Evie


    “No!” Trystan yelled, nearly scrambling over the side.


    “If you get on the branch, it will snap!” she yelled back. “It’s far too thin, and you’re far too tall. I’ll do it!” She looked at his legs and lingered a bit longer than necessary, but in her defense, there weren’t many excuses to stare at his legs and the pleasant way they filled out his trousers. There had been far too much talk of sexual exploits tonight for her to not imagine those legs—and the rest of him—hovering over her in a dark room with a soft bed.


    Stop imagining the boss naked, Evie!


    And rescue Kingsley!


    Thergest trees she’d ever seen had always existed in Hickory Forest, but the ones holding up the house were far taller than what she’d thought possible, the distance to the ground too high for her to measure.


    “It’s too dangerous. I won’t allow it,” Trystan insisted.


    Well, if that hadn’t already settled her decision, hisck of “permission” would certainly have done the trick.


    “What’s that!” she yelped, pointing to the other side of the balcony. It likely shouldn’t have worked on the evilest man in the kingdom, but it did. She tried not tough at his confused mien as he whirled in the direction she’d angled her finger—away from the branch.


    The very same one she was about to leap onto. In a dress.


    Don’t look down, she ordered herself.


    “Sage, NO—”


    She jumped, soaring through the air, free-falling for a second before both arms took furious hold of the branch. Her screaming would likely not speak well to her decision, but she’d already made the jump. It seemed far toote for regrets.


    “I’m going to wring your neck, you reckless little fool!”


    Evie rolled her eyes, using a leg to swing herself up and atop the branch, bidding herself again to not look down. She’d pretend she was mere inches from the ground, that this was the smallest tree in history and one little slip would simply have hernding on a soft patch of grass.


    “Sir, speaking to Kingsley that way isn’t going to get him toe down.”


    “I was referring to the other reckless fool.” She wasn’t facing him, but she could practically hear his teeth grinding together.


    Oh, that ass. She nced behind her, jeering. “You’re not on the branch.”


    Hisrge hand shot out to grab her, and she yelped, scooting farther up the bark toward Kingsley, sweat beading at her brow when she felt it begin to dip under her weight. The wind kicked up, the branch swaying at the force of the gust, and Evie held tight, swallowing a scream as the edges dug sharp splinters into her fingertips.


    “Sage! Hold on!”


    “You are an endless well of useful advice,” she yelled over the sounds of the wind, hoping her sarcasm came through properly over the noise.


    Suddenly, the branch stilled and the wind stopped mming through her, as if a wall had been thrown up to block it. Dark mist floated over her vision, and she realized Trystan’s magic had formed a sort of barrier around her to keep her steady.


    “You couldn’t have done that from the beginning?” She marveled at the barrier, carefully running her finger down the mist, and her boss let out a strangled, animalistic sound. “What happened?” she called in rm.


    “Don’t do that again,” he said roughly. But when she started to angle her head back to check on him, he yelled, “And don’t turn around. You’ll…you’ll lose your bnce.”


    Evie had an incredibly strong suspicion that was not the reason he didn’t want her to turn, but she adhered, scooching forward more until Kingsley was within arm’s reach. “Come on, Kingsley. It’s me. It’s Evie. You remember me, don’t you?”


    There was something not present in the gold of the frog’s eyes, and her heart responded by pounding in fast, irregr beats. “Can your magic get him?” Evie called, touching the mist to nudge it toward the amphibian.


    The boss made another strangled sound, and this time she did turn to look…and found him doubled over, rubbing a hand down his face.


    “Is it hard?” Her heart clenched with sympathy, wincing at the pain he seemed to be in.


    His eyes widened, and the strangled sound came out again, although this time some harsh breathing seemed to be added. “Is it—” He shook his head, as if there was no way he had heard her correctly.


    She furrowed her brow and felt the need to rify. “Is the output of magic making things hard?”


    He shook his head gravely, absently looking off into the distance. “Not the magic, no.” He locked his jaw, refocusing his gaze on her. “I’m not controlling it at all. The magic is not obeying me.”


    She tilted her chin to the side, peering at the mist with a click of her tongue. “Huh. Then why is it helping me?”


    “I have no idea.”


    The wind came again, and the mist swirled around her waist, keeping her in ce, before it billowed up and patted her on the head like she was a child being sent to bed with a ss of warm milk. She giggled and waved at it. “You are just adorable, aren’t you?”


    “That magic has killed people, Sage.”


    “Well, that’s hardly a measure of adorableness. I once saw you swing a cinder block into a Valiant Guard’s skull, and I think the look on your face right now is sufficiently adorable.” She waved her fingers at him, and his lip curled in disgust.


    “There is nothing adorable about me, you urchin. I am death.” The words wereced with anger, but Evie saw him subtly lean his head back, and she caught his expression in the reflection in the window. He didn’t look angry in the slightest.


    She snorted, and he shook his head, running a hand through his now-windswept locks. “Just grab the sted frog, Sage, and let’s get out of here.”


    She straightened, the mist slowly lurching back and thinning as she scooted closer to Kingsley. “I could use you for this next part!” she called. But it was like the mist could be felt only by her; when it slipped closer to Kingsley, it went right through him, unable to touch or move him at all.


    Strange.


    But there wasn’t sufficient time to question it, because in seconds, everything shifted.


    The magic swept back to her boss with such force that it knocked him off his feet. “Trystan!” Evie screamed as his head smacked hard into the stone, just as Kingsley leaped off the branch and back onto the balcony.


    She red at the frog, feeling more fury toward the little animal than she thought herself capable of. “You motherfu—”


    Snap. Crack.


    The branch was giving way below her, and Evie could do nothing but scream as she swung her leg around and climbed to her feet atop the branch. Then she was jumping…and the branch was falling.


    For a girl who was more than a little afraid of heights, Evie had found herself falling from things a disconcerting number of times. Once a day, more often than not, since she’d been in The Viin’s employ.


    And she’d once had the gall toin about falling off her desk chair.


    But no matter the distance, most cases of falling all happened rather simrly. Her body would take a few milliseconds to realize that her feet were not immediately meeting solid ground, and then her heart would catch up and fall faster than she was, mming against her toes, knocking the breath from her lungs.


    It was only ever a few seconds before she was back on solid ground. She’d yet to fall to her death, but she supposed statistics were going to catch up to her eventually with the rate with which she’d experimented.


    Her fingers reached for the railing of the balcony as she fell, the tips stretching, stretching, stretching.


    And she just. Missed. It.