Evie


    Evie was still far too frustrated about the lift to care about Lord Fowler. She was tired, she was not wearing any underwear, and worst of all—


    She was hungry.


    There may be a murder yet. She sent the thought to her dagger. It leaped at her thigh in what Evie interpreted to be excitement, and she cooed at it. “Be calm. You can’t get violent yet,” she whispered and looked up to find everyone watching her with a confounded air.


    “Are you speaking to your undergarments, Ms. Sage?”


    “Shut it, Fowler,” Trystan seethed.


    “No. I’m not wearing any undergarments,” she stated.


    “Sage!” Trystan pressed, his dark eyes wild when she caught them.


    She held up her hands, genuinely confused. “What? You already knew that!”


    “Did he now?” Fowler smirked and looked at Evie a little like he could see right through her thin shirt. She folded her arms over herself just in case, and her boss clocked the motion.


    The dark mist shot out and pinned Fowler to the tree, pushing his cheek into the bark.


    “Release me, Viin! It was all in good fun!” His voice no longer held that careless edge, dipping into the beginnings of what sounded like panic.


    “I think this is fun,” Trystan said dryly, shoving Fowler’s face harder into the tree until Evie thought she heard it scraping skin. She remembered his penchant for beheading and feared where this act of retaliation was descending to.


    Oh, the mess.


    She grabbed Trystan’s arm without thinking, and he didn’t move. His body was so still, her touch not even enough to cause a jerk. She squeezed as a test, and he froze further, tightening muscles she hadn’t realized existed. “Sir?”


    “I’ll kill him, and we’ll all be happily on our way.” Trystan pressed the mist against Fowler’s throat, and he began to choke. “If you’ve objections, do not waste them. I do not care.”


    Rude.


    She scoffed. “All right, Dramatic One, except I wasn’t going to object. I was just going to urge you not to dawdle. We lost a night’s travel because of this fool, and I would like to find some pants soon.”


    His shoulders loosened like an untied knot, his head swinging down until his gaze stopped on her. “Let me get this right. Your only objection to Lord Fowler’s death is that I might loiter?”


    Evie released a sigh. “And yet you’re already doing it.” She made her way to a nearby stump and sat atop it,bing her fingers through her tangled curls. “Let me know when you’re done.”


    Fowler was half gagging, halfughing, eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Oh, she’s brutal, isn’t she?” he managed to choke out.


    “You kidnapped us!” Evie argued. “And I’m brutal?”


    “Now, Sage, it was for a party. Fowler was trying to show us a happy evening,” Trystan said solemnly in rebuke. But the subtle shift of his mouth, the tiniest movement upward, nearly undetectable, told Evie that he was getting back at her.


    How exciting!


    “Then I suppose you should spare him after all.” She folded her arms and smirked. Got you.


    “As thedy wishes,” he whispered roughly.


    Oops. He got me.


    But The Viin didn’t hesitate as he dropped Lord Fowler to the hard earth. His magic—for once cooperating—returned to him, leaving Fowler a coughing mess. Kingsley and his re-chained foot dragged over as he held up a sign that read: Choke.


    “Charming, little frog,” Fowler said, climbing to his feet and brushing his hands down his trousers, which were now caked in dirt. As Evie suspected, the entirety of his right cheek was scratched from the bark, blood dripping from deeper cuts. “I merely came to ensure that you were given your horses back.” Fowler gestured to their four horses waiting at the tree line. “And, of course, to refresh your food and water stores. And to tell you the magic wand’s caveat.”


    Trystan red. “What. Caveat.”


    Fowler, despite his entricities, looked a tad meek. “Unfortunately, a few years back, I broke the wand in two. I was told it could work half as well with one part, and I always preferred it as decoration. So I thought it kind to give it as a gift. I melted the ss down and had it made into a lovely pair of slippers!”


    Tatianna sighed. “Oh no.”


    Fowler chuckled nervously. “I’m afraid for the wand to work…you’ll need to retrieve the ss slippers. It must be whole to work at its full magic.”


    Evie cut in gently, hesitant to ask, “And who has them, Lord Fowler?”


    Fowler brightened. “This is the good part! Fortunately, it was given to someone you know well! The Viin’s mother, Amara Maverine.”


    re froze, as did Trystan.


    Fowler dimmed. “Or perhaps…not so fortunate?”


    Amara Maverine. Splendid. As if they didn’t have enough sinister characters to deal with, now they had the demons of her boss’s past cropping up like weeds.


    Trystan barked to a guard, “I need a raven to send a message. Now.” The guard scrambled toply.


    Fowler toed the dirt, looking the smallest smidge guilty. “I’ll help make any arrangements to aid your journey.”


    “That was very kind, Lord Fowler,” Evie said.


    “He kidnapped us,” Trystan repeated back to her.


    “I didn’t mean that part.” She huffed, rolling her eyes so hard her whole body turned away.


    “And for you, my dear girl.” Lord Fowler came forward, with all the charm and charisma of a man who didn’t seem as if he’d been seconds away from taking hisst breath. Evie felt a soft fabric slide into her hands. “I have something fit for a viiness of your caliber.”


    Viiness.


    There were lock mechanisms inside her in constant rotation, and at that word, it was as if every single one found their perfect fit at the same moment, steadying her in a way she’d never experienced before. The fabric crushed between her fingers, soft and the color of the deepest, darkest parts of Trystan’s eyes.


    “Oooh, Viiness Evie?” Tatianna sidled up next to her, unfolding the fabric and holding the short traveling dress against Evie’s chest, whistling. “Another promotion, you lucky duck! I’ve been with the boss for six years, and I’ve never been promoted!”


    “Tati, you’re the one and only healer in the office. You started at the highest possible position for your field and have remained so since,” Trystan said, eyeing the garment Fowler had given her like it was a ticking time bomb.


    Tatianna slumped against Evie, pretending to swoon with a hand to her forehead. “Oh, my stars, how exciting!” Tati batted her eyshes at Trystan, causing Evie to giggle. “Can I retire, then?”


    He just stared at the healer. “I hate you.”


    Evie snorted before slipping behind one of therger trees to change into her new attire. The fabric was clearly of the highest quality as it slid smoothly over her skin, the short pants beneath a delightful surprise for traveling. “Look!” she yelled as she ran back to the group, the shoes Fowler had given her like little clouds against her soles.


    All eyes fell to her, including Fowler’s, who’d remained to witness the spectacle that was The Viin’s office staff. She pulled up the skirt, and Trystan gripped her wrist to stop her. “What are you doing?”


    She pulled free and showed them. “Little pants!” Her smile faded when she looked back up to see the boss with his hands pped over his eyes.


    He peeked through when her words registered and cleared his throat, gesturing to them like he was prepared to say something particrly profound. “Nice…uh, pantaloons.”


    Smooth, man.


    Fowler’sugh was halted by Trystan’s magic cutting across his cheek as a fist would.


    re moved to help Evie do up the buttons of the sewed-in bodice at her back. The morning breeze chilled her skin as re buttoned up the open fabric. “So that’s it, Lord Fowler? We’re permitted to go on our way?”


    Fowler gestured to the horses, then to the clearing beyond. “Free to go! You can even cut through Phoenix Vige, since you’re heading south.”


    Tatianna frowned. “Evie’s and The Viin’s faces are well-known now to Rennedawn. We can’t risk being recognized.”


    Fowler waved a hand. “Oh, I’m certain the vigers won’t notice. You’ll be perfectly safe.”


    “And how can you be certain of that?” re asked.


    Fowler shrugged. “Could be because it’s cloudy. People notice things less when the sun isn’t shining.”


    A horrid sound vibrated the ground beneath them, and Evie’s hands went to her ears. “What was that?”


    A puppy?


    Another loud roar.


    A teething puppy?


    “Oh, the purple phoenix; the vigers worship it, and it protects them in turn, but I’m afraid with the waning magic it’s be a teensy bit violent.” Fowler said this with a careless shrug that infuriated Evie.


    “And you’re not doing anything to help them?” Evie gestured toward the sound and the vige path. “This is yournd! Those people are your responsibility.”


    Fowler merely folded his arms and leaned against therge trunk that held his home. “I’m nobility, my dear. My only responsibility is to be as indulgent as possible, aplish one singr good deed a month, and receive years’ worth of praise for it.” He winked. “I already did my good deed for the month by letting you depart with that magic wand. Perhaps in another twenty-nine days.”


    Evie’s dagger vibrated against her thigh. She willed it to fly into her hand, then angled the de at Fowler. “So you’re going to let innocent people suffer? People who are counting on you?”


    It shouldn’t have been surprising to her that when given the choice of whether to help others, many instead willfully chose to hurt them. As a child, she had been taught that it was the viins who made that choice, but now she realized it was actually the boastful kings and lords—the ones who epted love but not responsibility.


    The day she ceased fully being surprised by it was the day she’d never recover herself. And with every new shred of ugliness, she felt that day growing closer and closer.


    But not this day.


    “People should know not to expect that.” Fowler tsked. “I hardly have the reputation for it.”


    She was no longer listening, however; with newfound expertise, she kicked her leg into the stirrup and swung her body atop her horse. She squeezed her thighs against the horse’s sides, taking off into a trot and then a gallop.


    “Sage! Where are you going?” Trystan yelled from behind her, the rattle of buckles signaling he and the others were about to follow.


    “Don’t be a hero, Ms. Sage!” Lord Fowler yelled, but his tone was bored.


    Her dagger glowed in her hand, her rainbow scar tingling at her shoulder in answer. She smiled, feeling cool anger sweep through every vein in her body.


    “Oh, I won’t.”