I should say thank you. For proving even promised trust can be broken.
Sage had stumbled backward like he’d struck her—because he had. But The Villain had been too stubborn, too triggered by his past betrayals to see anything but his own hurt.
Trystan had called her a hypocrite when it was becoming glaringly obvious the only person guilty of hypocrisy was himself.
She had wanted him to have enough faith in her, to trust her, and instead he’d punished her. Trystan held Blade’s gaze. “You should not have kept this from me, Gushiken.”
Blade nodded, ducking his head. “If I had known the trouble it would cause, believe me, I wouldn’t have.”
“Believe you?” Something dark was creeping into Trystan’s voice as he begrudgingly realized what it felt like to be wrong. It felt horrible. “I don’t know what to believe right now. But believe this: if you ever find yourself lying to me again or implicating another employee because of your carelessness, you will find your head adorning my rafters.”
Blade looked queasy, and Trystan resisted the urge to chuck the man through the window.
Gushiken waved both hands in front of his face. “No, no! I promise to never keep a secret from you again, sir! I will head to the healer now to have a magical oath burned into my flesh, in fact.” And with that, Blade turned to take off toward Tatianna’s quarters. As he pulled the door open, he sheepishly glanced back at The Villain, something vulnerable in the man’s expression.
“Um, sir…does this mean I can keep my job? That the dragon and I can remain?”
It wasn’t mercy, what Trystan said next, but it was alarmingly close to it. “Yes. Against my better judgment, you may remain.”
“Thank you, sir!” Blade said, his voice far away as Trystan had already moved toward a stained glass window, unlatching the glass and pushing it open to let the summer air waft over him.
The sunlight hit his face, but he felt no warmth, like Sage had dragged even the power of the sun away with her.
He hadn’t realized the dragon trainer was still standing in his office until Trystan heard him ask a question so small and quiet, he nearly missed it.
“Sir…what about Evie?”
When Trystan remained silent, he heard Blade’s footsteps fade away until they were gone completely.
But the dragon trainer’s question echoed through his mind so many times, Trystan wanted to scratch it out.
What about Evie?
Chapter 21
Evie
Evie always knew she’d die at the hands of her own foolishness. She’d landed herself in far too many dangerous situations, unintentionally, for the odds to not fall against her at some point in time.
She’d straddled her boss and then quit her job, all in one day.
Groaning into her hands, she rolled over in her bed, ignoring Lyssa when she hesitantly nudged the door open.
“I have to go to school.” She lightly placed something on the small table beside Evie’s bed. “I made you some tea that always helps Papa…when he’s feeling sick.”
Flipping over immediately to face her sister, Evie rushed to assure her she was not unwell, desperate to get rid of the forlorn look in her sister’s expression. “It’s okay, Lyssa, I promise I’m not sick the way Papa is.”
Her sister’s shoulders relaxed. “What kind of sickness is it, then? You never miss work.”
Evie tapped her chest with her palm, feeling the lump in her throat moving to sit underneath her hand. “It’s a sick feeling here. In my heart.” It was difficult to decipher her feelings on her own, let alone attempt to explain them to a ten-year-old.
“Oh, you’re sad,” her sister said, nodding.
“Well…” She waited, considering the words. “Actually, yes, I suppose that sums it up pretty nicely.”
“You use too many words to say simple things, Evie.” Her sister patted her head before grabbing a book she’d placed on the ground. “You should only use a couple. People understand better that way.”
Smiling and feeling a little lighter, Evie got out of bed and waved her sister off. She watched out the window as Lyssa ran in the direction of her school. Then she padded barefoot across the kitchen floor and pulled the spigot to get a cup of water.
She looked down to the employer’s bargain on her pinkie finger, narrowing her eyes at it. She’d expected some sort of recourse for disobeying the promise. After all, she’d quit. Where was her reckoning? Or was it a slow death? Would she be going about her day and then suddenly her heart would stop? She’d have to fix it, or Lyssa would be left all alone and—
A rasping cough came from behind her, causing her to jump and spill her cup on the floor. “I’m sorry,” her father rasped again, collapsing hard into the chair, face pale and drawn. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Papa.” She moved to his side, crouching before him. “Have you been taking the medicine my friend made special for you?”
He smiled guiltily, taking a shaky hand to his forehead to dab off the sweat there. “I didn’t think I needed it. I’ve been feeling so much better.”
Evie shook her head, trying not to chastise him. Her father didn’t always do well to give care where he should. After Gideon died and her mother departed soon after, Evie’s father had fallen into such despair, he couldn’t bring himself to even hold Lyssa. They’d decided as a family that Evie would continue her education at home, away from the schoolhouse and all her friends, to assist in raising her little sister.
A sacrificed childhood was a small penance for how Evie had failed her family, her mother, Gideon. She wondered if that was why she could be so impulsive, so headstrong. Every childish part of her should’ve had the chance to change and grow. But instead, it was stifled, like a flower cut right as it was about to bloom.
Her father’s eyes suddenly widened, and he attempted to stand on shaky legs. “Is Lyssa still here? I don’t want to frighten her. She’s been so happy seeing me so well.”
“She’s off to school already,” Evie assured him. She moved his arm over her shoulder and walked him back to his bedroom. “Papa, you need to take better care of yourself. If not for your own sake, then for Lyssa’s.”
Evie helped him gently onto the bed, pulling the covers up under his chin, then reached into the drawer of his dresser. Quickly finding the small vial of medicine, she measured out a few drops. “Open,” she commanded.
After the medicine had a few minutes to make its way through his system, her father’s eyes began to close. “Why aren’t you at work today, dear one?”
Evie pulled the knitted blanket off the cushioned armchair beside her father’s bed and draped it around her waist as she sat down.
“I had a fight with my boss,” she said, pleased to be able to share at least an ounce of honesty with her father.
His mouth pinched. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it wasn’t all that bad.” Smiling at her, he continued. “Perhaps you might go and apologize.”
Evie tried to ignore the sting that her father assumed it was she who did something wrong. “I don’t think that would help the situation very much, unfortunately.”
He gave her a dubious look, his eyes beginning to droop again. “If you want an old man’s advice, be honest.” Clearing his throat once more and placing a hand on his chest, her father got a faraway look in his eyes. “There is so much that can be fixed by honesty, if you’re brave enough to use it. It’s something I wish I had been more with your mother.”
The mention of Nura surprised Evie. “I— You never talk about Mama.”