If storms were made of scandal sheets, queues of gentlemen dressed with starched cravats, and notes of questionable origins, then the perfect storm was brewing in Evangeline’s world the next morning. She just didn’t know this yet.
All she knew about was the note of peculiar origin, which had prompted her to slip out of the house at daybreak.
Meet me.
The curiosity shop.
First thing after sunrise.
—Luc
Evangeline’s heart had nearly burst after she’d discovered the message in her bedroom the night before. She didn’t know if it was a new note or an old one that she was only finding now. But she’d fallen asleep reading it again and again, hoping that Luc would be waiting for her in the morning with a story that was different from the one she’d heard from Marisol.
Yesterday’s conversation with Marisol had shaken Evangeline; it had almost convinced her that she’d been deluding herself about Luc. But hope is a difficult thing to kill, just a spark of it can start a fire, and this note had given Evangeline a new spark.
Her father had owned four and a half shops across Valenda. He’d been the silent half partner of a tailor that sewed weapons into clothing. He’d built a secret bookshop, only accessible via secret passage. Then there was his store in the Spice Quarter, covered in decorative Wanted posters with captions that read like short outlandish crime stories. His third shop was a secret, even from Evangeline. And his fourth store was her favorite place of all: Maximilian’s Curiosities, Whimsies & Other Oddities.
This was the store where Evangeline had started working as soon as her father had allowed it. He used to tell customers that everything inside was almost magical. But Evangeline had always believed that some of the items that passed through his shop really were enchanted. She’d often tracked down chess pieces that had wandered from their boards, and sometimes the paintings wore different expressions from those they’d had the day before.
Evangeline’s chest tightened with something like homesickness as she turned a corner onto the bricked street that Maximilian’s Curiosities called home. She’d missed the store during the weeks she’d been made of stone, but she hadn’t felt just how much until that moment. She missed the walls her mother had painted, the shelves packed with her father’s finds, the bell
—
Evangeline skidded to a halt.
Maximilian’s Curiosities had closed its doors. The copper-lined windows were boarded up. The awning was ripped off, and someone had painted over the name on the door:
Under New Ownership Closed Until Further Notice
“No!” Not the shop! Evangeline banged and banged on the door. This was the last piece of her father that she had left. How could Agnes do this?
“Excuse me, young miss.” A patroller’s stout shadow fell over her. “You’re going to need to stop that pounding.”
“You don’t understand. This store was my father’s—it was willed to me.” Evangeline continued knocking as if the door might magically open, as if Luc were waiting on the other side, as if she hadn’t just lost the last piece of her parents. “How long has it been closed?”
“I’m sorry, miss. I think it shut nearly six weeks back and—” The young patrolman’s face lit up. “Fallen stars—it’s you—you’re Valenda’s Sweetheart Savior.” He paused to smooth back his hair. “If you don’t mind me saying so, miss, you’re even prettier than the papers say. Do you know where I can get one of those applications?”
“Applications for what?” Evangeline stopped knocking, suddenly uneasy, as the patrolman reached into his back pocket and retrieved a black- and-white sheet of newsprint.
The Whisper Gazette
FROM THE STREETS TO STONE TO STARDOM:
AN INTERVIEW WITH VALENDA’S SWEETHEART SAVIOR
By Kutlass Knightlinger
Seventeen-year-old Evangeline Fox looks like a fairytale princess with her shimmering pink hair and her innocent smile. But weeks ago, she was a parentless orphan. When I spoke with her recently, she told me that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.
She hadn’t been invited to the wedding ceremony of Luc Navarro and Marisol Tourmaline, whom many of you know as the Cursed Bride. And yet, when Evangeline stumbled upon the gathering, which had been transformed to stone by one of the Fates, Evangeline didn’t hesitate to save the entire wedding party by taking their place and becoming a statue.
“I think I just did what anyone else would have hopefully done in my situation. I’m really not a hero,” she told me.
Evangeline was so humble. It was difficult to get her to speak about her own heroics. But Valenda’s Sweetheart Savior was eager to talk when I mentioned the Cursed Bride’s mother, Agnes Tourmaline, and her magnanimous plans to adopt Evangeline.
“I already feel as if the horror I went through is turning into a fairytale,” she said.
Agnes also informed me that Evangeline is eager to move on with her life as soon as possible.
She’s accepting suitors by way of applications for her hand in marriage—
(continued on page 3)
“Oh my…” Evangeline gave the patroller an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry, this paper is mistaken. I’m not looking for suitors.” She cringed at just using the word. It didn’t surprise her. She knew Agnes’s hugs and smiles
yesterday had been false. But Evangeline hadn’t expected her stepmother to sell her off so quickly.
Other passersby on the street had already stopped to stare. A few eager gentlemen looked as if they were building up courage to approach.
If Jacks had been there, he’d probably taken it as proof that he’d done Evangeline a favor by making her so popular. But this wasn’t what she wanted.
Evangeline threw the scandal sheet in the closest trash bin and looked once more at Luc’s note. The message was old. She knew that now—he wouldn’t have asked her to meet at the shop knowing it was shuttered.
Evangeline didn’t want to cry so much as she wanted to find a way back in time, to before. To before Agnes, to before Luc, to before she’d lost both her parents. She just wanted one more hug from her father. One more moment of her mother smoothing her hair. The pain she felt at missing Luc wasn’t even a scratch in comparison to the absence of her mother and father. She still wanted Luc, but what she really wanted was the life and all the love that she’d lost.
 |
It was difficult not to feel heartsick as Evangeline trudged back to a house that hadn’t been home since her father had died. Normally, she adored the city. She loved the tangle of noise, the bustling of people, and the way her street often smelled of fresh-made cakes from the bakery around the corner. But that afternoon, the street smelled of too much unfamiliar cologne.
The scent made her nauseous, but it was the sight of all the gentlemen that stopped her in her tracks. Decked out in their finest coats and capes and hats, the men lined the street to her house, where Agnes stood on the doorstep happily receiving flowers, compliments, and paper pages.
She’s accepting suitors by way of applications for her hand in marriage
—
Evangeline’s hands curled into fists. A fraction of the men were almost
attractive, but many of them were the age her father had been or older. She might have turned around if she had somewhere else to go, but thanks to
Agnes, the curiosity shop was closed. And Evangeline found she was more in the mood to fight than to run.
She marched toward the house with a demure smile. “Oh, there she is,” Agnes cooed.
But Evangeline didn’t give her the chance to say anything else. She quickly turned to the gentlemen, raised her voice, and said, “Thank you all for coming, but I wish to turn everyone away.” She paused and theatrically pressed the back of her left hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, mimicking a move she’d once seen in a tragic street play with her father. “I’m not a statue anymore, but I’m still cursed, and anyone I kiss will turn to stone.”
Murmurs erupted everywhere. “Stone…” “Cursed!”
“I’m getting out of here.”
The gentlemen quickly dispersed, and with them went her doting stepmother’s façade.
Agnes grabbed Evangeline’s shoulders and dug her slender fingers in. “What have you done, you wretched girl? Those suitors weren’t just for you. This was Marisol’s chance at getting noticed again.”
Evangeline winced and pulled away. She felt a stitch of guilt for her stepsister, but as of yesterday, Marisol wasn’t over Luc either.
“Don’t pretend I’m the villain,” Evangeline said. “You shouldn’t have done this, and you shouldn’t have sold my father’s shop. That store was willed to me.”
“You were considered dead.” Agnes took a menacing step.
Evangeline blanched. Her stepmother had never hit her, but she’d also never grabbed her before today. And Evangeline hated to consider what else Agnes might do. If her stepmother tossed her out onto the streets, Evangeline had nowhere to go.
Evangeline probably should have thought about that before she turned away the suitors, but it was too late to take it back, and she wasn’t sure that she would have.
“I hope that’s not a threat, Agnes.” Evangeline spoke with all the bravado she could muster. “You never know who might still be listening,
and it’d be a shame if word of your true nature made it to someone like Kutlass Knightlinger.”
Agnes’s nostrils flared. “Kutlass can’t protect you forever. I would think you’d know how quickly a young man’s attention can shift. Kutlass Knightlinger will either turn on you or soon forget you like your beloved Luc did.”
The barb hit Evangeline straight in her chest.
Agnes smiled as if she’d been itching to say those words. “I was going to wait and share this with you after Marisol saw it, but I’ve changed my mind.” Agnes reached toward her table of applications, retrieved a folded page, and held it out for Evangeline.
Cautiously, she unfolded the note.
Marisol, my most precious treasure,
I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye this way. But I’m hoping this will not be a true farewell. I’m leaving Valenda in hopes of finding a healer. The next time I see your beautiful face, I will be the Luc you first fell in love with, and we can be together again.
With every heartbeat from my heart—
Evangeline couldn’t read any more. She didn’t need to reach the end to know the handwriting belonged to Luc.
Luc had written her letters, but they were usually brief, like the note she’d found last night. He’d never called her his most precious treasure or mentioned his heart beating.
“This can’t be real,” Evangeline breathed. “What have you done to him?”
Agnes laughed. “You really are a stupid child. Your father used to say you believed in things you couldn’t see as if it were a gift. But you should start believing in the things that you do see.”
|
Luc Navarro’s family lived on the fashionable far edge of town, where the houses were larger and farther apart. The type of neighborhood that always made Evangeline feel the need to take a deep breath as she approached.
On the day that Marisol had announced her engagement to Luc, Evangeline had run all the way here. She’d knocked on Luc’s door, sure that when it opened, Luc would tell her it was all a great misunderstanding.
Luc was her first love, her first kiss, her heart when hers had stopped working. It was unimaginable that he didn’t love her, as impossible as traveling through time. A part of her had known there was a chance it could be true, but her soul had told her that it wasn’t. She had expected Luc to confirm it. But Luc never told her anything. The servants sent her away and slammed the door. They did the same the next day and every day that followed.
But today was finally different.
Today, no one answered the door when she knocked.
Evangeline heard no footsteps in the house, no voices. When she found a crack in the drawn curtains, all she saw on the other side were sheets covering the furniture.
Luc and his family had left, just as Luc’s note had said.
Evangeline didn’t know how long she stood there. But eventually, she recalled Jacks’s words, and she wondered if he’d been right when he’d said, If he loved you back, he wouldn’t be marrying someone else. End of story.
