23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Evelyn

T he scent of wet stone and the howl of the high winds wrapped Evelyn and Belle as tightly as the stairwell’s spiral. Snow snuck through the windows they passed under, melting into the dark stone of the tower and melding with the bleeding mildew stains.

They had about an hour before the servants arrived with lunch. Not a moment longer to spare. Evelyn had been keeping track of their comings and goings, along with Tala’s. She risked a surprise visit from the war adviser, but the chance to explore was too valuable to ignore. Eagerness thrummed through Evelyn, and her snuffed magic danced with excitement.

Prior to descending, Belle had drawn what she knew of the castle. The layout provided more context to the buildings and halls Evelyn had studied from her tower. This part of the castle wasn’t used, according to Belle. The grand hall, the throne room, residential quarters, a library, even the dungeons were located levels and stairs away from her prison.

“I think it was abandoned after the king’s death,” she had said.

Silent and steady, Evelyn and Belle explored where the stairwell led first. Evelyn counted three doors as they passed, two turns between each. Before the lowest level, there was an iron gate with rusted hinges; its spiked finials squeaked from the tunnel breeze .

“That’s where I came out of,” Belle confirmed.

“And where’s it lead?”

“Abandoned servant halls.” The young witch shivered.

Eveyln nodded, pocketing the information for later.

When they reached the bottom, the stairs sank into an icy sludge puddle, the water murky and rotten. Evelyn plugged her nose, and Belle rushed back up three flights of stairs, putting distance between herself and the smell.

“That’s horrid,” Belle said.

“I couldn’t agree more.” She peered up, the underbellies of the stairs dripped with icy dew. “I suggest we try the first door. If we run into trouble, it’s the closest to the tower.”

With a swallow, Belle nodded and followed Evelyn.

Once there, Evelyn placed her ear flush against the stone. Nothing else but stuck air sang on the other side.

“Can you send out your magic?” she asked. “See if anyone or anything is on the other side?”

“I can try.”

Belle flattened her hands against the door and closed her eyes with an exhale. With the bloodstone, Evelyn couldn’t feel Belle’s magic or power enter the air, but she recognized the witch’s focus—the furrow of her brow, the ease of her shoulders as she connected with her magic. Longing spread through Evelyn, and she swallowed the unpleasant taste of it.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her shoulders relaxed. “Nothing, not even a human servant.”

Evelyn brushed her fingers over the outline of the door and pressed against it, expecting to find resistance, but it budged. The door groaned open, and both of them held their breath.

“I’ll go first,” Evelyn whispered.

She took a deep breath and crept through the passageway, poking her head out first .

Books awaited her.

Endless stacks of them. Goddess, Blair would’ve been envious. Evelyn tripped over a few as she stepped into a small area, books lining shelves, piled high in the corner, and arranged on the ground so they acted as a bench for others. Large ones, leather-bound ones, one’s tiny enough to fit into a back pocket. Evelyn ran her finger over some of the spines, titles of Old World and New World classics textured against her finger.

Belle emerged from the stairwell, cerulean eyes bright. “Rather delightful surprise, don’t you think?” she whispered.

Evelyn smiled in agreement but remained cautious as she slunk against the right side of the library. Without her magic, Evelyn felt at a disadvantage. It hadn’t been the first time she’d walked into the unknowns without it, but Drystan castle was different, its secrets felt like static in the air compared to Callum’s ancient magic.

She inched farther into the space. The nook curved around a bend, as if this space were a back closet, filled with texts its owner had abandoned.

“Can you send out your magic again?” Evelyn whispered.

Belle nodded. After a beat she said, “There’s nothing near.”

As they entered the larger space, more mess greeted them. Books, maps, scrolls. A large floor-to-ceiling window drenched the room in a grayish light. Bookshelves lined the left wall while a map of their world, Sorin and Torren, stretched across the right wall, giant pins scattered across it. A desk manned the front, a sitting area overrun with books to the left, and a large table covered in maps to the right.

Evelyn weaved her way through columns of books to reach the desk, eager to learn more about its contents and possible owner. Belle followed behind her, both silent on the balls of their feet.

On the desk, piled shipping logs sat in the left-hand corner, and the purple Verena crest, angry and deep, glared at them.

“Oh dear, is this Riven’s office?” Belle whispered .

Evelyn grabbed the first letter, heart pounding in her chest. Signed at the end of each was the prince’s name. She triple-checked a few more, and Goddess.

“You’re right. It’s his office.” She stilled, as if he lurked in the shadows, but nothing moved about. Not a servant. Not magic. Not the sense of darkness.

Beside her, Belle had grown stiff, as well, hands fisted at her sides.

“Best hurry,” Evelyn said. “I’ll check the desk while you take a look around.”

“Alright.”

To the witch’s credit, she was light on her feet as she weaved through the books. Evelyn swallowed a pang of sadness, realizing Belle might been used to tiptoeing her way through the castle.

With care, Evelyn searched Riven’s desk. Maps, trading catalogs, letters from merchants. She came across nothing related to the spell. Before she became disgruntled, her fingers brushed against worn leather near the lampshade. She found a journal buried under the desk’s clutter. Uneven parchment pages stuck out of its edges, while a tied leather string secured the bursting contents. Evelyn pulled, and the knot unraveled with ease due to the years of wear and tear smoothing down the leather. The pages flew free once released, littering around Evelyn’s feet.

She squatted and grabbed a few that floated before hitting the ground. Dates sprawled in the corners ranged hundreds of years, depicting the same two people—a gorgeous woman and a young boy around the age of five.

The woman’s hair, curly and long, fell to her hips. It had been shaded darker than the boy’s. Vampyr fangs jutted over their lips when they smiled or laughed. The two always seemed to be looking elsewhere, never at the artist, as if the images had been sketched without their knowledge. Moments of them laughing, smiling, reading. Even sleeping. Though charcoal lined the sketches with not a single hint of color, Evelyn recognized the little boy’s eyes.

They belonged to Riven.

Was this his child ?

Tovi had never mentioned a sister-in-law or nephew, but she’d never mentioned a younger brother or sister either. Perhaps these were more secrets, more family members she’d not uttered a word about.

As Evelyn flipped through the sketches, she caught a chilling detail. The young boy never grew older. His age ranged from infant to a young child, but never past that, which begged the question, what had happened to him or the woman?

More recent sketches revealed what Evelyn had guessed back in Callum.

The first young woman to die at the White Lady’s hand, McKenna McCarthy, draped in blankets and appearing sultry, stared at Evelyn like she’d stared into the eyes of the artist. That look alone… Evelyn shifted in place. There was passion. Want. Desire . She sifted through more and noticed Riven had taken time to sketch McKenna’s smile, capturing the details of her face close up. He shaded the twinkle of her eye, the dimple on the right cheek, her curls messy and splaying in the wind.

These were the lines of one who noticed the details, cared for them.

Evelyn struggled to accept the notion. Riven was callous and cold. The memory of his grip on her throat remained, and the absence of her magic another blaring truth of how cruel he was.

She gathered the sketches and placed them back how she’d found them. She set her sights on one of the desk’s drawers. She fiddled with an aged bronze handle, and the old wood groaned as she eased the drawer open. Letters cradled inside ripped envelopes took up most of the compartment.

Evelyn thrummed her fingers through them. Two symbols kept appearing—an upside-down paw print and a tansy flower. No addresses, no names. She grabbed the first letter. The wax seal had broken through the upside-down paw, smudging black onto the envelope.

Prince, Phase two of my plan is in place. Phase one continues. The missing werewolves are causing unease. Loss of faith will come next. The Lone Wolf

Evelyn hadn’t read anything in the paper Belle had given her indicating there was trouble in the Vadon Mountains. But witches and werewolves lived separately. Aside from the prophecy and the trade, little else brought them together. Still, such news made Evelyn uneasy.

Sweat pricked on her scalp, her breath shallow. She opened a second letter, this time one with the flower symbol. She hoped the contents would give her more clues, but as she read, her heart thumped as loud as drums.

Prince of Light— Your news brings great joy to our cause and efforts. May your recent win encourage others to act. As promised, here is the sister’s address you may find useful in the coming weeks while taming the Daughter of the Goddess: 38 Penny Drive Nūa, Sorin

Evelyn’s hand shook as she ran her finger under her sister’s address. She flipped the letter over, but nothing indicated who had supplied it. Only the flowered symbol. Her vision tunneled, the study fell away, and a coldness crept over her skin.

One of their own had supplied Blair's address to Riven. Who? An important question, but not as important as the grief welling in Evelyn—Blair was a target because she’d left .

“Evelyn.”

She snapped back to the present. Her thoughts slowed down, and she settled into the stillness of the study again, her fear calming as she turned her attention to Belle.

Answers. She’d risked leaving her room and exploring the secrets of the castle to find answers regarding her enemy. She refused to return home empty-handed with nothing to show her sisters, something that proved she’d changed.

Belle stood by a giant map that took up most of the western wall. Its edge wavering from a draft, the continent of Sorin rolling with the movement. Evelyn joined Belle, the letter still in hand.

“Look at the pins.” Belle pointed to two distinct symbols.

A wolf and a flower.

Evelyn’s one brow pinched, a headache forming from all her rampant questions. She passed Belle the letters.

“They’re code names.”

The wolf pin, the same black as the wax seal, punctured various villages in the Vadon Mountains. Evelyn rattled off the village names, each correlating with a different pack. Her heart squeezed at the sight of one tucked at the center. She reached up on her tiptoes and ran her thumb over the name Drengr, her mate’s home. A hollowness stole her breath.

“I recognize this one.” Belle traced her finger over the flower.

“I’ve seen my sister read letters with it.” Belle’s cerulean eyes scanned the words, the edges of her lips down turning. “But, I have no idea who it is.”

Evelyn had never seen the symbol before her time in the Drystan Castle, but nestled in the city of Nūa, it sat, pushed flush against the fabric of the map. Riven had admitted he had allies, yet her gut twisted at the evidence of his reach.

The White Lady. Witches living in Drystan. One in Nūa.

Like the strings connecting the pins and places, his contacts weaved deeper threads. Her sister’s address. Missing werewolves. A cause. A plan. Did it all relate to the spell, or was it a bigger plot ?

“Uh, Evelyn…” Belle whispered, tugging the sleeve of her oversized sweater.

She followed the witch’s line of sight.

Dangling from a metal perch protruding from the stone wall, high above and adjacent to the floor-to-ceiling window, was a large, furry bat.

And its rust-colored eyes were zeroed in on them.

“What is that?” Evelyn whispered.

“That’s Riven’s pet,” Belle said. “Their bond sort of reminds me of a familiar.”

At the mention of a familiar, a lump formed in Evelyn’s throat. She missed Maxie, and every time she thought of her, tears stung the edge of her eyes. Nights had been lonely without her familiar curled at the end of her bed or her paws kneading her feet when it was time for breakfast.

Yet, the creature eyeing them above wasn’t like any familiar she’d seen before. The massive bat dropped and zipped towards them, chaotic and sudden. Its high-pitched screech echoed off the walls, disturbing the study’s quiet. It dove towards them, and its leathery wings brushed against Evelyn’s temple, ruffling her hair.

“What do we do?” Belle asked, creating a shield with her arms, the letters she still held flapping under the circling bat. It seemed to have zeroed in on them, seemed to want them. Impossible, but…

Evelyn snatched the letters away, and the bat changed course, flying around her instead of Belle. Like Maxie, it guarded Riven’s things.

Goddess—the ruckus might alert the prince. Evelyn sprinted towards the desk, intent on placing the letters exactly where she’d found them.

“Cover me!”

“What?” Belle hissed.

The bat darted in front of her, cutting her off the path towards the desk. She took a step, but again the bat intercepted her.

“Belle, help me! ”

Evelyn jumped between stacks of books, sidestepping left and taking the longer route. As she reached the desk, the bat leveled high and shot towards her. Evelyn braced for impact, but instead, the bat screeched as a sphere of water splashed its torso. The bat spun. In the time it took to collect itself and regain balance, Evelyn was able to place the letters back in the drawer. Neatly and right where she’d found them.

Recovered from Belle’s attack, the bat assessed Evelyn, apparently found her harmless without the letters, and returned to the barred perch. It swung like a furred pendulum, wrapping its leathered wings around it’s body. Glossy rust eyes glared upside down at them.

Evelyn hurried to Belle and grabbed the young witch’s hand, making for exit.

“Nicely done,” she whispered.

Belle beamed, and they rushed from the study, through the hidden door, and back up the tower’s stairwell in minutes. Sweat and the scent of snow wrapped around them as they burst into her room.

They’d beaten the lunchtime servants, and when they arrived, none batted an eye at Belle’s presence. While the young witch practiced her brotannas over a cup of water, Evelyn considered all she’d learned. Not much in the sense of the spell or the curse, but her mind continued to linger on sketches she’d come across first, and Riven’s question from the night before.

What would you risk for the ones you love?

“Belle,” she said, “did Riven have a wife and child?”

The droplets she controlled fell and splashed back into the cup. “Yes, a long time ago.”

Evelyn nibbled her lip. The dates had indicated as much, but Riven’s earlier words, the desperation in his tone, the craze in his eyes still nagged Evelyn.

Allies. Efforts. A spell…

A sickening realization washed over Evelyn. What if Riven’s plan had nothing do with breaking the curse? What if it had everything to do with his wife and child ?

There are no limits, no extent I wouldn’t go. I would do anything . Even if it destroyed this world.

“What happened to them?” she said in a breath, as if answers would explain Riven’s plans.

Belle began, once more, to raise the water up, but there was sadness in her eyes, a heaviness in her hands. “Rumors claim his twin sister killed them.”