On my way out, I had a thought. There was no way Evgenia had any sleepwear that would fit me, the dress tonight a fluke of generous draping. I chucked the bedding out into the bedroom proper and pulled a simple sleep dress from a drawer. Now to get out of this dress . . .
I never felt better removing the stupid slip, dumping it on top of the silk dress, and standing still a minute to let the cool air dry the sweat that had pooled around my chest and lower-back areas. Then I stepped out of my low heels and went to unhook my bustier.
“Scheisse!”
I whipped around at the voice behind me.
Elliot stood at the door, his mouth agape.
“What are you doing here?” I screeched, holding the sleep dress over the front of my body, though it covered very little. He’d certainly gotten an eyeful of me in my underwear. Elliot’s back was turned now, anyway.
“What are you doing here?” he shot back accusingly.
“I’m sleeping in Evgenia’s room. I came to get sheets.”
“And undress?”
“It is my room,” I sniped back.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Elliot insisted. I looked down at the crumpled slip and dress. No way was I putting them back on. Fine, we’d do this the annoying way.
“Don’t turn around,” I instructed with a huff, turning my own back for good measure while I contorted my arms around to unhook my bustier. Once I had it off, I threw it on top of everything else and pulled my nightie on as fast as I could. I hated how skimpy it was, but my modest pajamas were with the rest of my things on the Scandinavian. It was as if fate had manufactured this moment to be as embarrassing as possible.
Gathering up the discarded clothes in my arms, shoes hanging from my thumbs, I moved back out into the room, stepping around Elliot. He stood still as a statue but swiveled his head around to me, then darted his eyes down at the floor.
“You’ve, uh, grown a bit since you last wore that, I think,” he said, his tone holding a hint of amusement.
“It’s the only one left here,” I grumbled, pulling awkwardly at the tight fabric catching on my too-wide hips. There was nothing to be done for the strain in the bust area. Nudging the fabric in any direction would be disastrous. “Teasing me isn’t very nice.”
“It’s better than yelling?”
I remembered the duvet, sheets, and pillows, pooled near his feet. Utterly gracelessly I bent down, holding everything tight against my body like a shield.
“It’s safe to look now,” I informed him, and finally he pulled his focus from the floor. Then he laughed at me again.
“You know it’s kind of ridiculous, considering I’ve seen everything before.”
I suffered a full-body flush at the implication. “Yeah, well, those privileges have been revoked. And on that note, I don’t need you to defend my honor. Lukas didn’t even do anything.”
“It didn’t look that way to me.”
“I had it handled,” I huffed. “And now everyone is going to talk about how you got into a fistfight with him over me.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Does what bother me?”
“That people might talk about us.” Elliot dropped his voice low and took a step toward me.
I might as well have chucked the duvet and stripped off the ill-fitting nightie—I felt naked anyway. I writhed under his stare. “You’re still drunk,” I blurted. “I think you have me confused for the wrong sister. Good night.”
And then I left.
* * *
“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Evgenia remarked when I returned. She tilted her head and squinted in assessment. “And you’re . . . really pissed off about it? What did I miss?”
“I’m mad at myself for being completely useless,” I said, too keyed up to lie. “Elliot walked in on me practically naked, and then I think we were flirting with each other, but then I reminded him how he’s interested in my sister.” I worked consciously to stop scowling. It took several tries to unclench my jaw.
Head righted, now Evgenia’s perfectly groomed brow disappeared up into her fringe. “And why were you practically naked?”
I dropped the duvet, sheets, and pillow to the floor.
“Ah, I see. Cute nightie.” She hopped up from the bed, grabbing her dress and slip from me to hang them back up in the wardrobe. Then she took both hands and pulled me over to the bed. She patted beside her, directive clear: Sit. So I did.
“Spill,” she said. “You and El have been acting incredibly odd, hostile one minute and sneaking glances at each other the next. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“It’s . . . complicated,” I hedged, trying to buy myself a bit of time. It was, after all, true. I opened my mouth to speak, but the answer didn’t come tripping off my tongue. My tongue was weighted like a slug in my mouth, stubbornly staying put.
Evgenia eyed me circumspectly, then said, “Let me guess: You’re utterly and terribly in love with me, right?” The joke broke the tension, and I laughed.
“Listen, it’s—”
“Don’t say ‘complicated’ again.”
At this point, I’d danced around it too long and too awkwardly not to just come clean. But I’d also kept it in so long, so used to not telling anyone. Exposing myself and my pain did not come easily, but neither did new friends. Evgenia was the closest I’d had to a true, equal companionship since, well, Elliot. I took a deep breath. Finally, it tumbled out.
“We were engaged. Technically only for twelve hours,” I quickly corrected. Eight of those hours I’d been sleeping, on cloud nine. It took only four from the moment Father found out for him to dismantle everything, with an assist from Klara and Aunt Freja.
“Engaged! Wow, that is serious.” Evgenia frowned. “You know, that does make sense, now that I think about it. I knew he was bitter about his past here, and weird about you . . . and then there’s the whole Valg thing.” I didn’t miss the way Evgenia cringed, as if in self-censure from saying too much.
“What do you mean?” I asked. She suddenly found her fingernails incredibly interesting. “Evy, please.”
“It’s just that he may have mentioned to me that his plan was to hurt his ex a little, make her jealous, by participating in the Valg. I just never put it all together, that it was you. I thought Klara might be the one—”
“Klara and Elliot?” I exploded. “No way. He was way too poor for her . . .” My mouth soured at the realization that that was no longer the case. Klara and Elliot could very well now be a union that came to fruition. He had money, and apparently she’d changed her mind about the whole marriage thing.
“Now that I know it’s you, I’ll be smacking him fully upside the head for his idiocy. You’re amazing. And . . . wait. Wasn’t he flirting with your sister tonight?” Her mouth twisted. “Oh, Elliot, you colossal moron.”
I barked a laugh. “Right?” Then I fully processed the implications of Evgenia’s confession. The Valg had been his plan to make me suffer. Well, he’d succeeded admirably.
“And if I’m half as good at reading people as I know I am, you’re in no way over him. You still care.”