Time passed.
Days cooled.
Leaves changed.
Apple stands popped up on street corners, selling tarts and pies and harvest treats. Every time Evangeline walked by a stand and caught a hint of its fruit-sweet scent, she’d think of Jacks and the debt she owed, and her heart would race like a horse hoping to escape her chest. But it seemed Jacks had forgotten about her, just as Poison had said.
Luc never returned either, and the curiosity shop did not reopen.
Evangeline convinced Agnes to let her work in her father’s hidden bookstore. It wasn’t as magical as the curiosity shop, but it gave her something to look forward to. Although some days she felt like one of the dusty used books on the store’s back shelves. The volumes that had been popular once, but no one picked up anymore.
She was still too well known for her stepmother to toss onto the streets, but Evangeline feared it would happen one day. The scandal sheets had printed the rumor about her kiss turning gentlemen to stone. Since then, her name only made brief, infrequent appearances. Kutlass was starting to forget her, too, just as Agnes had said.
But Evangeline refused to give up hope.
Her mother, Liana, had grown up in the Magnificent North, and she had raised Evangeline on their fairytales.
In the North, fairytales and history were treated as one and the same because their stories and histories were all cursed. Some tales couldn’t be written down without bursting into flames, others couldn’t leave the North, and many changed every time they were shared, becoming less and less real with every retelling. It was said that every Northern tale had started as true history, but over time, the Northern story curse had twisted all the tales until only bits of truth remained.
One of the stories Liana used to tell Evangeline was The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox, a romantic tale about a crafty peasant girl who could transform into a fox and the young archer who loved her, but was cursed with the need to hunt her down and kill her.
Evangeline loved the story because she, too, was a Fox, even if she wasn’t the sort who could turn into an animal. She might have also had a tiny crush on the archer. Evangeline made her mother tell her the tale over and over. But since this story was cursed, every time her mother neared the end, she would suddenly forget what she’d been saying. She could never tell Evangeline if the archer kissed his fox-girl and they lived happily together forever, or if he killed the fox-girl, ending their story in death.
Evangeline would always ask her mother to just tell her how she thought the story ended. But her mother always refused.
“I believe there are far more possibilities than happily ever after or tragedy. Every story has the potential for infinite endings.”
Evangeline’s mother repeated this sentiment so often that it grew inside Evangeline, rooting itself into the heart of her beliefs. This was one of the reasons she’d drunk the poison that had turned her to stone. It wasn’t because she was fearless or terribly heroic; it was because Evangeline simply had more hope than most. Jacks had told her that her only option for a happy ending was to walk away; that if she drank the poison, she’d be stone forever. But Evangeline couldn’t believe that. She knew her story had the potential for infinite endings—and that belief hadn’t changed.
There was a happy ending waiting for her.
The bell attached to the door of the bookstore chimed. The door hadn’t even opened yet, but the bell must have sensed someone special was entering, for it rang a touch early.
Evangeline found herself holding her breath, hoping Luc would walk through. She wished she could break the habit. But that same hope that led Evangeline to believe there was still a happy ending waiting for her also made her think that one day Luc would return. It didn’t seem to matter how many weeks or months passed. Whenever the bell to the bookshop rang, she couldn’t help but hope.
She knew some people would think this made her foolish, but it was tremendously hard to fully fall out of love with someone when you had no one else to love instead.
Evangeline quickly barreled down the ladder she’d been standing on and hurried past several patrons exploring the aisles. The last person who’d walked through the door was not Luc, but she was also unexpected.
Marisol had never visited Evangeline at the bookshop. Marisol never really left the house, she barely left her room, and she looked visibly uncomfortable at having done both today. She wrung her gloved hands with every step.
Given that the bookstore was a bit of a secret, it didn’t look like much from the outside. Just a door with a knob that always seemed on the verge of falling off. And yet there was a certain sort of magic once you stepped inside. It was the feel of candlelight at twilight, paper dust caught in the air, and rows and rows of unusual books on crooked shelves. Evangeline treasured it, but Marisol moved through the stacks as if they all might fall on her.
Over the last few months, the Cursed Bride had become part of local lore. Weddings were no longer held in gardens, and if a wedding was canceled, it was now bad luck to reschedule. Since she rarely went out, Marisol wasn’t widely recognizable as the actual Cursed Bride, but Evangeline could already see her stepsister’s skittishness making the other customers feel as if there were something to fear. Conversations had grown hushed, and patrons made a point of avoiding Marisol.
Evangeline continued toward her with a smile, hoping Marisol wouldn’t notice the less-than-friendly glances. “What brings you here? Did you want a book? We just got in a shipment of cooking books.”
Marisol shook her head, almost violently. “It’s probably best I don’t touch anything. People might think I’ve cursed the books.” She shot a furtive look toward the door, where a couple happened to be quickly exiting.
“They’re not leaving because of you,” Evangeline assured her.
Marisol frowned, unconvinced. “I won’t stay long. I only came in to give you this.” She held out an elaborate piece of expensive red paper accented with whirls of gold leaf and sealed with a red wax symbol.
“When I saw it delivered, I thought it looked important, and I wanted to make sure Mother didn’t hide it from you.” Marisol finally managed a smile, one that looked a little sly around the corners. “I know I’ll never make up for the weeks that you were stone, but it’s something.”
“I’ve already told you, you don’t owe me anything.” Evangeline felt a familiar stab of guilt. Every day, she was tempted to tell Marisol the truth, but every day, she wasn’t quite brave enough. Between Evangeline working at the shop and Marisol hiding in her room, the girls hadn’t grown much closer. But Marisol was still the nearest thing Evangeline had to family.
Someday, Evangeline would tell her stepsister the truth, but she still couldn’t do it yet.
And Marisol didn’t even give her the chance. As soon as she handed Evangeline the red page, Marisol disappeared the way she came, leaving Evangeline to open the mysterious note alone.
Dear Miss Fox,
My sister and I would love to have the pleasure of your company tomorrow for afternoon tea in the Royal Hummingbird Court at two o’clock. We’ve admired you from afar, and we have an exciting opportunity we’d like to discuss.
Warmest regards, Scarlett Marie Dragna
Empress of the Meridian Empire
