Chapter 8 #2
Those words gave me pause. “Our first interaction?”
His words and behavior mirrored a first meeting, yet I couldn’t shake the dissonance I felt, nor the sense I’d seen him long before even last night. The memory hovered just out of reach, farther than even the most stubborn secrets embedded in the objects I touched.
He arched a brow. “Surely any prior meeting would have been memorable enough that you couldn’t have mistaken someone so handsome for anyone else?”
Unbidden, treacherous heat engulfed my cheeks. “You remind me of someone I met in a dream.”
It was the wrong admission to make to someone with an inflated ego. By the wide grin that spread across his face, I immediately knew I’d made a mistake.
“Your dreams, you say? That changes everything. It appears your fire and banter were merely your attempt to flirt.” He tilted his head, studying me as if trying to recall that forgotten moment. “If I could offer a small correction: I believe you meant I’m the man of your dreams.”
My heart gave a strange lurch I couldn’t account for even as my insulted pride flared in anger. “In your dreams. Unfortunately for you, the man from mine was much more charming.”
I’d meant it as a jab, but the words tasted strange on my tongue. There had been something different about the man in that surreal garden—something quieter, shadowed, almost haunted. As if I hadn’t dreamed him at all, but stepped into a nightmare that belonged to someone else.
“Then perhaps the question I should truly be asking,” he said, leaning in with a wink, “is how to change that.”
My heart lurched again, caught between irritation and an attraction I refused to acknowledge. A whirl of complicated emotions surged—the frustration and fascination of being bested for the first time in my life, made all the more difficult when the victor was unfortunately quite handsome.
Who knew losing a battle could be so attractive?
But it couldn’t be helped. I prized wit over looks…and this man was fortunate enough to possess both, as if he’d been born a walking trap meant to seduce me from my purpose.
The longer we spoke, the more tilted the world became, and I loathed the feeling. Whatever was happening, I yearned to escape…or at least the logical part of me did. But he didn’t let me slip free so easily.
His teasing smirk softened into something almost thoughtful. “I’m quite certain I would have remembered someone as memorable as you. Climbing palace walls in bare feet and torn skirts leaves quite the impression. Won’t you tell me your name?”
“Considering that despite your hopes you’re not the man of my dreams, I have very little reason to tell you.”
“Stubborn.” But he seemed to find even greater amusement in this. “Then I’ll go first.” He swept into a mocking bow. “Evander at your service, but I’ll also answer to ‘infuriating pest’ if it pleases you.” He offered a gallant dip of his head.
If he was going to be insufferable, I might as well know what to call him when I was cursing his name.
Evander. There was something familiar about that name, though the recollection seemed to have been locked away with my other out-of-reach memories.
I stared at him, willing the recollection to return but couldn’t pull it from the murky depths that seemed to have swallowed bits of my past.
He waited, clearly expecting me to offer my name in return, but it was the one possession I refused to have stolen or given freely. I’d learned early in my thieving days that names had power, and I refused to relinquish mine so easily.
“Evander.” The name tasted both foreign and familiar on my tongue. “Is it Sir Evander? Or perhaps Count? You’re clearly no servant…or gardener.” I waited to see if any recognition sparked at the mention of gardening, like the man in my dream.
But he simply smiled and shook his head. “Not so fast. I believe it’s your turn to share some information.”
I met his gaze defiantly, despite the odd desire that sprang up in me to hear him say my name.
At my extended silence, he stepped closer—not threateningly, but unreasonably at ease, as if this was all part of some long-planned routine I’d unknowingly stepped into.
There it was again—that echo, felt in the tilt of his head and the weight of his gaze.
Not just a stranger’s smirk now, but something else I couldn’t name, like a question I didn’t know how to answer.
“The mystery around you only deepens,” he murmured. “Don’t worry, I’ll discover your name somehow.”
Instinctively, I stepped back straight into the wall, still humming with the spell that kept me imprisoned. “You’re welcome to try.” A secret part of me almost wanted him to win that particular game.
He chuckled. “Can I take that challenge as an invitation? Perhaps your reluctance to share more about yourself is due to your unquenchable curiosity about me?”
There was far more truth to his teasing quip than I could admit, even to myself. My gaze must have lingered on him a moment too long, earning me a knowing smile and another of his teasing winks.
“As fascinating as my background is, my illustrious history won’t help you out of your current predicament.” He gestured lazily to the wall, still acting as a firm barrier between me and freedom.
It was an obvious evasion, leaving me even more curious about the secrets he harbored.
But while normally this kind of verbal sidestep would make me even more determined to discover what he was hiding, he brought up a necessary point that I’d foolishly forgotten: this conversation was of little consequence compared to my true purpose—solving the puzzle of the seemingly impenetrable wall.
I turned away from my aggravating distraction and surveyed it, craning my neck to take the forbidding structure in from top to bottom.
I rested my hand against the stone. Magic pulsed steadily beneath my palm, but no matter how much I concentrated, the enchantment extended far beyond the whispered sigils and street charms I knew.
This was court magic—layered, ancient, and impossible to decipher.
At last, Evander shifted his scrutiny from me to the cursed barrier, allowing me a breath of space…until he rested his hand beside mine, so near we were almost touching.
Evander’s brow furrowed, seemingly oblivious to our less-than-decorous proximity. “This is quite the enchantment. But luckily for this damsel in distress, not beyond my superior knowledge.”
I opened my mouth to offer one of the retorts burning my lips…
but shock seized my voice as he stepped closer, awashing me in his alluring proximity.
I expected him to smell masculine—an expensive cologne befitting his station, or perhaps roses, like the man he reminded me of from my dreams. But strangely, he didn’t smell of anything, nor did I feel the warmth of his body, as if the only evidence of his presence was his appearance.
I was almost tempted to poke him again, just to confirm he was real. But touching him would only give him more fuel to torment me. Annoyingly, he’d already tallied enough wins for the morning; I refused to give him another.
I stiffened and edged a few inches away, but he didn’t seem to notice, his attention remaining entirely on the shimmery stones.
“Walls are quite interesting,” he murmured.
“Depending on the circumstances, they offer protection and security…or serve as a barrier to keep someone out. Or, as in your case, someone in.”
Evander’s gaze slid back to me, no longer filled with the lighthearted teasing that had colored our interaction so far, but something shrewder, almost calculating.
“It’s rare to see someone dressed as you are trying to escape somewhere as grand as a palace…unless you’re a prisoner up to something you shouldn’t be.” He gave me an appraising look, one that seemed to read my secrets as easily as my magic uncovered the stories in objects.
“Perhaps I simply like scaling walls for fun,” I said coolly. “They’re far more interesting than escaping through the front door.”
“Ah, so you are escaping. I might have guessed.”
I silently cursed my slip of the tongue. I lifted my chin, masking my fluster with a glare. “Are you going to turn me in? I’m sure the king would be immeasurably impressed that a noble such as yourself caught a young woman in the unspeakable crime of attempting to leave the palace.”
Evander gave me an odd look but simply shrugged. “That depends entirely on what you’re running from. Perhaps I can guess.”
I doubted anyone could guess the full extent of what I’d been imprisoned for, especially when I’d long since lost track.
Over the course of a single day, I’d trespassed, explored a vanished prince’s bedroom, touched a priceless object meant only for royals, awakened to an altered reality, and escaped from the chambers meant to hold me.
I rested my hand back against the stone, still pulsing with magic.
Come to think of it, this was the western side of the grounds; last night, I’d infiltrated the palace from the east. Maybe only certain sections of the wall were enchanted, or I’d stumbled upon a rare breach in the magic when I’d entered.
It was worth investigating…as soon as I could rid myself of the annoying yet distracting person watching my every move.
I began circumnavigating the wall, splitting my focus evenly between studying each section I passed and keeping careful watch on my surroundings.
I reached out with my senses as I walked, keeping my hands demurely clasped as though I was out for a simple morning stroll that just happened to include skulking along the wall.
I hoped that would be the end of this trying conversation—I didn’t have the patience or margin for error to deal with charming distractions—but Evander seemed determined to aggravate me further by following me. I slowed just enough to cast him a withering glare.
“Did you need something more from me beyond my irritation?”