I wrung my hands in my lap and lowered my gaze. I had not meant to defy him. I had been alone for so long, and survived for even longer without relying on anyone, that the idea of placing my trust in another person had not even occurred to me. “It’s only prudent for a thief to verify things for themselves.” Though the defense sounded weak and hollow, even to my own ears.
He swiveled on the bench to fully face me. “Even at the cost of caution?” he countered. “Such pride is something we have in common. A stubborn insistence on independence, even when it works against you. Are you afraid of something, or is there something you’re trying to prove?”
The question struck deeper than I expected. For a moment, I could not answer. It felt as though he had reached past every carefully constructed wall and laid bare the truth beneath it.
“I—” I faltered, then forced myself to look away. “Why can the other Evander not be trusted?”
My attempt at deflection was obvious, but he was kind enough to let it pass rather than continue perusing the secrets I was determined to keep hidden.
Evander’s gaze shifted, his expression tightening as he looked away. “Because he is the embodiment of my worst self,” he said at last. “Every prideful instinct, every selfish inclination. You would do well to avoid him.”
His words settled over me, neatly fitting with the pieces I had been gathering since the beginning. “So you are the same person.” Just as I had suspected. Even if I couldn’t yet understand how such a thing could be possible, the realization brought with it an unexpected sense of relief—an explanation for the strange pull I felt towards both versions of him.
He hesitated, then gave a single, reluctant nod. “Which is precisely why I know I’m unworthy of your regard. I will do whatever is necessary to achieve my ends. You deserve better than to become entangled by my greed.”
Every instinct I had honed over years of survival told me he was right, but I’d become too deeply involved to turn away now.
“Who am I to condemn someone for their weaknesses, when I am no stranger to my own? Is a flawed person any less worthy of friendship?”Or love?I did not say the last aloud, but I felt it linger all the same. I’d already spoken more truth than I had intended to reveal.
Evander opened his mouth, as if to argue. Something unreadable passed across his expression before he sighed. “You continue to surprise me,” he said. “I didn’t expect a thief to place faith in anyone, least of all someone who has given you every reason not to.”
I lifted my gaze to meet his. “Perhaps, but as a thief, I am accustomed to judging people for myself.” And I irrationally wanted to believe there was something in him worth risking for…a secret wish I couldn’t deny any longer.
He sighed. “You’re being reckless.”
A faint smirk tugged at my lips. “Recklessnessis a thief’s trademark, alongside an instinct for danger.” Though the danger I sensed now had little to do with traps or guards and everything to do with him.
He studied me for a long moment, as though searching for something. I shifted beneath the weight of his attention,unsettled by how easily it seemed to reach past every defense I had ever relied upon. And yet despite myself, I couldn’t look away—the part of me that wanted to be seen craved this gaze that looked beneath the surface.
“What are you trying to prove, Mirelle?”
We’d circled back to the topic I’d tried—and unsuccessfully—attempted to evade. For a moment, I could not speak. I grasped for the familiar instinct to lie, to deflect, to turn the question aside as I always had…but for some reason I couldn’t, not with him.
I lowered my gaze, unable to look at him as I answered. “Perhaps…part of me wanted to prove you wrong. If you turned out to be trustworthy…” I hesitated, my fingers tightening slightly at my sides. “…then it would be easier to walk away. To avoid?—”
I faltered, the rest not meant to be spoken aloud. Yet the words tumbled free before I could stop them.
“—to avoid wanting something I’ve spent years teaching myself not to need.” I exhaled unsteadily. “I don’t know how to trust anyone. And yet…I find myself wanting to trust you anyway. It goes against everything I believe in, but I don’t want to be closed off anymore.”
The admission felt fragile in the open air between us. Heat rose to my face, but I could not bring myself to take it back. Nor could I regret it upon seeing the tenderness that softened his expression at my confession.
An almost reverent silence settled between us, charged with the emotions we were tentatively exploring together. I became acutely aware of the space between us—how little distance there was, how easily it could vanish if I was ever brave enough to bridge it. But though fear kept me still, Evander shifted, barely more than a few inches, but enough to close that fragile distance all the same.
My breath caught. For a moment, it seemed as though he might reach for me again. His hand lifted slightly before halting mid-motion, as though some unseen restraint held him back.
His gaze briefly dropped to my lips. The realization sent an unexpected warmth through me, stealing what little breath I had left. Before I could decide whether or not to accept his unspoken offer, his hand lowered and he withdrew, shattering the moment before it fully began.
“It means more than you know that you confided in me,” he said. “I hope to be worthy of the trust you desire to place in me.”
“That is not the wish of a manipulative man,” I said, seizing onto the shift in conversation before the lingering emotions—both pleasant and worrisome—could resurface. “You claim your counterpart is greedy and selfish, yet he warned me before I touched the mural that caused me to fall back asleep.” Try as I might, I couldn’t reconcile the two versions of him—the man who manipulated, and the one who warned.
Evander’s brow furrowed. “I…don’t know. I was admittedly surprised by that.”
I frowned. “Are you aware of your movements in both worlds?”
“Only in fragments,” he said. “Shadows and impressions, like viewing events through a reflection rather than experiencing them directly. I saw a glimpse of the moment you transitioned to this world…and him calling after you. His gaze sharpened slightly. “The timing suggests the curse took hold at a rather inconvenient moment for him.”
I tried to recall what had happened just before I’d fallen asleep. But as always, the memory slipped through my grasp, as though several key memories had been displaced in the dream…or rather, the real world. The distinction wavered, just for a moment, enough to send a faint ripple of disorientation throughme. I blinked, trying to follow the unbidden thought before it vanished completely.
