A twist of narrowing halls.
A handful of locked doors. A passage hidden in a vanity. A long flight of iron stairs.
A thousand too-quick heartbeats.
And they were almost there. Deep underground, in the bowels of the storybook castle.
It was the sort of place that made Evangeline want to hug her arms to her chest. The damp granite walls were covered in soot-stained sconces, but only a few were lit, and all their flames were too weak to chase the shadows from the corners. It was merely enough light to reveal the lonely arch in the center of the chamber.
Evangeline hugged her arms to her chest.
Since coming to the North, she had seen three other arches. The enormous Gateway Arch to the North, the symbol-covered arch at Apollo’s first party, and the ever-changing arch of brides that had led to Nocte Neverending.
This arch was much plainer, yet it thrummed with a similar power to the others. Covered in dried moss and sepia cobwebs, it looked more gray than blue and it made her think of something that had gone to sleep a long time ago and been intentionally left alone.
“Looks as if I’m not the only one who’s been misbehaving.” Jacks raised an imperious brow as his gaze swung from the mossy arch to the
trembling Fortuna matriarch.
“You can’t tell anyone!” the older woman cried, arms flapping at her sides before her hands went to pat the dogs that had stopped following her at some point in their quest. “Evangeline, please don’t think poorly of me for having this here.”
“Why would I think less of you?”
“Because this arch was supposed to be destroyed.” Jacks stopped right in front of the structure and went absolutely still. Evangeline doubted he was even aware of it. No—he most certainly wasn’t aware. If he had been, he would have shuttered his features much sooner than he did. Locks of blue hair fell across his forehead, but they didn’t hide his eyes. They were wide, broken star-bright, and full of something that looked a lot like hope.
Evangeline felt as if she shouldn’t stare so blatantly, but she couldn’t turn away. The look in his eyes had softened some of his sharp edges, making Jacks appear more like the Prince of Hearts she’d imagined before meeting him, all tragically handsome and heartsick.
They were getting closer to what he wanted. Evangeline only wished she knew what that was.
She scrutinized the sleeping arch again, wondering what made this one different from the others. It took several moments and some squinting to see through the grime, but she found a set of foreign words etched in small letters across the top. A jolt of excitement raced down her spine. Evangeline couldn’t read the words, yet somehow she recognized the language.
“Is this the ancient tongue of the Valors?” she asked, flashing back to the beheaded statues that had whispered to her across the sea when she’d first entered this part of the world.
Jacks cocked his head, surprised. “What do you know about the Valors?”
“My mother used to tell me about them.” Of course, as Evangeline worked to recall what her mother had said, she couldn’t seem to remember much. All she had were hazy images of an ancient royal family who’d had their heads removed. “They’re like the Northern equivalent to Fates.”
“No—”
“Not at all—”
Both Tabitha and Jacks answered at once.
“The Valors were merely humans,” Jacks corrected.
“There was nothing mere about them,” the matriarch bit back. Her spine straightened, making her look more like the formidable woman Evangeline had first met. “Honora and Wolfric Valor were the first king and queen of the North, and they were extraordinary rulers.”
The matriarch’s eyes took on a faraway, glassy look, and Evangeline feared she might not say more, that as with so many other Northern tales, this story was cursed in a way that made people forget. But then the woman went on. “Wolfric Valor was a warrior who could not be bested in battle, and Honora Valor was a gifted healer who could mend or cure almost anyone with life left in them. All their children possessed abilities as well. Their daughter, Vesper, had foresight, their second-eldest son could shift form, and when multiple Valors combined their powers, it was said they could infuse magic into inanimate objects and places.”
“Of course,” Jacks cut in smoothly, “like all gifted rulers, the Valors became too powerful, and their subjects turned on them. They cut off their heads, and then they went to war against what remained of their magic.”
“That wasn’t how it happened,” the matriarch volleyed back. The words were quick and sure, but then her jaw hung wide as if the next words she wanted to say would not come out. It seemed the story was cursed after all.
Jacks’s mouth curved as the matriarch struggled, until she finally looked at Evangeline and found her words again. But she was telling a different part of the story now. “The arches were one of the most incredible things that the Valors created. They can serve as portals to faraway and unreachable places, and as doors they are impenetrable. Once locked, an arch can only be opened with the proper type of key. If a sealed arch is destroyed, there’s no finding what’s on the other side.”
“However,” Jacks added, “the main reason the Valors built the arches was so that they could use them to travel anywhere in the North. Some, like this one, may have been given as gifts. But even those have secret back doors built inside them that only the Valors could use, allowing them access to anywhere in possession of an arch.”
“Those are lies.” The matriarch snorted. “People made up those stories to take away power from the Great Houses. They condemned the arches, requiring they be destroyed, except for the royal ones, because the Valors are gone and they are not returning. You’ll see, Evangeline, it’s completely harmless.” The matriarch stepped closer to the arch and held an upturned palm toward Jacks. “If you wouldn’t mind, young man.”
“Not at all.” Jacks retrieved the jeweled knife he’d used in the carriage and flicked it across the woman’s palm.
“By my gifted blood, I seek entry for my friends and myself.” The matriarch pressed her bleeding hand to the stone, and it pulsed like a heartbeat. Throb, throb, throb. The stones came alive before Evangeline’s eyes, turning a shimmering blue touched with green as the dried moss refreshed and dripped with dew.
“See, dear?” The matriarch dropped her bleeding hand, and the arch’s empty center filled in with a shining oak door that smelled of fresh-cut wood and ancient magic. “This can only be opened by freely given blood, straight from the hand of the head of House Fortuna.”
“Making it impossible to break into,” mocked Jacks, right as he opened the newly appeared door.
Evangeline approached, and just like with all the other arches, another rasping whisper came from the stones: You could have unlocked me as well. Evangeline jumped at the words. Then she went corpse-still, surprised and unnerved to see that Jacks was watching her instead of the vault he’d so
desperately wanted to enter.
“What is it, Little Fox?” His voice was friendly. She didn’t like it, didn’t trust it. Jacks was many things, but he was not friendly.
“Nothing.” She wasn’t even sure it was a lie. The arches probably whispered different things to everyone, and if they didn’t, she was not about to let Jacks know they had been talking to her.
Silently, they continued into the vault. She’d expected it to be hiding something illicit or awful, but at first, it looked like a rather strange kitchen. Lots of cauldrons, and bottles and dangling wooden spoons labeled with things like Only Stir Clockwise and Never Use After Dark.
“Here is my family collection of recipes for our Fantastically Flavored Waters,” the matriarch announced, pointing to a wall of thick tomes bound with a variety of ribbons and ropes and a few chains.
Evangeline vigilantly watched Jacks, noting if anything caught his attention. She expected him to be at least mildly intrigued by the shackled volumes. But he didn’t spare them more than a cursory glance. Not that she thought he was after a recipe book.
She continued to scrutinize his every move, but he remained unimpressed with all that they passed. His hands stayed in his pockets, and if he stared at anything, it was always fleeting.
When they reached a cupboard of jeweled goblets, Evangeline thought she felt his eyes on her, watching her with more concentration than he’d looked at anything else. But when she turned to check, Jacks was already stalking ahead.
The Prince of Hearts’ mouth became more sullen as the matriarch pointed Evangeline toward a shelf of ancient dragon eggs. Then there was the cabinet of pulsing hobgoblin hearts, which made her very grateful the cook hadn’t made any fudge.
The items grew more haphazard after that. There were some possibly magic mirrors, ornamental robes, and a series of eerie but appealing framed pictures. But like the rest of the items, none held any interest for Jacks.
“Not having fun?” Evangeline needled.
“I feel as if I’m backstage at a bad magic show,” Jacks grumbled.
Evangeline probably should have been pleased Jacks wasn’t finding what he wanted. But that also meant that she wasn’t finding out what he wanted either.
“Let me help you,” Evangeline whispered, hoping to finally coax an answer out of him. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can try to find it.”
Jacks didn’t even acknowledge her offer. Completely ignoring Evangeline, he picked up a skull made of emerald and tossed it up and down like an apple, graceful and quick, and a little violently, as if he wanted something to hurt.
Jacks was either too proud to accept her help, or he didn’t want her to know what he was after. Regardless, he was clearly becoming tired of the vault. And it could have just been her imagination, but it appeared the magic from her kiss was flagging as well. The matriarch’s smile sagged, her shoulders slumped, and she’d stopped bragging about her favorite things. She hadn’t even bothered to scold Jacks for tossing around the skull.
If Evangeline wanted to know what Jacks was looking for, she needed to do something.
“Coward,” she coughed.
Two sharp eyes slid her way. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Evangeline murmured. “Although … now that I think about it, it’s rather disappointing that your sinister plan is so weak that telling me one tiny piece could thwart it all.”
“Very well, Little Fox.” Jacks continued tossing his skull with the ruthless elegance of a young man who’d catch it just as easily as he would let it fall. “If you want to help me, ask your friend the matriarch if you can see her collection of stones.”
“You’re looking for stones?” Evangeline asked.
Jacks gave her one silent shake of his head as if he’d already said too much.
She felt as if he was toying with her. But she’d also come to believe that even when Jacks played with her, he was being serious.
“Lady Fortuna,” Evangeline called. The woman was now a few steps ahead, far enough that Evangeline had to cry out a second time. “Mistress Fortuna!”
“Yes, my dear.” She finally turned around. “Is there something you wanted me to show you?”
“I heard you had a collection of stones, and I would love to see it.”
“Oh no, my dear, I’m afraid I don’t have any … stones.” The woman’s entire countenance shifted as she said the last word. Her mouth started twitch-twitch-twitching, cracking what remained of her adoring expression, until the grandmother façade was gone and the murderous doll was back. “You—it’s you—”
“Little Fox.” Jacks’s voice turned eerily soft. “I think it’s time for you to run.”
“How did I not see it?” The older woman gasped, staring at Evangeline as if she were the most dangerous one in that vault. “You’re the one who will open the Valory Arch.”
“Jacks,” Evangeline hissed. For all the matriarch’s talk about how glorious the arches were, she suddenly looked horrified. “What is she talking about? What is the Valory Arch?”
“Why are you still here?” Jacks took Evangeline’s arm and fluidly shoved her behind him.
But he wasn’t leaving, and neither was she.
“You will know her because she will be crowned in rose gold,” the woman chanted. “She will be both peasant and princess.”
“She’s mad,” Jacks growled. “You need to get out of here now.”
Evangeline’s heart pounded, urging her to do the same exact thing. Get out. Get out. Get out. But she stayed rooted to the spot, listening to the matriarch chant:
“You will know her because she will be crowned in rose gold. She will be both peasant and princess.”
Evangeline didn’t believe the woman was mad. The words sounded almost prophetic.
“You cannot marry the prince! The Valory Arch can never be opened!” the matriarch cried. Something metallic flashed in her hands. And then she surged forward with an item that looked like a knife.
Evangeline grabbed for the closest object—a framed painting of a cat. “What are you going to do with that?” Jacks muttered a curse, and then
he took the emerald skull and cracked it over the matriarch’s head.
She crumpled to the ground in a heap of rumpled lavender.
Evangeline’s mouth fell open, though it took her several seconds to form words. “Did you—did you know this was going to happen?”
“You think I wanted her to try to kill you?” Jacks sounded more offended than she would have expected. He dropped the skull, letting it fall to the ground, where it landed beside the matriarch with a loud thud. The
woman’s chest moved up and down with a slow, unsteady rhythm. She was still breathing, but barely.
“She’s not going to tell us anything now.” Jacks lowered onto his haunches and leaned closer, lips pressing together.
Something sick twisted in Evangeline’s stomach. He was going to kiss the woman—and kill her.
“Jacks, stop!” Evangeline grabbed his shoulders. Somehow, she managed to wrench him back, probably due to the livid tone of her voice rather than the force of her trembling hands. She didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but she wasn’t going to let Jacks make this worse.
“If you kiss her, we are done,” Evangeline said. “I’m not going to be involved in any murders.”
“We can’t leave her like this.” His voice was perfectly reasonable and completely unemotional. Killing this woman wouldn’t bother him at all. “As soon as she wakes, she’ll come after you.”
“Why is that, Jacks? What’s the Valory Arch? And who does she think I am?”
Jacks pressed his mouth shut and rocked back on his heels, which felt like answer enough. He believed this chant was about her. The room started to spin, all the baubles and uncanny items blurring around her as Evangeline tried to make sense of this latest turn.
You will know her because she will be crowned in rose gold. She will be both peasant and princess.
Evangeline had the rose-gold hair, she was currently a peasant, and she would be a princess in two days if she married Prince Apollo.
This must have been why Jacks wanted her and Apollo to marry. Jacks had arranged all of this so she could become the girl in the Fortuna matriarch’s chant, who, according to the matriarch, would open up this Valory Arch.
“What’s the Valory Arch?” she asked again. “And why was she so afraid that I’ll open it? What’s inside?”
Jacks slowly brought himself back up to his full towering height, as he looked down on her and drawled, “You don’t need to worry about the Valory Arch. All you need to do is marry Prince Apollo.”
“I—”
Jacks cupped her cheek, silencing her with one icy touch. “If you wish to break the spell on Apollo, your only option is to marry him. Or do I need to remind you how desperate a broken heart makes you? How it hurts so much that it compelled you to make a deal with a devil like me? Do you really want to call off your wedding and leave Apollo like that—forever in love with someone who will never feel the same way?”
Jacks’s eyes took on the same disturbing, godforsaken look from the coach.
“It wasn’t that long ago that I saw you in my church, willing to promise me almost anything to make the pain stop. Was that a lie? Or have you already forgotten the way heartbreak rips apart the soul piece by piece, how it turns you into a masochist, making you long for the thing that just eviscerated you until there’s nothing left of you to be destroyed?”
His cold fingers dug into her cheek.
She squared her shoulders and pulled away. “Are you still talking about my heartbreak, or about yours?”
Jacks laughed and gave her a smile so sharp it could have sliced a diamond. “You’re getting better at the meanness, Little Fox. But you have to have a working heart for it to break. I do not. I can keep Apollo under this spell for eternity. So you can either marry him and save him from a life of misery, or you can try to prevent a dusty prophecy that you don’t even understand.”
