Chapter 17
Evangeline
I’ve been in my fair share of hospitals, and it never gets any easier.
The air is stale and suffocating. The stench of death lingers just above the surface and around every corner, as if Death himself lurks in the shadows.
Wails of the dying fill the air, but the silence proves most chilling.
Wails show signs of life, but silence? Silence is deadly.
Stricken-looking fae I presume to be healers bounce between rooms. Lady Thalia looks as if she wishes to join them, but she stays close to me, leading me down a long, narrow hallway.
I feel as if I’ve walked this path before.
Many times, in fact. Usually carrying a homemade meal since both my parents hated hospital food.
It wasn’t terrible, but I understood their need for familiarity, and cooking had always been comforting to our family.
I once walked halls like this with my mother when my father was in the hospital, and then alone once my mother got sick.
Lady Thalia and Finnick’s presence is a nice reprieve, even though we aren’t here to visit my parents.
My parents are long dead back in Grym Hollow.
I’m here to learn more about the state of the kingdom and the sickness plaguing their land. What did Niko call it? A curse.
Still, despite knowing the reason I’m here, I can’t shake the images of my parents during their final days. My father got sick first. Cancer, which fucking sucks. I watched his body destroy itself. I’m convinced it’s the reason my mother was never the same after his death. She lost her soulmate.
“Evangeline dear?” Lady Thalia’s voice cuts through the haze of memory like a bell, sharp and gentle all at once. I freeze mid-step, the shadows of my past still clinging to me, reluctant to let go. Her voice tugs me back to the present, and I glance over my shoulder.
She’s no longer at my side.
Lady Thalia and Finnick have both stopped several paces behind me, standing in front of an unmarked door I hadn’t noticed.
Their eyes are fixed on me, faces drawn with concern.
Lady Thalia’s brow is creased, her lips pressed into a thin line, and Finnick’s shoulders are tense, his jaw set.
It’s probably the most serious I’ve ever seen him.
They’re watching me as if I might shatter from everything I have seen and experienced since I’ve arrived.
I’m not as fragile as they make me out to be.
“Eva, what were you thinking about?” Finnick jumps from his perch on his mother’s shoulder and flutters over to me. He lands on the tip of my nose, and I go cross-eyed to see him.
“Just…” I hesitate. The words are on the tip of my tongue but won’t take form.
My parents were more than words from my lips.
Nothing I say can capture the vibrancy they added to my life or the love they showered me in.
It’s not that I don’t want to share them with Finnick and Lady Thalia, but I fear anything I say will be inadequate.
Thankfully, Lady Thalia catches on to my internal struggle and clears her throat. “Give her some space, my boy. It’s never easy to be around the sick.”
Finnick scrunches up his face, looking like he wants to argue. After a tense moment, he relents and moves to perch on my shoulder. “Fine. Let’s liven it up with your remedy closet.”
“It’s not a closet,” Lady Thalia argues.
“And I’m ten feet tall,” Finnick mumbles, and I can’t help but smile.
Lady Thalia ignores her son and pushes open the door. A wave of rosemary and chamomile drifts out to greet us, warm and comforting. She beckons for us to follow, and we step inside.
Finnick wasn’t far off when he called it a closet.
The room is small—much smaller than the ones we passed on the way here.
Or perhaps it only feels that way because every inch of space is crammed with something.
Bundles of dried herbs and flowers hang from the low ceiling, their colors faded but still vibrant enough to be recognized.
Shelves line the walls, overflowing with jars, books, and tools I can’t name.
Mortar and pestles of varying sizes sit on a narrow worktable, alongside small knives, vials filled with powders, and a few softly glowing stones.
It’s cluttered, chaotic even, yet it all feels intentional—like everything has its place in the madness.
“It’s not much to see,” Lady Thalia starts, a warm fondness in her tone. “But it’s like my second home. I spend many hours here. Creating. Learning.”
“Creating and learning what, exactly?” I carefully step farther into the room, not wanting to knock something over or step on something important. The room is cramped for one person and stifling with two. But despite feeling overwhelming, there’s a certain peacefulness in the air.
“Remedies. Learning how to cure the sick. Researching the best herbs for healing. Anything I can do to help.” Lady Thalia sits on a wooden chair hidden behind a pile of books and something that looks suspiciously like a dagger. She pats a spot next to her, gesturing for me to sit.
I navigate the floor like a minefield, doing my best not to step on anything as I make my way to the wooden chair.
I sit just as Finnick flies to the table.
It’s full of papers and various other tools, and I fear he might get lost in the chaos.
Finnick lands effortlessly on a scale, crossing his legs as he takes a seat.
The small sprite barely lowers the scale with his weight.
“Have you always been interested in medicine?” Despite the clutter, I’m certain everything in the room has a purpose—each bottle, scroll, and herb exactly where she needs it.
I’d even wager Lady Thalia could find anything in the chaos without missing a beat.
Her passion for medicinal tonics radiates from every corner, infusing the space with purpose and care.
“Not particularly. I came to it out of sheer desperation,” she admits.
“You see, my husband grew very ill quickly. A rare illness amongst the fae that has no cure and very little hope for survival, much like we’re facing now.
But, like my sons, I’m a stubborn woman.
I refused to let my husband die without trying to save him.
With my earth magic, I have an affinity for natural healing.
“I scoured every library, bookshop, and apothecary I could find. Spent countless hours in this room, hoping I could find something others missed. It was quite arrogant of me, but people do impossible things for love.” A soft smile crosses her lips, but her eyes hold a pain I know too well.
A pain someone can only experience after losing someone you love and having your entire world turned upside down.
“You did all you could,” Finnick says gently.
His words do little to quell the sadness surrounding his mother, but she gently pats his leg with a finger. “Thank you, my heart.”
I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment between mother and son, and I shift awkwardly in my seat.
Should I look away? They probably need some space to sit with their grief.
The last thing I ever wanted when I was grieving was to be surrounded by people.
It felt suffocating, like I had to comfort them instead of just being left alone to deal with my own pain.
Before I can plan my quiet escape, a gentle hand rests on my shoulder. I lift my head to see Lady Thalia peering down at me. Her eyes still shine with unshed emotion, but her body is relaxed, no longer weighed down by the ghost of her past.
“I didn’t bring you in here to speak of my husband. That was years ago. I hoped to show you what our people are facing and answer any questions you may have. We assumed Ender would brief you about our kingdom, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.” Thinly veiled annoyance undercuts her words.
“He really didn’t tell you anything?” Finnick asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing. There was a contract. I read it over, but it was vague. Maybe I should’ve asked questions, but I was just so eager to…
” My voice trails off as I hear how foolish I sound.
Of course I should’ve asked more questions.
Of course I should’ve demanded answers. What was I thinking, diving headfirst into something so unclear?
I feel like an idiot—like I foolishly stepped into the abyss without even checking if I had a light to guide me.
“Eager for what?” There’s no judgment in Finnick’s voice. Only curiosity.
“I wanted to get out of Grym Hollow,” I finally say after a moment’s hesitation.
“My parents and I had big plans since I was a little girl to travel the world, live in different places, and try new things. My father wanted to learn how to cook from chefs in different parts of the world. To learn their culture.”
“Ah, so that’s why you enjoy cooking.” Finnick smiles, but it quickly turns into a wince. “You came at a very bad time for cooking lessons, I fear.”
Despite the heaviness in the air, I laugh. “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that. Seems fitting that I finally leave my small town only to get brought into a kingdom on the brink of starvation.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I would eat poisoned meals from you. Breakfast was that good.” Finnick rubs his slightly bloated stomach, emphasizing his full belly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to eating berries. Do you think you could cook something without them?”
“I can cook anything out of anything, Finnick. I love a good challenge.” The fewer ingredients, the better.
It’s fun to learn how to use food in new and creative ways.
It doesn’t always work out in my favor, but I still enjoy experimenting with food.
Unfortunately, I have very little to work with here.
I’m a chef, not a magician. Feeding people will become harder, if not impossible.
“You experiment with food like I do with tonics. Inquisitive minds,” Lady Thalia says. Her eyes scan the table before stopping on a small beaker half full with a strange blue substance. “Do you remember the man in the forest? The one with the black veins?”
The abrupt change in conversation stuns me, but I quickly compose myself. “Yes. He looked like he was in a lot of pain.”
“I’m certain he was,” she says, voice laced with sorrow. “They all are. The cursed black tendrils feed upon their energy. It’s a slow, torturous death. One that could affect the entire kingdom if we can’t stop it.”
“And there’s no cure for it?”
“None,” Lady Thalia admits. “I’ve only been able to give them a modicum of comfort from a few tonics.
We allocate a good portion of our food supply to the sick.
Food also helps alleviate some of the pain and gives them a boost of energy their body desperately needs to stay alive.
It has just been increasingly difficult to manage the sick, since the sickness comes on suddenly, whether they eat poisoned food or not. No one is safe.”
This conversation has done little to clarify why I’m here or what part I’m meant to play in this war.
I can only hope that, in time, the answers will reveal themselves.
I barely know the new fae family I’ve suddenly become a part of, and yet the idea of losing any of them already makes my stomach churn with dread.
Even Zephyr—despite the confusion and tension that still lingers between us—has somehow become someone I don’t want to imagine this world without.
For Niko’s sake, of course.
Despite not being certain of my role here, I’m not completely helpless. “Have the cursed fae eaten today?”
“Not yet. They have two scheduled meals. Dinner is usually served in a few hours,” Lady Thalia says.
“And guess what’s on the menu?” Finnick pauses for dramatic effect. “Berries! I bet you didn’t see that coming.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips. He may be small in size, but his presence is anything but. He’s bold, lively, and impossible to ignore.
“We can pass out the remaining food from breakfast. If we need more, and if nothing has been prepared, could I make something else?” I ask, but then the nerves wash through me, and I quickly add, “I know the supply is limited, but I’ll use what we have and won’t use up too many ingredients.”
“I vote yes. After that breakfast, I officially proclaim you the royal chef.” Finnick jumps up and does a lavish bow. “Oh, Royal Chef, we are but humble servants ready to help…and taste-test. Mostly taste-test. In fact, I really don’t want to help. I would rather just eat.”
“I would love for you to be my royal taste-tester, Prince Finnick.” I grin, playing into his charade.
Finnick puffs out his chest. “I accept this prestigious position.”
“And what position would that be, Brother?” a new voice cuts in, startling me.
I jump at the unexpected sound, and low, amused laughter echoes from behind.
Spinning around, I find Niko casually leaning against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Just behind him stands Zephyr, lingering close, his presence quiet but intense.
Niko’s dark eyes sweep over the room, sharp and unreadable.
My breath hitches, momentarily freezing me to the spot. I swear his lip curls into a knowing smirk, but in the next second, Zephyr looks away, leaving me oddly hollow.
That is, until Niko turns his gaze on me, the warmth in his smile sending heat through my body.
Between Niko’s sweetness and Zephyr’s broodiness—complete opposites, and yet I find myself attracted to both—I’m never going to survive this marriage.
There will be little left of me but a melted puddle at their feet.
Damn these two.
“Eva is going to hand out the rest of the breakfast and make dinner for the cursed. I get to be her taste-tester,” Finnick says, pulling me from my wayward and inappropriate thoughts.
“Hardly seems fair that I don’t get to be the official taste-tester for my betrothed,” Niko says.
And I melt a little more.
“You can help,” I hear myself saying, my brain slow to process my own words. “I always love company in the kitchen. I’ll even let you lick the spoon.” I giggle awkwardly because of course I do.
Amusement colors his features as he turns toward Zephyr. “What do you say, mate? Shall we embarrass ourselves in front of Evangeline?”
“There’s only one embarrassment here, mate, and it’s not me.”
“You’re such a dick.” Niko smirks, with no true ire in his tone. Even insulting one another, their connection and love is palpable. How the hell am I ever supposed to be part of that connection?
Before I can dwell on it any longer, Finnick darts past my head in a blur of wings.
“Come, Eva,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll show you what we’ve got.”
With a deep breath, I follow.