Page 16 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Robin

I wake up feeling guilty.

For a moment I lie still, staring up at the canopy overhead. The carved wooden posts on all four corners seem to loom over me like prison bars.

You knew better. You weren’t supposed to let her in again.

But I still feel bad for what I said. For walking out when she was trying so hard.

Trying is not enough, I remind myself. Not anywhere near enough.

But try as I might, the hollowness in my chest aches more than I want to admit. I throw off the covers and get out of bed. The castle feels different this morning—more oppressive, the shadows deeper. Or maybe that’s just me, seeing everything through the lens of disappointment.

With a deep sigh, I accept the inevitable: I’m going to feel bad until I apologize for walking out on her last night.

I find Eva in her study even before breakfast, hunched over contracts like some strangely beautiful gargoyle.

Her black hair falls in perfect waves over one shoulder, and she’s dressed in a crisp white shirt that makes the shadows around her look darker.

She doesn’t look up when I enter, even though I know she heard me.

“Did you need something?” Her voice is neutral, businesslike.

I stare at her, waiting for her to look up, to give me something—even irritation would be better than this cold indifference. But she keeps her eyes on her papers, her pen moving in quick, sharp strokes as she signs her name.

“Seriously?” I snap at last. “We’re back to this?”

Finally, she glances up. Those amber eyes that burned for me last night are now flat, distant. “I have work to do, Robin.”

I shake my head and turn on my heel, slamming the door behind me with enough force to rattle the frame. The noise echoes through the hallway, louder than I expected, but I’m not about to go back and apologize.

Let her sit in her study and be miserable.

See if I care.

“Will you still accompany me to the village cemetery today?”

Stefan’s warm voice is a balm after Eva’s arctic treatment. He’s already seated at the breakfast table in the smaller dining room, coffee steaming beside a plate of fresh pastries. When he smiles, the lines around his eyes crinkle with genuine warmth.

Eva’s chair is empty, her crystal goblet unused, napkin still folded.

“I’d like that,” I say, settling into the chair Stefan pulls out for me in an old-world gesture of courtesy.

Stefan pours me coffee from an ornate silver service. “I trust Eva hasn’t been too…difficult this morning?”

I take a sip of the perfectly brewed coffee and study his face. Stefan Novak is everything his niece isn’t—warm where she’s cold, talkative where she’s guarded, friendly where she’s aloof. I suspect he has the same sharp intelligence, but it’s wrapped in charm instead of ice.

“We had some difficult business discussions last night,” he goes on when I say nothing. “That’s why I ask.”

“She’s fine,” I lie smoothly. “Just busy, I guess.”

Stefan’s knowing look tells me he doesn’t believe it for a second, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he lifts a croissant with the delicate silver tongs and places it on my plate. “A pleasant walk down to the village will do us both good.”

As he sips his coffee, I find myself relaxing for the first time since I woke up. This is what ordinary feels like, even in some gothic castle—breakfast conversation, genuine smiles, the absence of power games and emotional manipulation. It makes the ache in my chest ease, just a little.

The air outside is crisp and clean, and I can smell spring in the air, even though it’s still cold. We make our way down the winding road that leads from the castle to the village below. The trees are budding now, making the forests seem less grim.

I pull my coat tighter and breathe deeply, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders.

Away from the castle’s oppressive halls, away from Eva’s moods and having to guess which Eva I’ll be presented with at any given moment, I can almost pretend I’m just a normal woman taking a walk with a new friend.

“You seem lighter away from the castle,” Stefan observes, his hands clasped behind his back as we walk.

“It’s beautiful out here,” I say, which is true but not the whole truth. The whole truth is that the castle feels like a prison sometimes, beautiful and luxurious, but still a jail. And after last night, after Eva’s failure to tell me what I needed to hear, the bars feel tighter than ever.

Stefan nods thoughtfully. “Do you know, Eva has always preferred the castle to anywhere else. Even as a child, she would spend hours in the library or her father’s study rather than playing outside.” He glances at me sideways. “I used to worry she was too serious for her own good.”

There’s something in his tone—affection mixed with concern, maybe even a hint of criticism. It makes me curious despite myself.

“She must have seemed mature for her age,” I say carefully.

“Oh, she was. Brilliant, of course. Zoltan saw that early and made sure she was educated in everything—languages, politics, strategy. But perhaps he should have…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Forgive me. I should not speak ill of the dead, and my own son is hardly a paragon of filial piety.”

“Your son?”

“I believe you met him in Paris,” Stefan sighs. “Or at least, he told me that he met you. Dimitri?”

“Oh!” I say, remembering that strangely charming cousin of Eva’s. “Of course. Yes, I did. He was…nice.”

Stefan gives a smile that’s more of a grimace. “Yes,” he says. “He can give the impression of being nice when he chooses to.”

I can see the resemblance now, when I remember Eva’s cousin Dimi. The same debonair smile and easy warmth. It seems like one side of the Novak family got all the charm and the other…

Well, I suppose the other side has to run a criminal empire. It can’t be much fun.

When we reach the cemetery, I follow Stefan to the Novak family crypt. He stops before it and bows his head, his lips moving in what I assume is a prayer.

I stand quietly beside him, not wanting to intrude on his grief. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the wind rustling through the trees and the distant sound of church bells from the village below.

“My brother was both feared and loved,” Stefan says finally, his voice soft. “The people respected him because he was strong, but they also knew he cared for them. Their children were fed, their livelihoods were protected, their elderly were looked after.”

“Eva does those things too,” I point out. “She sends money down to take care of things in the village.”

At least I think she does, if what she said the other day was actually true, that she’s improving the school.

Stefan’s smile is sad. “Of course she does. But she doesn’t go down himself to see the people firsthand. To hear their problems. She…tends to see money as the salve for all ills.”

That strikes me as too true to deny. If there’s one thing Eva is good at, it’s throwing money at problems until they give under the weight of it and resolve in her favor.

“Eva is feared, but not loved,” Stefan goes on, as we begin walking back to the cemetery gates. “She maintains order, but she doesn’t inspire loyalty the way Zoltan did.” He glances at me, his eyes serious. They’re the same color as Eva’s. “Sometimes I worry about her.”

The words hit me wrong, making my cheeks warm. “Eva is the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“That’s the problem,” Stefan sighs, and there’s something in his voice that makes me uncomfortable.

“Strength alone is not enough. The Consortium will demand more from her than even Zoltan could give, simply because she is a woman. And leadership requires flexibility. Adaptability. The ability to inspire rather than simply command.”

I want to argue, to defend Eva, but something in Stefan’s tone gives me pause. And besides all that, I don’t understand?—

“You’re wondering why I’m telling you all this,” Stefan says with a rueful smile.

“I am,” I admit. “I don’t really know anything much about the Consortium. Just that some of the work they do is…” I trail off, not wanting to even name it.

Stefan just nods. “Eva has become distracted recently. But she won’t listen to me. You, on the other hand…” He gives an apologetic laugh. “Well. I don’t want to overstep.”

My head whirls. “I don’t think Eva has any interest in what I have to say about the business,” I say at last. “And I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s smart and capable and?—”

“And isolated,” Stefan interrupts gently. “She trusts no one. That kind of loneliness makes a person brittle, Robin. Eventually, they break.”

The words sting because there’s truth in them. I’ve seen Eva’s isolation, felt the walls she keeps between herself and the world. But I’ve also seen her vulnerability, the way she looks when she thinks no one is watching.

“People can change,” I insist.

Stefan’s smile is enigmatic. “Perhaps. Come, let’s go get some lunch.”

The village tavern is dimly lit and warm, and just like when I came here with Eva and Leon, the smell of stew and fresh bread fills the air, making my stomach rumble. A few villagers look up as we enter, their faces lighting up when they see me.

“Robin!” I recognize one of the mothers of the children I’ve befriended—Elena, I think her name is—who beams at me and comes over to clasp my hands. “You are good for the lady,” she says in English. “She listens now.”

Heat floods my face. “Oh, I don’t think?—”

“She is better now,” Elena continues. “She pays for school repairs.” She puts a hand on her heart and nods, smiling. “You are good for her.”

I try to laugh it off as Elena moves away, but Stefan’s sharp gaze is fixed on me with new interest. “What does she mean, Robin? School repairs?”

“Nothing, really,” I say quickly. “Eva just…I mentioned that the school looked like it needed some work.”

Stefan’s eyebrows rise. “And she took it upon herself to fund repairs?”

“I guess.” I fidget with the hem of my coat, wishing Elena hadn’t said anything.

But Stefan is looking at me with a new intensity that makes me want to squirm. “Perhaps you were right,” he says at last. “People can change.”

We order lunch and find a table. Stefan makes easy conversation with the locals, switching into the local dialect. Everyone seems comfortable with him—more comfortable than they were with Eva, I realize. With her, there’s respect tinged with fear. With Stefan, there’s warmth.

“What are they saying?” I ask, after the third person gestures to his face.

With a slightly sad smile, Stefan says, “They are saying how much I look like my older brother. And how much they miss him.”

As we eat, I find myself relaxing again. Stefan tells stories about the village, about his own childhood here with Zoltan, about the changes he’s seen over the years. He’s witty, a good conversationalist, and for a little while, I can forget about Eva’s cold dismissal this morning.

But then, as we’re finishing our meal, Stefan leans back in his chair and studies me with those too-perceptive eyes.

“The villagers seem fond of you,” he observes.

“They’re kind people,” I say carefully.

“And Eva? How does she feel about your popularity?”

There’s something in his tone that feels like a test. “We don’t really discuss village politics.”

Stefan laughs. “I can’t imagine it would interest her much, no. Though I find it fascinating that she’s suddenly taken an interest in community improvements. Very unlike her.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod and take another sip of my drink.

On the way back to the castle, Stefan suggests we turn off to take a look at the village school.

I stop short when I see it, my mouth falling open in surprise.

The building I walked past just a little time ago—worn and shabby, with peeling paint and a playground that looked ready to collapse—has been completely transformed.

Fresh white paint gleams on the walls. Workers in hard hats are installing new playground equipment. Scaffolding surrounds part of the building where men are replacing roof tiles.

“Eva…” I trail off, staring at the scene. “She must have commissioned all of this work. I didn’t realize how…thorough she was being.”

Because it’s more than repairs. This is a complete renovation. New windows, new doors, a fresh coat of paint that makes the old building look bright and welcoming. Children peek through the safety fence, chattering excitedly as they watch the workers.

“It seems you do wield great influence over the lady,” Stefan says.

I try to brush it off. “I just mentioned it looked run-down. This was all Eva’s idea.”

“Was it?” Stefan’s smile is enigmatic. “How generous of her.”

But as we continue up the road toward the castle, his words echo in my head. How generous of her . Eva is many things, but being generous for the sake of it doesn’t seem like her. She is free with her money—but only when it benefits her.

Is Eva trying to buy my affections through good works?

The thought makes me feel sick, because if that’s true, then everything between us is just transaction after transaction.

The castle looms ahead of us, its dark towers stark against the sky. As we approach the main gate, I feel the weight of it settling on my shoulders again—all that stone and shadow and secrets. The freedom I felt in the village evaporates, replaced by the familiar sense of being trapped.

Stefan chatters easily as we climb the steps to the main entrance, but I’m barely listening. My mind is spinning with questions I don’t want to ask and answers I’m afraid to hear. Is everything Eva does for me calculated? Is her kindness just another way to control me?

I keep hoping. Despite everything, I keep on hoping . It’s like I learned nothing at all the first time I was here.

Hope is just a deception. I need to remember that.