The late King Roland Titus Acadian had always disdained the word nice. Nice was for servants, peasants, and other people who lacked personality. A prince should be clever, formidable, wise, shrewd, even cruel if he had to be
—but never nice.
King Roland often told his son Apollo, “If you are nice, it means you are not enough of anything else. People are nice because they must be, but as a prince you must be more.”
As a boy, Apollo had taken this advice as a license to be careless with life and with others. He was not cruel, but neither did he embody any of the other virtues his father extolled. Apollo had always imagined he had time to become clever, formidable, wise, or shrewd. It never occurred to him that, in the meantime, he was becoming something else.
Apollo realized this alarming truth upon first waking up from the suspended state of sleep that his former friend, Lord Jacks, had placed him in. Upon discovering that the entire Magnificent North believed him to be dead, Apollo had expected to find monuments of flowers and bastions of stubborn mourners who continued to weep for him, even though the official period of grieving had ended.
Instead, he’d found the kingdom had already moved on. Within the span of a fortnight, he’d become a footnote, remembered as a single
unremarkable word in a scandal sheet.
While he’d been under the Archer’s curse, he’d come across this particular scandal sheet from the day after he’d been supposedly killed. The paper had mentioned only that he’d died. Just one word, beloved, had been used to describe him, but that was it. The paper had said nothing of his great deeds or his acts of bravery. And how could it have, when the bulk of what he’d done was sit for portraits?
Apollo could barely stand the sight of the pictures now, as he strode through Wolf Hall on his way to meet with Mr. Kristof Knightlinger of The Daily Rumor.
This was his second chance to finally make himself more, as his father had urged. After his shocking return from the dead yesterday, Apollo noticed the different way people regarded him. Voices were more hushed, heads were quicker to bow, and eyes were full of wonder, as if he were more than a mere mortal.
And yet he’d never felt more human, more vulnerable, or more miserable.
It was all a lie. He’d never returned from the dead. He’d merely been cursed, and cursed, and cursed again. Now, for the first time in nearly three months, he was no longer under any spell, and yet he felt cursed by what he had done to Evangeline.
Apollo had thought that once he was free of the Archer’s curse, he’d think about her less. The curse had forced him to hunt her. Under its influence, he’d thought about her every second. At every moment, he’d wondered where she was and what she was doing. There’d been a constant picture of her angelic face in his mind. All he’d wanted was her—and when he’d found her, all he’d wanted was to eviscerate her.
Now he still wanted her, but in a different way. When he saw her, he didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to protect her. To keep her safe.
This was why he’d erased her memories.
He knew it was for the best. Jacks had tricked her, just as he’d fooled Apollo into being his friend. If Evangeline fell under Jacks’s thrall again, he would only destroy her. But Apollo would make her happy. He would make her a queen who would be loved and adored. He would more than make up for what he’d done to her in the past, as long as she never found out.
If she ever found out he’d taken her memories, it would all come crumbling down.
Only one other person knew that Apollo had taken her memories. After today, if all went well, he wouldn’t have to worry about that person. And as far as finding Jacks, Apollo hoped this morning’s interview would assist with that.
Finally he reached the small tower room where he’d arranged for this meeting to take place. Normally he preferred grander settings: large rooms with lots of light and windows and ornamentation that made it impossible to forget that Apollo was royalty. But today he had chosen an unadorned tower room to make sure no one overheard the conversation that he would be having.
Kristof Knightlinger stood and bowed as soon as the prince stepped into the room. “It’s good to see you alive and looking so excellent, Your Highness.”
“I’m sure my return is also quite helpful for the sale of papers,” replied the prince. He might have still been somewhat bitter over the small amount of fanfare that he’d been given after his death.
Of course the journalist didn’t appear to notice.
Kristof smiled enthusiastically. He always seemed to be in good humor. His teeth were as white as the lacy jabot at his throat. “This interview will help as well. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me this morning. I know my readers have so many questions about how you returned from the dead, what it was like to be dead, if you were able to watch any of us who were still alive.”
“I won’t be answering any of those questions today,” Apollo said brusquely.
The journalist’s smile faded.
“I would like your article to focus on the dishonorable deeds of Lord Jacks and how important it is that he be captured immediately.”
“Your Highness, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I already mentioned his misdeeds in this morning’s paper.”
“Then mention them again and make them uglier this time. Until this criminal is apprehended, I want his crimes printed every day. I want his name to become synonymous with vile. This isn’t just for me, this is for Princess Evangeline and all of the Magnificent North. Once he’s caught, you can have your interview and I’ll answer whatever questions you want. But until then, I’m going to ask that you print what I need you to say.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Kristof said with a pleasant smile.
But it wasn’t the same smile as before. This wasn’t his natural good humor. This was a nice smile that was there only because Apollo was a prince and there was nothing Kristof could do but smile.
Apollo felt something like guilt twist inside of him at the sight of it. For a second, he considered softening his demands. Then he reminded himself of what his father had said about never being nice.
After his meeting with Kristof, Apollo wanted to check on Evangeline. There were servants, of course, who provided him with updates on her. Thus far he’d been told she was healthy and well, and still without any memories.
Apollo hoped that after his warning from last night, she’d give up any ideas of pursuing her memories. But the Evangeline he knew was not one to give up. She’d found a way to cure him of the Archer’s curse, and he imagined that, if given a chance, she’d also find her missing memories. Therefore, Apollo did not plan to give her a chance.
He’d already made provisions to make sure she’d be fully occupied this morning. He would have preferred to be the one occupying her time, but there would be opportunities for that later.
First, there was one more matter to take care of. The Council of Great Houses.
Yesterday he’d met with a few of the members to prove he wasn’t an impostor and that he’d truly returned from the dead. After that there’d been a lengthy discussion about what to do with the actual impostor heir who’d tried to steal his throne. That, however, had proved entirely unnecessary, as the whelp seemed to have fled sometime during the discussion.
It seemed the impostor heir had been warned by a couple of servants who were enamored with him.
Apollo had sent a number of guards after him, but the impostor wasn’t his priority for now.
The prince slowed his steps as he reached the door that led to the chamber where the council met. The room on the other side always reminded Apollo of a giant pewter goblet. The walls were slightly rounded and the air was subtly silver, giving everything a sharp, swordlike quality. In the center of the room was an aged white oak table that was said to have
been there since the days of the first king of the Magnificent North, Wolfric Valor, a rugged man from another era who now sat at the far end of the table.
All conversation stopped as soon as Apollo entered the room. But it was clear from the tableau that until this moment, the conversation had centered entirely around the newest member of the council—the famed Wolfric Valor. Although, only Apollo knew who Wolfric really was. No one else on the council knew that Wolfric, along with the entire Valor family, had been locked away in the Valory until the previous day.
Wolfric now went by the name Lord Vale. And yet every man and woman at the council table still leaned or angled his way. Which was good
—it made what Apollo needed to do so much easier. But it was also a little unnerving to see the way the council responded to the legendary first king of the North without even knowing who he really was.
“Here he is, returned from the dead!” bellowed Wolfric, followed by a clap that spread like wildfire until every council member was standing and applauding as Prince Apollo strode toward the white oak table.
Wolfric winked. We are allies, said the gesture. We are in this together.
Friends.
But Apollo could only too freshly remember how his last friend had betrayed him. If Wolfric chose to do the same, Apollo would be no match for him and his famed family. All Apollo could do now was keep his word and hope that Wolfric would, too.
“I see that many of you have already met our newest council member,” said Apollo, intentionally phrasing it like a statement rather than a question. Although Apollo had yet to be officially crowned king, he still had more power than the council. In the Magnificent North, a prince could not become king until he wed. But that law, like his upcoming coronation, was mostly for show. Royal events like coronations and Nocte Neverending
endeared princes to their people and filled kingdoms with hope and love.
That said, the Council of Great Houses was not entirely powerless. They couldn’t stop Apollo from naming a new Great House, but they could fight him over it and, in the process, dig up dangerous truths that Apollo didn’t want to risk anyone discovering.
The last thing he needed was the kingdom to learn that the legendary Valors had returned from the dead and were now posing as House Vale.
He’d been dead only a few weeks, but the world believed the Valors had been dead for hundreds of years.
Apollo was still struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that the tales of the Valory had been true and that the Valors had been locked away inside it. He hated to imagine what kind of fuss the kingdom would make if they found out. And he didn’t even want to think about the questions Evangeline would ask if she discovered that she had been the one to unlock the Valory Arch.
It seemed his brother, Tiberius, had been right about what she would do all along.
Apollo only hoped that Tiberius was wrong about what would happen after the arch was opened.
“Lord Vale and his family were there when I returned from the dead,” Apollo explained smoothly, as this was actually partially the truth. Honora Valor, Wolfric’s wife, had cured him from the Archer’s curse and the mirror curse. He truly felt indebted to her, making it easy to say earnestly, “Without this family, I might not be here today. As a reward, I’ve decided to make them a Great House and gift them lands where they might care for others in the same manner they cared for me.”
For a moment the entire council was quiet. Apollo could see that even though the members had been drawn toward Wolfric earlier, they were uncertain about this bear of a man, and even more nervous about Apollo’s proclamation.
Apollo had never bestowed the honor of Great House upon a family, nor had his father before him or his father’s father before him. It was fairly simple to do but once it was done, it was very difficult to undo. To give power was a far easier thing than to take it away.
Although Apollo could sense that each council member feared this declaration had taken power away from them.
He could almost see the questions on the tips of their tongues: You’ve only just come back from the dead. Are you certain this is wise? Are you planning to make other Great Houses? How do you know this house is truly deserving to be Great—to be one of us?
“My family is grateful for your generosity, Your Highness. It is truly an honor to be on this council among so many fine men and women.” Wolfric’s voice was mild, but his gaze was firm and unwavering as he
looked around the council. One by one, he met the eyes of each member, and more than a few appeared to hold their breath.
As a boy, Apollo had been told countless stories of this man. It was said that Wolfric Valor could fell entire armies with one battle cry and rip off the heads of enemies with his bare hands. He’d united the fighting Northern clans to form a kingdom and built Wolf Hall as a wedding gift for his wife after stealing her away from another.
On the surface the man before him didn’t appear as forbidding as the stories claimed. Apollo was taller and dressed in clothes far finer. Yet Wolfric possessed that indefinable more his father had always spoken of. Wolfric embodied everything that Apollo had never attempted to be.
The council didn’t speak a word until finally Wolfric released them from his gaze.
It was Lord Byron Belleflower who spoke up then. “Welcome to the council, Lord Vale. I hope you’ve already been apprised of all recent kingdom matters. There are a few other important issues that must be discussed today.”
Belleflower turned toward Apollo. Unlike nearly everyone else in the castle who had looked upon the prince since he’d made his dramatic return from the dead, Byron Belleflower did not gaze upon Apollo with wonder or awe.
He and Apollo had not gotten along for years, and it appeared from the young man’s derisive gaze that Byron had become even more disagreeable during the time Apollo had been away from his throne. There were rumors Belleflower’s paramour had died, though Apollo wouldn’t have been surprised to learn she’d faked her death to get away from him.
“Now,” Belleflower droned loudly, before pausing dramatically to make sure that everyone else at the large table was looking his way.
Most of the other council members were older, but Lord Belleflower was around Apollo’s age. The two had been friends as boys, until young Belleflower grew old enough to understand that Apollo was to inherit an entire kingdom while he was set to inherit only a castle on a cold dreary mountain. Apollo would have removed Byron from the council years ago, but unfortunately Belleflower’s castle came with a sizable private army that the prince didn’t want to risk being on the wrong side of.
It was like that with most of the council members. If any were removed, it would cause a degree of fallout that Apollo was better off avoiding.
“I know you spoke with a couple of other council members yesterday about a quick and speedy coronation,” Belleflower continued. “But there are some of us who feel it imprudent to move forward when there are still questions about your wife.”
Apollo stiffened. “What kind of questions about my wife?”
Belleflower smiled suddenly, as if Apollo had just said exactly what he wanted to hear. “There are some of us that can’t help but wonder: Why did Lord Jacks erase Evangeline’s memories? What does she know that could harm him? Unless . . . she had worked with him to poison you?”
“That’s a treasonous statement,” Apollo interrupted. “Then prove it,” Belleflower pressed.
“I don’t need to prove it,” Apollo said.
“But it might be helpful,” chimed Lady Casstel. She was one of the oldest and wisest council members, and as such, she often led the way for the majority of the others. “I do not believe your bride to be a murderess. But the rumors that swirled around Evangeline after your death were nasty, and she is a foreigner. It could only work in her favor to find a way to show the people that she is now truly part of this kingdom and is fully loyal to you.”
“How do you propose I do that?”
“Get her pregnant with an heir,” said Lady Casstel without pause. “It’s not just for the sake of the kingdom, but to protect you. With your brother stripped of his title and currently missing . . .”
Apollo flinched at the mention of his brother, Tiberius, and for a second the scars on his back stung afresh. A few council members seemed to notice.
Fortunately, reacting to mentions of his brother was nothing new. No one would assume Tiberius was the true reason Apollo’s back was covered in scars. Only Havelock and a few of the undead were aware of the truth. Havelock would take the secret to the grave, and Apollo tried not to think about vampires. There were already enough unpleasant matters to deal with, like the council’s sudden request that he produce an heir.
Although from the way Lady Casstel spoke on the matter, it was clear this subject had been discussed prior to the council meeting.
“There is no one else in direct line for the throne,” she continued. “It would be far too easy for another impostor to take the crown in the event something else happens to you.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me again,” Apollo said. “I’ve already bested death. It won’t be coming back for me anytime soon.”
“But it will eventually return for you.” These words came from Wolfric Valor. “Death comes for us all, Your Highness. Having an heir will do more than protect the kingdom—it might scare death away for a little longer.”
Wolfric looked across the table solemnly. If Wolfric had wanted to, this could have been the moment where he told the entire council that Apollo had never actually come back from the dead, but he didn’t.
And although Apollo didn’t like it, he had to concede that Wolfric was correct. People were less likely to make plays for the throne when there was a clear successor in place. Having an heir would also protect his relationship with Evangeline. Once she had his child, there was no way she would leave him. But he didn’t want to force her into staying this way.
“Evangeline still doesn’t remember me,” Apollo said.
“Does that really matter? You’re a prince,” Belleflower inserted. “The girl should feel lucky to be married to you. Without you, she would be no one.”
Apollo shot him a dirty look, and he wondered briefly if there was more to his disdain than the suspicion that Evangeline had worked with Jacks to kill him. “Evangeline isn’t no one. She’s my wife. I’ll work on an heir after she feels more comfortable.”
“And how long will that take?” Belleflower raised his voice, clearly trying to rally the others to his cause. “I was there yesterday. Your wife looked like a frightened ghost beside you, all pale and quivering! If you cared about this kingdom, you’d rid yourself of her and find a new one.”
“I am not replacing my wife.” Apollo shoved up from his chair hard enough to rock the pitchers of wine and make a number of grapes spill from their platters on the table. This conversation was moving too far out of bounds.
It was also veering too far from what really needed to be discussed. “Evangeline is no longer a topic of conversation. The next person who
disparages her will not say another word at this table. If anyone in this room really cares about the kingdom, they’ll stop worrying about Evangeline’s loyalty and start looking for Lord Jacks. Until he’s dead, no one is safe.”
