It felt like all the confirmation that Evangeline needed, and yet there was no sense of triumph as she watched her stepsister struggle for words.
Marisol opened her mouth, and a sob ripped free. Dry and tearless.
But Evangeline knew she couldn’t let herself be fooled again just because Marisol looked like a kicked baby lamb.
“I—I’m sorry about Luc. But I swear, I—I didn’t put a spell on Tiberius.” A flicker of hurt crossed her fragile features. “I learned my lesson after what happened to Luc and after all the names the papers called me, though I suppose I really did deserve that. But you have to believe me, Evangeline. I never meant to hurt you.”
“You stole the boy I loved, then you framed me for murder. How was that not supposed to hurt?”
“I didn’t frame you for murder! How could you even think that? I was trying to hide you just now. I’m still hiding you—if I wanted you caught for murder, I would just have to yell for the soldiers outside my door. But I’m not doing that, and I’m not going to.” Marisol clamped her mouth shut, more determined than Evangeline had ever seen her.
But just because Marisol wasn’t completely heartless didn’t mean she was innocent. She’d admitted to putting a spell on Luc. Evangeline couldn’t be tricked into feeling sympathy for her stepsister because of her shaking chest or her pleading eyes or the way her voice cracked when she spoke.
“I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you after what I did to Luc, but I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Then why did you do it?” Evangeline asked. “Why did you pick him if it wasn’t to hurt me?”
The fireplace crackled, filling the suite with a surge of fresh heat as Marisol breathed a ragged exhale.
“I’d never done a spell before, and I didn’t even think it would work. But I suppose I was jealous of you,” she admitted. “You had so much freedom and confidence in who you were and what you believed. You didn’t even try to fit in the way my mother always told me I needed to— you kept your hair that strange color and talked about fairytales as if they were real and everyone else believed in them, too. You should have been a pariah, but people loved you and your odd little shop, and even though your father was gone, he’d been so proud of who you were. I just had a mother who wanted me to sit straight and look pretty. But I was never pretty enough because I couldn’t catch the attention of any suitors, and my mother couldn’t stop reminding me of it day after day after day.”
Marisol swiped at a few errant tears. She’d looked so lovely in the hall, but now she appeared miserable. She was hugging her chest, curling further into herself as her body was racked by sobs. And Evangeline couldn’t help but feel some sympathy.
Her words stung—no one liked to be called strange or a pariah—and Marisol’s choices had been terrible. But Marisol’s mother was awful, and she’d been feeding her daughter poisonous ideas for her entire life.
“One day, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I decided I’d try to be a bit more like you. I looked into … magic,” Marisol said it on a whisper as if it still made her nervous. “One of the cooking books you had gifted me was actually a spell book, and I suppose I picked Luc because he was so good to you. I knew you would sneak out to see him. One day, I followed you, I saw the way he looked at you, and I wanted that. I wanted someone kind and someone my mother would be impressed with. But I didn’t think it would work, and I didn’t think it would be so potent.”
“Then why didn’t you undo it?” Evangeline asked.
“I wanted to, but the book I had said the only methods of undoing the spell were vampire venom or killing the person. My only choice was to marry him or leave him miserable.”
Evangeline felt her first stab of guilt, and it became a little harder to stay angry with Marisol. Evangeline wasn’t sure her stepsister was being entirely honest, but she couldn’t argue with this reasoning or judge her for this part of the story, as Evangeline had done something very similar with Apollo.
“A love spell doesn’t feel like regular love,” Marisol explained. “At first, it was exciting, but that quickly wore off. Then everything went sour. I lied to you about Luc avoiding me. I was the one who tried to break things off after the second failed wedding. I was petrified of what would happen if we tried to marry again, and I’ve felt miserable ever since. When you and I were traveling here, and you were telling me all your mother’s weird stories, I decided to find another spell book with a cure for Luc in case he ever returned to Valenda. That’s why someone spied me looking for spell books. It wasn’t because I wanted to hurt you, it was because I wanted to mend things. I’ve felt so terrible, Evangeline. You turned to stone for me and then you brought me here so that I could get a fresh start, and all this time, I’ve walked around with the knowing that I don’t deserve any of your kindness. I’m so sorry. I’ve felt so guilty and so ashamed, and for so long I’ve wanted to tell you. But I’ve been terrified you’d hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Evangeline said. Her stepsister had made mistakes,
but Evangeline was starting to believe that murder wasn’t one of them.
As far as the love spell she’d used on Luc, Evangeline couldn’t entirely fault her. If anything, she related to Marisol.
Evangeline had been living with the same guilt and fear for the secrets she’d been keeping. If only she hadn’t been so afraid to be honest, both of them could have been spared some pain.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did hate me. I swear I didn’t kill Apollo or enchant Tiberius, and I didn’t frame you for murder. But I know I’ve done unforgivable things. I deserve to be the Cursed Bride.”
“You’re not the Cursed Bride,” Evangeline said gently.
“You don’t have to keep saying that. The spell that I used warned me there would be consequences. That’s why the Fates attacked my wedding, and that’s why a wolf attacked Luc. I know I shouldn’t be engaged to
Tiberius now,” Marisol mumbled. “I keep fearing that something horrible will happen to him, too. But I also keep hoping that I’ve suffered enough.”
Marisol closed her eyes, and a tear fell as she shook. The bedpost at her back seemed to be the only thing holding her up. Evangeline imagined that if she were to tug on one of the ribbons in Marisol’s hair, her stepsister would unravel like a skein of yarn.
Evangeline might have wanted that earlier, but now she’d rather help hold her stepsister together. She reached out and gave Marisol a hug. Marisol had made mistakes, but she was not the only one. “I forgive you.”
Wide, shocked eyes met Evangeline’s. “How can you forgive me?”
“I’ve made some poor choices as well.” Evangeline squeezed her stepsister a final time before letting her go. Now it was her turn to be nervous. But Marisol deserved to know the truth. It wasn’t fair to let her carry all the guilt or believe that Evangeline was entirely innocent. Evangeline didn’t know if they would ever be true sisters, but they would never mend all their wounds if some were still infected with lies.
“You’re not the only one who was jealous,” Evangeline confessed. “I was so upset and hurt that you were marrying Luc, I prayed to the Prince of Hearts to stop your wedding.”
“You what?” Marisol’s spine stiffened, and her shoulders straightened. “I didn’t think he’d turn you to stone—”
“What did you think would happen?” Marisol spat. The words hit like a slap, stunning Evangeline.
“You’re just as selfish as my mother always said. You ruined my wedding so that you could become a hero and I could become the Cursed Bride.”
“That’s not what I—”
“You let me believe I was cursed!” Marisol cried, but there weren’t any tears this time. Her eyes were two pools of anger.
Evangeline thought Marisol would understand and then maybe they’d laugh about it. But clearly she’d made a great error in judgment.
“Marisol,” Evangeline said, alarm slipping into her voice. If her stepsister kept raising her tone, the soldiers outside the door would surely hear. “Please, calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Marisol raged. “I felt so guilty, and all along, you’d done something just as bad, even worse. You made a deal with a Fate to curse me.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Guards!” Marisol screamed. “She’s here! Evangeline Fox is in my room.”
