Because my fight with him isn’t done. Just on hold. In time, I hope he can see what this human could add to our relationship. If our pairing is a match, and I’ve no reason to doubt Ender in that at least, then Evangeline will make us all stronger.
There’s still so much I wish to tell Evangeline, but the hour grows late, and her lids grow heavy. She yawns, and I know she needs sleep. “We can talk more in the morning,” I promise her. “I’ll answer your questions then.”
Evangeline doesn’t resist—a clear sign of how drained she is. She simply lies back on the narrow cot, curling in on herself as she pulls the threadbare blanket up to her chin, seeking what little comfort it can offer.
Finnick drifts over to her side, his wings barely making a sound as he lands delicately on the small patch of space left at the edge of the cot. “Mind if I bunk with you?” he asks, voice light and playful as he lets out an exaggerated yawn, stretching his limbs like he’s settling in for a long nap.
Evangeline nods, and he tucks himself in beside her. I feel the cot shift under me and turn to see Zephyr lying down on his side, leaving me as much space as he can. “You sleep too, mate. No staying awake.”
He knows me too well.
Sleep remains just out of reach, teasing me with its promise but never coming. My mind won’t quiet, not with everything weighing on us. The image of the dead fae, their bodies being prepared for return to their grieving families in the morning, keeps replaying in my thoughts. Each face feels like a personal failure.
Our safety teeters on the edge of a blade, and the only hope we have is Evangeline. A stranger. A woman thrown into this chaos, expected to fix what generations before her could not.
I shift on the cot, the mattress creaking beneath me. Every time I close my eyes, the silence feels louder, the weight of responsibility heavier. Sleep isn’t coming. Not tonight.
So I lie there, next to Zephyr, and wait for morning.
Chapter 12
Evangeline
Silent tears roll down my cheeks when I realize my nightmare didn’t go away after waking up. I’m cold, my body hurts because this is the most uncomfortable cot I’ve ever had the displeasure of lying upon, and I can’t shake the feeling I’ve made a huge mistake. Part of me knows I’m being a brat, complaining about a fucking cot when they are in the middle of a war with little to no food. I’m throwing myself a pity party while I determine if I made a mistake or not.
Not that it matters, I suppose. I’m stuck and can’t leave. I need to get used to this world sooner rather than later because I’m in the thick of it. I’m a survivor. Had to be ever since I lost both my parents. It was me versus the world, and that hasn’t changed.Ineed to change. Adapt.
Something tickles my cheek, like a fly, and I go to swipe it away until I hear a shriek. “Do you mind?” someone hisses. So, definitely not a fly. Unless their flies talk here, which, honestly, they might.
I crack one eye open to see Finnick standing on thetip of my nose, hands on his hips. He’s so adorable, even upset, but I’m not certain that’s appropriate to say. Instead, I offer him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to…everything.”
Finnick’s frown melts into understanding, like he’s personally experienced being dropped into another world. “It’s fine. I just wanted to let you know we’re leaving. You’ll love the castle. I promise it’s more comfortable than”—he gestures around—“this.”
I push myself off the bed. “I’m not eighteen anymore,” I groan, hearing my bones crack with my movements. By the sounds of it, you’d think I’m ninety-eight and not a relatively healthy thirty-year-old. One scan around the room shows me I’m alone; both of my companions and their cot have disappeared. Packed up, no doubt. How long have they been awake?
“Zephyr and Niko are tending to the horses. They didn’t want to wake you up,” Finnick says. “We don’t have much for breakfast. Unless you like berries.” He grins, and then from seemingly nowhere, he produces purple and red berries that look much more palatable than the dry, hardened bread from last night. My stomach growls, giving away how hungry I am. I would like more than a handful of berries to sate my appetite, but this will have to do.
“They aren’t poisonous, are they? I don’t think I’ve seen these type of berries before.” I don’t think Finnick would poison me, but you can never be too certain about these things.
“Dunno. Don’t think so.” His words don’t fill me with much confidence, but I watch as he stuffs ahalf a berry into his mouth, his little cheeks fattening up as he chews. “Taste good, though,” he mumbles around the food, some of the juices dripping down his chin.
Despite my mood, I smile, pluck a berry from his palm, and pop it into my mouth. Sweet juice explodes on my tongue, and it’s like nothing I’ve tasted before. “What are these?” I groan and take the second berry he offers.
“Good, right? They’re called winterberries.” He grins, but a moment later, his smile fades. “These are the only good ones I’ve found. Most have already rotten. Just like everything else here.”
“All your food is rotting?” I ask, brow furrowed as I take in his words.
Before Finnick has time to answer, there’s a crunching sound outside—like boots on hard grass—before the tent flaps open. Black hair and skin the color of midnight fill my vision. Guarded eyes meet mine, quickly running over my body as if assessing me. It’s not remotely sexual, and yet my face flushes. If Zephyr notices, he doesn’t comment.
“You’re up. We’re leaving,” he says briskly. His gaze lingers on me a moment longer before he disappears as quickly as he arrived, leaving disappointment in his wake.
I can’t read Zephyr. He saved me but has been standoffish ever since, almost like he regrets it. I don’t think he knew who he was saving, but I watched his face when he realized. A mixture of surprise and confusion gave way to something like repulsion. Does he regret saving me? Niko said the fae were polyamorous, but Zephyr is cold and distant. He doesn’t seem to subscribe to the sameschool of thought, and maybe to him, I’m here to steal his man.
Damn, I hope he doesn’t think that. I didn’t know they were already married until after the contract was signed! The Guardian didn’t tell me. I don’t want to be a homewrecker, and I would have declined if I knew this would be the welcome I received.
“We better go before Mr. Friendly comes back.” Finnick offers me a hand.
I offer him my pinkie, and he wraps his fingers around it in his attempt to help me up. I don’t have the heart to tell him it did nothing, but I thank him regardless once I’m standing. That was the right choice, since he beams at me like he just performed a monumental task.
