Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series

by Laurie D'Ghent

  She seriously thought she might throw up when the rap came at her door. This is it. She tried to work up enough spit to swallow, but failed. She walked to the door, trying to still her breathing, and grasped the doorknob. Before she could change her mind, she pulled the door open.

  A huge contingent of guards appeared to her view. She balked, unprepared to walk down the hallway with such a procession. She seriously considered slamming the door, not thinking what she would do beyond that. Luckily, she noticed a man extending one arm to her. Paul's familiar smile was enough to steady her, even if only temporarily. Determined once more to not show any of her fear, she slid her arm through his and took a steadying breath. The group moved slowly down the hallway.

  It was strange to feel the flooring of the corridor under her bare feet, the first time she had left her room unshod. The carpet was so thick it seemed to have a spring to it as it captured and released her foot with each step. She glanced at the strip of polished hardwood she could see to the side of the runner, and wondered if it was as slick to walk on as it appeared. She forced her head back up. You don't have to think about what's happening, but you can't be staring at the floor, either. She focused on the back of the guard directly in front of her. The way his dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders reminded Integrity of Evan, particularly when he had pulled her from the hidden stairwell that she had trapped herself in.

  She put a halt on that train of thought, as well.

  She moved her gaze higher, realizing why Bowman was not part of her entourage. A neck brace isn't exactly esthetically pleasing, even if he did get beheaded protecting me. A part of her was glad he wasn't there, that the guilt she still felt over his injuries was not brought bubbling to the surface among the rest of her turmoil.

  To control herself, she forced her mind to fall blank as she focused over the man's head, allowing her vision to blur. She was so solidly surrounded by men that she knew no one would be able to catch a glimpse of her in their midst. She was as protected, and isolated, as she would be from here on out. There was no point in ruining the temporary respite.

  The group slowed to a gradual stop before a pair of utterly massive doors. Integrity heard someone knock, assumed it was one of the leading guards. Almost instantly, the stately doors swept away from her in a slow arc. Only after they had come to a complete rest did the guards move forward once more.

  She was glad she couldn't see anything except for the ceiling.

  The room was well lit, though the light was not overly bright. Crystal chandeliers sparkled at the edges of her vision. She stiffened her spine, raised her chin a notch, and forced herself to remove her emotions from the proceedings. She fell into the familiar shelter she had flawlessly constructed after her parents' deaths. No one could touch her, now. Her body had been left behind. You may kill me, but you cannot make me tremble.

  The group drew to a halt once more, and, as one, the guards parted and fell back from the girl, leaving her standing alone in a sea of death. She continued to stare at the far wall, unflinching. Silence pooled around her like honey, growing deeper and deeper. Still, she did not move.

  From behind her, walking up either side, a solemn group of people moved to stand in front of the girl, on a small dais. Though they were only a few inches higher than her, Integrity was forced to meet their gaze or crane her neck higher; she refused to avoid them. She allowed her eyes to travel from one member of the council to the next, pausing on each. If you must kill me, you will first look me in the eye.

  At some unseen signal, the group stepped from the stage, forming a large, perfectly round circle around the girl. She remained facing forward, though she heard the rustle of clothing behind her. She thought someone might draw near her from behind, but she did not tense or glance over her shoulder. Do your worst. It cannot hurt me.

  Her heart rate slowed, her breaths came gentle and slow. The walk to the room had been far worse, but, now that the proceedings had begun, the fear seemed to leave the girl behind, sensing it would be useless to prey upon her any longer.

  The group surrounding Integrity began to chant, softly. She turned in a slow circle, looking for Jydda—the woman was not among those present.

  The words were unintelligible to Integrity, but she could sense their inherent power. Rather than causing her to quail, she took the power into herself, allowed it to bear her up. The group slowly moved closer to her, closing the gaps between them. Integrity remained still. Once there were no longer any gaps, the member of the council that looked like a distinguished grandfather stepped forward. Integrity turned to face him, as straight as a concrete pillar, and twice as cold.

  The chanting ceased abruptly when one of the massive doors slammed inward, crashing into the wall at its side. All turned to face the newcomer, Integrity marveling at the amount of force that must have been necessary to throw such a weighty object around so effortlessly.

  “What in the heck is going on?” There was a slightly wild look in Evan's eyes, and the council members that stood between him and Integrity looked at one another in amazement. Evan moved toward the group, roughly shoving people out of his way. “I was told this was all postponed!”

  The king stepped forward, from behind Integrity, and intercepted his son. The queen quickly moved to join them. “Now, son,” the king said, reaching out a restraining hand.

  Evan jerked away from him with a sound akin to a hiss. “Don't call me that. Why is this going forward?” He sounded thoroughly enraged.

  “The wedding was postponed, dear,” said the queen, sounding anything but maternal, “not the change.”

  Evan moved to step around his parents, but his father deftly blocked his way. “If you refuse to cooperate in the marriage, I cannot force you. However, that has nothing to do with this.” Any friendly banter that had been in the monarch's tone had dissolved.

  “I demand time with the girl.”

  “You are in no position to demand anything, son,” the king reminded, stressing the relation between them. Between the two ruler's heads, Integrity saw Evan clench his jaw. Her calm was beginning to fracture; she struggled to keep it in place.

  Looking directly at his father, Evan said, lowly, “Do you want my cooperation?”

  The king opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to rethink his response. He closed his mouth, staring directly back at his son. Integrity glanced at the queen; she was looking at her son with absolute loathing, and Integrity shrunk within herself. What kind of mother would look at her child like that? Just a further reminder of why I don't want this. Integrity snapped off the line of thought, forced herself to fall back on a blank mind for protection.

  Reaching a decision, the king muttered, “Five minutes.”

  “Ten.”

  Smiling easily at his son, the king rejoined, “Five, and if you push it, it'll be three.”

  Evan made no response, just turned on his heel and headed back out into the hallway. Integrity stood, stupidly, until the king waved for her to follow after the prince. A pathway opened in the waiting assassins, and Integrity followed Evan from the room, forcing herself not to hurry. Complete control.

  Once out in the corridor, Integrity felt, more than heard, the door behind her slowly closing. It took a moment for her to pick Evan out of the group of guards, they were all dressed so similarly. “Some privacy?” Evan said, and the guards moved into position, forming a barrier in either direction down the hall, with their backs turned to the pair. They were not out of earshot, and Integrity wondered how this qualified as private. She turned to face Evan, full of steely calm.

  He was far from serene. His hair looked as though he had recently run his fingers through it, and the pent up energy in him was visible in its near bursting state. Integrity merely stared at him, her face expressionless.

  “They told me everything was put on hold,” he said, rambling.

  “Obviously, you were misinformed.” Her voice was just as blank as her face.

  Evan turned, paced
to the near wall, then strode back to her. He looked at her intently, almost pleadingly, and said, “I did everything I could to stop it.”

  “There's nothing anyone can do to stop it. It will happen, in just a few minutes.” She fell silent once more, watching emotions tumble across his face. Even through her shield, it struck her how odd it was for Evan to have lost control so completely; even when he had attacked her after killing the woman in California, he had not been like this. He wasn't anywhere near this.

  Evan glanced at his wrist, then slid his sleeve back in place over a discreet watch. “We don't have any time.” Lowering his voice, moving to murmur in her ear, he said, “I'll break a wall through the guards, there.” He nodded to her right. “If you continue down this hall, there is a door on the right that will lead outside. Make for the woods, find somewhere to hide, and remain silent.” Before Integrity could speak, he stepped back from her, turned to face the backs of the unsuspecting guards and clenched his hands together at his side.

  Integrity thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, the lack of sleep making colors shift oddly, but only Evan's hands were distorted. Quickly, he raised his arms, opened his hands, and the distortion flew toward the guards. Before it had struck them, Evan had pushed her in the same direction, turning to face the guards behind them. She missed the impact on the guards before her, having turned to watch what Evan was doing, but she heard the synchronized thud of their bodies as they struck the floor. She turned back to Evan, dazed. He yelled at her to go, not even looking at her, as the remaining guards turned to see what the disturbance was. Automatically, Integrity took off down the hallway, hiking her skirt up to her knees to leap over the fallen guards.

  How the heck am I supposed to know which door leads outside? she wondered as her bare feet dropped almost silently on the carpet. She watched the doors flashing past and began to panic. She ran past a door with a large, ornate glass panel set in it, and had to reverse her momentum to jerk the door open and flee out into the cold. A brief glance showed that a handful of guards were rushing down the hall toward her. No point in wasting time shutting the door, they've already seen you. She dashed toward the woods opposite her.

  The ache in her feet was her first realization that there was a thick layer of snow on the ground, the top crusted to thin ice. “Just brilliant,” she chastised herself, panting. “I don't want shoes, I'm the boss. Freaking awesome, Integrity.” She leaped over a low bush of some kind and entered the forest proper.

  The silence of the surrounding trees only made her own clumsy flight sound louder, and Integrity began searching immediately for a hiding spot, knowing that the noise she was making would lead the guards directly to her. A desperate plea rose to the sky as she rushed on, her skirt snagging on branches as she went.

  The low branch was perfect. Without even thinking about it, Integrity grasped the limb and somehow managed to swing herself into the tree. She crawled higher, her feet numb from the cold, clumsy on the smooth branches. Sure that prayer had something to do it, she caught a brief glimpse of the still open door on the back of Westmarch and saw the guards just barely breaking through. That doesn't make any sense. They were right behind me. The men began following her tracks across the snow, and her heart sank. It would not take them long to follow her straight to the tree. Her flight had been utterly pointless. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that it would be over quickly.

  A monstrous gust of wind almost knocked her from her precarious perch, but she managed to grasp the trunk at the last second, then carefully bring her loose foot back up and settle herself once again. She had lost track of the guards, but knew they would enter the woods at any moment.

  Є

  She didn't know how long she had crouched, shivering, in the tree. Her feet had long ago lost any sensation, and the rest of her was quickly catching up. The wind, while apparently obscuring her tracks, was cutting painfully through her, the thin fabric of her dress no protection at all. Her mind was beginning to plead for sleep, but she knew as soon as she gave into that desire, she was dead. She forced her eyes to stay open, even though the bitter cold made them feel pitifully shriveled in her sockets. She could see little beyond the swaying limbs and the snow that had been blown from them.

  At least I'm not warm, yet, she thought, with a strange desire to smile. Don't you get warm before you die from hypothermia?

  Some part of her knew that if the whole contingent of guards couldn't find her, here in this tree, Evan had no more hope of doing so. She curled in tighter on herself, wishing that her muscles would respond so that she might climb down from the tree and head back for the castle. At the very least, being drained of all my blood can't possibly leave me this cold.

  Integrity snapped her eyes open, not even aware they had closed, when she heard the voice next to her speak her name. Startled, she lost her precious balance and began to fall from the tree, still curled in the tight ball that she seemed to have been literally frozen in.

  She was caught by one arm, and her body felt as though it had broken into shards.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Integrity swung back and forth, suspended in space by a pressure around her left arm. Her body bumped into the trunk, but she didn't feel it, only saw the difference when her progress was abruptly halted, her path changed. The swinging had almost stopped completely when the pressure on her arm relaxed and she felt herself falling.

  Miraculously, she didn't hit any branches on the way down. Face to the sky, some part of her recognized the king crouched high in the tree, watching her descent with his trademark calm.

  Her descent halted, and she thought she had sunk into the snow until she rose a few inches. Turning her head to the side, she recognized one of the guards that had been stationed outside the changing room looking down at her. He appeared to be unsure what to do with her, now that he had her. She didn't really care what he did.

  Her perspective changed rapidly, and she found herself facing the king once more. He had returned to the ground, and she knew he was pressing her against the trunk of the tree; one branch angled off just to her right, rising slightly toward the bright sky. Only when the king began to growl at her did she realize that she was having a hard time breathing. Glancing down, she saw his arm extended toward her. He's choking me. Some of her lack of care broke off, falling to the ground like the clumps of snow around her. She looked back at him, concern growing rapidly to panic.

  “I ought to kill you, you little wench!” The king's handsome face was so contorted by fury that Integrity almost didn't recognize him. He shoved her back against the tree harder, tightening down on her windpipe. She raised one clumsy hand to pluck at his arm. “Do you have any inkling of the honor we are doing you? And you try to escape!” He pulled her away from the tree, slamming her back against it forcefully. Pain sparked as blood rushed to the area, then retreated to her core in an effort to keep her alive.

  The king loosened his grip enough for her to breathe, but still kept her pressed against the tree. She could see something of Evan around his eyes, though she wasn't sure what. She watched him, wondering distractedly what he would do next. After a moment, he looked down to her hand where it hung loosely on his arm, then he released her. She crumpled in a heap on the ground, not caring that the side of her face was pressed against the snow.

  The king said something, but she missed it over the sound of the wind. She was scooped up into the arms of the waiting guard, and the three moved off through the trees. Westmarch came into view, gradually growing larger. The warmth of the castle stung her skin as they moved through the doorway. The pain increased as her circulation returned, surging to her extremities. They entered a small room on the right, and Integrity managed to support her own weight when the guard set her on her feet, though she was awfully wobbly. The room was bare, stark in its lack of any adornment. She took a few steps to the wall, propped herself against it, by a window. The chill flowing through the glass was a relief compared to the ache of the heat
all around her. She placed her palm against the pane—it did not feel cool to under her fingers.

  She heard someone mutter something, then the door opened and closed. She glanced blearily over her shoulder, saw that only the guard remained. She turned back to the window, struggling to remain upright. All she wanted to do was sleep.

  There was a scuffle when the door opened once more, and she turned to see a group of people entering, more than should be in such a small space. She braced her back against the wall behind her and watched as guards poured through the door, those in the center of the flood struggling with someone. One struck the prisoner in his head, and the form dropped to the ground, on hands and knees. The man shook his head, then shoved himself back to his feet. The guards moved around him tightly, but Integrity had caught a glimpse of Evan. Her mind flared for a moment, suddenly interested in what was going on. They just hit the prince.

  The king moved to the crowd, and a path opened for him silently. No one spoke, but the sounds of movement still floated around the room. The king stood before Evan a moment, then slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. Evan did not fall, but that was probably because he had so many guards holding so tightly to him. Several of the guards had to adjust their feet under the force of the blow. Evan turned to look back at his father, hate rolling off him in palpable waves. “Have you lost your senses?” the king barked, then gathered himself together and lowered his tone. “What were you thinking?”

  Evan spit at the king's face. In an instant, the bodyguards had placed him face down on the floor. They were being none too gentle, and Integrity flinched at the sound of Evan's head bouncing off the unforgiving concrete floor. Suddenly overcome with weakness, she slid down the wall, coming to a disorderly heap at the bottom. She tried to see between the milling legs, but Evan was obscured. The king had stepped back from the crowd, and he was wiping something dark off his hand with a crisp, white handkerchief. “My son has lost control of his reason. Keep him here.” The king moved past the group, the guards shifting to make room for their monarch where none existed. Integrity wondered if any of them stepped on Evan in the process. She saw the very top of the door swing into view, then retreat. The guards fought to subdue Evan, still.