Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Evie

Dead. I must be dead.

Evie hadn’t stopped screaming. Her throat had grown raw as she fell, waiting for the impact of the ground, but instead, she’d landed against something soft and dewy. Then the darkness had faded, and when she finally brought herself to open her eyes, she was surrounded by a sea of bright, pale-blue light and countless little clouds.

The sky. She was in the sky, but she had fallen downward. How could that be possible?

Another body landed beside her, causing her to bounce again, and this time she couldn’t help it—she laughed. She was on a godsforsaken cloud—there was clearly no other appropriate reaction.

“Sage, are you hurt?” The graveled rasp of his voice made her breathe a sigh of relief, and a warm sliver of comfort eased into her heart that at least if she was dead, they were dead together. When she looked at him, she laughed again: his hair was sticking up in every direction. She’d never seen it so mussed.

“I’m well, but your hair has seen better days,” she responded casually, biting her lip when he started shuffling frantically to smooth it. Leaning over the side of the cloud to see what was below, she felt her face prickle with trepidation.

A field of dandelions.

She swallowed and shook the memories away. Memories of her brother Gideon’s screams, of her mother’s disappearance, of the day her childhood ended—abruptly, traumatically, tragically. These were the small moments of life, when one’s innocent view of the world was corrupted, when the magic curtain was ripped away to reveal something sinister or ugly. A moment when one stopped believing and viewed the world with different, weary eyes.

It was a natural part of life, one of the rules of growing older, but she’d never been very good at adhering to rules. Yes, she’d grown older, but she still had faith in goodness, in people, in magic.

The soft grass below looked even greener than the patch of land outside the cave—like a mossy cushion. Standing on shaky legs, she walked toward the edge of the cloud, mesmerized, ignoring the boss’s warnings. “Sage, don’t you dare—”

She jumped.

The distance to the ground was farther than she’d anticipated. She let out a panicked cry as she angled herself to roll, but the impact was soft, like the only thing below the grass was more grass, no hard earth beneath. She let out a very unladylike “oof.”

The boss landed gracefully a few feet away from her—because of course he did, she thought with a roll of her eyes. He did everything seamlessly. It was why she liked to see him so ruffled. And truly, he was a mess. Shirt untucked, hair out of place, pants wrinkled, and a bitter frown marring his features as he stared at her in disbelief.

“I have to wonder,” he bit out, stalking over to her and pulling her up to stand, “do you have absolutely no care for your own well-being? Or are you simply so naive to the world that you believe it will never harm you?”

She flinched, and he let go, his dark eyes softening with regret—but it was too late. He’d called her naive, and it couldn’t have enflamed her more if he’d set her on fire.

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could halt them. “I’ve been hurt plenty by the world, by people, by men. Just because you bury your bad experiences behind revenge schemes and scorn doesn’t mean that I must join you in your misery. Being a cynic doesn’t make you wise. It makes you a coward.”

She put her hands out and shoved him away from her, and he stumbled, gobsmacked for a moment.

And then his eyes darkened, his fury matching her own.

Oh, now you’ve done it.

Don’t find his murderous rage so entrancing, Evie!

He prowled forward like a predator, and she stumbled back with every step until she bumped into a wall of blue sky. It was a barrier, smooth beneath her touch. She didn’t have time to study it further, as he was already looming over her.

“It’s not cynicism, you natural disaster,” he snarled. “It’s realism. It’s knowing people, and the elements, well enough to realize that they are always against you. I don’t want you hurt! I don’t want you to die! Which is very fucking frustrating when you act in ways that could easily accomplish both!”

Oh. This isn’t condescension… This is…protectiveness? That’s a little dramatic; I jumped from a cloud, for goodness’ sake. She’d be in more danger having a snowball fight with tissues.

The whole disagreement was beginning to feel silly. “That’s a lovely thing for you to say. Thank you for caring.” She awkwardly reached up to pat his shoulder, shrinking when he angled closer. Not to mention getting a little excited by it, if she was being completely honest. And completely pathetic.

“You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever met, and I work with hardenedcriminals.” He shuddered. “And interns!”

She didn’t think those two groups were necessarily equivalent, but judging by the flare of his nostrils, it was likely not the safest time to point that out.

Still, it felt a little like a compliment. She licked her lips as she said candidly, “Well, I wouldn’t be so frustrating if you didn’t incense me so.”

His chest was moving rapidly, his pupils dark and large. His words came from low in his throat. “I’ve incensed you? What do you think you’ve done to me?”

Her lips parted on a gasp at the heavy tension suddenly between them. It felt like the air was too thick—hard to breathe it in; hard to breathe at all. “I annoy you,” she said, attempting to divert this pressure, desperate to.

Thick hair fell over his eyes as he shook his head, hand raising slowly, too slowly, to caress the skin of her cheek with his knuckles, light, like a whisper of a touch. It triggered a memory, vague and blurry through her poisoned state after she’d eaten the sleeping-death fruit. There had been a warm voice through the blurriness and another whisper-light touch against her own knuckles.

“I command you as your employer to wake up.”

He shook his head again, his hand curling around the back of her neck, lightly pulling her closer. Their lips were scant inches apart; she could practically taste the sugar from his cauldron brew on his breath.

She should move away, or he should.

But neither of them did.

“I incense you,” she breathed, then nearly buckled when she heard a low sound in the back of his throat, almost like a groan.

“Completely.” His lips were nearly on her—

When the blue skylike barrier around them began to shake.

And move.

They jumped apart. Breathing heavily and red-faced, she held fast to his tensed arm as they stumbled backward. “What is that?”

The blue sky around them began to move as something that had been camouflaged slowly revealed itself. A creature so tall, the clouds floated near its mouth, which was now visible, displaying two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“The end of the rhyme. The monster’s next meal,” The Villain said beside her, his chest still heaving. The beast from the story had revealed itself at the most inopportune moment.

Evie gulped before saying, “Do you think it’s married to that ending?”