Chapter 2: Everly

Chapter

Two

EVERLY

The men close in on me, their faces twisted with anger.

Think, Everly, think.

You've gotten yourself out of worse scrapes than this.

Remember that time you accidentally set fire to Mother's favorite chair?

You talked your way out of that one.

Before I can think of a single word, the portly man lunges at me. My reflexes kick in, and I quickly dodge to the side. Then, before he can attack again, I kick him in the groin. He grunts and doubles over, but his friend with dirty blond hair is already moving in. I whirl around and slam my elbow into his nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood gushes down his face as he lets out a roar of pain.

Take that, you bastard!

Unfortunately, my victory is short-lived. The first man recovers from my kick and grabs me from behind, his arms like thick vines around my waist. I struggle and thrash, but he's too strong.

Fury flashes in the portly man's eyes as he advances. "You're going to regret hitting me, bitch."

He raises his hand, and I brace myself for the blow. It comes hard and fast, a stinging slap across my cheek that snaps my head to the side. Brilliant light explodes behind my eyes, and for a moment, the world goes fuzzy.

Well, that's going to leave a mark.

So much for my flawless complexion.

I try to move, to fight back, but my mind is too hazy, my arms too heavy.

They gag me with a dirty rag that tastes of sweat. Then, they tie a blindfold over my eyes, plunging me into darkness.

This is not how I imagined my day going. I was supposed to find employment, not get attacked. The gods must be having a laugh at my expense right now.

The portly man hoists me over his shoulder, the rough fabric of his surcoat scratching my cheek as he carries me out of the alley. I try to keep track of where we're going, but it's impossible with the blindfold on. All I can do is bounce along helplessly.

After a short while, we come to a stop. A door creaks open, followed by footsteps, then the man unceremoniously dumps me onto a hard chair. The blond one rips the blindfold off. I blink in the sudden light and glance around the tiny, dingy room with no windows. The only furniture is the chair I'm sitting on and a rickety table in the corner.

I open my mouth to protest, but before the words leave my lips, the one who carried me over his shoulders grabs my hands and ties them together. Next, he fastens my legs to the chair with another rope.

My mind drifts to my family in Astarobane. Mother, with her kind eyes that always understand me, even when I cannot find the words to express myself. Grandmother, with her booming laugh that can fill an entire room. And Kassandra, with her unwavering support and boundless compassion.

They would want me to fight, to find my way back to them.

Desperately, I scan the room, looking for something that might help me escape, but there's nothing. Just bare walls and a dirt floor.

I lift my chin as another man enters the room. He's dressed in an unmarked dark gray surcoat over black pants, a broadsword hanging at his hip. Everything about him screams danger—from the way he holds himself to the calculating look in his eyes.

He's young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, with wheat-colored hair and golden eyes. And unfortunately, he's very handsome—the kind of man Kassandra would be interested in. Well, except for the fact that he's staring at me like I'm a fish he's about to gut.

The portly man leaves the room, only to return a moment later with a chair. He places it across from me, and the newcomer sits down, his gaze never leaving mine.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Who are you?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I believe it's customary to introduce yourself first, considering I was dragged here and tied up."

Amusement crosses his face, only to fade as quickly as it appeared. "You're in no position to be making demands."

I frown at him and speak in the most sarcastic voice I can muster. "I wasn't aware there was a proper etiquette for being kidnapped and interrogated."

The man speaks in a tone sharp enough to pierce steel. "Tell me your name, or I will order my men to take you outside and throw you over the nearest cliff."

That doesn't sound very appealing.

My throat tightens as I force the words out. "My name is Everly."

He cocks his head to the side and studies me. "What were you doing in the alley, Everly?"

Even if I told him the truth, he probably wouldn't believe me. "I was out for a leisurely stroll. I find that dark alleys are the perfect place for fresh air and sunshine."

"Are you always like this?" he asks, folding his arms. "Evasive? Annoying?"

"Most of the time. It's one of my many qualities."

His gaze narrows as he points to the red circle stitched into my surcoat. "You're an outsider, yet I've never seen you before."

"I'm new to the city. I arrived today, and I've already been treated so graciously." I turn my head, giving the men who kidnapped me a long, pointed look.

They glare at me, as if my mere presence is the cause of their receding hairlines.

"What did you hear when you were spying on Balik and Merrick?" the man asks .

Spying? As if I would ever stoop to such underhanded tactics.

"I didn't hear anything," I lie, knowing the truth could sign my death sentence.

"You must have." He keeps his stare fixed on mine. "Otherwise, my men wouldn't have brought you here."

His men?

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. He's their leader—the one pulling the strings behind this entire operation.

"I wasn't spying," I say, needing him to understand. "I stumbled on a loose brick, and your men attacked me, blindfolded me, then brought me here."

"I see." He drums his fingers against his thigh as he continues to stare at me.

"Can I go now? I need to find employment."

"No. You may not go," he says calmly, yet his words send a chill through my heart.

The ropes bite into my wrists as I rest my hands against my thighs and try to think my way out of this, but after a moment, I can't come up with a single idea to help me.

The man leans forward again and pins his eyes to mine. Hades! Why does he have to be so handsome? It would be better if he were ugly. "I cannot spare your life."

How can he say such cruel words so calmly? So callously?

Does he go around ordering death sentences every day?

Probably.

Nerves coil in my stomach, but I straighten my back and square my shoulders. If he's going to kill me, I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg or cower .

His eyes narrow, as if trying to gauge my reaction. I keep my face carefully blank, refusing to let my emotions show.

"You're not going to beg for your life?" he asks after a while.

"Would it make a difference if I did?"

"No."

I let out a slow breath, steeling myself for what's to come. "Then, let's get on with it. I'd hate to keep you from your busy schedule of kidnapping and murdering innocent people."

Those gold eyes glint with something that might be amusement or perhaps annoyance. It's hard to tell with him.

"Why don't you fear death?" he asks.

"Everyone has to die eventually. Why should I fear the inevitable?" Easy to say when your knees are knocking together so hard they might be heard in the next room.

He steeples his fingers under his chin. "You're either very brave or very foolish."

Probably a bit of both.

Torchlight skims his features as he continues to watch me, his gaze so intense he reminds me of Cenric. My beloved Cenric. Not that he knows he's my beloved.

"You intrigue me," the man says. "Not many people would face death with such nonchalance."

If only he knew the truth.

I force my lips into a smile. "I'm not like most people."

Grandmother always tells me I'm special. Sometimes I imagine that I am, even though I'm the twin without her other half. The twin who never knew what it was like to play with her sister—the one who was kidnapped when I was still a baby .

Yet, Grandmother still tells me I'm special. Still tells me I'm loved, even though I know she longs to see my twin again.

The dagger presses harder against my throat, and I swallow, feeling it scrape against my skin.

"I thought so," he says, his tone as unyielding as the blade at my neck. "You may act brave, but you are just as afraid of death as everyone else."

"Are you afraid of death?" The question leaves my lips before I can think better of it.

Instead of answering me, he digs the dagger in deeper until I'm sure it will draw blood. "Did you overhear anything earlier?"

There's no point in lying anymore. Not with a blade ready to end my life at the slightest provocation. "Yes."

As quickly as he placed the dagger against my throat, he lowers it to his thighs. "I see. Well, Everly. You have a choice. Either I can kill you, or you can prove yourself useful to me."

My mind races as I try to fathom what he could possibly mean by proving myself useful to him. Maybe he needs a gravedigger. Or maybe he needs someone to go around screaming at night, disturbing the peace while everyone is trying to get some much-needed rest.

"How?" I ask after a moment.

"By being my spy."

His spy?

I'd rather stomp through a pig yard barefoot.

"I'm not a spy."

"Yes, you are." He stands, and I draw in a quick breath at how dangerous he looks .

It's not just his impressive height or the way his hand rests on the hilt of his sword. No, it's something more intangible, a cold aura that chills the very air around him. His eyes hold a ruthlessness that makes my skin crawl. There's no warmth there, no hint of mercy or compassion.

And to think I was sarcastic and evasive with him. He could snap me in half if he wished.

I gulp and dig the heels of my boots against the dirt floor.

He leans down and uses his dagger to cut the ropes binding my hands and feet. Before I can rub my chafed wrists, he yanks me to standing with a rough tug.

He pulls me from the room at such a quick pace that I am forced to run to keep up with his long strides

"Where are you taking me?" I ask between breaths.

"You'll see."