4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Evelyn

T he pads of Evelyn Carson’s fingers burned.

Flesh sizzled. Steam rose. Sweat prickled at her brow.

It wasn’t her own magic causing the pain—no, that was trapped, still bound thanks to Riven’s bracelets.

High in a gray sky, tendrils of stray clouds reached out to the stone of Evelyn’s tower, just shy of her window—her very locked, very enchanted window in Drystan Castle.

For the third time, Evelyn tried to open it. At the poor expense of her now numb fingertips, it didn’t budge. Dark magic oozed from the metal latch and frame. Without access to her own magic to extend out and feel it, all she could sense was wrongness, the same kind that wrapped around every inch of Drystan she’d so far experienced.

Evelyn cursed and braced her forehead on the windowpane, a tired breath shuddering out of her. At least the glass cooled her steaming skin. Heat had flushed through her body ever since Riven had captured her, a constant stream. At this point, she was scorching, hotter than the flame coursing through her veins. Carnage, anger, resolve—they stormed inside her, thundering to be let loose .

Fucking flames , she saw it all for what it was. The lack of food. Isolation. Riven was doing this on purpose. He needed her alive to complete the spell to allow vampyrs to walk in the sunlight. He couldn’t kill her, but he could weaken her. Exhaust her body, play with her mind. A weak prisoner was easier to control.

There was no fucking flames way she was going to let Riven break her. Exhaling through her nose, she assessed the surrounding land outside the window.

The tower stood high above the rest of the castle, alone on the east side. Not a shingle or roof to fall onto before hitting the ground below. Guards, the size of ants from so high up, scurried back and forth across a stretched battlement. Evelyn released a shaky breath. Even if the window budged, she’d have nowhere to go.

More guards flanked other walls and towers, Verena-purple uniforms dotting the inky limestone. The castle was a fortress, heavily guarded and fiercely surrounded by a murky moat and a wall decorated with iron spikes jutting upward. It was carved into a mountainside with a steep, rocky descent.

If Evelyn made it out of the castle unscathed, where was she to go next? Bouts of mist mingled through the streets of a village that sat on the edge of a snaking river. She was too high to make out anyone, and even though there was still much to learn about her enemy, she guessed the village brimmed with vampyrs.

Sure, Evelyn had managed without her flame before. In the early months after she’d run away, witches on the Guard and werewolf warriors had once searched for her, but she’d slipped past them all, undetected. She’d mastered the art of going unseen while she moved from place to place. At least then she’d had her innate magic to help her.

Evelyn massaged her sore wrists. The skin and bones trapped beneath the bracelets were bruised. Her left had been rubbed so raw, sticky blood glued the bracelet tighter. Evelyn channeled her magic, her flame swirling and flaring in her blood. It hit the walls of dark magic, and like any other creature, hitting against a cage over and over only weakened it .

She gritted her teeth and growled with frustration. She needed to keep her strength, which was slowly fading. Evelyn swallowed, shutting her eyes in hopes of some reprieve, but even in the darkness, there was pulsing pain, helplessness, exactly as there had been in the confines of the ship. Even now she bobbed up and down, not on waves, but on the ebb and flow of her despair. They’d made it across the Sapphire Sea in sixteen days, twice as fast as the usual voyage. Between the speed of the ship, a spell that needed her blood, the enchanted window, and the damn bracelets, it was clear another witch worked with Riven.

Not only was Evelyn unequipped to face a fellow witch, but it also unnerved her that one had left Sorin to side with the vampyr prince. Had the Wall failed around the city of witches? Had something horrific happened to her homeland?

Guilt for running two years ago ate away at her. Even as Riven’s prisoner, she wanted nothing more than to show the people of her homeland she’d changed. Though it wasn’t common knowledge she’d run, she knew the mistake she’d made—as did her sisters. What did they think after all this time? Did Mirella, her astute, older sister harbor years-old ire? Did Blair, her kind but reserved middle sister, resent her for the worry she’d caused?

Evelyn fisted her hands at her side. She wasn’t certain what she’d face in Drystan, but no matter what, she’d make sure Riven never succeeded with his spell, one way or another. She’d earn forgiveness from those she’d left behind by defeating the darkness and protecting her homeland. When she returned, it would be as though she’d never left.

And yet, she wished she’d return to Sorin under different circumstances.

At Kade’s side.

Goddess , she missed him. Her heart ached for him.

For his kindness, his kisses. His phantom touches haunted her when she drifted to sleep, his evergreen-and-rain scent lingered on her clothes. To think they’d been so close to returning home, united and determined to fulfill the prophecy together—it crushed Evelyn’s spirit. She’d tried not to think of him for when she did, her questions never stopped. How long had he waited for her at the docks? Had he learned she’d been captured? Had he thought the worst?

And Maxie. Her absence was like a hole in Evelyn’s chest. A fragment of her soul missing. A witch didn’t part with her familiar. Ever. Had Kade found Maxie? Did she feel the separation like Evelyn did?

No.

Evelyn steeled herself, refusing to let doubt plant its weedy seed. She’d been down that path before, knew the havoc it wrecked on her heart. Never again would she let it control her like it once had. She prayed to the Goddess that Kade had found Maxie and that they were both safe. She wiped away a few tears, set her shoulders straight, and paced back and forth, rallying her resolve.

Voices resounded outside her door, and Evelyn paused. Had Riven finally decided to pay her a visit, or had the vampyr king been informed of her arrival?

Though she’d gotten a great sense of the land outside the castle thanks to her high vantage point, Evelyn had seen little inside the castle aside from her room. She’d been blindfolded before they left the ship. Deprived of her sight, she’d relied on her other senses—the smell of wet stone, the drizzle of rain, and the boots clattering on the path of whoever dragged her along. Evelyn hadn’t gained any sense of who surrounded her, what their purpose was, or where they traveled. She’d half expected to be thrust at the vampyr king’s feet in a throne room or handed over to Riven and his mysterious witch allies, but instead, they’d shoved her into the large suite of a tower with no indication as to when the spell would take place or how they planned to use her blood.

The door’s lock rattled open, and a woman glided into her room. The agility. The swiftness. Her visitor’s movements set off alarm bells in Evelyn’s mind, and her bound flame rallied to defend.

A vampyr.

Her attire reminded Evelyn of a uniform, like one she’d worn on the Guard. Tight leather leggings molded to her legs, and a belt of the same leather held a black quilted jacket in place. Though, unlike Evelyn’s uniform, the jacket’s sleeves were high with silver embellishment. Matching wristbands held the snug tunic covering her arms in place, and the Verena crest glinted over her right breastbone. Brownish-black hair had been pulled to the side and braided in a fishtail pattern, blending in with the dark outfit.

“Who are you?” Evelyn asked, words thick and laden on her tongue after days of silence.

“Tala, a member of Riven’s council,” the female vampyr said. “I’ve been tasked with guarding you.”

Her golden eyes tracked over every inch of Evelyn’s frame, like some beast sizing up her prey. Yet, despite the predatorial threat steps away, Evelyn’s flame danced. Even snuffed against the bracelets, it twisted with delight. A sense of familiarity tugged at her—and the stark difference compared to Riven and Tovi. The vampyr didn’t possess the same ethereal beauty but an earthier kind. Regardless, in the presence of a vampyr, at Evelyn’s command, her flame rallied to defend.

“Guard me? Last time I checked, I was in a cell.”

Tala raised a brow. “I’d hardly call these accommodations a cell.”

Evelyn scoffed—maybe delirium had gotten to her after all, and her sense of self-preservation had vanished. She was feeling rather bold. “Measly comfort doesn’t negate the fact I’m a prisoner here.”

Tala rolled her eyes and walked the perimeter, seemingly disinterested in Evelyn. “Call it what you want, but compared to the dungeons, it’s luxury. Here you have window. A bed. A bath.” She paused at the four-poster on the north wall and then the armoire. “Are the clothes not to your liking?”

Evelyn bristled. She’d found the wardrobe full of clothes tailored to her size, which meant, to her annoyance, Riven had been planning her capture for some time. She wasn’t sure which irritated her more, the fact he succeeded or that he’d been plotting right under her nose. Worse, had Tovi assisted Riven? Evelyn dismissed the name, refusing to even think of the searing betrayal .

Instead, she regarded the grandiose of the room—the velvet, the silks, the amenities—for what they were.

Golden shackles.

Tala sighed with a hum. “Between us ladies, you could use a fresh set of clothes.” She sniffed the air, and her nose wrinkled. “I’d also suggest a bath. You smell like shit. No offense.”

Evelyn blinked, unable to stop her mouth from falling open. She clamped it shut, shaking her head. She wasn’t certain if she was disoriented or if that was a true tease in the vampyr’s tone. Embarrassment washed through her. Grime and stench clung to her. Grease matted her hair roots. She wore the same clothes since the day she’d been captured, and she’d been locked in a cell during her time on the ship, her accommodations a humble chamber pot and her cloak as a bed.

She crossed her arms. “Offense taken, considering it isn’t exactly my fault I’ve been locked away for weeks.”

Tala waved her hands in the air. “Don’t overheat yourself, fire witch. What’s in the past is in the past. Would you rather stew in what can’t be undone or wash?”

The female vampyr sauntered over to the table situated between the sofa and pair of reading chairs where a decanter of wine sat, two goblets glinting from the light of the fire.

“Here.” Tala poured a generous glass of wine and handed it to Evelyn. “It’ll calm the nerves.”

She eyed the alcohol. While wine sounded lovely— Goddess , the chance to calm her nerves even with a sip or two—she didn’t trust the effects it would have on her already tired, weary mind. “I’m good, thanks.”

Tala exhaled. “You’re afraid. Hiding it well, but I can still hear your racing heart.” She tapped her one ear. “Vampyrs have keen senses, don’t forget it.”

Fucking flames . Evelyn clenched her jaw and breathed through her nose. Not only did she hate knowing Tala could sense her nerves, but she also hated not understanding her enemy. For so many years, she’d fought scáths who attacked for one thing—blood. They didn’t play games or observe their opponent closely.

Evelyn took the glass, pausing as she glanced at the liquid. Distrust, icy cold, flushed through her.

“It’s not poisoned. I swear,” Tala said. As if to prove her point, she poured herself a glass and sipped it. The burgundy stained her white teeth, no fangs in sight though.

Evelyn raised a brow. “How can I be so sure?”

She shrugged. “Poison isn’t my usual method of killing.”

Evelyn scoffed. Perhaps it had been a tease in Tala’s tone earlier. Curious, she asked, “And what is your usual method?”

“Axes.”

Evelyn raised a brow, intrigued, but no weapons of the sort hung from the adviser’s belt. Her agile frame suggested the female vampyr was accustomed to fighting and being active. But clearly she also enjoyed wine. She downed her pour in a single gulp, abandoning the empty goblet on the table with a cling . A red-stoned pendant dangling from a delicate necklace reflected off the gold cup and caught Evelyn’s attention.

She froze mid-sip, the tannins turning sour on her tongue. Evelyn’d seen the likes of it before.

Tovi.

She’d worn one, a pearl-sized crimson stone set in black metal. A rare stone of my homeland , she’d said.

“What is that?”

Tala followed her line of sight. “It’s called a bloodstone. It allows me to walk in the sunlight. And it keeps others from knowing, entirely, that I’m a vampyr.”

Tears threatened to spill. The sight of the bloodstone answered questions brimming in the back of Evelyn’s mind for weeks. Tovi had walked alongside Eveyln during the daylight. Shopping, to and from classes at university, strolls in the park. How had she never suspected her best friend was a vampyr ?

Her best friend.

Could she even call Tovi that? No. She’d tried her hardest not to think of Tovi, but now, locked beyond dark stones, it had become increasingly difficult. This was Tovi’s home. This had been her castle. Or was it still? Did she roam these halls as Evelyn stood prisoner in a tower? The betrayal was blinding. It seared through Evelyn, so hot, she saw red. Tovi had lied about not only who she was, but what. The more she thought of her, the more often she asked the most painful question of all.

Had any of it been real? Their laughs. Their friendship. The times they’d held each other through heartbreak. Tovi had been there for Evelyn more than her own sisters in the wake of her parents’ deaths, and yet she’d known who’d killed them. It didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t Tovi said anything? Perhaps Tovi had lured her close, assisting Riven in his plot.

Evelyn downed her wine, setting the drained goblet on the table with a loud clang . She crossed her arms and dug her fingernails into her biceps, using the pain for something else to think of. Stewing over Tovi was as helpful as opening the enchanted lock on the window without her magic.

Her efforts only hurt in the end.

Escape wasn’t in the cards— yet . But that didn’t mean she’d sit around idle. Wine, a bath, some rest. Time to gather her wits. Recharge her resolve. Figure out what to do next. If she wanted any chance of victory, of escape, Evelyn needed to learn more about her enemy.

“Dinner will arrive in an hour,” Tala said, striding for the door.

“Splendid.” Evelyn didn’t hold back the sarcasm.

“I take it you haven’t been enjoying the chef’s soup, then?” Tala asked, a playful glint in her eye.

“I’d hardly call it soup.”

Tala laughed. “Maybe I’ll put a word in with the cook and get you something nicer tonight. Wash up. If you’ve already forgotten, you stink. ”

Evelyn grasped her arms a little fiercer. “Will I get the chance to bathe alone, or do you plan to guard me every minute of every day?”

Tala raised her hands in surrender. “I’d rather not stay for your bath. I’ll grant you some privacy. But I’ll be right outside the door, and remember”—she tapped her ears—“vampyrs have excellent hearing, better than that mate of yours, even. Try to leave this room without me and you’ll end up in the dungeons, but this time with chains connected to those bracelets.”

Evelyn sucked a breath, the mention of Kade gluing in her place. She didn’t bat an eye for Tala’s threats, not when she craved Kade’s touch and kind gaze. She’d give it all up—the room, the comfort, the promise of fresh air—to know for certain he was safe.

Tala paused at the door. “Also, a fair warning: Riven is close to getting what he wants. I wouldn’t push him. Follow my orders, stick to me, and you’ll survive the coming weeks.”

The vampyr shut the door behind her.

Evelyn’s head ached. She wasn’t sure what confused her more. The fact Tala had warned her about Riven’s progress or that the guard had said, “what he wants”?