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Evelyn gave Tovi a vague rundown of the demon attack. She left out the details about Cyrus, not really in the mood to have that conversation about a handsome, muscular, far too kind for his own good, beast of a man with her dear friend who would sniff out whatever feelings—no, attraction—she had for him. Tovi believed the opposite sex to be an unnecessary distraction, or she suspected them of wanting to rob women of their independence.
After they’d finished their dinners and moved to Evelyn’s patchwork sofa with their half-full bottle of wine, they continued to discuss Evelyn’s flame.
“I can’t explain it. It sort of happened. One minute I was using my staff to blast the demons away, and then my flame erupted.”
Tovi curled into the cushions. The green patches brought out the jade in her eyes, and the maroon contrasted with her snowy blonde hair. “Sounds like it came back in a time of need. Like an instinct.”
Evelyn supposed that theory wasn’t far off. She’d needed to save Cyrus, get them out of there before the demons killed them. But she’d also needed her flame while fighting for her parents. Why had it left her then if her flame was fueled by instinct and need? What about this moment had been different?
During the first few months on the run, Evelyn had dedicated her time to getting it back. She’d tried everything. Read every book. Said countless prayers. Used her innate magic. Nothing worked. What if having it back was a fluke?
Tovi searched her face. “So, what are you going to do?”
Her friend’s words were an echo of Evelyn’s own question since her flame had appeared in Castle Connacht. It seemed to be back. She’d lit the hearth with it, manned the stove with it, and even lit every last candle in her apartment with one thought. Her flame’s warmth was a gentle caress in her blood—was it back for good?
Maybe that lingering question was why she couldn’t stop thinking about home and her sisters. She’d left because she’d lost her flame, fearful of not being able to get it back, and now that it was back, did she still need to run? Mesmerized by her own power, she stared into the flames flickering from her fingertips as if the orange whisps held answers.
Or false hope. Doubt nestled deep into Evelyn’s core, scratching and screeching like the rat demons she’d faced. What if she lost her flame again? What if its return was a fluke? What if it continued to come and go unexplainably?
She extinguished the flames in a blink, flexing and unflexing her hand, unease tensing her fingers.
“I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said.
“Evelyn, I think your sisters would be happy to have you home again.”
Evelyn sank into her chair, nerves sending a chill down her spine. Considering the things Mirella had said before she’d left, and that she’d run away on the eve of her wedding week, she didn’t envision the same joyous reunion Tovi imagined.
“It is not just my sisters I would be returning home to.” Evelyn took a swig of wine, wishing her slight buzz could drown out her sense of unease.
Her coven. Witches and werewolves of Sorin. Not to mention the snooty, rigid Elders who believed in the prophecy the most.
And Kade Drengr, her betrothed.
With her magic back, Evelyn worried about their union, the magical binding that would tie their souls, and their magic, too. Her dread was cold, freezing her in place.
“What if I lose my flame again?” Evelyn said with a shake of her head.
She didn’t even know what had caused it to leave in the first place, so she had no way of stopping it from happening again. Since Evelyn was a witch and Kade a werewolf, their bond would be forced, and what if her faulty flame affected his werewolf magic, or the union didn’t even work?
“Evelyn, I know your flame is important, sure, but it doesn’t make you any less of a witch without it.” Tovi grabbed her hand, holding it tight as Evelyn’s anxiety prickled at her fingertips.
Her friend was wrong. She wasn’t just any witch. Evelyn was Daughter of the Goddess. Her flame defined her success against the vampyr. No one could question centuries of scholars studying the prophecy. The Sun Goddess had gifted it to her just like the other third-born daughter before, except she had lost it.
“What if losing it was a sign, Tovi? I don’t know if I can face fucking up my union with the Son of the God in front of our entire homeland.” Evelyn sighed. “I can’t risk compromising the Son of the God, taking another protector in the event the vampyr king decides to strike. What if I lose my flame again and the vampyrs learn of my weakness? It’ll put everyone at risk.”
Sorin still faced scáths and demons crossing the Void, threats Evelyn had protected Nua from during her time on the Guard. Nestled deep within her being, the desire to rid witches and werewolves of those threats pulsed and pounded in her heart. It battled her never-ending unease and questions. Evelyn took a deep breath, centering herself in reality. She’d just gotten her flame back.
“I’m not ready to decide yet.” Evelyn met Tovi’s gaze.
Her friend smiled back, a relaxed and thoughtful expression that put Evelyn at ease, made her feel seen. Then Tovi topped off Evelyn’s wine glass. “Well, I suppose with storm season, you can’t go back. Not yet anyway. Which gives you some time to think things through. Process it all.”
Her friend was right. Evelyn had time and a murder she needed to solve first. For now, she could help Callum rid its town of a vampyr.
Tovi laid a hand over Evelyn’s and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m here, though. To talk if you need.”
Evelyn scoffed, taking a swig of her wine.
“Or not to talk,” Tovi said, rolling her jade eyes.
