Page 12 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
“You don’t know him.”
She made a noncommittal noise of disinterest and a few moments of silence passed between them until she said, “Atlas?”
“Hm?” He took another drag of the stig, his hand still casually placed on top of her knee.
“Don’t tell Veros about…” She yawned, stretching and drawing her other leg up onto the seat, stretching it out across him. “Skulls.”
Skulls? What the fuck was—oh. The demon summoner. Because she didn’t know his name.
“I don’t keep secrets, Everinne.” His blood simmered and he studied the burning tip of the stig, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Especially not when they involve your safety.”
“You kept one,” she whispered.
Right.Hersecret.
The fact that she harbored a dangerous magic very few even knew existed.
“That’s different.” Atlas slung one arm around the back of the seat, keeping his gaze focused on the reflective panel in front of him. They were almost to her apartment.
“Of course.” Everinne snuggled into the blanket. “It’s always different.”
Hisvaladepulled to a stop in front of a building in the shopping district. The outside was made to look like the townhomes on either side of it, complete with pale blue shutters outlining each window and bronze balconies barely large enough for two people. But instead of housing one family, it was made of seven apartments, each one stacked on top of the other, andEverinne was on the seventh floor with only the gilded rooftop above her.
Atlas snuffed out his stig, then reached over and gathered Everinne, blanket and all, into his arms. His driver opened the door, and he stepped out, carrying her against his chest.
“Do you need any assistance, Your Imperial Highness?” His driver asked, bowing.
“No, I’ve got her.” His gaze slid to the vehicle that had been trailing them the entire time, and he nodded once to Caedian in the passenger seat. “I’m going to take her upstairs and I’ll be right back down.”
“Of course, Your Imperial Highness.”
Atlas could’ve taken the lift up to the top floor of Everinne’s apartment, but instead he climbed all seven floors to her level. Her head rolled against his shoulder, her breathing even and deep, and he shifted her into one arm to grab the door handle.
Not at all surprised to find it unlocked.
Her place was spacious and tidy, but in a chaotic kind of way. Dozens of half-melted candles flickered to life with faerie light the moment he walked in, illuminating the space with a soft glow. The walls were all painted varying shades of purple and gray, and there was a large onyx bookshelf positioned against one wall that was completely devoid of any reading material. Instead, it was overflowing with different types of crystals—selenite, amethyst, aura quartz, and citrine. Some of them Atlas recognized, but there were a few others he’d never seen before. Bundles of dried sage lined the windowsill in her kitchen, looking out over the city that had not yet gone to sleep. Three empty wineglasses were sitting in the sink, each one of the rims marked by her lipstick, and there was a half-full bottle of sparkling wine sitting on the counter. Her balcony was just off her kitchen, where an oversized crimson sweater was tossed over one chair, like she’d simply forgotten about it.
Or perhaps she spent a lot of time out there. By herself.
Atlas carried her farther, noting the strangely personal art lining the halls in silver frames. Vibrant landscapes, golden splashes representing Starysa, and abstract images, all dark and moody. But there wasn’t a single mirror to be found. He almost tripped over a pair of shoes on the wooden floor and gripped her tighter as she mumbled something into his chest.
Her unintelligible words seared through the fabric of his shirt, warming his skin.
He blew out a breath, finally finding her bedroom, and nudged the door open.
Everinne’s scent assaulted him. Not the scent of her magic, but ofher.Warm caramel beneath layers of rose and blackcurrant.
It was entirely too tempting.
He needed to leave before his thoughts betrayed him again.
Atlas laid her down on a plush silk comforter, then covered her with the fur blanket from hisvalade. He turned to go, when something sparkly strewn over the bedpost caught his eye. It was a piece of black lace fabric, studded with little diamonds, likely what she’d considered wearing beneath that dress before deciding not to wear anything at all.
He swallowed a curse before glancing back at her sleeping form one more time.
Not one to linger, Atlas stared at her a minute longer, then shook his head, shoving a hand through his unkempt hair. “Sleep without dreams, Ever.”
Then he left, locking her apartment behind him, and wondering why Veros never used his magic to heal his sister’s broken soul.
