After Evangeline’s father died, she would have dreams where both her parents were still alive. In her dreams, Evangeline would be in the curiosity shop, standing by the door, looking out the window and waiting for them to arrive. She’d see them coming down the street, walking hand in hand, and just as they would reach the door—right as she was about to hear their voices and feel their arms wrap her in a hug—Evangeline would wake. She’d always try desperately to fall back to sleep, to just have one more dreaming minute.
Those dreams had been the best part of her day. But now, waking up felt like dreaming. A little unreal and a little wonderful. Evangeline didn’t dare open her eyes at first. For so long, her hope had been as fragile as a soap bubble, and she was still afraid that hope might burst. She was nervous she might find herself all alone inside her cramped room in Valenda.
But Valenda was half a world away, and soon she would never be alone again.
When Evangeline opened her eyes, she was still in Valorfell in her treasure chest bed at the Mermaid and the Pearls, and she was engaged to a prince!
Evangeline couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face or the giggle that erupted from her chest.
“Oh, good! You’re finally awake.” Marisol popped her head through the door, bringing a rush of warmth from the fire in the neighboring room. She must have been up for some time. She was already dressed in a gown the
color of peaches and cream, her light brown hair was neatly plaited, and she held two cups of steaming tea that filled Evangeline’s chilly suite with the scent of winterberries and white mint. Both girls had been so exhausted by the time they’d finally left the ball, they’d practically collapsed inside of their carriage and then slept the entire way back to the inn.
“You are an angel.” Evangeline sat up and gratefully accepted the hot cup of tea.
“I can’t believe you managed to sleep in with all that happened last night,” Marisol gushed, but her voice was unnaturally high, and her fingers wobbled as she held her tea.
Evangeline imagined that although her stepsister appeared excited, this couldn’t have been easy for Marisol—watching Evangeline find her happy ending while people still called her the Cursed Bride.
All because of Evangeline.
And now Evangeline had even more to lose if she told Marisol the truth about her dealings with Jacks.
The tea suddenly tasted like tears and salt as Marisol continued, “Prince Apollo’s proposal was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen—it might actually be the most romantic thing that has ever happened. You’re going to be such a beautiful bride!”
“Thank you,” Evangeline said softly. “But we don’t have to keep talking about this.”
Marisol frowned. “Evangeline, you don’t have to hide your happiness to make me feel better. You’re going to be a princess. No one deserves it more than you. And you were right about last night. Not a single person recognized me as the Cursed Bride. Someone even asked me to dance. Did you see him?” Marisol bit down on her lip and smiled. “I think he was the handsomest person there—next to Prince Apollo, of course. He had dark blue hair, and bright blue eyes, and the most mysterious smile. His name is Jacks, and I’m already hoping—”
“No!”
Marisol reared back as if she’d been slapped.
Evangeline cringed. She hadn’t meant for that to come out so harshly, but she had to protect her stepsister from Jacks. “Sorry, I’ve just heard
dangerous things about him.”
Marisol’s lips pinched tight. “I know the gossip sheets have been kind to you, but I would think that you’d still know better than to listen to the nasty words whispered behind other people’s backs.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t listen to gossip, but it’s not just the rumors.” Evangeline tried to say it softer this time. “I’ve met Jacks. He was at the party that first night, and … I don’t think he’s good for you.”
Marisol snorted. “We can’t all marry a prince, Evangeline. Some of us are lucky to get any attention at all.”
“Marisol, I—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Marisol rushed out, color draining from her face. “I shouldn’t have said that. That’s my mother—not me.”
“It’s all right,” Evangeline said.
“No, it’s not.” Marisol looked down at the splash of tea she’d just spilled on her skirts, and her eyes turned watery. But Evangeline knew she wasn’t really crying about the skirts. It was never about the skirts.
Marisol perched on the edge of the bed, still staring at the stain on her gown, her voice far away. “Did you ever play that game as a child—the one where there’s a circle of chairs, and when the music stops playing you have to find a chair to sit in? But there’s never enough chairs for everyone, so one person is always left without a seat in the circle and then tossed out of the game. That’s how I feel, as if I missed my chance at a chair and now I’ve been tossed out of the game.”
Marisol took a shuddering breath, and Evangeline felt it in her own chest.
It had always been a challenge for her to connect with Marisol. They’d never seemed to have much in common, except for Luc, which was a terrible thing to share. But that was starting to feel like the least of what they’d shared.
Looking at Marisol now reminded Evangeline of those months when she had worked in the bookshop and started to feel like one of the forgotten novels on the used shelves in the back, overlooked and alone. But Evangeline always had hope that things would change. She might have lost her parents, but she’d had their memories to hold on to, their stories and
their words of encouragement. But all Marisol had was her mother, who had torn her down instead of building her up.
Evangeline set aside her tea, slid across her bed, and hugged Marisol tightly. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be brave enough to talk to her about Luc or confess what had really happened the day of Marisol’s wedding. But she would keep trying to find ways to make it up to Marisol, especially now that Apollo was putting Evangeline in an ideal position to do so.
Her stepsister leaned in with a sniff. “I’m sorry for spoiling your happiness.”
“You didn’t ruin anything, and you haven’t been thrown out of any game. In the North, they don’t even play that musical chair game. I’ve heard it was outlawed and replaced with kissing chess.” As she said it, Evangeline could already imagine setting up a match for her stepsister with every eligible young man in the land. Maybe she’d ask Apollo for help?
It might not remedy everything, but it was a start. Evangeline was about to suggest the idea when the pounding on the door began.
Both girls quickly leaped from the bed, spilling more tea, on the carpet this time. The only person who’d ever knocked on their door was Frangelica, but her taps were gentle. These sounded almost angry.
Evangeline only spared a second to throw on a wool robe before rushing to the door. The wood shook as she approached.
“Evangeline!” Apollo’s voice cried from the other side. “Evangeline, are you there?”
“Open it!” Marisol urged her. It’s the prince, she mouthed, as if his title meant his actions weren’t at all alarming.
“Evangeline, if you’re there, please let me in,” Apollo begged. His voice held shades of fear and desperation.
She undid the latch. “Apollo, what’s—” Evangeline was cut off as the door opened and Apollo poured into the girls’ suite, along with a dozen royal soldiers.
“My heart, you’re safe!” He took her in his arms. His chest was heaving. His eyes were shadowed in circles. “I was so worried. I should never have let you leave last night.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
The closest soldier held out a damp gossip sheet for Evangeline to read as Apollo loosened his hold on her.
The Daily Rumor
ENGAGED!
By Kristof Knightlinger
In the past, Nocte Neverending has gone on for weeks, sometimes months. But last night, mere minutes after arriving at the ball, Crown Prince Apollo Acadian proposed to everyone’s favorite southern wild card, Evangeline Fox.
Apollo sealed his engagement with a kiss that left half the ladies weeping. Although a number of
girls appeared more angry than sad. After the prince abandoned Princess Serendipity Skystead in the middle of the dance floor to propose to his new bride, the princess looked practically murderous. The Cursed Bride didn’t succeed in harming Evangeline, but as she watched Apollo’s declaration of love, it looked as if she wanted to turn the couple to stone. And one of my keen-eared sources also heard the matriarch of House Fortuna mutter to her granddaughter, Thessaly, how the prince should have chosen her, but that it wasn’t too late to change that.
Prince Apollo and Miss Evangeline Fox are to wed in one week’s time—that is, if no one harms her first.
Evangeline stopped reading. “What does it say?” Marisol asked.
“Just another twist on the truth,” Evangeline hedged. She took the paper from the guard and tossed it into the fire before Marisol could see any of the words about her. “Kristof is just trying to sell papers by saying I’m in danger.
“No one has tried to harm me,” she assured Apollo. “After you and I parted last night, Marisol and I returned here, and I slept until a bit ago.”
Apollo cracked his jaw and turned to Marisol as if just now noticing her presence.
Marisol tensed. She had stopped her tears, but she still looked small and fragile. And Evangeline knew she needed to jump in before more mistakes could be made. “My stepsister would never hurt me. In fact, is it possible to
stop Mr. Knightlinger and The Daily Rumor from printing more nasty lies about her?”
Apollo looked as if he wanted to object; clearly, he believed the gossip. But the longer Evangeline looked up at him, the more he seemed to soften. The lines around his eyes disappeared, and the hard set of his broad shoulders relaxed. “Would that make you happy?”
“It would.”
“Then I’ll make sure it’s done. But I need a favor from you.” Apollo cupped Evangeline’s cheek.
She still wasn’t used to the feel of him. His hand was larger than Luc’s, but his touch was more tender. And yet the look in his deep-set eyes was entirely haunted. “I want you to move into Wolf Hall with me, where you’ll be safe from any type of threat.”
