water seemed so long ago.
A throat cleared. I pivoted, hair swirling in a loose flurry. Wyatt stood just inside of the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. My heart sped up at the sight. His keepers had cobbled together slacks in much the same manner as my dress. The thin, bronze fabric was belted at his waist, cut and tucked to create a makeshift crotch, and cinched with velvet ribbon at both ankles. The sides of the legs were completely open, flashing toned muscles and tanned skin.
His hair was tousled, finger-combed, and allowed to dry, and his face was freshly shaved. His bare chest glistened, showing off a roped torso and tight abs. The new scent of fruit—apples, maybe—hinted that he’d used the oils provided. More than his physical attractiveness, though, I stared at his flawless skin—stared until I realized what bothered me.
The array of parallel bruises I’d seen two days ago were gone. The knife wound from our previous fight with the goblin scouts was likewise gone. Not healed—there would have been some faint residual marks. They were just gone, as though they’d never existed.
“Evy,” he said. I looked up, met his smiling eyes. “You look like a goddess.”
My cheeks heated. “You, too,” was all I managed.
“Do I? Should I be in that dress?”
“You know what I mean, jackass. What happened?” I pointed at his chest.
“I’m not sure. One of the gnomes put something in my bathwater that smelled like peppermint. When I got out, they were gone.”
Note to self: gnomes have big heads and small bodies.
“They possess great knowledge of healing,” Amalie said. “Consider it a gift.”
“I feel like I owe you so much already,” I said.
She shook her head side to side, as elegant as it was forceful. “You have done much for us without knowing. I feel I cannot offer you enough recompense.”
Not particularly inspiring. Wyatt joined me at the table and eyed the goodies spread out in front of us. I picked up one of the largest strawberries I’d ever seen and inhaled its tantalizing aroma. Perfection in a piece of fruit.
“Why did you rescue us?” Wyatt asked.
“As I said, Wyatt Truman, you have been a service to us without your knowledge. I could not see allowing you to wither in those cells, apart from each other, until her time is up.”
“You brought me here to die?” I asked, the strawberry halfway to my lips. A small flare of fury lit deep in my belly.
“I cannot change what has been put into motion, Evangeline. I do not possess that sort of power.”
“So that’s it? Your compensation for a job well done—so well done I didn’t even know I was doing it—is to die down here with the faeries? To sit on my ass, drink wine, and let Tovin win?”
Amalie bristled when I said his name. Her skin darkened to the color of her eyes. Every crystal glittered and winked. “You proved Tovin a traitor. He sees nothing, except potential gain for himself. There will be no peace for the Fair Ones, or anyone else, should the goblins come into power. Even the vampires know the potential cost of this fight.”
“Isleen,” I said, thinking of her for the first time in hours. “Do you know what happened to her? She was captured along with me.”
“Then she is likely dead. Vampires do not suffer threats, nor do they bargain for their people. She will have no value to the half-Bloods who captured you.”
My shoulders sagged. I dropped the uneaten strawberry onto the delicate silver platter from which it came. Wyatt slipped his arm around my waist. I melted into the warmth of him and the apple-sweet scent of his body.
“This whole time,” I said, “I thought the Bloods didn’t give a damn, that they were our enemies, but they were trying to help. Isleen wanted to help, just like her sister, and now they’re both dead.”
“She did her part,” Amalie said. “As we all do ours. Each has a role to play in coming events—some more than others.”
“Then what makes you so sure my part is over? I’m not done fighting, dammit. I will not give up and just let Tovin take Wyatt’s free will for whatever godforsaken purpose he has in mind.”
“You cannot undo the bargain they have created, Evangeline. A freewill pact, signed in blood, can only be voided by the spilling of more blood.”
“What the hell does that mean? Do I have to sacrifice a goat?”
Her color tone lightened. “That is not what I meant. This is not within the scope of my powers, but I am told that there are three ways in which this pact can be voided in blood.”
My stomach quivered. Wyatt’s other arm came around my waist, and I clasped my hands over his. I needed to hear this, but was terrified to know.
“If Evangeline dies before the end of the seventy-two hours, it is voided,” Amalie said.
“We came up with that one on our own,” I said. “But the fact that I’ve healed after every little scratch and bruise means that Tovin put some extra effort into making sure that didn’t happen. If the hound attack didn’t kill me, few things weaker than a beheading likely will.”
“And not an option,” Wyatt said.
Yet.
“If Tovin dies before the contract expires, Wyatt is free of his obligations,” Amalie continued.
“Makes sense,” I said. “And definitely a more plausible scenario, since he’s proving to be a number one asshole anyway.”
“Tovin’s well protected,” Wyatt said. “Few ever know where to find him, and he conjures. He could make you see things you can’t even imagine.”
I patted his hand. “And you can only summon the power of the sun. Weakling.”
“Very funny.”
“The caveat to killing Tovin,” Amalie said, “is that at the moment of his death, Evangeline’s time is also up.”
“If he dies, I die?”
“Yes.”
Terrific.
“What’s the third option?” Wyatt asked.
Amalie’s cobalt eyes burned. “If Wyatt dies before the end of the time frame, then Evangeline is freed of her constraints and may continue to inhabit her new body.”
A tremor ran up my spine. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open. In two days, no one had ever presented me with an option that included me living past the seventy-two hours. Three days was it, so no use in making plans. Knowing the option existed exhilarated me, even though the price was impossible to pay.
“Evy could live,” Wyatt said. His soft, contemplative tone alarmed me.
“Fuck you, Truman,” I snarled, disentangling myself from his arms. “There is no way that’s happening.”
“Evy—”
“No!” I stalked to the other side of the room, hit the wall, and rounded to the opposite side of the buffet table. I glared at him over the display of uneaten food and drink. “Absolutely not, so fucking forget about it. If you even think it, I’ll have someone bring you back just so I can kill your ass myself.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny.”
“No, it isn’t, and I’m dead serious.”
“You could keep on living, Evy.”
“I died, Wyatt.” My voice rose to just below screaming, but I didn’t care. “I’m supposed to be dead right now, so who cares if I’m dead again in a day? I don’t want it, but that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I will not spend the rest of my afterlife worrying if you’re going to try and commit some sort of noble suicide. I’d rather take a flying leap off this walkway and land on my head.”
“Please,” Amalie said. “Now is not the time for such arguments. Now is the time for eating and resting. You need your strength if you are both to find a solution to the puzzle facing you.”
Wyatt and I glared at each other for seconds that stretched into minutes. Neither of us wanted to back down.
