Jacks had once told Evangeline, “There’s no point in having another person commit murder if you’re in the room with them.” And Evangeline’s last kiss with Apollo was the first enchanted kiss where Jacks hadn’t been in the room.
“Help!” Evangeline cried as more ragged sobs racked her chest.
The door flew open, and a suite that had been filled with fire and flower petals moments ago turned into a rush of heavy boots, flashing weapons, and unbridled curses.
“We need a doctor,” Evangeline sobbed. It felt too soon to cry, but she couldn’t stop the tears.
“What did you do to him?” “I think he’s dead!”
“She killed him!”
The soldiers’ words flew like arrows, quick and sharp, as two men yanked her off the bed by her wings, sending feathers flying everywhere.
“Get out of here,” someone ordered.
“Wait—” Evangeline protested between tears. She knew this was partly her fault, but she wasn’t the only one to blame. “I—I didn’t—I didn’t—”
“We heard him yelling at you. And now—” The soldier didn’t even finish. He let the words hang there as two other guards hauled her toward the door. “Tie her up in an empty room. And you”—he pointed to another pair of soldiers—“find Prince Tiberius, and be discreet. We need to keep this quiet for now.”
Evangeline tried to protest, but her words were strangled by more sobs. Horrible racking sobs, so intense she barely felt the chill of the tower or the soldiers’ punishing grip as they dragged her down the stairs, shredding her wings with every flight and leaving a trail of feathers and tears.
“You—you need to find Lord Jacks—” she finally managed. “He did this—he’s the Prince of Hearts.”
“Grab a gag for her,” the shorter soldier grunted as they jostled her into a dim room that smelled of damp and dust. Together, they ripped off the rest of her wings. Ruthlessly cold air hit her back as they shoved her in a lone wood chair. Her wrists were promptly tied to the arms, and her ankles to the chair’s legs, before the shorter soldier stuck a fetid cloth inside her mouth.
It cut off her pleas, and its foulness briefly stopped her tears. But it didn’t last long. In the silence that followed, all she could hear were the words murderer and fool, and all she could see were Apollo’s desolate eyes, until a flood of tears blurred even that memory.
“Why hasn’t that gag shut her up?” said the shorter soldier.
“Just let her cry,” the other muttered. He was broader, and his head was shaved. He’d gone to build a fire in the empty hearth. She recognized him as Apollo’s personal guard—Havelock. She couldn’t imagine he cared if she was cold, but the abandoned room was like ice, and she doubted they’d leave her there alone. As if she could escape. Even if they untied her, she wouldn’t get far in her current state. She sobbed harder.
She’d killed Apollo. Apollo was dead.
Apollo was dead, and she’d killed him.
“You need to shut it now.” The shorter soldier lifted up one hand to strike—
“Is that how a royal guard treats his next queen?” drawled Jacks, appearing at the half-open door. It was difficult to see him through the dark and the tears, but she’d always recognize the cruelty in his voice.
It’s the Prince of Hearts! He’s the murderer! Evangeline tried to yell, but the awful gag still filled her mouth. And now there was something wrong with the guards. Neither of them moved.
Evangeline rocked her chair in a feeble attempt to break free.
“Stop her from hurting herself,” Jacks said flatly.
The shorter soldier who’d been about to strike her immediately put a firm hand on the back of her seat to keep all four legs on the ground.
What was going on?
It was as if the soldiers were possessed. Havelock stared at Jacks the way one might regard a shadow holding a knife, yet he didn’t move until Jacks strode into the room and softly said, “Get out.”
Wordlessly, both soldiers marched out, leaving Evangeline tied up and alone with the Prince of Hearts.
Get away from me! she tried to scream, shaking the chair again as Jacks stalked closer.
In the dim, he should have been difficult to see, but his eyes faintly glowed, burning blue as he raked her over. He took in the broken gold wings at her feet, the torn hem of her full white skirts, and the tracks of tears coating her cheeks.
Stop crying. Jacks’s voice was low and even and invading her thoughts once again. You’re not sad. You’re calm and happy to see me.
Evangeline glared at him, wishing she could tell him just how unhappy his presence made her. She really didn’t want to cry in front of him, but the sight of him standing there so cold and callous only reminded her of the way Apollo had died.
More tears splashed down her cheeks.
Jacks’s gaze narrowed and dropped toward a wet puddle at her feet. “Are those all tears?” Something like alarm flickered in his eyes. Not that she could believe for a second that he cared about her. He was going to kill her, just as he’d killed Apollo, so that she could never tell anyone what he’d done.
She braced herself as Jacks reached for the gag at her mouth, and then she screamed as soon as it was off. “Murderer! Get a—”
Jacks’s hand flew over her lips. “Do you really want me to put that nasty cloth back in your mouth?”
Evangeline stiffened.
He gave her a sliver of a grin. “I’m going to ask you a question now, and you’re going to answer without screaming. How long have you been
crying like this?”
His hand slowly slid away.
To Evangeline’s horror, more tears leaked out before she managed to speak. “Don’t pretend as if you care about my sorrow—you’re going to kill me just as you killed Apollo.”
“I didn’t murder Apollo, and I have no intention of harming you. I still need you for that prophecy, remember?”
“I’ll never help you with anything ever again,” Evangeline seethed, or she tried to. The words came out with an embarrassing sniffle, but she soldiered on. “I’d rather stay tied up here forever than help you.”
“You should not be so reckless with your words.” Jacks pulled out his jeweled dagger, but instead of reaching for her throat or her heart, he dropped to a crouch and cut the rope binding her right ankle to the chair.
Evangeline kicked out with her free leg.
But of course Jacks was quicker. His cold hand wrapped around her calf, lifting it high enough to make her dress slide up precariously and putting her completely off balance as he rose from his crouch. “If you want to live, you need to stop fighting me.”
“I’ll never stop fighting you. You tricked me into murdering Apollo! I thought I was helping him, but he died as soon as I kissed him.”
Jacks worked his jaw. “Apollo didn’t die because of your kiss. There was no magic in that kiss.”
“But—”
“There was never any magic in your kisses,” Jacks interrupted. “When Apollo fell in love with you, it wasn’t because you kissed him, it was because I willed it.”
“How is that possible?”
“I’m a Fate. You really think my only power is in my kiss?” Jacks sounded more than a little insulted. “I wouldn’t be very terrifying if that were all I could do. And before you argue and waste more time by saying you don’t believe me, you just saw me use this ability on the soldiers I ordered to leave this room. I didn’t even have to touch them. I only had you kiss Apollo and Lady Fortuna because it was entertaining, and when the magic wore off, it would lead back to you instead of me. People tend to
avoid and distrust you when they know you can control how they feel. I have manipulated you, but I didn’t murder your prince.”
Evangeline tried to glare at Jacks through her tears. She really didn’t want to believe him or concede that he made sense. She wanted to blame him for killing Apollo. She wanted to kick him and scream. But when she tried to scream, it turned into a frustrated sob.
“If you’re telling the truth—then use your magic on me.” Evangeline hiccupped. “Use it to stop my tears.”
“I tried, and it didn’t work.” Jacks grimaced as another waterfall poured from her eyes. “Your tears aren’t normal. I think you’ve been poisoned.”
“It’s grief, Jacks, not poison! Apollo just died in front of me.”
“I’m not criticizing you for being emotional.” Jacks ground his jaw. “But if this were purely your feelings, I should be able to take them away.”
Evangeline flashed back to the words he’d spoken silently, shortly after he’d first stepped into the room. “You—tried to tell me that I was happy to see you.”
Jacks didn’t answer, but the brutal way he looked down at her made her suspect that she should not have been able to hear his words.
“Something unnatural is amplifying your feelings,” he said gruffly. “There’s another Fate who cries poisoned tears with the power to kill someone by breaking her heart. I think someone has poisoned you with those tears, and if we don’t get you the cure soon, you’ll cry yourself to death.”
Evangeline wanted to keep arguing. Just because his powers didn’t work on her didn’t mean she was poisoned. She was hurting—her husband had died before her eyes. But before she could speak, she was hit by a new wave of uncontrollable sobs, and they did feel like poison. She’d never cried so hard in her life.
Her body felt as if it were being weighed down with every sorrow she’d ever had. Each tear burned as it streaked her cheeks. And she remembered the taste of the salty wine she’d almost spit out. Was that how she’d been poisoned? Could the wine be what had killed Apollo as well? He hadn’t cried, but the last look on his face had been one of utter heartbreak.
Jacks finally dropped Evangeline’s ankle. Then he finished slicing off the other ropes before he slid an arm under her shoulder to help her to her feet.
“Let me go!” She tried to pull away. Even if Jacks hadn’t killed Apollo, Evangeline wanted nothing to do with Jacks’s cold hands, or his cold arms, or the rock-solid ice that was his chest. But her legs were about as strong as limp thread, and she found herself leaning into him instead of fighting.
He went rigid as if she’d pressed a knife to his side rather than her body.
And then he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked between sobs. Even as a savior, he was still wretched.
“You can barely stand, and we need to move quickly if we want to get out of here.”
“Can’t you”—she tried to wriggle free, but his arm was like iron as it kept her bent over his shoulder—“just magic everyone we pass?”
“My magic doesn’t work the same in the North as it would elsewhere,” he gritted out.
In other words, no. His power to control people’s emotions had a limit. She combed her frantic thoughts, recalling the moment his magic had ceased working on the Fortuna matriarch. Evangeline thought she’d broken the spell with her question about the stones. But it must have been Jacks’s control that had slipped. He’d probably needed a great deal of power to make Apollo love her so intensely, and there hadn’t been enough magic left to manage the matriarch for long.
Perhaps Jacks could only control a few people at once. Otherwise, she imagined he’d have been using his magic on everyone. Tonight, he’d manipulated two guards, and then he’d been upset when he couldn’t control her. So he could at least command three, but perhaps not more.
Jacks ripped the cape from his shoulders and covered Evangeline with it. She didn’t see anything as he carried her out of Wolf Hall or set her in a waiting sled that felt like the coldest part of the night.
“We’re almost there” were the only words he said during the journey, unless she didn’t hear his other words between her unending sobs. They left icicle trails down her cheeks until they started to freeze her eyelids shut.
The sled came to a halt, and Jacks scooped her up into his arms again.
She couldn’t see where they went. Jacks kept her covered with his cloak and pressed her tight against his chest. It was the first time his body had ever felt warm. Evangeline shuddered to think what that said about her.
Months ago, she’d turned to stone, but now she felt as if she were turning to ice as Jacks trudged across what sounded like snow and then began to ascend what felt like an endless flight of stairs. She hoped that he was taking her somewhere warm. Warm would be very good. Although even if Jacks managed to thaw her eyes open and free her of the poison breaking her apart, it wouldn’t be enough to erase the fact that she was now a fugitive and a widow and an orphan. All she had was a Fate who she didn’t even trust or like—
“Do not start giving up,” Jacks growled. “Giving in to the poison makes it work faster.” His words were followed by a swift knock on a door. Then another and another and another—
The door finally groaned open.
“Jacks?” The voice was feminine and slightly familiar. “What in Fate’s name—”
The girl went silent as Jacks pulled the cloak from Evangeline’s face. “She needs you to save her now,” Jacks ground out.
“What have you done?” the girl demanded, and Evangeline liked her just a little then.
“I think we both know this isn’t my doing.”
“Are you—never mind, bring her inside. And do not let go of her,” warned the girl. “If you stop holding her, she might slip away. Try to comfort her while I put together an antidote. Pretend she’s someone you care for.”
Jacks’s arms tensed around Evangeline.
But then the world became warmer, crackling and fiery, and she didn’t care how Jacks held her as long as he kept heading toward the warmth. She couldn’t open her eyes, but after a few rough adjustments, he lowered her onto his lap.
She imagined they were in front of a fire, and he was sitting on the hearth, holding her with about as much affection as he might handle a log
he was about to toss into the blaze. “There are much better ways to die than this, Little Fox.”
“Your attempts at comfort are tr-tragic,” Evangeline stuttered.
“You’re still alive,” he grumbled. His fingers found her eyelids then, and with feather-soft touches, he brushed away the melting ice.
Maybe he wasn’t entirely hopeless. She wondered if he just hadn’t had much practice at this. Comforting someone was an intimate thing, and according to the stories, intimacy didn’t end well with Jacks. But he clearly knew how to be gentle. She felt herself thaw in increments as his fingers went to her cheeks, sweeping away the frozen tears.
“Here.” It was the other girl’s voice. “Feed her this.”
Jacks’s hand left Evangeline’s cheek. Then his fingers were back, tentatively touching her lips. He painted them slowly, carefully, much as he had in the past with his blood. But unlike his blood, this didn’t taste sweet or bitter. It didn’t really taste at all; it was more like that bubbly feeling that accompanied the moment right before a kiss.
“The antidote’s working,” said the girl. “Does that mean I can let her go?”
“Yes,” Evangeline managed at the same moment that the girl said, “No, not unless you want her to die. She’ll need close physical contact for at least a full day for the cure to take.”
Evangeline had a feeling that the girl was toying with Jacks—she had to be toying with him. And even if she weren’t, Evangeline couldn’t imagine that Jacks would hold on to her, or anyone else, for that length of time. And yet, he made no move to release her.
He held on to her as if she were a grudge, his body rigid and tense, as if he really didn’t want her there, and yet his arms were tight around her waist as though he had no intention of ever letting her go.
