Page 40 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Everinne groaned, threw the pile of blankets off her, and slid from her bed. She pulled on a pair of navy blue leather leggingsand grabbed an icy blue sweater that slid dangerously low down one shoulder. She raked her fingers through her mass of tangled dark brown waves, grateful she’d scrubbed off her makeup from the previous night. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was leftover crusty eyeliner that made her look as though she’d just emerged from the threshold of the otherworld.
She wandered down the hall of her apartment toward the kitchen, following the incessant growling of her stomach, then paused. Last she checked, her cabinets were damn near bare. Instead of buying food like she was supposed to have done, she’d gotten distracted by Jarek and his invitation to the Mystic Obscura. Not that she regretted going with him, but she was terribly hungry, and the remorse from her previous decision meant she’d have to venture to the market. Again.
Sighing, she debated on grabbing her earnings from last night and venturing out to brave the crowds of patrons doing their daily shopping when a cream-colored card propped up on her kitchen table caught her eye. More enticing, however, was the glossy black wax seal depicting a wolf.
Her heart skittered and she snatched up the card, wondering what Atlas could have to say to her, if anything. She ran her thumb along the wax seal, silently debating. Maybe it was an apology for his actions, and if that was the case, she’d toss the damn thing in the trash. Or…maybe it was something else entirely.
She flipped it open and skimmed the contents, her face falling when she immediately recognized the tidy script.
Not Atlas.
Veros.
Her brother’s neat handwriting glared up at her against the sturdy parchment.
I noticed your cabinets and pantry were still looking a bit empty. Join me at the palace as soon as you wake for a proper breakfast. There’s an important matter I wish to discuss with you.
And before you throw my note into the garbage, I know how much you like fresh biscuits with honey.
Yours,
Veros
Damn. He knew her too well.
Biscuits and honey sounded positively divine.
But it was the “important matter” that made her hesitate. If Atlas told Veros she was working at the Mystic Obscura after promising to keep quiet, she would make him regret it. She would hold up her end of the bargain and tell Veros herself, but she would do it in her own time. Atlas hadn’t mentionedwhenshe needed to tell Veros, only that sheshould. And those were two entirely different things.
Then again, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face him after their little interlude last night. She found herself staring at the table where his helmet had been sitting. She knew he had anarcanic volt, the sleek vehicle powered by arcane magic and streaks of blue spit out of the back pipe whenever he revved the engine. Most males dressed in leathers, from their pants to their jackets, when they rode them through Starysa’s streets. But not Atlas. The few times she’d seen him ride hisvolt, he’d been wearing gray slacks, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, along with a dark green embroidered vest and a knotted silk tie. Godsdamn if it wasn’t one of the hottest things she’d witnessed in her life. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the image of him parked outside the palace dressed likethat, with a pitch black helmet concealing his face, had taken up permanent residence in her mind.
The memory of it sent tingles of delicious warmth coursing through her.
When he’d flipped up the visor and his eyes met hers, she’d almost fucking melted on the spot. It had taken all her willpower to remember why she hated him, why she would never have anything to do with him, why she would never forgive him.
Fuck, shehadto get him out of her head.
Hopefully, luck would be in her favor and Atlas wouldn’t even be at the palace. It’s not like he was ever up before the sun, anyway.
Deciding she was too hungry to care, she freshened up, tugged on a pair of sapphire high heels, and made her way to the palace.
She hired one of the manyvaladedrivers to drop her off at the side entrance of the palace, where the guards knew her by name and where none of the snobbish elite cared to mingle. One of the guards ushered her in through the curving bronze gates, closing it soundly behind her, and Everinne gazed up at the staggering building.
It was set atop one of the higher hills in Starysa, overlooking the city and the Ladova Bay. Layers of sand-colored stone made up multiple levels of covered balconies, parapets, and glittering arched windows. Sweeping towers adorned with gilded spires stood prominently in the back, while dozens of curving staircases led to gardens overflowing with evergreen trees and lush flowers in varying shades of silver, navy, and white. Two expertly carved obsidian statues depicting Prava’s famed black wolf were at the forefront of the grounds, their eyes crafted from molten silver. While on the outside the palace looked welcoming, dazzling even, Everinne knew that warm sentimentfaded the moment one stepped foot through its ornate wooden doors.
The inside of the palace made her skin prickle with keen awareness.
Even when she walked through its excessive black and gold halls, it was as though she was always being watched. She swore that behind its daunting interior, the walls held secrets long forgotten by time.
She carefully made her way to the main dining hall, her heels clicking softly against the smooth marble. Veros, fairly predictable and always on time, would likely be waiting for her there.
“Everinne?” a gravelly male voice called from behind her.
Swallowing down the knot of apprehension clogging the back of her throat, she slowly faced Kralv Oldrich.
“I thought that was you.” He stalked toward her, his ruddy cheeks already an indication that he’d had at least two pints of ale this morning. The kralv towered over her, his bulky stature crowding her personal space, and it took every ounce of willpower for her not to cringe and step away from him.
“Good morning, Your Imperial Majesty.” She dipped into a quick, practiced curtsy.
