Page 117 of Cursed Lifeline

She could be nervous.

Or she could be bluffing.

And there’s only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly and grin when I see the princess flinch as it feathers across her lips.

My eyes roam her face, tracing freckles and curves I’ve memorized decades ago.

“Do you,” I whisper, drawing out time, and smirking when I see the fae wiggle in her seat. “Have any sevens?”

Evangeline glances down at her hand, grins, cocks a condescending brow in my direction, then leans forward, and whispers, “Go. Fish.”

Chuckling, I lean back in my seat and reluctantly pull a card from the pond in the center of the table.

“You thought you had me,” she grins, watching in triumph as I groan in annoyance, having to add another card to the singularoneI had in my hand.

“So close,” she taunts. I roll my eyes at her. She continues in a playful tone, “How does it feel to be so close, Vik, and yet so far away from winning?”

Her words sting, even though I know she didn’t mean for them to.

My mind wanders to visions that have been relentlessly haunting me for centuries. Peaceful eyes, a kind, warm smile. Every night, I dream of winning, only to wake up a loser come morning. Evangeline notices my slip in demeanor and mumbles, “Sorry, I shouldn't have…”

I swallow hard and try to let her comment roll off my back. I almost believe I have my temper under control when the absence of a tender touch I’ve spent centuries searching for causes loneliness to seep into my veins, and I bite back, “I don’t know, princess, how does it feel to be so close and yet so far from winning yourself?”

Our budding silence makes the air grow thick with tension as I refuse to look up and meet her eye. After a moment, she whispers, “I deserved that.”

No, she didn’t.

Glancing up quickly, I’m just about to tell her so when she rises from her seat and walks somberly to the entrance of the cave. Looking out across the forest below, fireflies dance from tree to tree as we both let our longing, our yearning, our craving build until it threatens to engulf us in an unforgiving flame.

Loneliness seeps back in and simultaneously steals our next breath.

But regardless of what some may think, we don’t ache for each other.

No, the princess yearns for a watcher who left a long time ago.

While me? I’m still searching for a quiet voice in the night that brings me peace when it whispers…

I’ll be waiting for you.

Time spent with Evangeline in the fae lands where she grew up has proved beneficial. Though we still haven't found a way to break the blood oath, we have found the longer I stay away, the less Ember’s powers call to me.

In a sense, I almost feel free, though I know I can’t spend eternity running from my problems.

Our plan has been to wait in the caves, let the oath between Ember and I lessen, and bide our time until Esme’s return. How we’ll receive word she’s alive again, and what we’ll do with that knowledge once we receive it, is yet to be discussed.

Maybe if Alfred stayed even after Evangeline forced him away, we would’ve been given word by now that she’s alive. As it is, we’re left to wonder when’s the right time to chance a trip back to the real world. As much as it suits me to stay here, hidden away from everything and the battle we’re destined to one day cross, I know doing so wears on Evangeline more than she lets on.

She misses her friends.

Moreover, she misses a watcher she’s spent over a century denying her feelings for.

A watcher who could give her more than I ever could simply because he looks at her like she’s the only woman in the world. While I’m still searching for the mythical goddess that haunts me in the night.

Clearing my throat, I rise from my seat and walk towards her. We stand in silence for a moment and look out across the view of the forest below. After a moment, I bump her with my shoulder in a brotherly way and ask, “Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” she instantly snaps.

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