He turned to Alexander for confirmation, who nodded. “We know how it sounds,” Alexander said. “But believe me, she’s dangerous. It’s why we fired the arrow; it was the only way to ensure she couldn’t use her magick.”
“You could’ve used the shackles,” Markus said, annoyed and ready to be alone in his bed at the inn after several nights of camping in the freezing cold.
“No.” Jasper shook head. “There’s no way we could have gotten close enough to shackle her.”
Markus reclined, resting his head against the back of the wooden booth. “Thank you, you’re dismissed.”
He ran a hand down his face as the men all left the booth without so much as a goodnight.
After the Lieutenant left and Evren’s sudden disappearance, he was somehow the next in charge. He couldn’t decide if he enjoyed it or found it incredibly fucking exhausting. He was nowhere near finding Evren, but if the Enchantress was as dangerous as these men claimed, he wouldn’t stop until he did.
Sixteen
Evren had losttrack of time the last few weeks with the Enchantress in the greenhouse. At first, it was the brutal nights of Winter that had forced them to stay close together, and he hadn’t minded one bit. A part of him was thankful for the freezing cold for that very reason. But Winter had almost passed, replaced by longer days and warmer nights. Yet they still sought the other.
“For warmth,”the Enchantress had said each night.
“For warmth,”he had agreed, knowing well that it was plenty warm inside the greenhouse now.
Each time the skin of her hand brushed his arm, he thought he might combust. But he lay perfectly still, letting her settle against his chest. Letting her decide just how close they’d be.
Every morning, he felt a little lighter. A little stronger without the ale. Even his leg didn’t bother him as much.
He sipped his yarrow root tea; yet another thing he had to be grateful for. The Enchantress insisted they use the last of her supply for tea for them to share. And sure enough, it helped tremendously.
He’d long forgotten his plan to take her to Valebridge as they settled into a sort of routine.
He knew her magick had come back. She’d flexed her fingers and rubbed her palms together like she was waking the ivy up. She moved differently. More freely. But he could see every so often in her brilliant blue eyes that she was conflicted. But still, she never used it. Never raised her hand against him. He wasn’t sure if it was because she knew if she did, more hunters would sense her, or if she truly didn’t want to.
He hoped it was the latter. That she was feeling all the same things for him as he did for her. She was all he could think about. Even in his sleep, she consumed his dreams.
Her eyes. Her smile. The sound of her voice.
She hummed a soft tune as she planted more dahlias on the workbench. Evren sat happily on the stone ground, planting a few of his own, sipping his tea. He’d become rather fond of gardening. He smiled, knowing how much shite Markus would give him if he saw him now. But as soon as Markus entered his mind, Evren’s stomach soured.
Shite.
Markus would wait for him in Copenspire and when Evren didn’t arrive, surely, he’d come looking. How much time had passed? Could it be a month already?
He glanced up at the Enchantress again. Her dark hair hung low down the back of her laced emerald gown. Her eyes were alight with joy as she stuffed another dahlia bulb into a clay pot.
His heart raced thinking of how poorly he’d thought this through. They had been holed up in this greenhouse, and for what? They couldn’t stay here long term. They shouldn’t even be herenow. But where would they go? If he were to leave, would she come with him?
Yes. She would join him. Wouldn’t she?
He hadn’t imagined all the late-night chatter and lingering glances. All the subtle ways she sought to touch his hand or graze his shoulder.
They’d spent the last few weeks after the storm growing a friendship. She loved gardening, nature, and animals.
Evren loved all those things, too.
Perhaps not as vigorously as before he met her, but that was the thing about her. She brought out all the things in him he’d long forgotten. Passion being one of them.
A small bird flew through the cracked door just to the left of the workbench.
“Hello,” the Enchantress said with a wide smile. As if she was greeting an old friend.
The bird sang in response.
