What I had to,” she snapped back. Malachai fell silent, the air around him heavy with restrained anger, but he said no more about it. Not yet, anyway.
The door suddenly opened, making us all freeze—I frowned at the female standing in the frame, a key dangling from her finger.
“Lyra,” Aniah said, her voice filled with surprised relief.
My attention jerked to her in disbelief. “You know her?”
“Very much so,” Aniah beamed.
Lyra shuffled in, quickly shutting the door. Her tattered clothes had been swapped for something cleaner. Instead of the brown dress, she now wore a steely gray one, overlaid with a white apron, her usual wild hair pulled back into two tight braids.
“Sorry it took me so long. Had to wait for those old crones to leave, but not before giving the cook a big order—” She sighed dramatically, freezing, and blinking as she noticed Malachai. “The big guy is going to make this difficult,” she clucked, looking him up and down disapprovingly.
“Uh huh…” I said slowly. “I’m sorry—can we go back to how you know each other?”
Aniah answered, “Her mother worked in the kitchens at the Castle, in the Western Realm. Lyra practically lived there.”
“I don’t remember you. But I… didn’t know most of the staff." Because I hadn't been allowed to do much of anything out of the confines of my rooms. "How has Aiden not recognized you?”
“Oh, please! That pompous ass thinks he’s better than everyone else. He never paid attention to the lower class. Especially us humans,” she snorted as she handed me the key to the manacles.
I took it quickly, freeing them as I processed what she’d said.
“Lyra, did you know who I was? Back at Castle Aurelia?” I asked as Aniah helped Malachai, her small frame firm, draping his arm around her shoulders.
“Sure did! I couldn’t believe it when you showed up. Thought it was weird since, you know, I technically got there after you. Found out that Witch had you in the dungeons a while.”
My face twisted as I snapped around to face her.
“You were awful,” I accused.
She looked at me innocently. “Had to pretend I didn’t know you.”
“Pretty damn convincing,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.
“We need to hurry—Lyra, do you have it?” Aniah whispered, her red eyes eerily lit up in the torchlight.
“Yup. Kept it safe, just like the creepy wind told me to when it appeared.” Lyra pulled out that little necklace she always held as if it were her life source.
If I’d looked closer before, I'd have seen it sooner—something writhed beneath the glassy surface. My instincts recoiled in its presence. Something felt wrong with it. Dark. Unnatural.
“Aniah, is that the object—” I started.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“She’s the human you sent it—”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Enough. Lyra, keep it hidden a little longer.”
Lyra gestured toward Malachai, who was looking rather pale. “Is he normal again?” she whispered to Aniah.
“I’m right here,” he growled.
“Yeah, okay, but you’re a big brute and have been a pretty convincing Fae flunky.”
Lyra ignored his glower as she cracked the door and scanned the hall.