11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Evelyn

E velyn’s eyes snapped open. The bracelets, in fact, were gone, her wrists bare and lighter. She didn’t have the slightest idea how or who took them off. Her head ached while Kade’s declaration echoed in her mind. It brought comfort, a radiating brush of warmth. Her body shivered. His strength. His resilience. Fucking flames, she’d match it, and they’d be together again. Her soul sang with a declaration of her own. She’d get through this. She—

“The bracelets almost killed her!” a voice, one Evelyn didn’t recognize, hissed. “You’re lucky she didn’t combust from her own magic.”

The present pulsed into focus. Evelyn lay on her side, facing the stone wall in her room located in the tower. Her head rested on a plush pillow, feathery blankets pulled over her, shielding the fact she’d awakened.

“Whose fault is that? I didn’t make them—you did, witch,” Tala said, her voice strained. Her voice was louder, closer to Evelyn.

Evelyn dared not move, staring at the dark wall ahead of her. By the way Tala and the witch bickered, neither had noticed she’d woken yet. Evelyn evened her breath. Perhaps they’d reveal something, anything useful if she pretended to remain asleep.

“I warned you and Riven, binding a witch’s magic—especially one like hers—could be deadly. Neither of you listened. ”

“Don’t get your cloak in a twist.” Evelyn practically heard Tala’s golden eyes rolling. “Riven gave strict instruction. Bind her magic. Keep her away from others. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Perhaps you can remind Riven that without her alive , there’s no chance of the White Lady’s spell working. We need her.”

Evelyn knew as much, but her interest piqued anyway. Who was this other voice, and how did she know the White Lady’s spell?

“Will she be alright, Ingrid?” another voice asked. This one—sweet, hesitant, and farther away—jogged Evelyn’s memory.

“Yes.” That voice belonged to Ingrid, then . “Why were you in the courtyard? It’s dangerous to be alone, Belle. We’ve been over this.”

“It was daytime.”

“That doesn’t matter. Some of the worst have a bloodstone. You know better.”

The chastising tone reminded Evelyn of Mirella, her eldest sister. A pang of longing shot through her. She’d hated her sister’s haughty, arrogant verbal lashings, but after so many years, Evelyn missed them. A chase through the house because she’d stolen her sister’s favorite blouse, an aghast reaction at dinner after hearing stories of Evelyn and Blair’s entanglements . What she’d give for one sisterly argument again, but the one happening behind her sent shivers of worry down her spine. What had happened to Nūa, if anything, that two sibling witches resided in Drystan?

Wait, sisterly? Evelyn paused, her memory hanging onto the third voice. The young witch in the courtyard—Belle—had said her sister—Ingrid—told her not to trust Evelyn.

“None of them venture outside. It’s dreadfully depressing out there.” The younger witch’s voice dripped with sadness, her voice sullen, small, and full of longing.

Ingrid clicked her tongue. “Then why would you go outside? ”

“Because I’m bored. If…” The younger witch hesitated. “If you would let me join you, teach me—”

“No.”

The word was so final, absolute, Evelyn flinched from the coldness.

Ingrid sighed. “We’ve discussed this too many times.” Patience warred against annoyance in her tone. “If the wrong person learned of your magic, it might be held against you. Taken advantage of even. It’s safer this way. You’re safer, Belle.”

Evelyn furrowed her brows. During the Great Burnings, witches who had possessed a water brotannas had fled far south. They’d fared better against rougher seas and now called the southernmost continent home, trade business their only connection to Sorin. Others had traveled east, past the Vadon Mountains, and found their place amongst the mages. Their water brotannas was so similar to the mage’s magik that overtime it intertwined with their bloodlines. Not lost, but no longer a brotannas as witches knew it. It was extremely rare to come across a witch in Nūa with a water brotannas—Evelyn had only met one, and she’d been a merchant visiting Sorin from the south—but its rarity wasn’t a risk. What did Ingrid fear? Or who ? Vampyrs? Other witches?

Evelyn tried to piece together everything she’d learned—so much with so little. Riven had at least two witches as allies, and one of them knew the spell the White Lady had crafted. She fought her excitement, continuing to lay still as they continued.

Tala sighed. “You will need to figure out another way to contain her flame. We can’t have the Daughter of the Goddess walking the halls with access to her magic.”

“Why not throw her in the dungeons until we need her?”

Evelyn bristled at the suggestion, unamused at Ingrid’s aloof tone. More upsetting, though, were the witch’s latter words. Until they needed her . They had a timeline. Her heart raced a little. Kade had said he was coming, but how long would it take to cross the Void? She feared the risk Kade was about to take. But Evelyn knew they’d risk it all for the other, a shuddering, reassuring truth she couldn’t shake.

“You know we can’t do that. It’ll make Riven appear weak, as if he can’t handle her.”

Someone rose from a chair—wooden legs scraping across stone. “If the spell works, we break the curse. Is it worth the risk of weakening her when we need her? All for the sake of his precious, pompous reputation, when in a couple of weeks’ time, he’ll have the court in the palm of his hand.”

Evelyn’s heart skipped. The curse—as if the darkness surrounding the vampyrs was a tangible thing.

Before she had time to think more on it, Tala was beside her, sighing rather loudly. “I’d suggest you keep a tight lip, Ingrid. We have a rather avid listener amongst us.”

Fucking flames. Evelyn clamped her eyes shut, but the ruse was up. Three sets of eyes burrowed into her back. Cringing, she sat up in bed. Tiredness clung to every bone, fiber, and muscle in her body. The three women sat around her—one vampyr, two witches. Outnumbered, but not outmatched. Her flame danced at her fingertips, ready to ignite.

“I’d think twice before you strike, Evelyn.” Aside from their petite noses and delicate chins, Ingrid was the opposite of her bright, airy sister. The eldest of the two had straight raven hair, cut right below her chin where it bobbed as she approached. Her dark eyes, a brownish-black, pierced Evelyn like an iron dagger, sharp and vicious.

She held in her outstretched hand a folded piece of parchment with a broken wax seal. It taunted Evelyn, and she snatched it, a creep crawling up her spine. She didn’t recognize the teal seal, the symbol a tansy flower. They waited as she opened the letter in silence, not even the Drystan wind whined. It seemed to pause with the calm of anticipation.

Evelyn read the words carefully, the script thin and achingly neat, relaying an address in Nūa. She read it again, letting the familiarity of the street name sink in. It had been years—two to be exact since she’d hurried down the sidewalks, surrounded by brick townhomes. Past marigold flower beds, copper lampposts, coven flags. It was the afternoon of her wedding dress fitting, hours before she ran away. The plan had been laid out then, ready to enact, a dirty little secret she’d withheld from…

Blair.

Fucking flames , the address was her sister’s townhome in the art district.

“Where did you get this? Why do you have it? ” Had Tovi, also her sister’s friend, given it to them? Evelyn didn’t ask the last question as her voice cracked and her hands turned clammy.

Ingrid crossed her arms, seemingly unbothered by her outburst. She jutted her chin towards her wrists, still red but free. “You almost died, burning from the inside out, which means we can’t place the bracelets back on you.”

“What does that have to do with my sister?” The bite in Evelyn’s tone snapped the air. The room grew hot, her magic rising to a dangerous degree.

“Riven has allies everywhere, close to the ones you love. Step out of line, and your sister pays the price.”

“How dare you,” Evelyn hissed, rising from the bed and charging towards Ingrid. A whoosh and breeze flew past her, and Tala appeared, blocking her path.

“Stand down,” Tala said.

Evelyn ignored the vampyr, sights set on the witch who’d threatened her sister. “How can you possibly be helping him? You’re witches.”

Belle winced, only slightly. Ingrid, on the other hand, smiled, smug and proud.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Daughter of the Goddess. I wonder how witches in Nūa will react when they learn you ran from your duty and aren’t little miss perfect.” Ingrid scoffed. “It’s too bad you can’t spread your legs and beg for forgiveness like you did with your werewolf.”

Evelyn cursed a storm, and her right hand ignited, flame stretching up her elbow .

A sound, like a hiss and growl combined, vibrated from Tala. It echoed off the walls—the cry of a predatorial warrior. She held out one inky-taloned hand towards Evelyn, the other towards Ingrid, holding them apart.

“Out in the hall. Now. ” Her command barreled out of her. Ingrid’s upper lip rose in a snarl, but she obeyed, spinning towards the door. Her black dress billowed around her, sheer layers like Drystan mist.

“Come, Belle,” Ingrid said.

“Belle stays,” Tala said.

There was no room to argue in her tone, not a fraction, but Ingrid, a fierce and protective sister, halted.

With dark eyes wide, she said, “I’m not leaving Belle alone with her .” The word a snarl aimed at Evelyn.

“She’s to attend to Evelyn’s wounds. Like you said, Ingrid, we need her. Besides, you threatened Evelyn’s sister. I doubt she’d do anything.”

Ingrid’s jaw worked, and her eyes blazed, but she left the room at Tala’s side, hands fisted in her skirts and head held high. She slammed the door behind them. The locked clicked, then raised, but muffled voices permeated the wooden door and bounced off the walls of Evelyn’s room.

She regained her breath, drawing back her flame. Tiredness hit her like a tidal wave, and she staggered from foot to foot. The effects of the bracelets lingered, and her strength had paid the cost.

“I brought a salve with me,” Belle whispered. “If you’d like me to take a look at your wrists.” The younger witch wrung her hands together, rising and falling on the balls of her feet.

Evelyn sighed, assessing her. Though related to her nasty sister, she didn’t seem as much of a threat. She sauntered over to the seating area, sinking into the sofa. Belle joined her, the poor witch’s nerves bubbling the air.

“How is it you’re a healer if your sister is the eldest?” Evelyn asked. Usually, firstborns, like Mirella, were trained to be healers. Unless a witch’s brotannas was better suited to be a healer within their birth order, say a scholar turned teacher for other healers, or a medic amongst the guards, perhaps, but Belle’s brotannas had been water in the courtyard. Something didn’t add up.

“Tala overpromised. I’m not a healer exactly. I know a few remedies, ones I learned to heal my sister when we were younger.”

Pain flashed through Belle’s eyes as she dabbed salve onto her wrists. Evelyn’s mouth went dry. What sort of wounds had Ingrid faced to need healing? And why had she not been taken to an actual healer as a child? More questions, but Evelyn wouldn’t push for these answers. The subject felt horribly off-limits.

“Did something happen?” Evelyn asked. “In Nūa, I mean.”

The witch shifted in her seat. “As far as I know, Nūa is much the same. Why do you ask?”

“Are you sure?” Evelyn asked with a frown. “Were you brought to Drystan?”

Belle’s brows shot up. “You say it as if we are here against our will. I assure you, that is the farthest from the truth.”

It was Evelyn’s turn to shift in her seat. “I assumed something happened. I’ve been away from home, and I thought the worst.”

The younger witch giggled. “Drystan is dreary, I know. But it isn’t all bad. It’s much safer than where we once were in Nūa in fact, but not for the reasons you may think. The city, last I read, which was the past week’s pamphlet, is well and riding out their autumn before winter hits them, too.”

The vibrant fresh scents of spearmint and eucalyptus relaxed Evelyn despite the mounting uncertainty. Belle claimed her home fared well, so she found it hard to believe Drystan was safer, especially when Ingrid had indicated it wasn’t wise for Belle to be out alone in the gardens. Was it the mere worries of an older sister, or a knowledge of the vampyr horrors Evelyn was well acquainted with? Evelyn sat with her thoughts as Belle continued to apply the salve. It cooled her burns.

I’m coming for you.

Kade’s words granted Evelyn a sense of relief. She trusted Kade with all her heart. But they also fueled her resolve even more. She’d promised to return home with him and had sworn to finally fulfill the prophecy. She intended to keep that promise, to demonstrate that she’d changed, to undo the mistake of ever running in the first place.

At Ingrid’s early words, guilt lay heavy on her shoulders. She had run, and the weight of it caved her in. What would witches think if they learned the truth? Evelyn hated to consider the possibility, and a heaviness settled over her shoulders. No. She’d return home with insight regarding their enemy.

But where to begin? A curse. A spell. Those details were a start, and her flame danced in her blood, eager to learn more. Her determination became as fierce and wild as her flame, and an idea formed, gentle and subtle, like the death of a snowflake on her skin.

Belle.

The young witch had said little, nervousness still clinging to the beautiful witch’s demeanor. She moved away from the sofa, gathering a satchel full of bottles and canisters of salve.

“Thank you,” Evelyn said.

Belle smiled, but it was tight and didn’t reach her eyes. “The bracelets were made with dark magic, and you wore them for a dangerous amount of time. You might feel the effects for a few days. I recommend some rest.”

She turned to leave, and Evelyn swallowed. It was now or never. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me about the spell your sister mentioned.” She waited four even breaths, heart racing while Belle stood, back turned, body unmoving. Slowly, the witch faced her again, blue-green eyes fleeting over Evelyn.

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. Ingrid tells me nothing. Look, I really shouldn’t be talking to you. Rest like I said, and I’ll try and come back to check on you in a few days.”

“I can help, you know,” Evelyn said, inclining her head to Belle’s wringing hands. “With your water brotannas. ”

Evelyn wanted answers, but a deep-rooted part of her also saw an older version of herself in Belle, and the need to help sparked, wild and untamed inside her.

Those stunning, blue-green eyes widened. “My sister doesn’t want me learning it. She says it’s dangerous. If the wrong person discovered my power, they’d take advantage of it.”

“Your sister is wrong.” Evelyn tried to rein in the bite of her words, but her earlier anger rose. “Your magic is yours and no one else’s.” Even if Belle refused, she had to know that. She deserved to know that.

Belle stared at the floor, shaking her head. “You ran away and left us witches behind. I’m not sure I trust you.”

Evelyn winced, shutting her eyes tight. “You’re right, I did. Perhaps if I share why I ran away, you’ll trust me a little. I lost my flame.”

“ What? ” Belle hissed. “You’re lying.”

Evelyn scoffed. “I wish I was. The day my parents died, it left. I struggled for two years to get it back. I know, Belle, what it feels like. I saw the look in your eyes today. The frustration of not being able to grasp onto your power. I know I sound like the enemy, but I can help you. I swear it.”

Her truth lay out in the open, her body suddenly heavy with the weight of it. Admitting it out loud didn’t take away the urge to shed it like a skin, as if losing her flame had never happened.

Belle frowned. “Everything comes at a price. Why help me?”

“I need… to know what’s really going on here.”

“You want me to spy on my sister? I can’t give you secrets. You’re the enemy.”

“Do you actually believe that?” Evelyn shook her head.

Apprehension brewed in Belle’s eyes. A rosy tint flushed her cheeks, and she opened and closed her mouth, unable to form words. Evelyn fought the urge to say something more, to convince her, but she didn’t want to push the nervous witch and lose the opportunity all together .

Finally, Belle stepped back, shaking her head, blonde curls swaying as she did so.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

She rushed to the door and knocked. The guards opened it and let her through. Green suede passed through the wooden door, and Belle left Evelyn alone with the resounding click of the lock.

The dark stone of the tower closed in around Evelyn, the twisting shadows on the walls her only company.