6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Evelyn

A week passed.

The days moved as slowly as the clouds over Drystan. Evelyn’s prospects at learning anything about her enemy felt as bleak. Her maddening, mundane routine left her disheartened. She woke with the sun, readied for a day of being attended to by human servants, paced around her tower, and shared meals with a silent Tala. Evelyn bristled from the comforts—silk sheets, three-course meals, an endless wardrobe.

Her guard surveyed her every move, making it difficult to do anything but sit and remain a well-behaved prisoner. At first, Evelyn had attempted to get answers out of Tala, but she’d remained tight-lipped. She answered in smirks, sighs, scoffs, and the occasional rolling of the eyes when Evelyn threw an insult.

If Evelyn wanted answers, she wouldn’t get them from Tala.

Her door swung open, and servants wheeled in a cart brimming with silver platters. Human servants. Another question, another unknown Evelyn hadn’t managed to understand. Why did humans live in Drystan? Were they here willingly ?

Tala sauntered in next, her walk possessing equal parts ease and grace. The movement reminded Evelyn so much of Tovi, she had to look elsewhere blinking away the memories of her poised, proud, once best friend.

Tala sat on the large velvet sofa in the center seating area. She patted the empty seat beside her. “Join me for lunch. I could hear your stomach growling down the hall.”

Evelyn grinded her molars together, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. The female vampyr never failed to remind her—or warn her, Evelyn wasn’t sure—how impeccable her hearing was. She couldn’t gauge the vampyr, couldn’t figure out what game she played. One moment, she was teasing, the next, she threw threats, only to offer her a salve for her wrists after that. But Tala had never hurt Evelyn, which begged the question, who exactly was Tala, and why had Riven appointed her as Evelyn’s guard?

Evelyn didn’t enjoy taking orders like some child being babysat. Stubbornness led her to one of the reading chairs across from Tala. The vampyr smirked, one of her fangs making an appearance. It wasn’t as long or sharp as a scáth’s. Why? Yet another question to add to her growing list.

“Drystan fashion suits you,” Tala said, sarcasm dripping like syrup from her words.

Evelyn’s nostrils flared. Dresses. Skirts. Slips. And, fucking flames , more damn dresses. She hated each of them. The layers. The fabrics. The inability to move freely and securely. The skin of her legs prickled, the expensive material reminded her too much of Tovi’s fine taste in clothes.

After the servants laid out lunch and left, Evelyn and Tala ate their meal in utter silence, as usual. Evelyn ate as much as she could. The food had improved since the bland broth on the ship. Roast chicken. Crispy potatoes. Herbed gravy. Evelyn had tried to regain her strength by eating, but nausea ailed her in waves.

After the third bite, she abandoned her plate on the side table, inhaling through her nose. Her head pounded, and she grew flush again, sweat slicking down her neck. If she forced another forkful, she’d be sick .

Tala’s golden eyes hesitated on her abandoned plate, brows pinching slightly. “How about a walk, witch?”

“A walk?” Hope sparked in Evelyn’s gut.

Tala nodded, setting down her own plate. “Fresh air. A moment out of this tower. What do you say?”

The vampyr rose from her seat. That had been something else Evelyn had gathered. Tala proposed questions but didn’t leave room for objection. They were going for a walk. Evelyn was getting out of this tower.

Fucking flames , what an opportunity.

She practically shot out of her chair, far too quickly. Her sight narrowed, the circular room tunneling in and out of focus. She blinked away the dizziness, refusing to let her nausea ruin this chance of getting a better lay of the castle.

Drystan’s cold bit like a frozen viper. Evelyn’s cheeks burned rosy, and her fingers stiffened to a horrid numbness. But the cold helped. The clean scent of snow sat in the air, filling Evelyn’s lungs with freshness. It beat the thick brine of the ship and the suffocating tower. Goddess, she could breathe again, and the temperature dulled the pain of the bracelets.

Tala didn’t seem in any rush to escort her back. They’d walked a steady pace through a large, well-manicured garden. Wintergreen hedges lined rows and rows like a squat maze. Snow dusted the vacant flower beds. Some ferns remained, frost as clear and thick as glass magnified their lime-green hue. There was a lack of life in the garden, though. Oh, birds flew above, and surely worms tunneled down below, but the still garden possessed nothing… lively, no bright energy. Without her magic, she couldn’t detect anything for sure, but something in the air, something rooted the in land was odd, as if her instinct sensed an otherness .

A wrongness —like the dark magic on her window. What exactly clung to the land of Drystan? Was it the darkness of the Void seeping into it? Yet, Evelyn had no idea how near or far the Void was in relation to the castle. She shook her head, ignoring the onset of a headache.

Over the white-capped mountains to the north, the sun hung like a silver dollar in the sky. Thick, slate-gray clouds stole most of its light, casting the castle in haunting shadows, but it was still day.

Evelyn had taken note of the guards stationed around the castle grounds. Humans. They hadn’t come across a single vampyr. Perhaps not all vampyrs possessed a bloodstone. She’d never encountered a scáth with one either.

Tala veered left, leading them under a rusty archway and out of the garden. They entered a courtyard where fountains sat in every corner. Large, black carved vases rested in the center of water pools. Mounds of ice fell over the rounded fountain tops, the slow but mighty trickle of a few water currents cascading into a delicate chime as they hit the icy basin.

“Why is it you have a bloodstone and others do not?” Evelyn asked.

Tala sighed, dipping her cold fingers into the fountain’s basin and combing through the icy water. “Only a select few have them. Those usually within Drystan court who possess a high status, a lord or lady.”

Which explained why Tovi had one. She was their princess after all. Yet, worry wormed through Evelyn, unrelated to her old friend’s secrets. How many other lords and ladies used their bloodstone necklaces and walked amongst witches and werewolves in Sorin, unbeknownst to everyone around them?

“Who gave you yours?” Evelyn asked, the question tumbling from her lips before she even considered she might not like what she heard.

“Tovi.”

The name was like a bucket of ice water. She’d forgotten others knew Tovi—knew her like Evelyn didn’t. Her betrayal riled Evelyn’s flame deep inside her. She didn’t want to linger too much on Tovi’s lies, but Riven had said Tovi was a thorn in his side, and Tala claimed she was part of his council.

“Simply because she is your princess or because you’re acquainted?”

The vampyr studied Evelyn, golden eyes fleeting over her face. She’d seen that look before, an intense apprehension as the other refrained from saying something, as if Tala held back. Evelyn’s brows pinched together, chalking up the flicker of familiarity in the back of her tired mind as unreliable. What about Tovi would Tala hold back? Why tell her anything at all?

Tala smiled, both fangs flashing. “I’m not entirely certain that’s any of your concern, witch. Come. Sundown approaches, and I’m sure you’d like to walk—”

“Lady Tala.”

A young guard stood in an entryway leading into the castle. Adolescence still clung to his rosy cheeks, and he’d yet to grow into his gangly limbs and height. His innocent human eyes landed on Evelyn, fear flashing through them. He held a folded lettering gripped tightly in his hand.

Tala shook her hand dry and gave Evelyn a pointed glare. “Don’t wander from the courtyard.”

She left Evelyn alone to discuss with the young guard in a hushed voice. The sight of the descending sun sent Evelyn’s heart rate up. Back in the tower. Locked away. Alone. She moved onto the next fountain, frustration gripping every fiber in her being. Time ticked like a phantom omen approached.

Riven intended to use her blood to allow vampyrs to walk in the sunlight. That knowledge alone unnerved her. How? When? Why hadn’t the prince made himself known or the king? Snow flurries began to fall, their icy exoskeletons landing on the black limestone and dissipating into the foundation of the castle. Evelyn followed their trail, her resolve melting as quickly as the new snow. What good did the fresh air do if she didn’t get answers?

An exasperated humph snagged Evelyn’s attention. Beyond the courtyard, one of the prettiest young women she’d ever seen sat at the edge of a pool. A statue stood at the center. Her dainty hand hovered over the water, shaking, as her brow furrowed. A few droplets rose into the air like beads of suspended rain. They reflected the women’s sage suede dress. Wait— fucking flames —the young woman was a witch who possessed a water bronntanas. Was she working with Riven?

Evelyn’s heart skipped as she headed in the witch’s direction. The joint courtyard was rather simple, the center statue the single ornament along with evergreen trees, neatly pruned, lining the perimeter. A tall, lanky man had been carved from the same dark stone of the castle, but Evelyn paid the figure no mind, her sights set on the witch.

As she approached, the witch’s brows pinched more, exasperation turning her beautiful face red. She gasped, and the water droplets fell. The witch muttered a curse and slapped the water’s surface. Evelyn paused behind an evergreen, hiding as she continued to take in the young witch.

She hovered her hand over the water again. Again and again, she flexed her fingers, and Evelyn’s racing heart dropped. She’d been there before. Frustrated. Angry. Her magic lost to her. The feelings were as familiar as yesterday. What she would’ve given to not be alone in that struggle. Cautious, Evelyn stepped out from her hiding place, approaching the younger witch on silent feet.

She cleared her throat. “Try again.”

The witch whirled. Barely twenty years old, her eyes held a young innocence. They shined a shade between blue and green. Her golden blonde curls, weaved with silver tinsel, spilled over her shoulder as the witch scrambled back.

Evelyn held up her hands—black bracelets taunting her. Perhaps this had been a foolish idea. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I… I noticed you were a witch and—”

The witch retreated another step. “Stay back. I’m not supposed to talk to you. My sister told me you aren’t to be trusted.”

“I’m not here to hurt you. Your magic—I thought I could help.”

The young witch blinked. “You want to help me?”

Evelyn nodded. She gestured towards the water surrounding the statue. “Why don’t you try again, and I can…” Words had been etched into the rock where the statue stood, clearer at this distance, and the first word rooted Evelyn in place.

King.

Tall, lanky, like another vampyr she knew. Long hair pulled to the side with delicate braids weaved by his temples. A humble crown, what appeared to be a metal ring, sat atop his head. The man’s cheekbones were carved from stone, figuratively and literally. The astute nose and square shoulders, Evelyn realized who Tovi and Riven resembled the most—their father.

It was a statue of the King of Vampyr.

This had been the enemy her people had whispered stories about late at night, the villain both adults and children feared, but Evelyn’s blood ran colder than the Drystan air as she read the rest of the plaque.

King Harold Verena, May the Goddess Let His Soul Rest in Peace .

Evelyn’s heart raced. Her vision tunneled in and out as she read over the words. Rest in peace. Rest in peace. As if he were…

“The king… is he…” Goddess, Evelyn couldn’t manage words. “Dead?”

The witch’s eyes narrowed, her head titling. “Yes, he’s been dead for some time.”

Evelyn’s mind whirled. Dates had been carved into the stone as well. Years, centuries ago. Centuries before the first Daughter of Goddess and Son of the God. Fucking flames. For so long, Evelyn had feared this vampyr the statue represented. She’d feared he’d storm across the Void with his armies and destroy her homeland. She’d trained day in and day out, losing herself to nightmares over his wrath and darkness. She’d ran away from home, desperate to ensure he’d never learn she lost her flame.

And he wasn’t even alive.

Bloodstones. Vampyrs walking in the sunlight. The differences between scáths. None of it outmatched the newest truth.

For almost twenty-six years, Evelyn had feared a ghost .

Her flame raged within her, heating her from the inside out. Out! Out! Out! it screamed. Where had the winter chill gone? Was that steam rising from her arms? A sharp pain pierced through Evelyn’s head, and she collapsed to her knees with a cry.

Hands gripped her shoulders. Gentle hands. The stone’s cold was a comfort against her limbs as she crumbled. Someone cried out her name. Black dots bubbled through her vision until they morphed together, and darkness took Evelyn under.