Sewn & Scarred (The Fated Creations Trilogy #3)

Chapter Forty-FiveEvaline

Chapter Forty-Five

Evaline

T here had been times when a dagger rested heavily on me. Ready at my hip and absolutely begging me to wield it. Each time Therese insulted my father, and in the presence of Bassel.

But none had ever come close to this. The dagger hidden away in my boot, and the glass shard in my sleeve, both hot and cold at the same time. My skin buzzed where the weapons pressed against it, and the blood in my veins beat with an energy that could only be described as that of soldiers walking into war.

I wondered if this was how my father had felt each time he stepped onto the battlefield. If his heart beat with the same flutter of excitement and anticipation.

I’d guess that it didn’t. He was walking into battle with friends on either side, knowing that not all of them would survive.

But tonight, I was an army of one. And if I succeeded, even if I fell, then I at least would’ve saved all the other soldiers from war. At least Wyott and Cora and Rasa, at least they wouldn’t have to look at each other, standing side by side on the battleground, and wonder who they would see the next day.

“Good evening, Evaline,” Vasier’s cool voice said as I entered the dining room.

Broderick nodded to Vasier and stepped outside of the doors where he’d stand guard outside of the dining room, as he always did at dinner.

I didn’t respond to Vasier, but that wasn’t abnormal.

I sat at my designated seat, across from Vasier and a few paces of dinner table away, just as Sage entered and sank into her own chair.

“Hello, Sage,” he welcomed.

She nodded at him. “Hello, Father.”

Lauden shuffled in then, and by the lack of acknowledgment from Vasier and the heat of blush that lit up the back of the Sorcerer’s neck, I knew that things between them had still not calmed since I’d provoked Lauden into nearly killing me at the last test. Things between the three of them had seemed tense for days now, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

I heard the door close behind me, and clenched my fists in my lap.

The first step.

Vasier seemed to know something was unusual about me, or perhaps he was still reeling from the fear of my accidental death—too premature for his plans—since he couldn’t keep his eyes off of me.

He called the humans in, and they unveiled the food as they normally did. Maeve wasn’t among them, and I was glad for it. She didn’t work in the kitchens, just in the bedrooms. A part of me hoped that meant she never interacted with Vasier, but I knew the truth was that she likely tended to his room, too.

The three of them made the same idle small talk that they usually did, though it seemed to be harder to come by than it was a couple of weeks ago. They spoke about matters of the kingdom, how their days had been, and when the chatter became exceptionally quiet, the weather.

I tried to keep my hand steady as I ate, tried to keep my face free from tension and my heart at its normal pace. Anything to hide from Vasier the truth of the matter, the truth of this night.

I’d thought through every plan and backup. I’d thought through every move that all three of them could make, and how I could use my magic to stop them. I’d plotted the best time to make my move. Before dinner, during, or with dessert.

But now that I was here, the fear and worry swarmed through me until I had to remind myself to breathe.

I looked down at the beans that rested on my plate as I chewed the bite I’d just taken.

I just wanted a moment away from Vasier’s lingering gaze.

I prayed to the Gods and Goddesses, to keep everyone I loved safe.

My friends from Kembertus—Aurora, Jaqueline, Priscilla, Megin, and all the children in the Orphanage.

My friends from Rominia—Wyott, Cora, Dean, Rasa.

Even for Kovarrin.

But finally, for Maddox. For the Gods to free him from his Vasi prison. For them to give him another way to feed, once I was gone. To give him the happiest life he could possibly have, all things considered.

I prayed to my mother, my father. For strength in both magic and body.

I took a deep breath, sent one last thought down the bond even though there was a wall at the end of it.

Goodbye. I love you.

I swallowed my bite, and my head remained tilted down as I made my first move.

Thick walls of air were sent flying as I stood, planting one foot on the chair and another onto the table. My hand pulled my dagger free from my boot, at the same time that I started to run across the table. Dodging the large dishes, stepping on smaller ones. Kicking glasses with each move and sending cutlery flying.

Five walls of air had been sent at my command. Strong and invisible, and crushing.

One for each door. The one behind me, where Broderick guarded on the outside, and the other where the humans came in from the kitchens.

To keep anyone from entering this room.

One for each Sorcerer. Sage, to my left, and Lauden, to my right. The walls pushed them until their seats fell backward, and the wind tossed them to the other side of the room and held them down onto the ground.

To prohibit them from stopping me.

I tried to ignore the pang of guilt in my gut at the sound of Sage’s head cracking against the floor.

And finally, one for the First. One for Vasier, to push him back and away from the table. To surprise him. To throw him off balance. To push him back so I had a chance to run across the table, and get to him before he could kill me.

The room was both loud and quiet. Time moved both fast, and slow.

Vasier’s eyes widened at the impact of my wall, but he recovered far quicker than I anticipated, and quicker than any other Vasi or Kova I’d fought. His hands wrapped around the edge of the table, and he pushed himself against my wall so that it couldn’t fling him backward in the same way it had the Sorcerers.

His eyes narrowed on me as I took my last stride down the table for him. I bent my leg below me, as I dropped down into a slide until I landed directly in front of him.

I planted a foot against the back of his chair as my other leg crouched below me. I grabbed his hair with one hand, wrapped my dagger around the back of his neck with the other, and pulled.

My Air slammed against his chest, shoving him back into my dagger. My hand shoved his head back, too, and my dagger cut through some flesh.

My gaze rose from my dagger to his face, and I had to force down the fear that arose.

Because he was enraged. Unlike I’d ever seen him. His eyes were wild. His face red from exertion, his brows wrinkled with their furrow and hatred. His jaw was tight, but he bared his teeth.

His fangs.

Instead of allowing myself to shy away in fear as the memory of the last time I’d been bitten by a Vasi to took over, I pulled harder. My blade met his spine and my eyes widened at the same time his did. He still pushed against my wall, trying to get to me, but he couldn’t.

And he was afraid.

But my dagger stalled at his spine, and I felt doubt for a singular moment. As the world filtered in around me—the sound of Broderick slamming against the doors, trying to get in. Lauden and Sage writhing on the ground, trying to get up. Lauden’s Fire hitting my wall of air and raging around him but never past my wall.

Vasier pushed toward me, and I felt the wall falter.

“No!” I shouted, pressing my foot harder into his chair for leverage.

I threw my weight back, pushed my Air harder against him, and wrenched the dagger with a loud grunt of exertion.

His face was still red, veins popping out of his forehead, his temples, from his exertion, or rage, I did not know.

I screamed and wrenched. He pushed and gnashed his fangs toward me.

But finally, the tension broke.

Just not in the way I’d needed.

Vasier’s hand broke through my wall and wrapped around my throat. I pulled away, pulled the dagger, but he yanked me toward him. His fangs were dropped, dripping with drool, and his eyes were set on my neck.

I couldn’t breathe, he was squeezing so tight.

I gasped and pulled.

He was so much stronger than Broderick.

His hand tightened, my throat collapsed.

I tried for another breath, but darkness already encroached on my vision.

He pushed forward.

And past my wall.

He stood and slammed my head down onto the table behind me until my upper body was pinned against it and my lower body was hanging off of the table, legs flailing.

His grip on my neck was harder than any I’d ever experienced. The men in the graveyard in Kembertus. Broderick at the test.

I knew Vasier was going to kill me.

He knelt down toward me, eyes enraged.

They landed on my neck again as I scratched at his hands, tried to pry them off. His fangs lengthened even farther, but he took a breath and seemed to compose himself.

His fangs receded, his eyes cleared, and his face smoothed.

But his hand remained tight, I couldn’t breathe, and I felt all of my walls fall away as I lost my grip on them. It had been a massive use of my magic, to maintain that many wards against the fight that had gone against them, for so long.

Vasier loosened his grip but kept me pinned below him.

The door burst open and I heard several pairs of feet scatter into the room.

He took another deep breath, and then his eyes slid over my right shoulder.

“Clearly she has somehow received her magic back,” he said, low, looking to Lauden.

I heard a scramble and knew Lauden was faltering for his feet.

“I don’t know how she did it. She must’ve manipulated the ward the last time I tried to lock her magic away.”

Vasier scoffed. “You mean when you were distracted, because you’d just been chastised for nearly killing the most important person in my life?”

I nearly winced for Sage.

“I don’t know, I don’t understand,” Lauden said, his voice coming closer. “The only way to manipulate the wards is with her blood, it should’ve worked. We cut her hand, used it to lock her magic back.”

Vasier’s eyes moved back down to mine, and he cocked his head.

“No. We didn’t cut her hand,” he said, eyes searching mine. “She did.”

Lauden swore below his breath and Vasier’s eyes lit with amusement.

“Whose blood did you use to fake your cut?” He loosened his hand even more so I could speak.

“A human’s,” I croaked. “Broderick broke a mirror in my room, the human he sent to clean it up cut herself while cleaning it.” Vasier’s face didn’t move further from mine but his eyes flicked up behind me, and I knew they were on my guard. “He left me to clean it up myself after that,” I said and tried to ignore the pain from speaking or the tears that fell down my temples from it. “I stole some of her blood from the mess.”

I heard Broderick clear his throat. “Of course, I didn’t know that was her intention. I didn’t even think about that as a possibility, or I wouldn’t have left her alone. It won’t happen again.”

Vasier ground his teeth but nodded.

And I took the opportunity and the extra air filtering into my system to pull the shard of glass from my sleeve and drive it into Vasier’s neck. I would never get another opportunity, not like this. And I would do whatever I had to do to kill him, even now with all the Vasi in this room who would surely kill me.

I just had to kill him first.

Vasier grunted at the drive of the shard into the side of his neck, and the way I pulled it toward me, but his eyes only flashed in annoyance, looked up at Broderick, as he wrenched the glass from my hand, and then out of his neck, and sent it shattering on the floor.

“So you gave her the opportunity to get blood to manipulate the ward, and weapons.”

Broderick’s voice got closer. “I didn’t know—”

Vasier’s eyes flashed with realization and he looked back down at me.

“Where did you get the dagger from?”

“My second test,” I said, my voice hoarse.

I didn’t say Broderick’s name, but Vasier’s eyes moved to him all the same.

“And you let her pickpocket a dagger from your sheaths.” He shook his head. “Gods, Broderick. If I knew any better I’d say you were trying to help her.”

My guard scoffed and his voice was closer. “I didn’t—”

Vasier shook his head. “Riley, you take guard of her for the rest of the week,” he said, his eyes flashing to someone else in the crowd.

“Yes, sir.”

I heard Broderick’s frustrated grunt, but then Vasier leaned closer to me. “You almost died. You would have, if I hadn’t been able to control myself,” he mused, his eyes alight. He cocked his head. “You were willing to die. You’d do so, just to kill me?”

I mustered up the most vitriolic of an expression and bared my teeth at him.

“I would do anything to stop this war. To stop you from hurting everyone I love.”

Something passed over his eyes, but I couldn’t name it.

“I see.” His eyes moved over my face again, as if trying to understand why I’d say such a thing, but then they resettled on mine. “You want your magic back so badly? Fine. Keep it.” He looked to Lauden. “We’ll need it tomorrow anyway.” I saw Lauden nod from my peripheral, then Vasier’s eyes locked on mine again.

“You will not use your magic until I tell you that you’re allowed to.” His eyes shifted, seemed to ripple like a stone dropped into a puddle. I kept my eyes locked on his and nodded. Despite the fright that took over, or the cold that settled over my skin as I realized what he was doing.

He was trying to compel me.

And I felt nothing. No change in my mind, no sway over my decision making.

“You will no longer scheme. You will not plot. You will only do exactly as I say.”

I nodded and murmured. “I will only do exactly as you say.”

The ripple of his eyes went away, and he nodded, satisfied with his compulsion. He lifted me up and set me on my feet.

As he bent his head to bite into his wrist, I could see that his neck was completely healed, and defeat settled over my heart.

He offered his blood and I drank it.

“Now go back to your room, and go straight to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.”

He said, his hand on the small of my back pushing me gently toward who must have been my new guard.

I felt Broderick’s eyes on me as I passed him, and wondered why I felt a sense of guilt over getting him in trouble.

When I got back to my room, I didn’t shove the armoire in place. I was afraid to, worried that it would give my lack of compulsion away. He’d said to go straight to bed, so that’s what I did. I didn’t even wash his blood from me or change into pajamas. Just stripped the food and wine-covered clothes off of me, and laid in bed. I kept the barbed wire in, and feigned sleep. I figured I only needed to stay here for an hour or so, then I could fake a bathroom run.

But while I lay here, I attempted to contact my mother in the Night. I had to warn her of what he would attempt tomorrow. That we had to stop him, that he would try to get to her. It felt like ages since I’d been able to see her, and truly nothing would have made me feel better after the loss of the assassination attempt than to hear her voice.

I tried for what felt like an hour and for the second time in a night, I failed. I stood from the bed and went to the bathing chamber. I took a bath, as quickly as I could. I hated being naked in bed without the protection of my armoire, and hated being naked in the bath. But I finished quickly, dressed in pajamas, and went to sleep in my chair.

I didn’t think Vasier would suspect that his compulsion didn’t work. And for a moment, fear crept into me that perhaps it had, and I’d only thought it didn’t because my mind was playing a trick on me. I had done everything he wanted, I’d just convinced myself it was on my own accord.

I looked to the fireplace where a small fire ate up some logs.

A small ball of fire raised from the flames at my command, and I let it fall as I tilted my head back and felt the tears well up.

Thank you, Gods.

I didn’t know which God gave me the ability to resist compulsion, but I’d never been so grateful for a gift in my life.

With my head tilted back, I scanned over the paintings on the domed ceiling. They were all gold, but even though the objects of the paintings weren’t their usual color, even from here I could tell what they were. Puffy clouds, even if they were painted on crimson stone instead of a blue sky. There were butterflies flitting between them. There were leaves blowing in the wind—

I sat up from my chair as a realization struck me.

My heart hammered in my chest and my eyes scanned over the room. To the bed frame, and its gold-wrought butterflies dancing through clouds. To the art that hung on a few of the walls—flower petals blowing in the wind. To the fireplace and hearth, with red sculpted stone around it depicting smooth, curving lines that swirled in some areas and coasted in others.

Wind.

Wind.

Wind.

Air.

I swallowed and heat flushed from my body as all these images—gold clouds, gold butterflies, red wind—all seemed to cage me in.

This room wasn’t only the nicest room in the castle, as Vasier had claimed.

It wasn’t a spare room that they’d had lying around.

It wasn’t my room.

It was my mother’s.