Sewn & Scarred (The Fated Creations Trilogy #3)

Chapter Thirty-FourEvaline

Chapter Thirty-Four

Evaline

B roderick ran to us and scooped me up from the floor so that Lauden could use my still bleeding wound to re-lock my magic down with the ward as he mumbled whatever incantation he used.

It took only a few moments before Broderick stormed through the hallways toward my room and forced his cut hand into my mouth. I had no choice but to accept, after my head began to spin with the loss of blood.

Not to mention the pain I felt and desperately needed reprieve from.

When the pain began to subside, and the wound healed over, I ripped my mouth from his skin and threw my head back. I sucked in a few desperate gulps of air, never so grateful for Vasi blood in my life.

Broderick kicked the door open and stood me up in the center of my room before he turned to leave, never sparing me a second glance.

My heart stuttered with relief at his retreating form, and I realized that I’d been afraid he was going to feed from me. I was still covered in blood, and I wondered if that enticed him like it seemed to have the others.

The door shut behind him and when I heard him stop, I knew he was going to guard it tonight.

I ran forward to push the armoire in the way and then paced back and forth in the space between the foot of the bed and the fireplace.

My magic was fast enough to kill a Vasi, as it had been fast enough to ward off Cora and Wyott during training back in Rominia.

Now I just had to figure out an opportunity to get enough time alone with Vasier, and a weapon, to kill him.

I stopped pacing and turned to look at the fireplace poker. I knelt toward it again, but instead of only touching the tip of it, this time I cast a shield around the poker so Broderick wouldn’t hear me remove it from its sheath.

I felt the weight of it in my hands. It had heft to it and would make a good weapon if the tip was sharper. I slid my thumb over it again.

Although perhaps with enough force behind it, it might be sharp enough.

I could try to stab Vasier through the heart with it. Or I could use a dinner knife while we ate.

I thought a plan through—what moves I’d make and how I’d move so Vasier couldn’t stop me. I’d have to be fast enough that Sage and Lauden couldn’t see it coming, either.

There was a knock at my door then, and I nearly dropped the poker from my hands in surprise.

I quickly put it back and opened the door to see Sage standing on the other side of it.

I swallowed back a sigh, but let her into the room, assuming she had some lecture from Vasier ready for me.

She shut the door behind her and pulled her satchel out from her side.

I moved to sit at the dining table so she could draw blood, and as soon as I sat she turned to me and tapped her ear, then pointed to the door.

I threw up a shield, understanding it as her intention, then looked up at her. “What do you want?”

She pursed her lips and sat in front of me and drew the blade.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, frantically looking over me.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t know he was going to do that, you have to believe me.”

I leaned back in my seat, kept my gaze steady on hers, but did not speak.

“I know why you killed him,” she said, lifting her chin. “I heard him at dinner that night, too.”

I tore my gaze from hers. It was too hard to think about the reason why I killed that Vasi, when Maddox wouldn’t have even been tortured if not for her.

“He deserved it,” I said, lowering my eyes to the table and reaching for the knife.

“Are you sure you want to give blood so soon?” she asked, reaching out to stop me from taking the blade.

I shrugged. “Broderick healed me, that’s his name, isn’t it?” I asked, nodding for the door.

She nodded. “Yeah, he’s my father’s best friend.”

My brows pulled in. “Vasier is capable of friendship?”

Sage pursed her lips and handed me the knife. “You can do it if you want to take the risk, but you lost so much blood today.”

My hand paused over the knife. I knew that if a Kova or Vasi drank my blood, and then I drank the mixture, I’d turn. But would it work the same if I’d just drank blood?

An idea lit in my mind, and I raised my head to Sage’s.

“Can I send another note for Wyott? To warn them that I’ve just drunk? I’m not sure how it might affect it.”

Sage nodded and pulled paper and a writing utensil from her satchel, and handed it to me.

I scrawled the note down quickly. I had to word it wisely for Wyott to get the message and for Vasier not to be too alarmed if he read it. I knew that it was likely safe to mention that I was afraid for my life. Considering what had happened, Vasier should assume I feared for my future, and not because I knew I needed to kill him, and that I was willing to die to do so.

Sage rolled it up, without reading it, and shoved it into a pocket in her bag.

She handed me the jar, and I grabbed the knife and tried to quell the race of my heart.

I made a small cut over my palm and felt her eyes on it.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

I kept my gaze on the jar as I squeezed my hand over it. I decided not to respond to her but looked up at her through my lashes, and recalled what Vasier had said about her mother. Thought about how challenging it would have been to be raised believing that one parent left you, only to have a parent who hardly seemed to care. A parent who used her.

I swallowed, thinking back to every time I’d talked about my parents in front of Sage, when she saw my mother and I interact, and each time she’d asked about them. How she’d sniffled in the home I’d shared with my father as I talked about how we’d been best friends, wondered if the dust had bothered her that night, or if she’d been crying. Remembered how she cried at the notion that both of my parents had died to protect me.

I thought back to that conversation hiking through Rominia, about how her father refused to teach her to fight because she had to hone her magical abilities instead.

How he had a Sorceress for a daughter, one who had what should have been an extinct ability, one that could change the world, yet he looked past her, always, looking for my mother, and then me.

A thought crossed my mind and I forgot for a moment that I was angry with her, and let the question slip past my lips.

“Why were you so mean to me when we met?” I asked quietly. She jumped from the words, and I couldn’t tell if it was from what I asked or if she’d just been startled by my voice after the silence.

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, so I pressed.

“You came under the guise of getting in with the Kova, with our family. If that was the case, you should’ve been overtly nice to me, but you weren’t. You were cruel.”

Sage took a deep breath and looked to the door again.

“The shield is still in place. He can’t hear.”

She looked back to me and sat back in her chair. “I’ve hated you for a long time, Evaline.”

I straightened, not expecting that answer.

“Before I ever knew you.” She shook her head and looked down at her hands. “To be fair, at first it wasn’t you I hated, but your mother.” She swallowed. “My father…he’s looked for Alannah for centuries. By the time I was brought into his life, he’d only suffered defeat after defeat in finding her. So when he found me, when I had the ability to portal, he thought I’d be capable of more, too. Like she had been.” Her eyes shot up to mine for a moment. “The Vasi, Lauden, and I, we all know what Alannah did. We know that she created both of them and that they were brothers. Vasier never kept that a secret. He’s been looking for another Sorcerer who was as powerful as her, because he wanted revenge on her, and on Kovarrin.” She traced the scar on her hand with her other thumb. “And growing up, he’d test me, constantly, to see if I could do anything like what she’d done.”

“He wanted you to create?” I asked, leaning forward in my chair, making sure to keep my bleeding hand over the jar as I did.

She shook her head. “He wants your mother, so he always tried to manipulate my portaling abilities to do something that isn’t possible. At least, not without using blood magic.”

“He wanted you to find her,” I said, and she nodded.

“Yes. And to pull her to us. Again, and again. Every day. For years,” she whispered and revealed her left palm.

My eyes fell to that long white scar. I’d seen it before but had forgotten about it. Her fingers traced it over and over, as if she could scrub it away.

“I tried until it was apparent that I wasn’t powerful enough to do so.”

I cocked my head. “I don’t think it was that you weren’t powerful enough, Sage. She just wasn’t alive, anymore. He was asking you to go above and beyond blood magic into territory that only Mortitheos commands.” I shrugged. “And what ability he gifted me.”

Her brows furrowed then as she stared down at the scar. Her head cocked and she gave a slow nod. And I couldn’t help the thought that perhaps she hadn’t realized that, until now. As if it had just dawned on her, that she was never the problem.

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, and straightened, looking at me.

“He knew your mother had passed, but by the time you arrived in Rominia and we met, and we discovered that even you had extra abilities,” she shrugged. “My hatred for your mother transferred to you.” Her eyes started to shine but she blinked the mist away. “My father had searched for your mother, then you, my whole life. I was here all along,” she whispered. “And I was never enough. And seeing you, seeing how easily it all came to you.” She tossed her head back now and took a breath. “And Gods, not even just the magic. But your friends, your mate . The stories of your parents.” She shook her head. “You had it all Evaline, you had everything that I never did, and I deeply resented you for it.” Her eyes scanned around the room. “Growing up here, with these people, with him. I thought it was normal, and it wasn’t until I saw Rominia, that I realized that it wasn’t. Even then, I tried to convince myself that still, Kova were the problem. I tried to rely on what I’d been taught to know . But you all were kind to me, no matter how cold I was, and at some point, my father’s hold on me started to diminish.”

The jar was full, and I pulled my hand away as she dove into her satchel for the Vasi blood to heal it.

The moment I saw the vial, saw the Vasi blood, my tongue dried at the horrific taste I knew I’d be in for in a moment, the taste that still lingered in my mouth from Broderick’s skin. And now I knew it’d be a regular part of my appetite with Vasier’s sadistic tests and the fact that Lauden had to use my blood to unleash and rebind my magic.

But an idea formed in my mind, of how I could get my magic back, and I forced my jaw to clamp shut. Willed my body not to make a noise as I took the vial from Sage.

“After Maddox turned,” she continued. “I was ready to leave it all behind,” she whispered, despite the shield. “But when you told me about your mother, and how you had access to her.” She shook her head. “It was as if every lesson he’d ever given me, every slice I’d made into my palm,” she bit out past the tears that peaked over her lids. “It was as if they all came to the forefront again, and I saw my chance to make my father happy. To make him proud. To be enough .”

She swallowed at the same time I popped the cork of the vial and drank it.

“At the last moment, I realized it was wrong, and that I didn’t want to do it. When I pushed your mother away, it was because she is who he really wants.”

“I know,” I said, and she looked up at me as I hid the vial in my hand and recapped it with minimal movement, and slipped it into the long sleeve of my shirt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, too, Evaline.”

Looking into her green eyes, I remembered the first time I’d seen them. When we’d met in that boutique. They’d been just as dark, just as sad. Shadowed by something I couldn’t name then, but understood well now.

Defeat.

I remembered the way her smile had fallen as she walked from the store. How her shoulders had sagged. Remembered the pity I felt for her, having to wear a mask when I knew it well, too. But where I wore a mask to protect myself from my aunt and uncle—two people I knew never really cared for me—and then Bassel, so I could get revenge, I only wore it for survival. For my own interests. I’d never once had to wear it for someone else. Never had to wear it around the one person who was supposed to love me unconditionally.

And she had. She’d worn it for so long, she probably couldn’t remember what it felt like not to. And that realization shattered something inside of me. I couldn’t stop myself from picturing the little girl who thought her mother abandoned her, who accepted a life raised by Vasier. A man who treated women as inferior no matter how powerful they were.

And I realized that this hadn’t been her fault.

Not really.

Should she have been honest the moment she cared for us? Ideally. But how could I judge someone for doing what they were raised to do? What they were indoctrinated to think, to feel, since they were a child?

I swallowed, tried to blink away the tears in my eyes, and met hers.

“I forgive you, Sage.”