Chapter 74

Evelyn

The medical tent was just as I remembered it. It was doused in sunlight streaming in from outside, and the space was filled with familiar faces. The air smelled of herbs, sweat, and blood. Unlike the rogue camp’s medical tent, this one was full to bursting with supplies, and people met my eye without hesitation. Respect was something I had already earned here and not something I felt the need to shrink myself for.

My body ached as I ducked inside, still feeling the effects of the Mal Root even days later. But I was standing. I was breathing and whole despite Jesse’s best efforts.

And even though I wasn’t fully recovered yet, I was glad to dive back into work. I had become more than eager to distract myself.

Chris handed me fresh gauze, and I pressed it gently to a soldier’s stitched wound while he gritted his teeth and muttered something about rogues not fighting fair. I smiled at him and wrapped the bandage around his wound expertly.

"You're lucky the claw missed your artery," I said lightly.

“And not for want of trying with them,” the soldier said through clenched teeth. “Those bastards are ruthless.”

Didn’t I know it. “They don’t play fair, but we don’t have to either,” I said. It was something that I had been thinking of since my return. How Jesse only matched Logan in a fight because he had not been formally trained. Jesse was scrappy, and most of his rogues were too. Perhaps it would pay off to take a page out of their book.

The soldier laughed weakly. “That’s very true.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at me from across the tent, silently questioning me as I tied off the bandage. He had been doing this often since my hasty return to work. It felt like he was searching for flaws, looking for me to waver so he could tell me I had returned too early. But he would have to keep looking, because I had no plans on giving this role up for anything.

It felt good to be needed again. To do something useful with my hands, to help others instead of constantly feeling like I was the one who needed saving. I’d only been back at it for a few days, and already the staff was slipping into their old rhythm while accommodating me as if I'd never been gone.

Chris passed me a clean cloth and leaned in close, his voice pitched low. "You’re really feeling better?” he asked. It wasn’t the first time he’d openly questioned me about it.

“I would tell you if I didn’t,” I said.

“Mal Root is a horrible drug. Robs the memory and muscle functions of most. Some people suffer from prolonged amnesia. You really don’t remember anything you did under the Mal Root?”

I shook my head. “Only flashes for the most part. A lot of confusion and fog. And Jesse’s footfalls when he returned. And then I remember him interrogating me when I woke up before he drugged me all over again.” I swallowed hard. “It was like I was walking underwater. I knew I wasn’t myself, but I couldn’t get out.”

Chris nodded grimly. “That stuff’s nasty. We’ve seen it used before on some of our own soldiers, but never that potently. He must’ve dosed you heavily.”

“He claims that he miscalculated the first dosage,” I murmured. “I think he wanted me pliant but still functional, but instead, I was out for days. It took three days before he could interrogate me like he’d wanted.”

Chris squeezed my shoulder. “Well, you’re back now. And if it’s any consolation, everyone missed you here.”

I smiled, a little sadly. “Thanks, Chris. But you’re just saying that because we’re still horribly understaffed.”

Chris returned my smile. “That isn’t the only reason.”

The flap of the tent rustled behind me, cutting me off before I could say more. I turned, and when I saw who it was, I froze.

Logan stood there, boots dusty from patrolling the surrounding fields. He didn’t look as tired as he had when I’d first woken up. It seemed like he had finally been getting some sleep. But I wouldn’t soon forget the distress he wore when he thought I was still unconscious in the palace bed, his pensive face twisted with concern and thought.

As he glanced around now, his eyes almost immediately found mine.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

Chris took the hint. He exchanged a knowing look with me. “I’ll go check on the eastern cots.”

Logan waited until we were alone before he stepped closer, and I was overwhelmed with the familiar scent of him. Despite my fluttering heartbeat, the smell of him put me somewhat at ease.

He pulled something from his inner coat pocket. They were loose-leaf pieces of parchment. Even with their blank sides facing me, I knew what they were before he even spoke.

“First,” he said, “I wanted to thank you.”

I blinked. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said simply. “For sacrificing yourself to the cause when you didn’t have to. You’ve given more than most soldiers here, and I’ve never said that outright.”

The words landed somewhere deep in my chest. I wasn’t used to that kind of acknowledgment, especially from Logan. It made something in me feel strained. The sensation felt suspiciously like longing. It stirred something in me to know that he respected me.

“But I also know,” he continued, “that all of this chaotic life we have been thrust into recently has distracted me from something you asked for a long time ago.”

He lifted the papers slightly. “The divorce.”

Even though I had suspected it from the moment he had pulled out the papers, my breath caught.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “I brought everything here. And they’re all signed.”

I reached out on instinct, taking the envelope from his hands. Leaves of paper had never felt as heavy as they did then.

“I want you to have them,” he said quietly. “You asked for freedom. For too long, I got distracted, and my misplaced priorities have denied you the one thing you’ve asked for. I guess what I’m trying to say with all of this is that I’m sorry.”

I stared down at the papers in my hands. The silence between us stretched. I didn’t know what to say.

“If you want to go through with it all, everything is there and ready. But,” he added, his voice softer now, more uncertain, “if I’m being honest… I was hoping we might not have to use them anymore.”

I looked up sharply, catching his eye in an instant.

He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. He was visibly distraught.

“Evelyn, I know I’ve made mistakes. And I know what we had was messy and broken in more ways than one. But these past few weeks, with everything going wrong around us, you’ve been the one constant I kept coming back to. Even when you weren’t here, the memory of you was my rock.”

My breath hitched, unbidden.

“We’ve been through so much together, and I can’t imagine parting ways so severely,” he continued, “especially when I don’t feel like we’ve given anything a proper chance.”

I swallowed hard. His words softened edges in me that I didn’t know I had. I watched his vulnerability and felt my own rise to meet his.

He took a step closer. “I’m not saying we go back to the beginning. I’m saying we start over. No history. No grudges..”

A thousand thoughts rushed through my head at once. A hundred memories resurfaced, threatening to pull me under. All at once, I was thinking of Emma’s taunts, the petty fights with Logan, and then the desperate way he’d fought to bring me back. How he had stayed by my bedside while I recovered and risked it all to make sure I was safe.

I couldn’t shake the memory of the fear in his tired eyes when I first woke up, just like I would never be able to forget the way he was looking at me now. So tender and earnest.

All of this swirled inside of me, so many conflicting thoughts and feelings. I clutched the papers hard enough to wrinkle them.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. Because I was protecting my heart. I had married him, thinking that something would bloom between us, but now, I had to be more cautious.

What if it was too late to salvage what we could have created? Or, what if this was just the beginning? I needed time to think, even if my heart already had its answer, thundering inside of me at the crestfallen look Logan gave me.

He nodded, like he’d expected that response. “I’m not asking for an answer now.”

And then, as though to grant me space, he turned to leave. But at the tent flap, he paused.

“I’m just asking you to think about it, Evelyn. Just let me know. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll always do whatever makes you happiest.”

Unbidden, tears blurred my vision. I was glad his back was to me so that he couldn’t see them.

“I know,” I said.

And then he was gone.

I stared at the papers in my hands and the damning words that had been inked into them. It was the divorce I’d wanted. The clean break I thought I needed.

But now? Now I wasn’t so sure.

And that terrified me more than anything else.