When I saw her, she had crossed half the world to be here, on foot, by boat, and finally by jet. Somehow I looked so much worse. Hollow, in shock, unable to sit still or slow down. We passed each other in Carmadon’s garden, and even she knew to give me space. For once, Evangeline Samos had no snide remarks for me, and let me walk alone.
Perhaps this is the cost for such kindness. Having her trail me everywhere.
“I’m ready to be back,” I admit. Somehow, it’s an easier thing to say to her than to Gisa or Farley or Kilorn. She’s seen me at my worst, at my darkest, when I thought the rest of my life would be Silent Stone and a cruel king’s love.
Usually, Evangeline reserves her pride for herself. Today she spares some for me. “I don’t like you,” she replies, and it sounds like another admission. An acceptance. A step toward friendship.
My response is automatic. “I don’t like you either.” It draws a rare, true smile from her. “So, what’s next on my schedule? I know I skipped out on the trade meeting, but is there something else I have to be at before sunset?”
She blinks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “How should I know?”
I almost laugh. “The last time I had a bodyguard, he kept me to a schedule.” Strange. He was a Samos too.
Evangeline sighs, following my train of thought. “Lucas wasn’t all bad. He didn’t deserve to die.” Her eyes cloud a bit, darkening with memory. “And he was a better bodyguard than me. I don’t have any idea where you’re supposed to be right now.”
“Brilliant.”
The mischievous glint returns, brighter than ever. She grins, showing teeth. “I do know where someone is, though.”
My stomach flips. “Why do you keep nudging us at each other?”
“Well, before, it was to make sure he didn’t marry me. I mean, could you imagine? No thank you,” she says, pretending to retch. I purse my lips as we step into the palace. “Fine, to each her own.”
The change from crisp, cold air to the warm halls inside falls around my shoulders like a blanket. The scent doesn’t change, though. Inside and out, the palace smells like the fresh tang of pine.
“Why do you keep nudging now?” I drop my voice. Several meetings are still in session, and too many people roam the palace for my taste.
Evangeline does no such thing. “There aren’t many who deserve to be happy. I’m certainly not one of them, but here I am.” She leads me around a corner, winding us toward the entrance hall. “I think you might deserve it, Barrow.”
I gape at her. That’s one of the kindest things another person has ever said to me—and somehow it’s coming from Evangeline Samos.
Again, it feels easy to talk to her. Maybe because we aren’t friends or family. She doesn’t have the same expectations of me, or the same fears for my well-being. There’s no risk to her.
“He saw me the other night.” The words fight their way out of my mouth. “He wouldn’t speak to me.”
It feels shameful to say, shameful to even care about. I was the one who left, after all. I told him to move on if he wanted to. I won’t ask you to wait for me.
And yet he didn’t say a word.
When I look at her, I expect judgment. There is nothing but Evangeline’s usual detached sneer.
“Are you physically incapable of talking to him first?” she drawls.
“No,” I mutter, sullen.
Evangeline flounces off again, a bit of a spring in her step. Her rings jingle again as she snaps her fingers, gesturing for me to follow.
“I think you need a drink, Mare Barrow.”
This sector of Ascendant is lively beneath the sunset, looking out over the lake waters from a man-made cliff. Lanterns cross over the pedestrian streets, glowing brightly already. Many bars and restaurants spill out onto the sidewalks, their chairs and tables filled with patrons returning from work. Laughter and music wash over me, both foreign sounds. Part of me wants to turn around and go back to some quiet corner of the palace. The noise is almost too much, grating on my nerves. Every happy shout could be a scream, and the smash of a glass somewhere makes my entire body jump.
Evangeline puts a cool hand to my arm, grounding me. This isn’t a battlefield. It isn’t a Silver palace either.
It reminds me of Summerton, of Archeon, of Silver cities where places like this would never allow Reds to enter, let alone serve us. But both kinds of blood are here, evident in their varying shades of skin. Cold bronze, warm ivory, icy porcelain, vibrant copper. Many still have their military uniforms, either coming off shift or enjoying break time. I recognize the white and green of politicians too, seeking refuge from the delegations.
One of the bars is quieter than the rest, and dimmer, full of alcoves clustered around a main bar. More like a tavern than a cosmopolitan meeting place. Those, I remember. Those, we had at home. It’s where I met the prince of Norta, though I didn’t know it at the time.
And, of course, that’s where Cal is sitting, his back to the street, half a drink in hand. I’d know his broad silhouette anywhere.
I glance at myself, my velvet clothing discarded for a training suit. There’s dried sweat on my body, and my hair is probably still on end from all the static electricity.
“You look fine,” Evangeline says.
I huff at her. “Usually you’re a good liar.”
She raises a fist and fakes a yawn. “Watching over you is very taxing.”
“Well, you’ve certainly earned a break,” I say, gesturing to one of the tables at another bar. “I can handle myself for an hour or so.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t argue and sets off toward the loudest, shiniest, and most boisterous bar on the street. A flash of scarlet ripples at a seemingly empty table on the curb, and suddenly Elane is sitting there, a glass of wine in hand. Evangeline doesn’t look back as she waves me on. I scoff to myself—that meddling magnetron probably had her shadow girlfriend keep tabs on Cal so she could shove me at him when he was alone.
Suddenly I wish I had more time. To think of something to say, to rehearse. To figure out what the hell I want. I could barely speak to him this morning, and the sight of him last night left me haunted. What will this do to both of us?
Only one way to find out.
The seat next to him is empty, and high up. As I climb into it, I thank my body for remembering its agility. If I fall out in front of him, I really might die of embarrassment. But I stay level, and before he can even turn to look at me, I have his glass in my hand. I don’t care what it holds. I just drink, steadying my nerves. My heart hammers in my chest.
The liquid is slightly sour, but cold and refreshing, with an edge of cinnamon. It tastes like winter.
Cal stares at me like he’s seeing a ghost, his bronze eyes wide. I watch as his pupils dilate, eating up all the color. His uniform jacket is unbuttoned, hanging open to the fresh air. He doesn’t need a scarf or coat to keep him warm right now, just his own ability. I feel it at my edges, ready to wash over me.
“Thief,” he says simply, his voice deep.
I look back at him over the rim of his glass, finishing the drink.
“Obviously.”
The familiar words hang between us, meaning more than they should. They feel like an ending, and a beginning. To what, I can’t say.