Page 21 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Everinne rolled her shoulders back, refusing to acknowledge the sting of her own humiliation.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, studying her. “You want to work at a place like Belladonna’s?”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Zoryana slung her satchel of fabric over one shoulder and crossed her arms, glaring up at him. “Belladonna runs a perfectly respectable shop, just because she’s a witch, doesn’t mean?—”
“Easy there.” Jarek lifted both of his hands in defense and held his ground, not even flinching beneath the harshness of her stare. “I have no problem with witches, it’s only that?—”
“That what?” Zoryana spat, drawing out each word with an intentional pause between them.
Jarek nodded toward Everinne, the afternoon sunlight splintering in between the rise and fall of rooftops, dousing them in gold and cloaking him in shadows. “I would imagine a place like Belladonna’s requires a certain type of disposition, and Everinne doesn’t seem like much of a people-pleaser, does she?”
Everinne huffed out an annoyed breath.
She wasn’tthatterrible.
“Well…” Zoryana weighed Jarek’s words. “When you put it like that…”
“Zory,” Everinne admonished, lightly jabbing her friend in the ribs with her elbow.
“He’s not wrong,” she fired back, pretending to swat her away. Her lips pulled into a small smile. Not a real one though, this one didn’t reach her eyes. She was wearing a mask in front of Jarek, and likely for good reason.
“Then what else do you have in mind?” Everinne liked to think a chocolatier would be a good option for her. She could work in the back of the shop, not have to deal with customers, and be surrounded by raspberry chocolate creams all day long. They were her favorite candy, after all. She shook the dream from her mind, her stomach grumbling in protest. “Because as of today, my brother told me I’m officially on my own.”
Zoryana sighed, shaking back her spiraling curls from her face. Her shoulders dropped and she gave a half-hearted shrug. “I suppose there’s always the Dancing Nymph.”
Everinne stared at her friend for a full minute before a laugh escaped her, loosening the knot of anxiety in her chest.
“Honestly, Zory.” She sucked in a breath of the cool winter air tinged by the scent of sugared toffee scones and the sea. It was hard to remember the last time she’d laughed. Fully. Freely.
“I might know a place,” Jarek mused, running his knuckles just beneath his left eye so the ruby gems of his skull ring glinted faintly.
“Oh yeah?” Everinne tilted her head and tapped one glittery silver fingernail against her chin. “What kind of place?”
He ran his teeth along his bottom lip, his gaze skimming above her and Zoryana’s heads. The next time he spoke, his voice was lower, barely audible above the hushed call of the wind. “Have you ever heard of the Mystic Obscura?”
The Mystic Obscura.
The name was familiar, but it was the sort of place that could never be found. Unless one was invited. Whispers of its magic were shared in murmured conversations, stories of its mesmerizing shows were surrounded by gasps and shrouded in awe. She’d overhead some of the Mystic Obscura’s captivating performances involved females who breathed fire and males who danced on water. There were contortionists. Illusionists. Those who partook in a dazzling feat of the death-defying and sensual, a dramatic display of alluring acts.
The Mystic Obscura was an emporium of the extraordinary.
“I hear it’s fantastic,” Zoryana said quietly, her jade eyes wide and sparkling with wonder. “It’s exclusive and enchanting, and entry is only available to those willing to pay the price.”
Jarek nodded. “It’s all those things and more.”
The Mystic Obscura sounded like the perfect place for her. Yet a tingle of apprehension pricked its way down her spine and she shivered. She pinned Jarek with a pointed look. “And you think I should work there?”
His grin was devastating, but the tiny hairs along the back of her neck stood on end.
“I know you could, especially after your performance last night at the Grand Cru.” He leaned close, then winked, his dark lashes highlighting the gold of his eyes. “They have the most beautiful chandeliers you’ve ever seen.”
Everinne eased back, peering up into his face. The handsome planes of his cheekbones gave no tell. There was no hint ofmockery, no jest. He truly meant what he said, he thought she could do it.
Intrigued, Everinne considered the demon summoner’s proposition.
Perhaps Veros forcing her to make her own way was more of a blessing than a curse. She would much rather perform in front of an audience than sell magical baubles to haughty customers all day. Besides, if the rumors she heard were true, the Mystic Obscura was only open in the evenings, and Everinne thrived at night.
She ducked her chin, burying into her loose sweater, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Do you think you could introduce me to someone? Preferably someone with the authority to hire?”
