He glanced around the darkness as the snow blew in each direction in thick flurries. Clouds covered the sky, dark and looming.
He needed to go back inside, but his feet remained planted in the snow and ice. He couldn’t go in. Because she was there. With her long dark hair and her smooth skin. With her laugh that sparked a flame within him, making him reconsider everything he’d done the last year. Then there was the matter of her eyes. The ones that saw too much. The eyes that danced behind his own each night when he went to sleep.
As much as he dreaded going back inside, he wasn’tsomuch of an idiot to risk freezing to death. The snow had increased, and he could barely make out a foot in front of him. So, reluctantly, he pulled himself from the bitter ground and went in.
There wasn’t much warmth inside the greenhouse, but it sure as hell beat staying outside during a snowstorm. A few candles remained lit in the main room, casting leafy shadows over the back wall.
He kicked off his boots, leaving them to dry by the front door. As if this were his home. As if he belonged here. Taking long, deliberate steps, he made his way down the tiny entryway. He wouldn’t want to wake her if she’d already fallen asleep, so he kept his toes light. He hesitated as he got to the main room.
The Enchantress glanced at him before returning her attention to her book. “Are you just going to stand there?”
He’d only known the Enchantress a couple weeks now but he knew her well enough that the tone she used meant she wasn’t pleased. Maybe she was frustrated at him still being here. Hell, he was frustrated with himself for that reason. But he couldn’t explain why he hadn’t taken her yet. Mostly because he didn’t know.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled and joined her on the sofa, his eyes shamelessly scanning every inch of her beautiful face. Her high cheekbones and her full lips. Her dark brows and?—
“What about this time?” Setting her book down, she met his eyes. There was panic there. Fear. Anger. Every emotion she had every right to feel in his presence.
Evren shrugged, his hands itching to move and push the stray locks from her face.
“I don’t know,” he finally said with a sigh. “I’m sorry for…” He folded his hands together to keep them from twitching. “I’m sorry for what I am. For what has happened to you.”
The words floated between them, and Evren chose not to look at the Enchantress then. He didn’t want her to see him as he finally faced his own shameful demons. He’d taken a job that hurt people. People just like her. And he’d taken it knowingly and willingly. Proudly, even. He’d dragged Enchantresses to Valebridge and pocketed the coin selfishly and cowardly. But at the time, it didn’t feel so damning. He had the ale to thank for that. For the lack of feeling the last year. But without it, and withher, he had nothing to hide behind.
“I grew up in Davenport,” Evren continued, still watching the flickering flame of one of the tapered candles lit atop the workbench. “My uncle raised me. He was a fine enough mentor. Kind, albeit a bit strict.”
Evren smiled, remembering all the lessons Thaddeous bestowed upon him as a child. How to ration food. How to deal with conflict amongst others. How to fight. How to remain hidden if need be.
“But I was a restless child.”
“It seems as though you haven’t grown out of that,” the Enchantress said.
Evren glanced at her, her blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight. She smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. He knew magick was real all his life. Had witnessed it do wondrous things. Deadly things. But her smile was the kind of magick he never thought existed. The kind that turned the world upside down, then right side up again.
“That’s fair,” Evren said, now extremely aware of how his leg bounced and his hands twitched even while clasped together. “I always dreamt of something bigger, somewhere other than Teravie. So, when I was eighteen years, I joined the Royal Guard. I put in ten solid years and then King Roman took the throne.”
He swallowed down so many memories of the night of the uprising. Or what Roman fed to the army and people as an uprising. He sensed the Enchantress bristle next to him.
“There wasn’t?—”
“I know.” Evren reached out for her hand. He found it through the knit blanket across her lap and she let him grab it. Her brows raised and Evren smiled. He wasn’t sure she could be more endearing, but that look, just now, warmed every inch of him.
“I know it wasn’t the Enchantresses that started all of this. I know that,” he admitted. “But when everything happened in Valebridge, I injured my leg. A Healer, who I’m sure was merely defending herself, snapped it. I’ve spent a long time blaming her…”
He glanced down, unable to look at the woman next to him, when she squeezed his hand gently. He took it as a sign to keep going. “I spent a long time blaming that Enchantress,allEnchantresses, for my woes the last year, but the reality is, she was defending herself. Against me.”
He looked at the Enchantress, waiting for the disgust look he was sure to see.
She frowned but said nothing, her hand still entwined with his.
“I was dismissed from the guard after that and proposed a new position. As captain of the Royal Hunters.” He took a deep breath, reclining his head back to look at the stars through the glass roof. With the heavy snow, they were difficult to see, but between the thick flurries, they still shined. “That’s when I started to drown myself in ale.”
He didn’t turn to her, but the sweep of her thumb across the back of his hand told him she was listening.
“Every night. Every morning. Anything to numb the reality that my life would never be the same. I used it as an escape. To end the pain and reality that I was living in. It’s cowardly?—”
“It’s not,” the Enchantress said.
He turned to face her. Her eyes were wide and alert.
