Page 48 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Atlas spared him a glance. “Take what?”
Veros clicked the timepiece closed, then slid it back into his pocket. His gaze was steady and even when he said, “The crown.”
Then he walked away.
Atlas stood in the garden as gray clouds rolled in from off the coast, blanketing the sky and blocking out the sun with the promise of freezing rain. He pulled out another stig and lit it, dropping down onto the round stone once more.
Perhaps Veros was right.
He would be kralv one day. Eventually.
But Atlas didn’t know what he was dreading more…the future crown or his future queen.
Fifteen
“So, let me get this straight,” Zoryana mused, her arm linked with Everinne’s as they strolled through the shopping district, their heels clicking against the rough cobblestone. “The Mystic Obscura is as magical and fantastical as we thought, you met a fae lord with stars in his eyes, and you never want to speak to Prince Atlas again?”
“That’s right.”
Everinne bundled closer into Zoryana’s side, bracing herself against the stiff breeze. Winter was steadily approaching the Golden City. It wouldn’t be long before the first snowfall came, and with that, the impending dark. Already the sun was sinking earlier than the day before, painting the sky in brushstrokes of rose and ruby with wisps of burnished gold.
Everinne and Zoryana had just finished devouring sandwiches of meat and cheese at one of the local cafes where Everinne had divulged the past day’s events. The only thing she hadn’t mentioned was her run-in with Atlas in her apartment when he’d pinned her to the wall. She’d swallowed down that little secret with her second helping of apple cake and cinnamon frosting.
Zoryana shook her lush, spiraling curls back from her face, the wind flushing her cheeks. “I’m away from you for barely a day and you manage to live an entirely new life without me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Everinne patted her hand, dipping her chin as another chilly gust of air swept through the streets, biting through the fur of her coat. “I could never live without you.”
Zoryana laughed but it was lighter than usual, not the full and decadent sound that was so familiar. A sigh escaped her and her steps slowed.
“I won’t always be around, Everinne. One day, you’re going to have to learn how to control your magic without relying on me to soothe your emotions.”
Everinne stopped, faltering as they rounded the corner toward her apartment. “I don’trelyon you.”
Zoryana arched a singular dark brow.
“It’s more like I just look to you for guidance.” The lie left a foul taste in Everinne’s mouth.
Before she met Zoryana, she’d been nothing but a shell. A lost, wandering soul tortured by the haunting memories of her past. With the exception of Veros and sometimes Atlas, Everinne made it a point to avoid any kind of relationship, friendly or otherwise. It was easier to be alone, to abstain from forming connections with anyone, to evade the emotions that sought to destroy her from the inside out. Fear and sorrow. Anger and panic. Whenever those sorts of feelings overwhelmed her, they roused the monstrous magic she kept hidden from the rest of the world.
Without friends—and as much as it broke her, without family—Everinne ensured she was never at risk of succumbing to those damning emotions of hers. The ones she felt so keenly.
Unfortunately, she’d deprived herself of happiness and love in the process.
Yet it was worth it, she reminded herself, to keep from harming anyone.
“I’m serious, Ever.” Zoryana reached out, tucking a few wayward strands of Everinne’s dark hair behind her ear. “I can only take on so much before…”
“Before what?” Everinne asked.
Concern knitted across her forehead. She knew Zoryana could absorb the uncomfortable feelings of those around her, it was both an art and a discipline, but she never thought that perhaps Zoryana was left without an outlet to purge them from herself.
Zoryana adjusted the silk handbag dangling from her shoulder and her jade eyes shifted to the cobblestone path beneath their feet. “Before I can’t help you anymore.”
Everinne watched her friend closely, noting the way she idly fidgeted with the pearl button on her coat, the way she rubbed her burgundy painted lips together. No, there was something else there. Something Zoryana wasn’t telling her.
“I don’t understand.” Everinne tilted her head, and her hair fell around her like a curtain of velvet. “What is it?”
Zoryana glanced hastily over her shoulder, then moved closer to avoid being overheard. When she spoke, her voice was hushed. “There’s been some rumors in my coven. Talk of how immortals and other magical beings are disappearing in Prava.”
