At least Evangeline still had the ability to think. Although sometimes that ability hurt. It usually happened after days of endless nothing, when Evangeline imagined she finally felt something. But it was never what she really wanted. It was never warmth on her skin, tingling in her toes, or the touch of another person letting her know that she was not completely alone in the world. It was usually just an arrow of heartbreak, or a pinch of regret.
Regret was the worst.
Regret was sour and bitter, and it tasted so close to the truth she had to fight sinking into it. She had to battle against believing that Jacks had been right—that she should have left the goblet alone, let the others stay stone, and played the role of victim.
Jacks was wrong.
She’d done the right thing. Someone would save her.
Sometimes, when she was feeling especially hopeful, Evangeline even thought that Jacks might come to her rescue. But as hopeful as Evangeline was, she knew the Prince of Hearts wasn’t a savior. He was the one people needed saving from.
