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Chapter Text

Evangeline Fox always believed she'd find herself inside of a fairytale one day. As a young girl, whenever a new shipment of curiosities would come into her father's shop, Evangeline would immediately rush to the crates. She would examine each item inside and ask herself, Could this be it? Could this be the object that would thrust her into a fantasy?

Once there had been an enormous crate with only a doorknob inside. The knob was an exquisite jeweled green and sparkled in the light like magic. Evangeline was convinced that if she attached it to the right door, it would open up to another world and her fairytale would begin.

The doorknob, sadly, never opened up to anything out of the ordinary. But Evangeline never gave up hope that someday she'd find herself elsewhere.

Hoping and imagining and believing in magic had always been like breathing to Evangeline. And yet it was suddenly very difficult to breathe as she finally found herself elsewhere, wrapped in the arms of a handsome young man who said he was her husband.

Husband. The word made her head spin. How? How? How? She was too overwhelmed to ask more than that one word. In fact, she couldn't even manage to speak it aloud.

If she wasn't being held, Evangeline might have crumpled back onto the floor. It was too much to take in and too much to lose all at once.

One of the last things she remembered was sitting with her father as he died at home. But even that memory was ragged around the edges. As if his death were part of a faded portrait, only it wasn't just faded—pieces of it had also been ruthlessly ripped away. She couldn't clearly remember the months before her father's death or anything that had happened afterward. She didn't even recall how he'd caught the fever that had killed him.

All she knew was that, like her mother, her father was gone—and he had been for some time.

"I know this must be frightening. I imagine you feel alone, but you're not, Evangeline." The stranger who'd said he was her husband held her tighter.

He was tall, the sort of tall that made Evangeline feel small as he held her close enough for her to feel that he was shaking, too. She didn't imagine he was as terrified as she was, but clearly he didn't feel as confident as he looked. "You have me—and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"But I don't remember you," she said. She was a little reluctant to pull away. But it was all so overwhelming. He was overwhelming.

A deep line formed between the stranger's brows as she pulled back. But he replied patiently, his voice low and soothing as he said, "My name is Apollo Acadian."

Evangeline waited again for a flare of recognition, or even just a tiny spark. She needed something familiar, something to hold on to that would keep her from collapsing back onto the ground, and Apollo looked at her as if he wanted to be that. No one had ever looked at her with so much intensity.

He made her think of a hero from a fairytale. Broad shouldered with a strong jaw, dark smoldering eyes, and clothing that spoke of the sort of wealth that conjured images of treasure chests and castles. He wore a high-collared dark red coat with rich gold embroidery covering the cuffs and the shoulders. Beneath it was some sort of doublet—at least she thought that was what it was called. The men at home in Valenda dressed quite differently.

But clearly, she wasn't there anymore. The thought brought a new wave of panic that made her words come out in a rush.

"How did I come to be here? How did we meet? Why don't I remember you?" she asked.

"Your memories were stolen by someone who's been trying to tear us apart." Something flickered in Apollo's brown eyes, although if it was anger or pain, she couldn't tell.

Evangeline wished she could remember him. But the harder she tried, the worse she felt. Her head hurt and her chest felt hollowed out, as if she'd lost more than just her memories. For a second the agony was so deep and so brutal, she clutched her heart, half expecting to find a jagged hole. But there was no wound. Her heart was still there; she could feel it beating. Yet for a devastating moment, Evangeline imagined that it shouldn't have been, that her heart was supposed to be as broken as she felt.

Then it hit her, not a feeling but a thought—a sharp, fragmented one.

She had something important to tell someone.

Evangeline couldn't remember what it was, but she felt as if her entire world depended on this one thing she needed to share. Just thinking about it made her blood rush. She tried to remember what this something was that she needed to say and who it was she needed to tell—could it be this Apollo person?

Could this be why her memories had been stolen?

"Why is someone trying to tear us apart?" Evangeline asked.

She might have thrown out even more questions. She might have asked once more how they'd met and how long they'd been married, but Apollo suddenly looked nervous.

He shot a furtive glance over Evangeline's shoulder before quietly saying, "It's complicated."

She followed his gaze to the strange wooden door she'd been curled up against. On either side of the door were two warrior angels made of stone, although they looked more lifelike than stone carvings were supposed to. Their wings were outstretched and spattered in dried blood. The sight of it brought another pang in her chest, as if her body still remembered even though her mind had forgotten.

"Do you know what happened here?" she asked.

For a split second something crossed Apollo's face that almost looked like guilt, but it might have just been sadness. "I promise, I'll answer every question you have. But now we need to get out of here. We need to leave before he comes back."

"Who is he?"

"The villain who erased all of your memories." Apollo took Evangeline's hand, holding her firmly as he quickly led her from the room with the door and the warrior angels.

Grainy late-morning light lit shelves of manuscripts tied up with ribbons and tassels. It appeared they were in an ancient library, although the books looked newer the farther they ventured.

Floors changed from dusty stone to gleaming marble, ceilings grew taller, the light became sharper, manuscripts turned into leather-bound volumes. Evangeline once again tried to search for something familiar in the late-morning glow. Something that might make her remember. Her head was clearer now, but nothing was familiar.

She was truly elsewhere, and it seemed she had been for long enough to meet heroes and villains, and to find herself in a battle between them.

"Who was he?" she pressed. "The one who stole my memories?"

Apollo's steps faltered. Then they picked up faster than before. "I promise I will tell you everything, but we should get out of here—"

"Oh my!" someone exclaimed.

Evangeline turned to see a woman in white robes standing between the shelves of books. The woman—some kind of a librarian, Evangeline supposed—brought a hand to her mouth as she stared. Her expression was one of awe, eyes wide and unwavering as they latched on to Apollo.

Another librarian strode into the hall. This one gasped, then promptly fainted, dropping a stack of books as the first librarian yelled, "It's a miracle!"

More librarians and scholars came forward, all crying out similar exclamations.

Evangeline curled toward Apollo as they were quickly surrounded. First by the librarians, then by servants and courtiers. Finally, by wide-chested guards in shining armor who rushed in, no doubt drawn by all of the clamor.

The room they were in was at least four stories tall, but suddenly it felt small and suffocating as more and more unfamiliar people closed in on them.

"He's back..."

"He's alive..."

"It's a miracle!" they all repeated, voices turning reverent as tears began to glisten down cheeks.

Evangeline didn't know what was happening. She felt as if she were witnessing the sort of thing that usually took place in a church. Was it possible she had married a saint?

Looking up at Apollo, she tried to remember his surname. Acadian, that was what he'd told her. She couldn't recall a single story about an Apollo Acadian, but clearly there were stories. Upon meeting him, she'd imagined he was some kind of hero, but the crowd looked at him as if he was even more.

"Who are you?" Evangeline whispered.

Apollo brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles that made her shiver. "I am the one who will never let anyone harm you again."

A few nearby people sighed as they overheard the words.

Then Apollo raised his free hand toward the rumbling crowd in a gesture that universally meant quiet.

Those gathered immediately fell into a hush. Some even dropped to their knees.

It was uncanny to see so many people fall quiet so quickly—they didn't even seem to breathe as Apollo's voice rang out over their heads.

"I can see that some of you are having a difficult time believing your eyes. But what you're seeing is real. I'm alive. When you leave this room, tell everyone you see that Prince Apollo died and then went through hell to get back here."

Prince. Evangeline barely had time to process the word and everything that came with it—for almost as soon as Apollo spoke, he released Evangeline's hand and swiftly took off his velvet doublet, followed by his linen shirt.

Several of those gathered gasped, including Evangeline.

Apollo's chest was flawless, smooth and carved in muscles, and over his heart was a vibrant tattoo of two swords in the shape of a heart with a name in the center: Evangeline.

Until that moment, everything had felt a bit like a fever dream she might have woken up from. But her name on his chest felt permanent in a way that Apollo's words had not. He wasn't a stranger. He knew her intimately enough to mark her name across his heart.

He turned around then, showing off another sight that stunned not only her, but the entire crowd. Apollo's beautiful, proud, straight back was covered in a web of violent scars.

"These marks are the price I paid to return!" he cried. "When I say I went through hell, I mean it. But I had to come back. I had to right the wrongs done in my absence. I know many believe that it was my brother, Tiberius, who killed me, but it was not."

Shocked whispers moved through the crowd.

"I was poisoned by a man I thought to be a friend," Apollo roared. "Lord Jacks is the man who killed me. Then he stole the memories of my bride, Evangeline. I will not rest until Jacks is found and he pays for his crimes with his life!"

Chapter Text

Voices echoed against the walls of stretching bookshelves as the library erupted with noise. Guards in armor vowed to find the criminal Lord Jacks, while polished courtiers and robed scholars shot out questions like showers of arrows.

“How long have you been alive, Your Highness?”

“How did you return from hell, Lord Prince?”

“Why did Lord Jacks steal your memories?” This inquiry, from an older courtier, was directed at Evangeline and punctuated by a narrow-eyed glare.

“Enough,” Apollo cut in. “I did not tell you about the horror my wife has gone through so that she could be attacked with questions she has no idea how to answer. I shared this information because I want Lord Jacks found, dead or alive. Although right now, I would prefer him dead.”

“We won’t fail you!” shouted the guards.

More declarations involving justice and Jacks rattled the ancient library shelves and pounded against Evangeline’s head, and suddenly it was all too much. The noise, the questions, the flood of unfamiliar faces, Apollo’s tale of going through hell.

More was said, but the words turned to ringing in her ears.

Evangeline wanted to cling to Apollo—he was all she had in this new reality. But he was also a powerful prince, which made him feel less like hers and more like everyone else’s. She was afraid to bother him with more questions, though she had so many. She still didn’t even know where she was.

From where she stood, Evangeline could see an oval window seat tucked under an arch of bookshelves. The window was a soft pale blue glass, and outside were full green needle trees as tall as towers covered in a picturesque layer of snow. It rarely snowed in Valenda, and never as thick as this, as if the world were a cake and the snow was dollops of thick white frosting.

As she had noticed before, the fashion here was different as well. The guards looked like knights from old tales, and the courtiers wore formal clothing similar to Apollo’s. Men were dressed in doublets, while women wore elaborate velvet gowns with off-the-shoulder necklines and dropped waists decorated with brocade belts or strings of pearls.

Evangeline had never seen people dressed like this. But she’d heard stories.

Her mother had been born in the Magnificent North, and she’d told Evangeline countless tales about this land, fairytales that made it sound as if it were the most enchanted place in all the world.

Unfortunately, Evangeline felt far from enchanted at this moment.

Apollo met her gaze then and turned away from the shrinking crowd surrounding them. It seemed people had already left to spread word that Prince Apollo was back from the dead. And why wouldn’t they? Evangeline never heard of someone coming back from the dead. A thought that made her feel quite small as she stood next to him.

Only a few people remained, but Apollo ignored them all as he gazed into Evangeline’s eyes. “There’s nothing for you to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” she lied.

“You’re looking at me differently.” He smiled at her then, a smile so charming she wondered how she hadn’t immediately known what he was.

“You’re a prince,” she squeaked.

Apollo grinned wider. “Is that a problem?”

“No, I … just—” Evangeline almost said she’d never imagined herself married to a prince.

But of course she had. Only her imaginings weren’t as elaborate as this. This was beyond every pastel dream she had ever had of royalty and castles and faraway places. But she would have traded it all to remember just how she’d gotten here, how she’d fallen in love and married this man and lost what felt like part of her heart.

It hit her then. In fairytales, there was always a price for magic. Nothing came without a cost; peasants who turned into princesses always had to pay. And suddenly Evangeline wondered if her lost memories were the price she had paid for all of this.

Had she traded her memories, along with part of her heart, to be with Apollo? Could she have been that foolish?

Apollo’s smile softened, turning from teasing to reassuring. When he spoke, his words were gentler as well, as if he sensed part of what she was feeling. Or maybe it was just that he knew her well, even though she did not know him. He did have her name tattooed over his heart.

“It will all be all right,” he said quietly, firmly. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I hate to leave you, but there are a few things I need to take care of and, while I do that, my guards are ready to escort you to your suite. But I’ll try not to leave you alone for long. I promise, there is nothing more important to me than you.”

Apollo pressed another kiss to her hand and gave her one last look before he marched off, followed by his personal guards.

Evangeline stood there feeling suddenly alone and bursting with more questions than she had answers for. If Apollo had just come back from the dead, how did he already know what had happened to her? Maybe he was wrong about this Lord Jacks stealing her memories, and Evangeline was right about having foolishly traded them—which left her wondering if she could trade them back.

This question haunted her as she followed the guards that Apollo had assigned her through the castle. They didn’t say much, but they did tell Evangeline that Apollo’s castle was called Wolf Hall. It had been built by the first king of the Magnificent North, the famed Wolfric Valor, making her think of all her mother’s Northern stories.

Compared to where Evangeline had grown up, the North felt incredibly old, as if every stone beneath her feet held a secret of a bygone era.

One hallway was lined with doors that all had the most elaborate handles. One was shaped like a little dragon, another looked like fairy wings, and then there was a wolf’s head wearing a pretty flower crown. These were the types of handles that tempted her to pull them and made her suspect they might be a little alive, like the bell that had hung outside the door to her father’s curiosity shop.

Evangeline felt an arrow of grief at the thought of it—not just the bell, but the shop and her parents and everything that she had lost. It was a dizzying torrent that hit her so suddenly she wasn’t aware she’d stopped moving until a guard with a thick red mustache leaned close and said, “Are you all right, Your Highness? Do you need one of us to carry you?”

“Oh no,” Evangeline said, instantly mortified. “My feet work just fine. It’s just so much to take in. What is this hall?”

“This is the Valors’ wing. Most people think these were the rooms of the Valor children, although no one knows for sure. These doors have stayed locked ever since they died.”

But you could open us.

The strange voice sounded as if it came from one of the doors. Evangeline looked at each of her guards, but none of them appeared to have heard it. So she pretended she hadn’t heard it, either. Evangeline was in a difficult situation as it was. She didn’t need to make things worse for herself by saying she heard voices coming from inanimate objects.

Thankfully it didn’t happen again. When the guards finally stopped in front of a pair of ornate double doors, the jeweled doorknobs sparkled but didn’t say a word. There was only a gentle whoosh as they opened up to the most opulent suite of rooms that Evangeline had ever seen.

It was all so lovely that she felt as if harps should be playing and birds should be singing. Everything was glittering and golden and covered in flowers. There were boughs of harlequin lilies framing the two-story fireplace and vines of white starmires curling around the bedposts. Even the great copper tub Evangeline spied in the bathing room beyond was full of flowers—the steaming water inside was violet and covered in soft white and pink petals.

Evangeline walked to the bath and dipped her fingers in the water. Everything was perfect.

Even the maids who entered to help her bathe and dress were all perfectly lovely. There were also a surprising number of them, nearly a dozen. They had sweet voices and gentle hands that helped her into a gown as delicate as a whisper.

The dress was an off-the-shoulder confection of blush tulle with sheer sleeves adorned with dark pink ribbons. The same ribbons lined the low neckline of the gown before twirling into little rosebuds that covered the bust of the fitted bodice. The skirt flowed and fluttered down to Evangeline’s toes. A maid completed the look by braiding Evangeline’s rose-gold hair into a crown and then decorating it with a circlet of gilded flowers.

“If I do say so myself, you look lovely, Your Highness.”

“Thank you—”

“Martine,” the maid supplied before Evangeline had to fumble around to try to find the name. “I’m also from the Meridian Empire originally. His Highness the prince thought having me here might help you adjust a bit more.”

“It sounds as if the prince is very thoughtful.”

“I think, when it comes to you … he tries to think of everything.”

Martine smiled, but the bit of hesitation in her words gave Evangeline a second of pause, a flutter of a feeling that said Apollo was too good to be true. That all of this was.

When Evangeline was alone and looked in the mirror, she saw the reflection of a princess. This was everything she could have wanted.

Yet she didn’t feel like a princess.

She felt like the idea of a princess, with the dress and the prince and the castle, and yet she also felt without. She felt as if she were simply wearing a costume, that she’d stepped into a role that she could simply step out of, only there wasn’t anywhere else to step to. Because she also didn’t feel like the girl she’d been before, the eternally hopeful girl who believed in fairytales, love at first sight, and happily ever afters.

If she had been that girl, it might have been easier to accept all of this, to not want to ask so many questions.

But something had happened to that girl—to her. And Evangeline couldn’t help but think it went beyond her missing memories.

Her heart still hurt, as if it had been broken and only jagged bits remained. She put a hand on it, as if to keep more pieces from breaking off. And once again, she was struck with the inescapable feeling that among everything she’d forgotten was one thing more important than all the rest, more important than anything.

There was something absolutely vital she needed to tell someone. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not remember what it was or who it was she needed to tell.

Chapter Text

Jacks had been throwing things in the fire for almost an hour now. He’d violently tossed books and pieces of parchment into the hearth, watching with unwavering attention as the growing flames made them twist and shrink, until they completely disappeared into the fire.

It didn't matter, though. He could destroy all the things he wanted, and it wouldn't make a difference.

There was nothing Jacks could do to ease the anger that pounded along with the beating of his heart. Nothing he did could fill up the emptiness that had settled in his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to accept that leaving her behind was the right choice.

But he knew it was.

She would finally be safe. She would finally get the happy ending she'd dreamed of for so long. And most importantly, she would be alive. That was all that mattered to him—and it had been for a long time now.

And yet, Jacks almost couldn't bear the pain he felt every time he thought of never seeing her again. Something inside him ached at the prospect of not being able to touch her, make her blush, or hear her laughter ever again. He felt as though he couldn't breathe.

Evangeline.

Her name echoed nonstop in his head, as if he were hopelessly trying to call out for her through the magic bond that connected their minds.

Evangeline.

It was no use. He knew that they were too far away from each other for her to hear him.

Evangeline, he thought anyway, weaker this time. And as it should, there was no response. Nothing but endless silence.

Jacks felt something liquid and hot stream down his cheeks, and soon he saw the blood dripping on the floor. For a moment, he stood still, watching as the red tears fell and gathered in a big puddle before the fireplace.

He felt helpless and pathetic—and he hated it.

With the back of his hand, Jacks wiped away his tears, shaking his head in contempt.

Suddenly, the doors to his chambers in the vampire lair swung open. Jacks turned his head immediately and watched as Castor rudely barged in the room.

"Oh please," Jacks sneered, turning away to conceal his face. "Would you mind knocking?"

Although Jacks couldn't see him, he was sure Castor was frowning.

"Jacks—" he paused, and the Fate heard him take a deep breath. "I didn't really expect to find you here."

"Is that so?" Jacks drawled, staring at the curvy black glass clock atop the mantel.

Behind him, the doors were closed with unnecessary force. Jacks could hear and feel Castor getting closer.

"Yes. I was pretty sure you would be gone by now," he said, and silence followed his words as if he was coming to some conclusion. "Although I imagine I wouldn't remember you and Evangeline the way I do now if you had already used the stones."

Jacks humorlessly laughed. He wasn't planning on telling Castor the truth just yet. Or ever.

He was still debating what to do with his life. He didn't really have good options.

"I can't believe you think I'd leave without even saying goodbye," Jacks mocked, finally turning to face his friend.

The vampire huffed. There'd been hundreds of years since the last time Jacks had seen his face without the helmet. What he saw managed to be both familiar and foreign in a way that made Jacks uncomfortable. Only his eyes remained the same—green and endless, deadly and misleading. Now, however, they were surprisingly unsteady.

That wasn't what made Jacks pause, though. As the Fate raked his eyes over the vampire's face, something inside of him twitched.

In a second, he was standing before his friend. "You're dripping blood on the floor, Castor," he said slowly, his voice tensing up with every word.

Castor reached up to wipe the blood that was running down his chin. He looked at his red-stained fingers before staring at a spot on the floor, close to where Jacks had been standing a moment ago. "It seems I'm not the only one."

Jacks exhaled heavily through his nostrils, fisting the collar of Castor's leather armor with his hands and bringing their faces close to one another.

"Who is it from?"

The vampire quickly gave a step back, breaking free from Jacks's death grip and putting some distance between them. "Calm down, Jacks," he said, breathing hard and casting him an unreadable look. He cleared his throat. "After my mother removed my helmet, I was. . . well, very hungry, as you might imagine. I didn't have much time to talk to my family or think about anything else, really. Especially because the sun would rise soon. I had to feed. . . That was all I could think about. When I got out, both you and Evangeline were gone."

Jacks's throat tightened at the memory of Castor losing control and ripping open Evangeline's skin the first time they'd opened the Valory Arch. He felt sick, and had to remind himself he’d fixed that—after the Fate had used the stones to go back in Time, he'd stopped Evangeline from dying.

She was alive. She was safe.

A few hours had passed since he’d convinced Evangeline to leave the Valory and then, once she was safe, left Wolf Hall. And even though he could still feel her going lifeless in his arms, he knew she was all right now.

I wish our story could have had another ending, she’d said to him, her gray eyes a mixture of pain and hope.

I don't want a different ending. I just want you to leave, Jacks had answered, hating the way she’d flinched at the bite in his words.

It was all he could do not to give in and do what she wanted.

That was all he wanted to do.

"It belongs to people I ran into on the way here," Castor continued, looking down at his fingers.

"People," Jacks said simply.

The vampire set his jaw, and it was almost as if he were ashamed. As he looked away, his eyes caught the light from the flames still burning in the hearth. "Yes. People."

For a moment, there was silence, but it wasn't a comfortable one.

At last, Castor crossed his arms over his broad chest and said, "Aurora told me to tell you she wants to see you soon."

Jacks lifted one eyebrow. "I thought you said you hadn't had any time to actually talk to them."

Castor shrugged, although his body seemed a little stiff.

"My mother wouldn't let me go at first. She made me stay long enough to listen to what she had to say. She was very worried. About you, Jacks."

Jacks's shoulders immediately tensed.

"What did she say?" the Fate asked, even though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

That is not a small mistake to fix. If you do this, Time will take something equally valuable from you, Honora Valor had warned him.

"She sounded very confused. She didn't really seem to understand why she was saying that. It didn't make any sense to me, since she hasn't seen you in centuries—"

"Castor," Jacks rudely interrupted him. "What did Honora say?"

Castor looked him in the eye and sighed. "She told me the price is too high for you, even if you can't realize that yet. But there is no escaping now. You'll pay it anyway."

The vampire kept looking at him as if he expected Jacks to come up with explanations for Honora's words. The Prince of Hearts did not offer him any.

There is nothing of equal value to me, Jacks had said. He hadn't lie. No matter how high the price, the Fate would pay it.

He would do anything when it came to protecting Evangeline.

Chapter Text

Even though he had slept in his own bed for the first time in months, Apollo woke up feeling exhausted. The prince was grateful for having his castle, servants, and chambers again, but that didn't mean he was free from being haunted by the memories of all the horrors he’d been through.

Apollo slept all night, but it hadn't been a peaceful kind of sleep. The prince had been cursed multiple times by now, and he was beginning to feel the effects of it. His body felt heavier, his movements were sluggish. He was tiring more easily—it was as though the slightest task required a great effort on his part. That night, as he’d been lulled to sleep, he’d felt his body become tense and rigid, as if he were once again under the influence of Jacks's curse, which had forced him into a state of suspended sleep.

Worst of all, he'd been feeling a strong headache that came and went, and that sometimes became so strong that he thought his head would explode. It started with a slight throbbing in one of his temples, which increased and then radiated throughout his skull, making him feel as though needles were piercing the back of his head. He'd never felt anything like it before.

Apollo wouldn't admit that to anyone, but he was terrified.

Not only was the prince suffering the physical and mental consequences of the curses, but he also had to deal with the damage they'd caused to the world around him. The day before, Apollo spent hours and more hours resolving things related to his return from the "dead". He’d come back to Wolf Hall to find out another prince—an impostor, of course—had claimed his throne. Upon hearing about Apollo’s miraculous return, this prince Lucien—or whatever his real name and title were—somehow managed to escape. Apollo suspected Lucien had had help from people inside the castle, and the prince had already sent a group of guards to hunt him down. However, there were other priorities for Apollo right now.

He knew he had to secure his place as prince heir, and he was aware that he needed supporters if he wanted to do that. Therefore, he made sure to meet with a few members of the Council of Great Houses to explain all that had happened to him. He hadn't expected the heads of the Great Houses to be so skeptical at him, though. They knew Lucien had run away, they were seeing Apollo himself before their eyes, and yet they didn't seem too inclined to believe his story. He’d been asked many questions and received many sharp, suspicious looks. Apollo was surprised to see that those people—people he’d known for all his life—were so distrustful and wary at him.

Nonetheless, his effort proved to be worth it after all. Although it hadn't been easy, Apollo was very talented when it came to delivering great speeches, and he got what he wanted: he’d proved to the Great Houses that he was Apollo Titus Acadian, crown prince of the Magnificent North, returned from hell to rule his kingdom. Apollo truly believed he’d started to earn back their trust. He imagined it would be difficult, but the prince knew that if he played his cards right, he'd have them in the palm of his hand eventually.

Apollo was also very worried about capturing Lord Jacks, an old friend of his who proved to be the real villain in the end. Jacks had cursed Apollo, making people believe that he was dead—not to mention the great deal of pain he had put the prince through.

But still, the worst thing Jacks had done was endanger the person Apollo cared about the most. 

Her, who was his biggest concern among all the others.

Evangeline Fox.

His wife.

His love.

His future queen.

His.

Apollo was so worried about her that he sometimes thought he was going insane. All he had been doing since the moment he woke up was to ensure she would be safe. The prince had already taken dozens of initiatives to protect her: he'd emptied the wing in which she was accommodated in the castle, sent her dresses and gifts to keep her occupied, placed guards to watch her doors and to follow her around. He’d even sent Dr. Irvis Stillgrass—one of the castle's oldest physicians—and his apprentices to go examine Evangeline and make sure she had no remaining memories of the Magnificent North.

With the confirmation that she really didn't remember a thing, Apollo had ordered her maids and guards not to talk to her much, especially about the last few months. He’d told them how that could overwhelm or scare her, harming her progress. In reality, what he really wanted was to avoid any obstacles that could get in his way. Apollo knew very well how stubborn and insistent Evangeline could be, and he was sure that she would want to recover her memories as soon as possible. She would start to really look for the truth.

The prince swallowed hard.

Of course Apollo hadn't wanted to steal her memories away—it almost broke his heart to do so. But it wasn't a matter of wanting to do it. He had to. After spending so much time under Jacks's influence, Evangeline had started to accept his actions. She’d forgotten to fear him, to look at him and see the monster that lived underneath his skin. The Evangeline he'd met at the Phoenix Tree all those months ago would've never trusted Jacks after everything he'd done to both of them.

When he met her at the Valory yesterday after having his curses broken, he realized how much she’d changed.

Apollo wanted that girl back—the person Evangeline truly was. The only problem was that Jacks had completely destroyed her. For that, the prince would make him pay. Apollo wouldn't rest until he had Jacks's head on spike.

He didn’t have a choice when it came to Evangeline, though. He couldn't leave her that way: broken, wanting to protect the thing that hurt her most. Apollo was fixing her. He was transforming Evangeline into the better, former version of herself.

Even so, the prince still didn't feel like he was doing enough. Apollo wanted to spend time with Evangeline, to be there for her, but he hadn't really had the chance to do that yet, since he had so many things to do. He’d been busy during all the previous day, and only managed to visit her at night, just before she went to sleep. And when they were finally together, she'd wanted to ask him things about her past, of course.

She seemed to be very lost and preoccupied, so most of her questions were still shy and hesitant. But the prince was no fool—he knew that wouldn't last for long. Apollo was well aware that Evangeline would soon become familiar with her surroundings and that, once that happened, she would start to get bolder, more impatient.

Apollo reminded himself he would see her later. Everything was still under his control, he thought. Eventually, that whole situation would be certainly easier.

He just needed to do a few things first.

Taking a deep breath, Apollo left his chambers and headed for one of the lower floors of Wolf Hall. The prince dismissed his guards, claiming they wouldn't be needed. It was still very early, and he knew the castle would be almost empty at that time of the morning. Apollo easily made his way down long staircases and through silent corridors that had been forgotten over time. He imagined that place hadn't been visited in many years.

He suppressed a shudder as he turned left down the hall, stopping before a pair of big, old wooden doors.

Sighing, Apollo raised his fist and knocked three times.

For ten seconds, there was no response. Apollo thought no one had heard him, and he was about to open the doors anyway when the sound of footsteps came from inside.

A moment later, the doors were slowly opened, and a petite woman appeared, standing on the threshold. Her long, silver hair cascaded over her narrow shoulders, and she was wearing a pretty—yet very old—gown. She tilted her face up to stare at him, and Apollo saw something flash in her deep, ancient eyes.

He recognized her immediately. That was the woman who had freed him from the curses he’d been carrying for weeks, one of the greatest healers to ever exist, and the very first queen of the Magnificent North: Honora Valor. She wore no crown, no jewels, no regal vests—and yet, she still looked like a queen.

Apollo felt a deep sense of unease as the woman raked her eyes over him.

"Oh," she said, giving a step back and opening the doors even further. "I see you have finally decided to come talk to us. Please, come in."

She spoke like she was inviting him into her home, as if Apollo were merely a guest. The prince smothered the urge to remind her that castle belonged to him now.

He cleared his throat instead. "Right."

She stood there, holding the door for him, waiting. Apollo entered the room, and despite the urge he felt to turn around to look at her, he forced himself to keep walking. He heard the doors being shut, and then Honora followed behind him until they got to a chamber.

The room was very simple, and Apollo could see three doors around him that led to other dusty quarters. It was dark there, and the air was stuffier than it was outside. On the chamber's center, Wolfric Valor sat on a threadbare couch, looking at Apollo with impatient eyes—and the prince wondered if the old king mistook his seat for a throne.    

"Your Highness," said the man slowly. His voice was deep and hoarse, and Apollo imagined it was due to disuse. The prince couldn't decide whether the use of his title was serious or some kind of mockery.

Apollo crossed his arms, standing before the man. "Wolfric Valor," he said, opening a subtle smile. "It hardly seems possible that I am talking to you right now."

Honora sat next to her husband, getting close to him and holding his hand. She managed to look even smaller when she was beside him.

"I am sorry it took me so long to come down here, but as I'm sure you can imagine, I've been very busy," the prince continued. "I know these rooms are not suitable for people such as yourselves, but I hope you know this is temporary."

Honora nodded. "We know that."

"How are your. . . Children doing?" he said, trying to be polite. He also needed to make sure they weren't anywhere else.

Although the Valors had been preserved inside the Valory, it sounded very odd to call people centuries older than him "children".

"They are asleep right now," the former queen answered, looking at one of the doors to her left. "Yesterday was a very. . . complicated day for all of us. The sun was almost up when they finally decided to rest." 

Apollo opened his mouth to say something else, but Wolfric did it first:

"Let's not waste our time with small talk and things that do not matter, please. We can do that later. Apollo, what exactly are you planning to do?"

Wolfric didn't say it as if he were adrift, looking desperately for a solution. His tone made it sound like he was interested in hearing what Apollo had come up with only to analyze if he was actually capable of creating a reasonable plan.

The prince thinned his lips.

"Well, it is obvious that you can't tell anyone who you truly are. That would create an immense instability in the kingdom, and all of us would be in danger if that happened," Apollo said, letting his voice take on the right tone of concern. "I'm afraid that from now on, your family will have to live undercover."

With his hand, Wolfric gestured for Apollo to proceed, as though he had already expected that. The prince did his best not to grit his teeth.

"Despite that, you still are the Valors. You cannot—and will not—live like common folk. With that being said, considering that I am the most powerful figure in the whole kingdom, I am intending to create a Great House for your family, and give you land and property. I had engaged the idea of claiming that you are part of an existing House, but that would certainly be questioned, and creating one seems safer."

The former king of the Magnificent Noth smiled in an almost menacing way.

"And in exchange. . .?" he said, staring at Apollo's eyes.

The prince didn't look away.

"The only thing I hope for is your support." Both Wolfric and Honora looked at him skeptically, so he quickly explained, "I am sure you will thrive as a Great House, exactly as you did before you were locked inside the Valory. I am not saying this only because of your magic, but because of your family's cleverness as well. You were the first rulers of the Magnificent North, and I'd have to be quite dense not to perceive that as an advantage. Now, more than ever, I need strong supporters; I need to be close to people who are smart enough to know how to play at court and at council meetings."

For a moment, Wolfric and Honora Valor looked slightly taken aback. They looked at each other, then back at him. Apollo couldn't bear their silence. He didn't know what he would do if they refused his proposal.

"Although I managed to convince a few of the members of the Great Houses, I know they're still suspicious about some things. There was an impostor in my place, a man who somehow managed to convince everyone that he was related to me. No one knows where he is now. My brother, Tiberius, is also missing. And to make matters worse, they don't like my wife, Evangeline. They do not trust her, and the worst part is that I can't offer them explanations for most of the things that happened to her. For now, I know that having her by my side is a disadvantage," Apollo took a deep breath through his nostrils to try to soothe his nerves. "I intend to do everything in my power to help the Valors," he said slowly. "All I ask in exchange is that you help me maintain my throne. If not for me, then for Evangeline. I have to keep her safe."

Wolfric stared at Apollo for five seconds, roaming his severe eyes over the prince's face. He wasn't smiling anymore. He and Honora looked at each other one more time, as if they were silently deciding what to do. Then, the former king turned to him, his expression serious.

"We accept your offer, Apollo. Once we are established as a Great House, we will support your claim to the throne. We will do everything we can to help you protect your wife. And in return, we hope you keep your promises as well."

Apollo nodded his head firmly, trying not to show how relieved he was.

"I'm glad you have decided to accept it," he said. "I have to go now, but I will be back later to resume our conversation. We have much to discuss."

Honora had been quiet for a while now. As Apollo explained his reasons for wanting an alliance with them, her serene expression had turned into something more restless. The prince felt a chill run down his spine when he looked into her eyes.

"Before you go," the former queen started to say. "I would like to know how you are feeling after having your curses removed."

Apollo's stomach churned at the question. He knew she was an experienced healer and that she probably just wanted to make sure he was okay, but her words made him instantly worry anyway.

Apollo offered her a polished smile.

"I am fine, my lady."

Honora pursed her lips, raking her eyes over him again. She didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure about that? Does your body feel weird in any way? Have you been experiencing pain or fatigue lately?" she asked in a well-mannered yet firm tone.

Wolfric frowned at her. "Are you worried about something, my dear?"

Honora shook her head dismissively. "I just want to know for certain if Apollo is feeling all right."

The prince suddenly felt that damn throb start in his right temple. His heart began to race at the thought that the pain returned just as Honora mentioned it. Apollo made an effort to smile wider.

"I appreciate your concern, my lady, but I assure you that I'm fine."

Honora nodded slowly.

"I am glad to hear that."

Despite her words, as the prince left those forgotten chambers behind, he couldn't help but wonder if the former queen had actually believed him. As his pain increased, something inside Apollo told him she did not.

Chapter Text

Evangeline looked at her surroundings, frowning at the mess that her suite had transformed into. Dresses of dozens of different colors and shades hung on racks and open screens. The floor was littered with an endless sea of pretty boxes, all wrapped in perfect red ribbons—she'd opened a few, but they'd continued to arrive throughout the previous day, and Evangeline had felt a little overwhelmed by the excessive number of gifts. The room was still splendid enough to look like it had come straight out of a dream, but as her eyes ran over it, she felt more lost than she had yesterday.

Evangeline felt as though the remaining jagged bits of her heart were being fractured again, and she held her breath for an instant, hoping that if she didn't move, the sensation would disappear. At that moment, she missed her parents like she had never before. All Evangeline wanted was a hug from her father, or a gentle word from her mother; anything that could be at least remotely familiar. Although she had Apollo, maids, and guards that looked after her, she felt painfully alone in that distant, foreign land.

Ever since she was a little girl, Evangeline had dreamed of venturing into the cold and mysterious realm of the Magnificent North, but she had always imagined she would do it beside her mother, Liana Fox. She’d pictured the two of them in wonderful scenarios, similar to the tales her mother used to tell her before Evangeline went to bed.

It seemed cruelly ironic to be there now without her, and Evangeline wished for the hundredth time that she could get her memories back.

Prince Apollo had somberly told her that her missing memories were the evil work of Lord Jacks, and she imagined that, by now, the news already were spreading throughout the kingdom. Even if it made her feel bad, Evangeline secretly hoped that was the case.

She couldn't stop wondering if it actually hadn't been her own fault—she could not pry that thought from her head, and it truly frightened her. Maybe she really did trade her memories for everything she had now. And although she couldn’t even fathom the idea, perhaps her past-self had reasons enough to believe that losing her memories was a reasonable price to pay. The Evangeline she had been certainly knew things that the person she was now did not, and maybe a life beside Apollo was really worth it. 

Evangeline looked out the window, watching as the rising sun illuminated the snow-capped pine peaks. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, and she wished she could enjoy the view. She sighed instead, closing her eyes tightly.

Although she thought Apollo to be as charming as any fairytale prince, Evangeline couldn't bring herself to understand how she could've exchanged something as precious as her memories for him. She had to admit that she'd dreamed a lot about becoming a princess, and honestly, she could easily see herself falling for him—maybe even loving him enough to do something daring—but how could only that be worth such a huge sacrifice? What was the point of having someone by her side if she couldn't remember them?

Evangeline didn't know Apollo—not anymore, at least. She would have to learn how to love him all over again.

It seemed like a terrible idea to give away her memories like this.

She knew that sounded horrible, but she really hoped they had been stolen—somehow, it would be easier to deal with the situation if she knew she wasn't the one responsible for it. And if they had indeed been stolen, and not traded, then she would have the right to look for them and get them back. 

Evangeline shook her head, trying to dissipate her thoughts. She was feeling so many things she didn't have an explanation for. It wasn't just the anguish she felt for being in a place she did not know, or the desperation that struck her every time she realized she didn't remember a single thing from these last few months.

It was more than that. Evangeline felt like a whole different person, and for some reason, she knew that didn't have to do just with the gap in her memory. Sometimes, it seemed to her that her mind and her heart were in completely different tunes.

It was almost as if her heart were screaming words that her mind could not comprehend.

Yesterday afternoon, she’d been examined by an old physician from the castle, Dr. Irvis Stillgrass, and other two girls—his apprentices, as they had told her. They'd asked Evangeline dozens of questions for almost two hours, and by the end of it, the man stated that her memories were, in fact, lost. Dr. Stillgrass had also declared that, from that day on, she'd be monthly visited by him to check if she had any progress with her memories. Besides that, she'd meet with one of his apprentices twice a week to do exercises that could possibly enable her to recover her memories.

But even if he'd said all that, he had looked at Evangeline in a pitiful way, as if he were sure she wouldn't be able to do it.

Every time Evangeline remembered the physician's expression, she couldn't help but think about that thing—the insistent feeling that there was something essential she needed to tell someone. But, like everything else, she had no idea where it came from, or why she felt that way so often.

Evangeline couldn't take it anymore. She had to do something. She had to do anything that didn't involve concentrating on her thoughts. She had to move.

Evangeline left the coziness of her big bed and soft wool blankets to pace around the room, careful not to step on any of the gifts she had received. The stomping of her feet against the floorboards must've been louder than she'd realized, because after a moment, a knock came from the other side of the doors.

"Your Highness? Are you all right?"

She recognized the voice as that of the guard who had the red mustache. Evangeline did not know his name, and she felt embarrassed for a moment.

"Yes. I'm fine, uh. . . I'm sorry for the noise," she said timidly.

Evangeline was still getting used to being treated like a royal. Sometimes, she couldn't believe that was actually happening. She'd often look around, carefully observing the place she was in, expecting that, at any moment, all of it would dissolve and disappear, and she'd finally wake up from the dream.

There was a pause, and then the guard slowly said, "Your Highness, since you're already awake, would you like me to send for your maids?"

She stopped to think for a second.

Overall, even if it was quite nice, Evangeline was feeling a little overwhelmed by her new position as princess—especially because she had no clue of how she got there. But if she were true to herself, she’d have to admit that being alone made her feel even worse.

Evangeline had too much space and time and silence to think. She couldn't stop imagining things, and her head was very creative when it came to inventing astounding scenarios. She couldn't bear it.

Besides, Evangeline would eventually have to start looking for answers. She knew fairytales well enough to know that it probably wouldn't be easy, but that would not stop her from trying. She had nothing else to do anyway.

Evangeline cleared her throat and said, "That would be great! Thank you!"

As she silently waited for the maids to arrive, she thought once again of Prince Apollo. She felt so bad for him. It looked like he’d gone through so much already, and she couldn't get the image of his scarred back out of her head. Even if she wasn't sure that her missing memories were his fault, Lord Jacks had done that to the prince, which meant he was a despicable person and indeed deserved to be arrested for his crimes.

The night before, Evangeline had noticed she also had scars on her back. She'd wished to ask Apollo if he knew about them—if that had been Jacks's fault as well, or if they'd suffered their injuries together—but she hadn't wanted to pressure him. The prince had stopped by her suite before she went to sleep to check on her. He’d sat beside her on her bed, taking her hands between his and rubbing soothing circles on her skin.

Apollo had looked tired, but he didn't complain once. He was very patient with her. No one had ever looked at Evangeline with such passion before—and she was so sorry she couldn't remember him. She could see it in his beautiful brown eyes that he loved her very much, and yet, he hadn't smothered her with demands or hurried her to remember things, or even tried to do anything. He'd just sat there and talked to her, answering her questions as he could.

Evangeline hadn't wanted to upset him after he'd been through so many challenges.

She looked down at one of her arms. She had also noticed this new scar on the underside of her wrist, although it was a very unusual one. The scar was shaped like a small broken heart, and Evangeline's stomach flipped every time she looked at it.

She wondered once again how she got it.

Evangeline brushed her fingers over the scar, tracing every line of it.

She didn't want to bother Apollo with her questions, but that didn't mean she couldn't find her answers elsewhere.

She could ask other people.

At that precise moment, her maids arrived.

Half a dozen women entered her room, and even though it was still very early, they were already chattering excitedly. They greeted Evangeline by nodding their heads and offering her gentle smiles that warmed up her heart, and she was glad she had decided to call them.

"I hope you don't mind me bothering you so soon," Evangeline said.

"You could never bother us, Your Highness. Don't ever worry about that," Martine responded, winking at her as if they were friends.

At that, Evangeline couldn't help but crack a genuine grin. Even if her life had turned into chaos, she felt lucky she was at least surrounded by kind people.

They soon began to work. While the others were tidying the room by picking up and organizing the boxes, Martine and two other girls helped Evangeline bathe, and then they set off to help her choose a dress from the new ones she had recently received: A long, pale blue gown with a fitted bodice and long, puffed sleeves—its skirts were built up in layers of fabric that shimmered in the morning light. Evangeline liked the combination of the rose gold of her hair and the light blue of her dress.

"So," she started to say "I've been told I didn't get here alone."

No one said anything for a second, so Evangeline went on, "As I understand it, I arrived at the Magnificent North with my stepsister. Marisol, I believe."

One of the maids, Melinda, stopped what she was doing to look at Evangeline with concerned eyes.

"You don't remember her as well, Your Highness?"

Martine glanced briefly at Melinda in a disapproving way. Then, both of them slightly lowered their heads and kept helping her finish putting on the dress. Evangeline cleared her throat.  

"I do. . . I do remember her," she said, and then shook her head. "I mean, I don't remember her, but. . .," Evangeline laughed bitterly, hating the way she sounded confused. "Whoever did this to me was certainly cruel. All of my memories of the Magnificent North are gone, but the ones of before. . . They're tangled and hazy in a way that makes me believe a part of them has been ruined as well. You see, now that I think about it, I do know I had a stepsister, but I can't quite make out her face, or the sound of her voice. I couldn't even remember her name."

The other maids were still looking down, but Melinda risked a glance at her. Evangeline seized the opportunity and asked, "Did any of you see her or talk to her while she was here? Prince Apollo told me no one knows exactly where Marisol is now, and many people suspect she returned to Valenda, but. . . Maybe she had a friend she could trust? Someone who'd actually know?"

Before Melinda could say something, Martine cut in with a sweet yet solid tone, "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but we don't know anything."

Her words sounded like a period, and Evangeline felt her shoulders slump in defeat. By the way Melinda had reacted, it didn't look like she knew nothing. Evangeline tried once again to make conversation with them, intending to see if they knew anything else related to her arrival. And even though they answered politely, it soon became clear to her they weren't planning on giving her any actual answers.

Something similar to despair started curling up around Evangeline's ribs. Minutes passed while her maids brushed and braided a part of her hair, and soon, they were done. Once she was left alone again—now in a very neat suite—she debated what to do.

A part of her just wanted to feel sorry for herself and curl up on the bed, even though she had just finished dressing up. She felt a little overthrown after having her maids dodge all of her questions.

Nonetheless, Evangeline made herself straighten her shoulders and head for the doors. She wouldn't give up that easily. If no one told her a thing, then she herself would go investigate the place where everything had started.

"Your Highness," the guards at her door greeted when she got out.

"Are you going somewhere?" one of them asked. He had deep green eyes and a beautiful brown skin.

She offered them a small smile.

"What are your names?" Evangeline asked.

"Hansel Verita," the green-eyed one said.

"Lennox Ravencross," said the one with the red mustache.

Evangeline nodded slowly. "Well, Hansel and Lennox. I'd appreciate if you took me to the library, please."

The guards looked at each other for a second, as if they didn't think that was a good idea. Despite that, Evangeline did not change her expression, looking at them in an expectant way.

After a moment, even if they didn't seem to agree with it, they bowed their heads slightly.

Evangeline let them lead the way, since she still wasn't familiarized with the interminable corridors of Wolf Hall. She recognized the Valor's wing when they passed by the doors that had those marvelous, elaborate handles. Evangeline tried not to stare at them too much, though—she was afraid that, if she did, she'd her a comment from one of them again.

Soon enough, they were turning into the right hallway, and the enormous doors that led to the library became visible in the distance. Evangeline quickened her pace a little until she was walking alongside the two of them.

"I would like you to wait for me outside," she said in conversational tone.

Lennox immediately frowned, and Hansel shook his head slowly.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but Prince Apollo gave us very specific orders to escort you everywhere, and. . ." Hansel started to say, with a glint of concern in his eyes.

The three of them finally stopped in front of the library's doors. Evangeline turned to them and quickly said, "I know Apollo asked you to take care of me, but I doubt any harm could come my way here. And besides, it will be quick."

They stared at Evangeline nervously.

"Please," she said, pursing her lips. "I promise I'll be back in no time. You won't even notice it."

Hansel and Lennox stared at her for a moment longer. After a second, Hansel sighed, nodding swiftly towards the doors as if he were about to regret his decision.

Evangeline didn't need further encouragement. She turned her back to them and eagerly opened the doors, entering the ancient library. It was almost identical to what it had been the day before: Evangeline was instantly greeted by tall bookshelves full of small and huge tomes. The daylight poured in through the large windows, spilling over her and reflecting on the polished marble floors.

The only difference was that today, at that time of the morning, there was no awed crowd gathered there. That place looked practically empty. She looked around and spotted a young man on the other side of the library, but aside from her, he seemed to be the only one there.

The man was tall and thin, and had a long, blonde hair that fell over his broad shoulders. He was walking toward the doors, and when he noticed her, his blue eyes widened. When he passed by Evangeline, he bowed his head in a respectful way, exiting the library next.

And then, as far as she could see, she was alone.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes and focused her attention on the maze created by the bookshelves. Even though she knew she could easily lose herself there, she believed that she could actually find her way to the place she’d appeared on yesterday—the one with the beautiful angel statues. She just had to concentrate on what she was doing.

Evangeline took a step forward, and the doors behind her were suddenly opened.

"Evangeline?" Apollo said in a very worried way. "Evangeline!"

She looked over her shoulder at the prince as he approached her. Then, she turned to fully face him. Apollo held her shoulders and stared into her eyes, as if he were trying to read them.

"Are you all right?" he said, gripping her a little tighter.

Evangeline forced a smile on her lips.

"I am. I am totally fine. Don't worry."

Apollo looked around and frowned.

"Why are your guards out there? Why are you here alone?"

Evangeline didn't like the flicker of anger she glimpsed in his eyes, and she hurried to say, "Don't be angry at them, Apollo, please. I insisted they stayed outside and waited for me. They were merely following orders."

The prince's frown deepened, and he carefully ran a finger down Evangeline's cheek.

"They had other orders."

"Apollo," she said calmly, touching his arm. She tried to say his name in a way that might sound familiar to him. "This is on me. It's not their fault. If you are going to be angry with anyone, it should be me."

Apollo grinned at her then, softly caressing her cheek again.

"It's funny you think I can actually be angry with you," he said.

Evangeline chuckled. Apollo's grin widened when he heard her laughter.

But then, after a second, the prince grimaced, moving away from her a little and rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

"What's wrong?" Evangeline asked.

Apollo clenched his jaw and slowly shook his head.

"It's nothing, Evangeline. Just a minor headache," The prince said, taking her hand and holding it firmly. "Now, please promise me you won't be walking around here alone."

Evangeline hesitated, looking at him in a helpless way. Apollo sighed.

"I know you don't like to be constantly followed around, but. . . It's not safe for you to wander alone yet. Lord Jacks is still out there, and he is more dangerous than you could imagine," he sighed again, and his lips curled in distaste. "I promise this is temporary, Evangeline. It's just until he gets caught. I swear it will get easier. I just want to protect you."

The prince began to gently pull her towards the exit, and Evangeline felt her hope of finding something out being crushed.

"Don't worry, if you've come here to have a good read, I'll make sure to send a stack of books to your suite. Let's get going now."

Apollo looked at her sideways, and she must not have been hiding her disappointment very well, because his expression fell. It didn't last for long, though, because he was quick to open another smile and tilt his head in her direction.

"I'll tell you something that might cheer you up," the prince said in an amusing tone.

Evangeline made an effort to smile back at him and ask, "And what would that be?"

Apollo pulled her closer as they exited the library. It looked like the prince really enjoyed touching her—he couldn't seem to stop. He cracked such a charming smile that, despite being a little sad, Evangeline couldn't help but blush. She struggled not to look away.

Although it was still hard to believe, Apollo was her husband after all.

"I hope you're ready to have some fun, Evangeline, because in a few days, we are having a ball," he said.

Evangeline raised her eyebrows in surprise. "A ball?" she asked.

Apollo nodded at her as they approached her guards. "A splendid ball," he started to say "to celebrate our return." The prince hesitated, but then he added, "But, mainly, to announce our impending coronations as King and Queen of the Magnificent North."

King.

Queen.

The words rang repeatedly in her head.

She would become queen. She would actually become Apollo's queen, and then they would rule the Magnificent North. 

Together.

She immediately felt a wave of ice run through her body—whether from anticipation, fear, or excitement, she couldn't tell.

Evangeline concluded that it might well be because of all three combined.

Chapter Text

Jacks had been hating to sleep lately, and the night before was a scary preview of his personal hell.

There were many reasons for that, obviously. For a start, he couldn't bring himself to dream peacefully, seeing as he was tormented by terrible nightmares every time he closed his eyes—in fact, the Fate could count on both hands how many times he had actually slept well in the hundreds of years he'd lived.

His past haunted him in ways that felt painfully permanent, and it was hard not to feel caged by the tragic narratives that kept repeating themselves in his life.

The last time Jacks slept undisturbed had been just a couple of days ago, though, back at the Hollow.

With her.

Jacks sighed, closing his eyes tightly and flexing both his hands.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget the feeling of Evangeline in his arms. The Fate was incapable of getting rid of the memory of them falling asleep together, with their limbs tangled and their heartbeats in sync.

Jacks couldn't seem to let Evangeline go. He knew he would eventually have to, but. . . It was so difficult to even stop thinking about her.

I'm yours, she'd admitted that night, ruining his life forever. He couldn't even be mad at her for saying that, since he was the one who had insisted she did.

But the Fate was tempted to. He wanted to be angry at her, to blame her for how he was feeling now. That had been the most melodious yet twisted lie anyone had ever told him, and Jacks wanted to hate her for it.

The Prince of Hearts had a special talent for hurting people and pushing them away, but that fell completely apart when it came to Evangeline. She, with her unwavering optimism and unending stubbornness, managed to make him keep coming back to her.

Every. Single. Time.

Sometimes, Jacks felt as if there was only one possible ending for him—her. Which was ironic considering that, if they kept seeing each other, they would be one another's end.

He told himself repeatedly that he wasn't obsessed, that she wasn't an obsession.

It was hard to believe that, however, when he'd started to constantly dream about her. Or rather, dream that she was there, lying next to him on his cold bed. He would reach out to find nothing, and then remember that she wasn't, in fact, with him.

Not anymore.

Evangeline wasn't his, nor would she ever be.

Jacks just had to find a way to accept it. The sooner he did, the better both of them would be.

Aside from all that, the Fate tried to think of what was more advantageous for him in the place he was now. It was smart to try to rest during the evening so he could freely walk around during the day, and therefore avoid running into any of the vampires.

Since most of them slept during the day, the activity in Castor's underground lair at that moment was practically nonexistent—which was perfect for him. Those creatures really pissed him off, and Jacks was in no mood to run into any of them—or anyone, for that matter.

He just wanted to be left alone.

With a quick glance at the clock, Jacks saw that he still had an hour or so before sunset. As the minutes ticked by, the Fate realized that, if the stream of furious thoughts inside his head didn't kill him, the boredom would. He figured that moment was as good as any to visit the library and pick up some books.

He had no idea what to do with his life after all. Maybe he'd find an answer written in the ancient books and parchments Castor had been collecting for centuries. And even if he didn't, leaving his room and concentrating on something else would still be a welcome distraction.

Jacks left his chambers a minute later, striding through the lair's creepy halls with determined steps. Since there was no one there—as he’d expected—, he easily made his way down to the shadowy passageway that led to Castor's secret library.

Jacks could already see the slashed image of the wolf's head, so he was about ten steps away from reaching the door when he heard something.

Footsteps. Quick, agile footsteps.

He stopped walking immediately, careful not to make any noise—for he knew that he'd probably be heard as well. Holding his breath, he sharpened his hearing and strained to pick up any other sounds.

After a second, Jacks was able to infer that the steps belonged to more than one person, and although he couldn't be sure of how many, he deduced that there were no more than three or four people. It also quickly became clear to him that they were getting closer, and the Fate realized they were headed for the library as well—there was no other reason to use that passage, as far as he knew.

Jacks was expecting Castor to eventually appear, and he knew the vampire wouldn't be alone. But then, it occurred to him that perhaps others also knew about that place.

Maybe the Lord of Spies and Assassins wouldn't even be among the people that were approaching.

Jacks grimaced.

He hoped that was not the case.

For an instant, he wondered how upset Castor would be if he killed some of his vampires—and if that would be reason enough for him to kick the Fate out and be done with his hospitality.

Just as he thought that, he started hearing the hum of conversation:

"I can't believe you're here," one of them said, and Jacks instantly recognized the voice. It belonged to Castor, and he didn't sound the least bit pleased.

Jacks was not quite relieved, but at least he wouldn't have to murder anyone. Tonight.

"What makes you think you're welcome here?" he continued, and the contempt in his tone was sharp and clear.

"Well, uh. . . I thought that, maybe. . ." the person to whom Castor was speaking started to say. The Fate recognized that voice as well, but the words had been spoken in such a hushed way that he failed to place them.

"Maybe what?" Castor asked impatiently.

At that moment, he and the other man suddenly turned into the corridor where Jacks was standing.

The Fate almost laughed with incredulity when he saw them. For a moment, he could not believe his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the wall, looking the pair up and down.

"Who would've thought it?" Jacks said in a low, bored tone. "I didn't expect to see you so soon, vampire boy."

Castor and Luc halted in their steps when they spotted Jacks near the library's entrance. Castor reached up to hold the bridge of his nose, sighing as if he were tired, while Luc's eyes widened.

"Jacks—" the younger vampire started to say, choking on his words. "What. . . What are you. . .?"

"Doing here?" the Fate offered, making a face at him.

"Yes," Castor cut in, glaring at Jacks in an accusatory manner. "What are you doing here? Were you trying to eavesdrop on us or something?"

Jacks deliberately moved away from the wall and approached the two of them, grinning with mischief. "Come on, Chaos. With so many interesting people out there, do you really think I'd snoop on you and this failed excuse for a prince?"

Then, Jacks briefly lowered his eyes to watch Luc's reaction, smiling cruelly at him.

"What happened to you?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Tell me, have you already been kicked off your make-believe throne?"

Luc narrowed his eyes. With a quick glance down, Jacks saw him clench his hands in fists.

His smile grew. He had struck a nerve, apparently.

"I see," the Fate said, turning to Castor next. "It looks like his farce as prince has finally come to an end, and now he wants to take shelter with you again."

Castor heaved a sigh, looking sideways at Jacks as if he were trying to say something just with his eyes. After a moment, he turned his attention to Luc once more.

"Is this what this is about?" Castor asked pragmatically. "You want me to, what, accept you as one of my spies? Give you a roof over your head when the sun rises in the sky?"

Luc ran a hand through his brown hair nervously.

"Yes," he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "I do."

Castor let out a humorless laugh, rubbing one of his temples.

"You can't be serious," he said.

Although Luc was clearly fearful, a flash of anger became suddenly visible in his eyes.

"I don't understand," he said, staring at Jacks and Castor in exasperation. "What have I done to deserve this?"

"You didn't obey my orders, to begin with," the older vampire said scornfully.

"I. . . I wanted to see Eva. I missed her," Luc sighed, sounding a little adrift. "I was worried about her. And I felt sorry for what I had done to her," he admitted, looking away. Then, he stared at the floor. "I regret disobeying your order. I do, but well. . ."

He looked up, "At least I helped you save her!"

Jacks almost flinched when he was struck by the memory of Evangeline being flayed—a result of the Mirror Curse that had been placed on her and Apollo by LaLa. The image of her cut, bloody back appeared on his mind, and it took all his self-control not to shove Luc against the nearest wall.

"No, prince Lucien," the Fate said, feeling suddenly murderous. "You endangered her by going after her. It doesn't surprise me that, once Apollo had kicked you out of the castle, she didn't even try to help you."

Luc's lips trembled as he raised his eyes to look at Jacks.

"Oh, you're one to talk! All you have been doing since Evangeline met you is put her in danger to fulfill your wicked wishes," he spat, getting closer to Jacks and lifting up his chin. He looked so irritated that the Fate could practically see smoke escaping his ears and nostrils. "If somebody here doesn't care about her well-being, it's you."

Jacks clenched his jaw and stared back at Luc with a razor-sharp glare.

"You think she's mad at me?" the vampire went on. "And what about you, huh? Haven't you heard the Crown has put a price on your head? They're blaming you for everything! Apollo is furious at you for all you've done to them, and he is hunting you down now, too."

Luc got closer and whispered, "And Evangeline is letting him. She must hate you more than anyone else right now. And for that, you have no one to blame but yourself."

Jacks's face was stone. In a flash, he grabbed Luc's throat and squeezed it, putting enough pressure for him to immediately start to choke.

"Don't forget yourself, vampire boy. Don't forget who I am," Jacks said, leaning in close to him and making sure he heard every word. "Do you think you've seen me do cruel, awful things? Because I assure you, I can be so much worse than that," he tightened his grip, and Luc started to struggle desperately. "Talk to me like that again, and I'll make you choke on your own blood."

Jacks kept holding on for a second, watching as Luc's despair increased.

"Jacks," Castor said, gripping his arm tightly and pulling him away from Luc. "Stop!"

Finally, the Fate let go.

Luc instantly started to cough, leaning on his knees and struggling to get air into his lungs. His shoulders moved up and down, and for a second, it looked like he was going to puke. When he finally managed to steady himself enough to look up, he bared his fangs at Jacks, although he didn't dare get closer.

The Fate huffed a laugh, even though something inside him was squirming.

"That's enough!" Castor barked, looking from one to the other. He sounded livid, and Jacks could swear he saw a vein pulsating on his neck. "Luc, go to your old rooms. I'll talk to you later. Do not leave your chambers—if I hear you were roaming around, I'll kick you out immediately. Make sure nobody sees you on your way there."

Then, Castor turned to Jacks, and his irritation became so great that it was almost palpable.

"You. To the library. Now."

Castor didn't wait to see if the Fate was following him; he simply started marching towards the library. Luc looked angrily at Jacks one last time before doing as the older vampire had said. After a second, he turned on his heels and left.

Jacks stood still for a moment. A part of him wanted nothing more than to go after Luc and punch him in the face, and then force him to answer dozens of questions. The truth was that the Fate was desperate to have anything from Evangeline—even if it were news that she hated him now and wanted him dead. Not knowing what was going on with her was driving him deranged, and Luc, having been in the palace more recently, seemed to know more than he did.

Jacks also wanted to know exactly what Apollo was planning for him. He had to know what was awaiting him when he finally decided to go out.

He looked at Castor's back as he walked. No part of Jacks wanted to follow him into the library. Castor was mad, and given the circumstances, he was more stressed out than normal. Luc's arrival did not help at all. The Fate knew that Castor was probably already suspecting his decision to stay for so long, and he wasn't sure he was capable of offering all the answers the vampire would demand—he couldn't even do it for himself.

The Prince of Hearts took a deep breath, rolling his jaw. Even though he’d been a Fate for hundreds of years, it was still hard to deal with his heightened emotions sometimes—especially now, considering that they seemed even more intense than usual.

Despite that, he wasn't out of control to the point of not being able to see reason: he didn't want to go with Castor, but he was sure that it'd be worse if he didn't.

Therefore, Jacks at last started to move. As he walked, he realized that there were some scratches on his left wrist. He finally realized that Luc had done that while thrashing to get free; he'd been so concentrated on what he was doing that he hadn't even noticed it. Jacks didn't pay any mind to them, though—he knew they'd heal soon.

Once he was inside the library, Castor slammed the doors shut.

"No one else is here," he said when he saw Jacks look around the place.

"You have your own study. Why bring that boy to talk here?" Jacks replied in a disinterested tone.

Castor hesitated for a split second before saying, "My study is not presentable right now."

His answer made an extremely unsettling sensation take place on the Fate's chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but Castor didn't let him:

"No more questions, Jacks—I'm the one who will ask you things now," the vampire said, crossing his arms over his chest. He then frowned and said, "Why did you come here?"

The Prince of Hearts rolled his eyes and went to sit at a round table where some old journals were stacked. Jacks leaned back in his chair, trying to look as comfortable as possible.

"I don't know, Castor. Why do you think someone would go to a library?" he drawled, examining the tapestry carpet underneath his shoes as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

The vampire huffed.

"Why, Jacks?" he asked in a clipped tone.

"Why are you speaking to me as if I were a prisoner? Have you forgotten I have been here many times before?"

Castor shook his head. "You don't even have the key to unlock this place."

Jacks merely shrugged. He didn't say it, but his gesture made it clear enough: that wouldn't have stopped him from getting in the library; if he had to, he would've broken in.

Castor sighed. He didn't just look exhausted—he seemed to be very agitated as well. His eyes kept darting around, as if he had too many thoughts inside his head.

"I don't understand you. Why are you still here?" he said. "After months of looking for them, you finally have all the stones. What's stopping you from using them?"

Jacks looked away. He could feel his heart begin to race, and he hated the fact that Castor could probably hear it.

Even though he knew he had erased that moment from history, Jacks couldn't bring himself to fully forgive Castor for what he’d done to Evangeline the first time they had opened the Valory Arch.

The vampire was one of his oldest friends, and both of them had been through a lot, but the Fate had to admit that, deep down, something had changed. And although he would always care about Castor, the truth was that he no longer trusted him the way he had before.

And he believed he never would again.

At least, he could offer Castor a partial truth.

"Well," Jacks started to say as he got up. "I have to admit that I am intrigued—if not a bit troubled—by your behavior lately."

Castor's frown deepened. "What. . .?"

"Please," the Fate cut in impatiently "let's skip the part of the conversation where you lie and claim that you didn't kill dozens of innocent people since you got rid of the helmet. We both know you can't control your urges. The important question is: have you accepted that fact already?"

Something dangerous flashed in the vampire's eyes. That didn't stop Jacks from getting closer, though.

"Aren't you concerned this will get out of hand?" the Fate asked, holding Castor by the shoulder and studying his face. "I don't think Honora will be pleased when she hears that her dear son is going out every night to slaughter people—even if it is her fault."

Castor broke free from Jacks violently, pushing him away. The Fate felt somewhat pleased to have managed to make him even more angry than he already was.

"Shut up!" the vampire said, loud enough that his voiced echoed among the bookshelves.

Castor narrowed his eyes, giving Jacks a wary look. "Do you actually think you'll convince me that you’re worried about me?"

Then, the vampire let out a contemptuous laugh. Something in his features suddenly changed, as if an idea had just come to his mind.

"You don't want to leave her, do you? You can't," Castor concluded slowly. "Even after everything, you can't bring yourself to leave Evangeline behind."

Jacks's body tensed, but he made himself shrug in a nonchalant way. He turned his face into a mask.

"I'm done with her. She's already fulfilled her purpose."

Castor huffed. "Ah. If only that were true."

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them as they looked at each other. None of them dared look away.

"Well, I don't feel like reading anything anymore," the Fate said sarcastically at last, redirecting the conversation to a safer place. "The sun is almost down anyway, and I'd hate to get in the way of your killing schedule."

The Lord of Spies and Assassins rolled his eyes, but his discomfort became apparent to Jacks. And even though that should've felt like a small victory, all the Fate could feel now was a crushing sense of defeat.

"Not that you'll actually listen, but I advise you to start trying to take it easy. These deaths could end up being more inconvenient than you think," Jacks said in a bored yet careful tone.

Then, he headed for the door. Just as he was about to get out, Castor started to say:

"Not that you'll listen," Jacks stopped at the threshold, but didn't turn around. "But I would go to Wolf Hall to get the stones if I were you. Staying here could end up being more inconvenient than you think."

Castor said it in warning tone, as if he were sure that, if Jacks stayed in the Magnificent North, he'd end up doing something he'd forever regret.

"You'll never forgive yourself if you hurt her. And the longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to leave. You know how our emotions work," he heard Castor say slowly. Then, he sighed. "She's better off without you, Jacks."

After that, Jacks left without another word. The Fate still intended to go after Luc to find out everything he knew about Evangeline's current condition.

As he swiftly walked back to his room, thousands of thoughts ran through his head.

Did she wonder why she still remembered him? Had she taken the stones, or left them untouched at the Valory Arch?

If she had done the latter, would Apollo have remembered or cared to take them for himself? Had somebody ever told him what they meant, or was he ignorant of their powers?

What Luc said resounded in his mind like the repetitive melody of a bell.

They're blaming you for everything! Apollo is furious at you for all you've done to them, and he is hunting you down now, too.

And Evangeline is letting him. She must hate you more than anyone else right now. And for that, you have no one to blame but yourself.

If she really did hate him now, that'd be a good thing—even if it hurt just to think about it.

And yet, as Jacks locked himself in his chambers, he realized that what bothered him the most was the notion that, despite everything, Castor was right. Even if he couldn't use the stones to go back in Time anymore, Jacks still had to leave Evangeline—she'd always be in danger as long as he was around. He’d been stalling; he was trying to convince himself he didn't know what to do just so he could stay a little longer.

As if he were expecting to—by accident—run into her at any moment.

As he lay in his cold bed, Jacks pondered about his past—and for the first time, he was terrified at the prospect that he might actually be obsessed with Evangeline.

Chapter Text

Despite not being able to sleep that night, Jacks’s memories were so vivid that at times he could almost convince himself that he was lost somewhere between dreams and nightmares.

That is what he did during those dark, lonely hours—doing his best to ignore the noise that came from outside, he laid down, closed his eyes fiercely, and went over all his memories since he’d left Wolf Hall.

With the clearest precision, Jacks saw Evangeline’s face at the moment he’d turned down her proposal of not using the stones and leaving the castle with her. He saw himself watching her leave—he could distinctly remember the pain he felt from punching the angel statues by the Valory until his knuckles were bloody and the angels’ wings were stained red and gold. Jacks recalled very well how, once he’d finished doing that, he’d realized Castor would show up soon and that he needed to leave.

The Prince of Hearts could still feel the weight of his fear on his shoulders. And no matter how much he tossed and turned on the mattress, the feeling was still there, insistent and intact.

As the corridors on the other side of the doors became quieter and quieter, he felt a growing—albeit still very weak—sense of relief. Once everything was completely silent outside, he let out a heavy sigh and jumped out of bed, ready to spend his time on something that would torture him less. Jacks forced himself to make his bed for the first time since he’d returned to the vampire lair—just to try to make his hands move in a steadier way. Then, he washed his face and changed his clothes.

Four and a half minutes later, the Fate was turning down a long, narrow hallway. There, in the bowels of Castor's subterranean kingdom, reigned the kind of darkness that prevented any vision other than a magical one from working. As the shadows grew thicker, embracing his tall silhouette like a big soft cloak, Jacks looked around quickly, making sure he was alone, before stopping in front of a polished wooden door. Jacks was pretty sure he was in the right place, and he couldn’t really afford to be wrong.

For three seconds, he just stared at the old-looking doorknob, briefly considering turning around and giving up on what he was about to do. Deep down, however, he knew he wouldn't.

Jacks knocked on the door twice and tilted his head slightly forward. He didn't hear anything right away; and there hadn't been much time for that anyway. He had not been feeling very patient lately, nor would he start to now. In an instant, Jacks gripped the door handle tightly and forced his way into the room.

“Oh, gods!” Luc shouted, rolling over and falling off his bed with an ugly thud. That must have hurt, and the vampire’s muffled grunt only confirmed that suspicion.

The Fate got in and closed the door. With his brows furrowed, he watched as Luc wriggled and struggled to get off the floor. When he finally stood up, looking all sleepy and crumpled and worried, Jacks snorted, crossing his arms:

“And just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic.”

Luc set his jaw, watching Jacks cautiously. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before—which looked like they needed to be changed soon—and there were dark circles under his eyes. Although he certainly looked confused, his nervousness and anger were clear in the way his body instantly tensed, as if he were preparing himself to do something risky.

At first, though, Luc just gave a step back.

“Are you insane?”

Jacks narrowed his eyes. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

Luc thinned his lips and gave another step back. His eyes quickly darted to the door.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded to know.

“I bet you know that, too, vampire boy,” the Fate said scornfully.

He knew that his words probably made Luc think of the threats Jacks had thrown at him the day before. And although the Fate was saying that mostly to amuse himself by scaring him, it was also beneficial to remind the vampire of what would happen if he didn't cooperate. Jacks hoped that the memory of his hands around Luc’s throat would make him pause before trying to do anything.

Luc’s brown eyes jumped to the door again.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jacks warned in a low voice. “If you make any attempt to escape, I will kill you.”

The vampire frowned, looking startled and outraged in equal measure.

“You won’t kill me,” he said, although he didn’t sound so sure about that. “Chaos said that he’d come talk to me. That means he expects me to be alive.”

For now. The words hung in the air. There was no point in saying them aloud. Just by Luc’s rigid expression, the Fate knew he’d heard them inside his head.

Jacks cracked a small, dismissive smile.

“Chaos doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you know it. If I killed you, he’d probably thank me,” he said, raking his eyes over Luc as if pondering the various terrible things he could do to him. “Now, if you want to live enough to actually see him again, you’ll give me some answers.”

Luc swallowed hard, which made Jacks’s smile widen briefly. The Fate knew that, with everything Castor was dealing with at the moment, his words probably carried more truth than Luc would ever like to admit. In any case, the mention of Castor reminded Jacks that he might appear there at any moment, which meant the Fate had to make good use of his time.

His smile vanished then.

“Tell me everything you know about Evangeline’s current situation,” he said imperiously.

Luc stared at the dust-covered floor, huffing a bitter laugh.

“So, what I said really stuck in your head,” he said with a faint mocking tone. His eyes slowly rose to meet Jacks's. “I can't decide if you're asking me this because you’ve grown to care about her, in whatever way, or because you want to know if she's available to be used by you once again. It’s probably the latter, isn’t it?”

Jacks didn’t move, didn’t blink. He forced himself to take a deep breath through his nostrils.

“My motives are none of your concern. Just tell me what you know,” he insisted with a voice like ice.

Luc heaved a sigh, and for a moment, he looked completely worn out. Defeated, even.

But then, a glimmer of determination lit up in his eyes.

“I won’t,” he admitted, still staring at Jacks. His voice contained a certainty that the Fate didn't know Luc possessed. Jacks started to move at the same instant the vampire continued, “I won't tell you anything unless you assure me that you won't use the information to harm her.”

The Prince of Hearts stopped before him, looking down at him warily.

“I failed Evangeline many times; I’m well aware of that. But I won’t do it again, even if it means you’ll beat me to death,” he pursed his lips, as if ready to face whatever the Fate's answer to his statement might be.

Jacks stood there for a moment, looking into Luc’s eyes and silently deciding how to proceed from there. Luc stared back at him, and although his breathing turned slightly ragged and his hands were clenched in tight fists, his obstinate gaze did not waver.

The Fate sighed internally. Even if Luc were an idiot that had put Evangeline through a lot, Jacks had to concede that his concern wasn’t entirely unfounded—in fact, as the vampire himself had made quite clear, he had many valid reasons to be suspicious of the Fate’s intentions. As much as he would never admit it, a small part of him felt satisfied that Luc finally seemed to care about Evangeline enough to risk himself for her.

Jacks was no hero, no savior. He neither wanted nor cared to try to be one; at least not for anyone other than Evangeline—and she was, therefore, the only one who knew that this side of him existed. But for everyone else, he oscillated between a dangerous Fate and a scoundrel, selfish villain, and he knew that to Luc it was not different. Jacks wouldn't entertain any hopes of telling him his true intentions in order to convince him: firstly, because Luc wouldn't believe that he really only wanted what was best for Evangeline; and secondly, because, to Jacks, Luc’s opinion of him had no importance whatsoever.

The only thing that actually mattered was getting the answers he needed, and the Fate could think of only one way to make Luc spit out what he knew about her. And so, he embraced all the villainy thrust upon him and smiled down at the vampire sharply.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear: my matters with Evangeline are already finished. If I wanted to hurt her, I would’ve already done that,” Jacks drawled, furrowing his brows. “Not that it matters to you, but since you are so concerned, I’ll tell you this: it's not to my advantage that something happens to her now. That would have the potential to destroy everything I've achieved with her. . . help.”

Luc didn’t say anything for a moment. He just frowned at the Fate.

Jacks rolled his eyes.

“So, now that I've assured you that I won't use any information to harm pretty, sweet Evangeline,” he said impatiently, holding Luc tightly by the shoulder “start talking.”

Luc jerked under the Fate's touch, but he was smart enough not to try to pull away. Jacks knew that, because he was a vampire, Luc could sense his magic; and therefore, sense how dangerous it was. Vampires were smug, arrogant demons who liked to not only kill but also subjugate other creatures. They could, nevertheless, recognize a threat when it came their way. That's why, despite his instincts urging him to fight back or react, Luc remained in control. This was a fight that, deep down, he knew he wouldn't win—yesterday's conflict was a prime example of that.

He did not try to hide his grimace, though.

Taking a deep breath, Luc finally said, “I must start by telling you that I don’t know much. I fled Wolf Hall with the help of some maids who were still fond of me. But since Apollo's return obviously caused a stir, I didn't have much time to hear all the details. What the maids hurriedly told me as they helped me escape the estate was that Apollo would certainly come after me. Since, you know, I had taken up his throne.”

Jacks took a step back, releasing him.

“They also told me that he was already after you. That arresting you for your crimes against the royal family was his first decree upon his return,” Luc continued, looking away. “In fact, the maids told me that to convince me I’d have the same fate as you if I didn’t run away immediately.”

Jacks’s expression was closed, but he could feel something crawling underneath his skin.

“And what about Evangeline?” he inquired.

Luc’s frown deepened when he looked back at Jacks. The Prince of Hearts felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he knew he wouldn’t like the vampire’s next words before he even heard them.

“That’s what has been nagging at me. I couldn’t really understand what the maids were saying about her,” Luc shook his head. “You see, they weren't present when Apollo and Evangeline appeared together in the royal library. They were telling me the news they had just received. But I don't think even they understood it right.”

Luc sighed.

“They told me Evangeline is. . . forgetful. I think that’s what they said. Or confused, perhaps,” he shrugged, gazing at Jacks with a bemused expression. “The maids said something about her not feeling all right, but I can’t quite bring myself to fully understand what that means. I was in a hurry, and they were more worried about my situation, not hers.”

“Their words were too vague for me to take anything meaningful from them. And I have to be honest—a part of me thinks that this is just another rumor that the nobles created at an opportune moment to further damage Eva's already ruined reputation,” Luc concluded, casting an accusatory glance at Jacks, as if to make it clear that this was his fault.

Once again, Luc's train of thought was making sense. Indeed, it was quite possible that the nobles around Apollo—who had despised Evangeline for a long time now—would do this kind of thing to see her fall apart. Even more so at a time as unstable as this.

However, Jacks's heart sank when he thought that perhaps she actually looked unwell, but that it had to do with him. Maybe, she wasn’t forgetful or confused.

Maybe she was just heartbroken. And it was all his fault, really. It was even worse to think that people were trying to take advantage of a probable sadness he had caused her.

Despite feeling like something sharp and cold was piercing his lungs, Jacks forced himself to nod.

“After that, I spent a while wandering around Valorfell, but soon I realized that I needed a. . . safer place to. . . spend my days,” Luc cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the memory of how he had been received by Castor yesterday. “That’s when I decided to come here.”

Jacks made a face, already moving away.

“See, vampire boy?” he said in a bored tone, trying to sound calm and unbothered. “Wasn’t that hard, was it now?”

Luc stared at him angrily. Jacks did not care.

He didn’t feel like staying there anymore, and now he’d gotten what he wanted. Was he particularly satisfied with the knowledge he had acquired? Of course not. The only thing that conversation did was increase Jacks's already unbridled desire to see Evangeline. The only thing he felt was despair at the thought of the word obsession.

He felt terribly trapped. 

The Prince of Hearts turned on his heels, trying to control the impulse to punch the wall the same way he had punched the Valory’s angel statues; the pain of the blows was too fleeting for such an unending sensation.

“Thanks for breaking the door,” Luc called after him sourly.

“Any time,” said Jacks, without even turning to look at him.

He heard the vampire huff. “You’re putting me at risk by doing that.”

Jacks let out a humorless laugh. Even if he felt somewhat pleased that Luc was willing to suffer to ensure Evangeline’s safety, he still didn’t like him. In fact, the Fate hated him; just as much as he hated Apollo. Jacks couldn't bear the acidic stab of envy he felt every time he remembered the two of them had done the one thing Jacks wanted most in the world—the thing he could never do.

 “Then the visit was really worth it,” he said, disappearing through the broken door.

Chapter Text

Two days after her failed excursion to the library, Evangeline received Yrell in her suite to her first meeting that week.

Evangeline did not know what to expect, and true, she did feel a fair amount of nervousness, but she had to admit: she’d been a bit bored. Aside from fearing her impending coronation, trying and failing miserably to recognize anything of the environment she was in, and reading a few pages of the books Apollo had sent her, the princess had absolutely nothing to do. So even though she hadn’t particularly appreciated her first consultation with Dr. Stillgrass, Evangeline had eventually started looking forward to that appointment.

Maybe this will be different, she thought—or eagerly hoped, perhaps, to be more accurate. After all, Yrell would come alone. Despite being one of the old physician's apprentices, she could still be gentler and conduct the next few hours in a different way than he had.

“Good morning,” Evangeline greeted from a velvet cushioned chair by the window, striving to sound at least a little cheerful. “Please, come in.”

Yrell nodded before quickly closing the door and stepping closer to where she was seated.

“Good morning, Your Highness. I hope you’re feeling better today,” said the apprentice quietly.

Evangeline did her best not to flinch. She imagined Yrell might just be saying that to be polite, but she couldn't help but think about her mental state on the day they’d met. Evangeline's despair remained practically the same since it all began; if it hadn't only grown. However, in retrospect, Evangeline presumed she'd seemed much more shaken before—now, at least, she was managing to keep her distress and insecurities beneath the surface.

Or she hoped she was.

Evangeline nodded and said, “I am.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Yrell was wearing a dark green tunic that matched her big, serene eyes. In her arms were some books and a medium-sized brown suitcase.

She pointed to a chair opposite Evangeline.

“May I sit here?” she asked.

“Of course.”

After the apprentice had accommodated herself, she placed the books on a small round table between them, sliding them towards Evangeline.

“As I was coming in, your guards asked me to deliver them to you,” Yrell explained, proceeding to place the suitcase on her lap and open it up. Then, she looked at the princess, and a serious expression took over her features. “Now, Your Highness, do you have any questions before we begin?”

Evangeline crossed her arms and leaned back slightly in her chair. She glanced briefly at the colorfully covered books before directing her gaze upward. Apollo had actually been as good as his word when he said he would send her books; and it was perfectly clear that, although the prince didn't want her wandering around the property, he did not want her to be completely unoccupied, either

“Dr. Stillgrass said we would do exercises,” she started to say carefully. “That was a bit vague, though. What exactly are we going to do?”

A corner of Yrell’s mouth quirked up, and Evangeline tried to interpret it as a good sign.

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, we are not doing anything scary or painful,” the apprentice calmly explained. “In fact, we're going to start lightly today, with a simple kind of game.”

That caught the princess’ attention. “A game?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Yrell nodded.

“The first thing we must do is exercise your mind—and get it used to it. Honestly, it is really good that you're reading,” she said, taking a dark leather sack, a piece of parchment, and a pen out of her suitcase and placing them on the table. “It might even sound a bit silly, but I can assure you this game is a good start. It will hopefully help us solve your. . . issue, Your Highness.”

As she moved the books closer to the edge of the table, trying to free up some space, Evangeline smiled without showing her teeth.

“Hopefully,” she repeated in a low voice.

The two of them spent the next hour playing a word game that made use of wooden blocks with meticulously carved letters—that's what had been inside the leather sack. Evangeline learned the dynamics of the game quickly, and she was happy to realize that she'd been right: that meeting, led by Yrell, had been much more enjoyable than the one with the doctor. She put her worries aside for a while and concentrated on the game. For the first time since waking up in that mess, the princess was actually having a good time.

Every now and then, the apprentice would take out her pen and spend a few quick seconds jotting something down on the small piece of parchment—which Evangeline assumed was her performance during the game. After four—optimistically successful—matches, Yrell judged that the princess had done enough for the day.

Once they were finished, Evangeline walked the apprentice to the door.

"Thank you for your time. You did very well today, Your Highness," Yrell commented, her hand on the doorknob. "Telma will come in two days for your next meeting."

Evangeline nodded. “Thank you for your help, Yrell. It is very appreciated,” she said.

Something flashed in Yrell’s green eyes, but it was too fast for the princess to try to decipher it. Without another word, the apprentice nodded and left.

“All right,” Evangeline said quietly to herself. She  liked the invigorating feeling of making progress. Honestly, a part of her had believed that those meetings wouldn't make the slightest difference in her life, and she was grateful to have been proved wrong.

The princess looked around, her gaze lingering on the new books Apollo had sent her. Yrell said that the fact that she was reading was a good thing—and that only made Evangeline's desire to read grow stronger. She wanted to do everything in her power to ensure that she would make advancements in the future.

Evangeline sat back down on the velvet cushioned chair and began leafing through the books, analyzing which one caught her eye the most. When she opened the third one, she was surprised as a neatly folded piece of paper fell into her lap.

She furrowed her brows and picked it up. Unfolding it, Evangeline came across an exaggeratedly careful handwriting:

Your Highness,  

It truly troubles me to think that all this is happening to you and your lord husband, Prince Apollo. I am sorry for the loss of your memories. If you’d ever like to talk and perhaps answer some questions, I might be able to fill in a few blanks for you. It would be my pleasure to help you connect with the Evangeline Fox you once were.

Sincerely,

– Kristof Knightlinger

Southern Morningwatch Tower,

The Spires

Evangeline’s heart started pounding immediately. She reread the short text over and over again, and the words fill in a few blanks for you made her stomach churn violently each time.

*  *  *

“Could you do me a favor?” Evangeline asked twenty minutes later, leaning over and poking her head out of the doors.

The three guards—two men and a woman—who were patrolling the entrance to her rooms turned to her with obedient expressions.

“But of course, Your Highness,” said the woman, with a seriousness that reverberated deep in Evangeline's bones.

The princess' heart was still racing, and her blood was coursing through her veins at a speed that indicated that what she was about to do was the beginning of a very, very risky idea.

Even so, that didn't stop her from continuing and asking, “Could one of you please go down to the library and bring me some books on the structure and significance of Wolf Hall?”

At first, the guards merely blinked at her, and one of the men even frowned slightly, looking confused. She knew that the question might sound odd to them, since Apollo had just sent her a set of books. Evangeline was aware that the best way to do what she intended was to not arouse anyone's suspicions. Therefore, she improved her posture and took a step out, approaching them.

Forcing a smile that she hoped looked shy, she said, “I know it's dangerous to be walking around the castle at a time like this, and I'm not going to make my situation worse by putting myself at risk,” she paused to look at them tentatively. Her performance had to be minimally decent to be convincing. “But at the same time, it's very hard for me to stand still. I really want to help Prince Apollo, since he's going through such a difficult moment, and I think the only way to do that is to be a good enough princess.”

What Evangeline was saying was true enough, even if her ultimate intention was to achieve something else. With a sense of pride, she watched the guards' expressions turn compassionate.

“To do this, I think one of the first things I should do is become aware of the place where I live. I know that Wolf Hall is a historic place and I want to know in depth about its importance to the people of the Magnificent North," Evangeline sighed. "Since I can't tour the place myself, it would be great to at least have books that describe it, with words and maybe even illustrations."

When the guards looked back at her with pity, Evangeline was happy to conclude that she had done an excellent job. The woman took a step forward and tilted her head down, resting her hands upon her sheathed sword.

“I'll do it, Your Highness. I'll bring you the best books I can find,” she said earnestly.

Evangeline nodded and her small smile widened a little.

“Thank you very much,” the princess replied.

Once the guard had left to do as she’d asked and she was back inside the room, Evangeline let out a slow, heavy sigh. She stood still for a moment, staring at the window on the other side of the room, her back pressed against the door. She kept expecting to feel guilt or fear, but it never happened.

For some reason, the only thing Evangeline could feel, at least at this particular moment, was excitement. An amount of excitement that she knew was dangerous, but which, for whatever reason, did not scare her.

*  *  *

That night, Apollo stopped by her rooms to see her before he went to sleep, as he usually did. The prince was making a point of visiting Evangeline almost every night, and it was already becoming a habit. In all those days, he had failed to visit her only once, and even then, he had made it clear that the reason for this was his hectic schedule.

Even so, the princess was surprised by his arrival that night.

When he entered the room, Evangeline looked up and ran her agitated eyes over him quickly. She was sitting on her bed, with a huge, heavy book open on her lap. A few feet away, on the table where she had played the word game with Yrell, there was a disorganized pile of books—which had been brought by her guard about six or seven hours ago. Evangeline had spent almost the entire day reading as many of them as she could, and by now, her head was already starting to ache.

As Apollo started to get closer, blinking tired eyes at her, she instantly closed the book she was analyzing and got up to meet him before he could approach her. The princess opened a gentle smile, hoping it would capture his attention and distract him from the mess she'd created behind her.

“Hello. How was your day, Evangeline?” Prince Apollo asked, softly caressing her cheek with his knuckles. He said her name with a fondness Evangeline had come to appreciate. It was getting easier to welcome it without feeling a stiff strangeness, at least.

Her smile widened a little.

“It was a good day,” she answered sincerely.

Apollo chuckled and said, “I am glad to hear it.” Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. His eyes softened as he stared intently at her face. “I missed you all day long.”

Even though Apollo was still certainly handsome, he was visibly exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pale and somewhat haggard in appearance. His posture, which was usually perfect, was a little slouchier, and his shoulders were slightly bent. Despite all that, he smiled at her.

“So, tell me,” he said, stepping forward as if intending to go to the bed in the center of the room. That wasn’t unusual, since they normally sat there to talk. “What did you do while I was gone working?”

Evangeline felt a sudden wave of despair, but she tried to mask it as best as she could. She didn't want him to notice the other books she'd acquired. Instead of saying something she’d definitely regret, the princess held both his hands firmly, which made Apollo immediately stop walking. He looked down at her with a flash of surprise in his eyes, and Evangeline knew why—he was the one who usually touched her. And even if she always accepted that form of affection, she was often hesitant when it came to reciprocating in the same way.

Prince Apollo never pressured her. He never demanded anything from her: not once did he insist that they spend more time together, or that she show the kind of love that should exist between married people. He always respected her limits and let her control the speed at which their relationship should develop.

Apollo was a good man. In spite of being someone who had lost everything, he was still waiting patiently for her. And perhaps that notion was the reason why Evangeline finally felt a pang of guilt.

Suddenly, the hope on his face was too overwhelming. Evangeline gripped his hands harder, trying to keep on her smile.

“In the morning, I played a word game with Yrell,” she told him. When Apollo furrowed his brows, she promptly explained, “She is one of Dr. Stillgrass’ apprentices. And then, well. . . I spent the rest of the day reading.”

Luckly, the prince did not seem to pay special attention to the last part.

“Really?” he asked in an amusing tone. “You two played a game?”  

Evangeline nodded.

“Do you think you can teach me? We could do this tonight, instead of, you know, just talking. It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” he said.

“I'm afraid I don't have the game with me. Yrell was the one who brought it, and she took it with her when she left,” Evangeline said quietly. She approached him tentatively and looked into his eyes, frowning. “And, to be honest, I’m not so sure you should stay here much longer.”

Apollo’s smile instantly faded. “You want me to go?” he asked, and a pain that closely resembled rejection became evident in the profound tone of his voice.

Evangeline’s frown deepened and she quickly tried to explain, “That’s not what I mean. Please, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that. . . you look very tired, Apollo.”

The prince let out a loose laugh that seemed to indicate relief. “Don’t worry about that, Evangeline. I'm feeling fine right now. Being with you always makes me feel better.”

Her cheeks turned slightly pink and she smiled shyly. Even so, Evangeline squeezed his hands and shook her head.

“Don’t say that. You are my husband. If you care so much for me, it is only fair that I can also worry about you,” she said.

Apollo's eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment, and he blinked, as if trying to get his bearings. Then, he looked away and snorted, even though a slight—and almost imperceptible—smile had settled on his lips.

“I am really glad you care about me, Evangeline,” he said in a low voice, returning his gaze to her face. “I am tired,” he admitted, “but I wanted to spend some time with you, because…”

Evangeline searched his face. “Because?” she prompted.

Apollo sighed. “I'm leaving Valorfell tomorrow, and I'm not sure I'll make it back in time to see you. Maybe I won't make it back until the morning of the next day,” he said, sighing once more. “I have to take care of some important matters. It can't wait.”

It seemed that whatever these “important matters” were, they were making him tense. He looked visibly uncomfortable talking about it. Evangeline decided not to press the issue, at least not yet. Instead, she chose to proceed in a way that would benefit them both.

“I hope you succeed in whatever you do tomorrow,” she started to say carefully. “And I’m happy you want to spend time with me, I really am. But please understand that it's much more important to me that you rest before making your journey. I don't think it's a good idea for you to waste hours here, when you could be sleeping,” she took a deep breath. “I'd feel terrible if anything happened to you.”

Apollo hesitated, looking into her eyes as if he were trying to read them. Then, he nodded in resignation.

“You are right,” he conceded.

“After all,” Evangeline continued, “we will see each other soon. Time will pass so quickly that you won't even notice it. And I’ll be right here, safely waiting for your return.”

“Yes. I know you will,” the prince agreed, opening a somewhat rigid smile.

Evangeline walked him to the doors. As soon as he put his hand on the doorknob, she impulsively stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

“Good night, Apollo. I hope you have a safe trip tomorrow,” she said, retreating slowly. Her heart was hammering inside her chest, and for a moment, she was afraid he’d hear it.

Apollo looked back at Evangeline as if she were the most esteemed jewel he owned. His eyes were sparkling once again, and he nodded, this time with an unwavering certainty.

“Good night, Evangeline,” he answered, opening the doors. “I will be back soon.”

*  *  *

Tower bells rang in the sixteenth hour right as Evangeline stepped outside the castle. The sky was velvet gray and full of swirling clouds that promised heavy rain and told her to move quickly down the cobbled paths lined in hedges with pops of bright purple flowers.

There were four major gardens on the Wolf Hall grounds—the Sunken Garden, the Water Garden, the Flower Garden, and the Ancient Garden. Tucked away within each of these gardens were the four minor gardens—the Fairy Garden, the Moss Garden, the Secret Garden, and the Wishing Garden.

Her guards had accompanied her to the beginning of the cobbled paths that led to the labyrinth of those gardens. They’d seemed hesitant and wary of letting her go alone, but for the first time, Evangeline had seized her authority to get them to obey her—after all, with Apollo away, she was the highest figure on the estate. The princess had not quite enjoyed the experience, but she knew it had been necessary. She hadn't been rude, but she had been firm.

Evangeline wasn't going to get lost there anyway. After all, she'd spent the whole previous day and a good part of the night studying Wolf Hall through old, detailed books. At this point, she felt like she knew its grounds as well as the lines that ran across her palms. Although the grassy ground and the surrounding hedges were covered in an increasingly thick gray mist, Evangeline forced herself to stay calm and consult her mental map frequently. She'd rather take her time than end up going the wrong way and, in the end, it all worked out. She soon reached the Flower Garden.

The splendor that suddenly surrounded her was astonishing. The flowers that dotted the bushes and covered the grounds were colorful spots that added an unexpected wave of warmth to that cold place. It was all so extremely beautiful that it was nearly overwhelming, and Evangeline felt dizzy for a moment. All that loveliness could become a distraction, which in turn could easily become a trap. She needed to focus.

In the distance, she saw the bridge to the walled Wishing Garden. Evangeline wasted no time and crossed it, trying not to look down. The fog dissipated at the end of the bridge, revealing a rounded door speckled with age. The princess had the impression it had once been a brilliant bronze, but that its color had faded over time, like a memory that would one day disappear altogether.

For a moment, she feared it would be locked. Then, with a forceful push, the door made a rusty noise and swung open, and she stepped inside.

Unlike everything else on the royal grounds, this square of space was wild with rebellious flowers and drunken vines that curled around the garden’s abundant trees and dangled from their branches like ribbons at a party. The path was entirely covered in bluish-green moss that stretched before her as if it were a carpet, leading to a little well that somehow remained untouched by all the overgrown plants.

It was white with an arch of stones that held a length of rope and a dangling golden bucket. Beside it, Evangeline was surprised to spot a man sitting at a round, silver table. She held her breath and looked at him silently for an instant.

Kristof Knightlinger.

He was already there.

Evangeline had woken up early that day, even if she hadn't slept much. Apollo had left at dawn, and she'd waited until he was gone to put her plan into action. As soon as she'd finished dressing up, the princess had arranged for someone to send a letter to the Spires, in the hopes that the journalist would receive it and meet her at Wolf Hall. It didn't take long for Kristof Knightlinger to send his reply, confirming their meeting that afternoon.

The knowledge she'd acquired about the castle was useful not only for getting around, but also for choosing the most appropriate place for the two of them to talk. Evangeline soon concluded that the best alternative would be to meet him outside the castle, somewhere far enough away that no one would bother them—hence, the Wishing Garden.

As soon as he saw her, the journalist stood up. He made no move to approach her; he just stood by the table, opening a smile that was somewhere between receptive and eager.

“Your Highness,” he greeted in an amused voice. “How great it is to see you again.”

Again.

That single word made her realize that he knew her, even if she had no idea who he was. It was an obvious conclusion, yet it was not. She was starting to get accustomed to the people that interacted with her in the castle, but the strange man’s words were a reminder of that uncomfortable sensation. Everybody knew who she was, but she knew no one. It felt very odd to be recognized in a place where she had no real roots. It made her feel horribly vulnerable.   

“Hello, Mr. Knightlinger,” said Evangeline, finally walking up to him. “I am glad to see you as well.”

Up close, Evangeline could have a better look at him. He was dressed in a long brown leather tunic worn atop fitted black pants and belted with two straps of leather that secured a series of knives and vials to one hip and a harness for a book to the other. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he swayed his body slightly—it seemed almost an unconscious movement—as if he couldn't contain his agitation.

The journalist quickly went around the table to pull out a chair for Evangeline to sit on. She accepted the gesture and settled down at the table.

“So,” he said as he returned to his seat. “I hope these last few days have been at least a bit easier for you.”

The princess briefly pondered how he'd managed to sneak that message into the castle and get it to her. It was a question she considered asking, but ultimately dismissed.

Instead, Evangeline nodded and said, “They have been.”

“I hope His Highness is doing better as well,” he said, taking a small book out of his harness. “Rumor has it that prince Apollo has been very occupied. The latest events have certainly demanded a lot of his attention.”

Kristof Knightlinger looked like the type of man who not only knew all the rumors, but who also created many of them himself. The way he had spoken about recent events made Evangeline uncertain, as if there were a much greater depth to everything around her—something she wasn't able to see. But beyond that, something about the way he was squinting at Evangeline made her believe he was. . . skeptical.

“You won’t mind me writing down a few notes during our conversation, will you, Your Highness?”

Evangeline smiled and studied him back for a moment as he opened his book and took a quill out of it.

“Not at all,” she said gently, trying to sound welcoming. “As long as you don’t mind me checking your notes afterwards.”

The journalist’s smile grew as he roamed his eyes over her face. “Naturally,” he said, nodding. “So, how do you think we should start this?”

Evangeline cleared her throat. “Well, in your missive you said something about. . .” the princess trailed off, even if she remembered every single word written in that letter by now. “Helping me get some perspective on my past?”

“Oh,” the journalist chuckled, his quill ready to jot something down on the blank pages. “Then you must have specific questions,” he concluded.

Yes, but also no. Evangeline had asked herself so many questions during those days, of course. But there were so many of them running through her that it was almost as if there weren't any. She had no idea how to start.

Evangeline pursed her lips. She didn't want to leave room for him to start asking questions—he certainly had several, and the truth was that she probably wasn't in the mood to answer any of them.

He did, however, seem like the kind of person who liked to guess things, and perhaps she could transform that into a course of action.

She smiled in a humorous way. “I certainly do. But tell me, what do you think I’d like to know first?”

Kristof Knightlinger moved his mouth to the side, looking away as if he were considering the question.

“If I were you, Your Highness,” he started saying slowly, “the first thing I’d want to know, for sure, is how I would get my memories back.”

Evangeline narrowed her eyes. “I am still asking myself that. But I imagine you don’t have any answers for that particular question,” she said neutrally.

He agreed, “I do not.” Then, he started drumming his fingers on the edge of the table, as if guessing were indeed an interesting game. “I presume my next question would be ‘who did this to me’.”

“Right,” Evangeline said, joining her hands over her lap under the table. She tried to keep her posture upright, although she was beginning to feel a little frustrated. “I already know that, though. It was, um. . . Lord Jacks who stole my memories.”

Something flashed in his eyes at the mention of that name—or, possibly, at the uncertainty with which she had pronounced it. The hint in his gaze looked a lot like malice, but the journalist followed up her answer before she was even able to react:

“Then, Your Highness,” he said quietly, and, for an instant, the world around them seemed to shrink to almost nothing. “I would ask myself ‘why would he even do that’.”

Something inside Evangeline twitched, as if the journalist's phrase had woken up something she didn’t know existed. For some reason, that question made her extremely uncomfortable, and yet, his words attracted her in an inexplicable way, as if they were a tempting action that she knew she would deeply regret later.

“He is a terrible, cruel person, who simply wants to destroy Apollo and me. I think that is reason enough,” she said, but even as the words left her lips, Evangeline could sense the wrongness in them. The vagueness they conveyed.

Kristof started writing something down, and his smile was somewhat sharp.

Too sharp.

Too eager.

Too unsettling.

He shook his head and did not look at her when he said, “I beg to differ, princess.”

If before he had sounded skeptical, now his words seemed certain, as if he had no doubt that he was right. Evangeline frowned as her stomach started churning. She didn't like the direction the conversation was taking, but she couldn't force herself to back down, either.

“What exactly do you mean, Mr. Knightlinger?” she inquired.

He looked up and locked his eyes on hers, stopping writing for a moment. He seemed to be considering something again. His hesitation made her even more nervous.

“I would appreciate it if you could offer your complete honesty right now,” she said, striving to keep her voice from trembling. “I am your princess and, after all, my words are a command.”

When he laughed, she had the feeling that she'd been caught in a terrible trap, as if that were exactly what he wanted her to say.

“Very well,” he agreed, tilting his head forward. “Since you are commanding me, Your Highness, I won’t keep my thoughts to myself.” He squinted at her once again, and for the first time since she had arrived at the Wishing Garden, his expression turned serious. “If I may say so, this is a rather intriguing situation. Imagining that your current state is Lord Jacks's fault is quite interesting, given that you've spent the last few months on the run with him.”

On the run with him.

“What?” Evangeline asked, furrowing her brows. “What do you mean ‘On the run with him?’”

Evangeline looked away, and her heart started beating so hard that she could almost feel it in her throat. Initially, the journalist remained silent, as if giving her space to understand the information he had just given her.

Evangeline heaved a sigh, breathing rapidly.

“I knew him?” she finally managed to say, looking at him intently. “I knew Lord Jacks?”

Kristof pursed his lips. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said hesitantly. “You did know him.”

Evangeline shook her head slowly. She looked briefly at the white well beside them.

“All right. I. . . I may have known him, but. . . But even so, you must be mistaken,” she said, with a confidence she couldn't really feel. “Why would I be on the run with him? It doesn't make sense. He. . . he probably kidnapped me.”

The journalist put the book aside for a second and sighed.

“I'm going to say this because you asked me to be honest, princess, and I hope you don't take what I'm about to say the wrong way, but... Well, it didn't look like a kidnapping. At the time Prince Apollo was. . . well, dead,” he said the word as if it were something he couldn't quite believe in, “you two seemed very close.” He sighed again and said, “Especially since he seemed to be one of the few people you had contact with at the time.”

It was almost as if she had been hit in the stomach; breathing was getting harder and harder.

“Of course, I don’t believe him to be a good person,” the journalist added quickly, looking at her with pity in his eyes. “Lord Jacks always gave me a strange impression; he's always seemed deceitful to me. And of course I believe him to be guilty of stealing your memories away, I just. . . wonder about the reason behind that.” Kristof shook his head, deep in thought.

For a second that seemed to stretch on forever, Evangeline had no words. She could only think. She could only feel.

On the run with him.

Well, it didn't look like a kidnapping.

You two seemed very close.

Especially since he seemed to be one of the few people you had contact with at the time.

At that exact moment, the door to the Wishing Garden was flung wide open, and Apollo's voice echoed through the hedges and stone walls that surrounded them:

“What is going on here?”

Chapter Text

As soon as Apollo spotted Evangeline in the center of the Wishing Garden, sitting at a table with none other than Kristof Knightlinger, his head began to throb.

He’d arrived at Wolf Hall about fifteen minutes before, and as soon as his feet touched the grounds of the estate, he’d been approached by guards he instantly recognized as those he had selected to protect his wife—only, she wasn’t among them. They walked up to the prince with anxious, nervous expressions, seeming to have something important to tell him. And so, he immediately knew that something was very, very wrong.

That day had been, Apollo believed, the most difficult of all since he’d returned to the position of Crown Prince. The problems had actually started the afternoon before, when Havelock, the most trusted member of his personal group of guards, had come to him with alarming news. Apparently, half a dozen bodies had been discovered in an area close to Valorfell’s cemetery, near the outskirts of the city, in states of decomposition that indicated the deaths had been going on for at least the last four days.

At first—whether due to stress or some kind of trepidation—, the prince had regarded the news with a certain amount of skepticism. It wasn't that he doubted Havelock; quite the opposite, actually, since the knight was probably the person he trusted most at the moment. What happened was that Apollo felt uncertain in the face of news as alarming as those—even more so considering the scenario he was currently in. Apollo couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps this was just a dirty trick from one of his opponents to destabilize him.

In any case, doubts or not, he was well aware of his duties and had therefore left Wolf Hall that morning to investigate the situation.

The victims had been found inside houses in a less populated area, where the number of constructions was scarcer. Apollo's stomach had dropped the moment he came across the first one. It was the body of a middle-aged man, pale and covered in dry, foul-smelling blood. His throat had been completely torn out, and his eyes, now opaque, were frozen in an agonized expression of fear. Lying on the floor like that, lifeless and empty, he’d looked like a doll that had lost all its stuffing.

The other bodies were in practically identical conditions to the first one, and with each new victim Apollo's stomach tightened into an ever-tighter knot. He quickly came to the conclusion that it had taken so much time for them to be found because they’d been left inside the houses. And it was only then, when the smell of rotting, decaying flesh began to infiltrate the air near the cemetery, attracting curious, worried neighbors—who had already noticed that some people were missing—that the bodies had finally been found.

It looked like animal attacks, but at the same time, it didn’t. The way the victims’ throats had been ripped open seemed animalistic enough, but the setting in which the corpses had been found seemed to contradict this theory. Apollo presumed a wild animal would’ve caused at least some kind of chaos in the houses and, were it not for the bodies lying on the floor and the dry blood accumulated around them, everything seemed to be in a perfectly normal state: the furniture was in place, nothing was broken, there was no sign of theft and, most impressively of all, all the doors were closed.

The only thing that seemed remotely wrong in all the houses was the fact that there was an open window in all of them, and that struck Apollo as impossibly odd. No animal would have carefully opened a window and sneaked inside like that, so calculatedly, which could only mean one thing: that hadn't been the work of one. And the conclusion this led the prince to was not a good one.

Apollo did his best to deal with the situation as efficiently as possible. He’d convinced the people who’d discovered the corpses that he had everything under control and asked them not to spread any rumors about what had happened—saying that he didn't want other people to worry for no reason, to avoid unnecessary fuss. The truth was that he couldn't deal with a scandal of this magnitude at the moment, not when dozens of people were currently traveling to Valorfell to attend the ball he had organized. That event was too important, and Apollo wouldn't let anything ruin it.

Unfortunately, he had a terrible feeling that more deaths would happen soon, which meant he’d have to urgently return to this matter later. That was fine, Apollo thought. He just needed this ball to happen, and then he would deal with all his problems. If more deaths did occur, only then would he make them public. Apollo prayed that this would not be the case, however.

After making sure those people had been placated, he had his guards start cleaning up that mess and burying the bodies. Apollo did not want to stay to witness them doing it, so he decided to return to Wolf Hall at once. It was the only place he could think undisturbed, anyway, and the trip had made him feel indisposed.

Apollo had tried to cheer himself up a little with the idea that he could at least pay Evangeline a visit as soon as he got there and surprise her. The night before, the prince had told her that he was leaving Valorfell the next day and that he might not be back until the following morning. He’d said that to basically everyone who wasn't part of his personal group of guards, since he had no idea how much the situation would demand of him—after all, it would be the first time he'd have to deal with something like this. And seeing as he hadn't known what to expect, Apollo had preferred to guarantee himself some extra time; which, in the end, he hadn't even needed to use.

The idea of surprising Evangeline with his early return had been a comfort he’d taken during the journey home. Although everything seemed to be fraying around him, like an old fortress about to collapse, the night before had filled the prince's heart with hope towards his wife. Ever since Evangeline had lost her memories, she’d always seemed insecure and distant, even if she were nice and receptive, but yesterday's visit had seemed to change that. For the first time, Evangeline had reciprocated his affection for her—albeit on a smaller scale—and had become concerned for him.

He'd had the feeling of making a breakthrough in the thing that mattered most to him at the moment. And that encouraged him to remain firm on everything else.

To see Evangeline in that situation, in the company of the Magnificent North's most successful gossip columnist, felt painfully like a betrayal. After all, she’d organized that meeting without Apollo's consent—or knowledge—, in a place where she made herself totally vulnerable without any guards present (even after agreeing not to wander around alone), telling who knows what to the Kristof Knightlinger.

It felt like there was a knife lodged between his shoulder blades when he prompted, “So?” his eyes ran quickly between Evangeline and Kristof, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes just yet. “What is this?”

Apollo took a step forward at the same instant Evangeline got up from her seat. She turned around slowly to face him, seeing as she’d had her back to him until then, and the look on her face made him pause.

Oh, no.

Evangeline's hands were clenched into fists at her sides. Her shoulders were tense, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, and her breath seemed to come shakily from her slightly parted lips. When she rested her gaze on his face, Apollo could see the glimmer of the same betrayal he felt shining in the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes.

He swallowed hard, searching her face. The gray of Evangeline's irises seemed to be burning, and Apollo could distinguish not only pain and sadness, but also a flash of anger there.

“Well, it is great to finally see you, Your Highness,” said the journalist, catching Apollo's eye and snapping him out of his brief trance.

The quill and book that the prince had seen the moment he'd entered the Wishing Garden were now stored in a harness at his hip, and the journalist stood up, going around the table to get a bit closer to where Apollo was standing.

“I came to the castle to see if I could speak to you, Your Highness, but you weren't here,” Kristof continued. “And. . . well, Princess Evangeline was kind enough to bring me here to talk so that my trip wouldn't be for nothing,” he said, laughing as if it were all just a silly situation.

Evangeline remained quiet. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes, now free of tears, left his face to stare intently at the grass covering the ground. Apollo forced himself to ignore her for a moment and focus on the journalist, even if he were desperate to talk to her and find out what had left her so shaken.

Although, deep down, he had felt like he already knew.

Apollo wanted to squeeze Kristof Knightlinger's neck until his head exploded. Instead, he said, “Is that so?”

Kristof wiped a nonexistent dust from his shoulders and nodded. “It is.”

Apollo breathed in slowly.

“And what did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Knightlinger?”

The journalist frowned. “Well, Your Highness, I haven't really had a chance to talk to you since your return to life. . . and the throne. I've been trying to arrange a time for us to talk, but you have been quite busy lately. . . which is understandable, of course,” he paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “And besides, I've heard rumors that a ball for the aristocracy is coming up. I figured that this, in addition to your miraculous resurrection, deserved a place in the pages of The Daily Rumor.”

Apollo stood still for a second, and then sighed. He still hated the idea of Evangeline talking to that scheming man alone and was sure that his words were the reason she seemed upset, but his speech made sense. The prince should have been smarter and visited the journalist before something like this happened.

It was only then, when the silence was so heavy that it seemed to press down on them, that Evangeline finally moved. Apollo’s attention immediately switched to her as she started walking towards him, and his body became more tense with each step she took in his direction. When Evangeline at last stood before him, she couldn't—or simply wouldn't—look him in the eye, and Apollo felt a sharp twinge pierce the back of his skull.

He grimaced, partly because of the pain and partly because of the closed expression taking over Evangeline's face.

“I am not feeling very well. I’ll go to my room now to try to get some rest,” she said, in a startlingly icy tone for someone so warm. “I. . . will see you later.”

The way Evangeline said later seemed to indicate that she wanted nothing more than to be away from him for quite a while, and Apollo's heart seemed to sink inside his chest. The prince had to muster all his strength to stop himself from moving touching her.

“Evangeline. . .” he started to say, and then stopped, realizing that this was neither the place nor the time to talk to her. Apollo set his jaw and nodded stiffly, accepting the situation between them as it was for now. “Your guards are waiting for you at the bridge.”

A cold breeze rushed through the garden, rattling the vines that hung from tree branches and blowing a few strands of Evangeline’s rose gold hair away from her face, but she didn't even shiver. She just pressed her lips together and nodded her head firmly.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Knightlinger,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “I hope we meet again.”

“Likewise, Your Highness,” the journalist answered her, bowing his head slightly down in respect.

At his words, Evangeline gathered up the skirts of her violet dress and started walking towards the door that would lead her out of the Wishing Garden. Without thinking, out of sheer despair, Apollo reached out and grabbed her arm, making her turn around to face him before she could leave him behind.

“Evangeline,” he whispered, almost pleadingly.

“Please don’t,” Evangeline said, so quietly that he knew her words were meant for only him to hear. Her eyes finally met his, and he recognized the determination in them. “Not now, Apollo. Please.”

Her seriousness made Apollo gradually release her, pulling his hand away and keeping it close to his body. As his stomach churned, he watched Evangeline turn away. As soon as she’d left the Wishing Garden, thunder cracked high in the sky, and he feared it was some kind of magical or divine warning.

Apollo wasted no time before turning around—his patience now completely worn out—and moving until he was facing Kristof Knightlinger.

“What did you say to her?” he bluntly demanded to know.

Kristof blinked a few times and said, “Your Highness, I. . .”

“Don't try to wind me up, Mr. Knightlinger,” Apollo abruptly cut him off, narrowing his eyes. “It won't end well.”

The journalist took a step back, shrugging his shoulders in a tense way. His eyes roamed the prince’s face as he shook his head, looking confused.

“She wanted to know about the loss of her memories,” Kristof said in a too-innocent tone.

Apollo wouldn’t have any of it.

“And?” he insisted, his voice sharp and on point.

“And. . .” the journalist trailed off, as though he didn’t know how to answer the question. Then, he sighed. “Well, as I said, we didn't get to talk much before you got here. And I don't really have the answers she wants to that particular question. I only know what the princess already knows: who's to blame for all this. Apart from that, I am as clueless as she is.”

I very much doubt that, Apollo thought angrily, frowning at the man.

“My wife wouldn't have acted that way if you hadn't said anything to displease her,” the prince said resolutely, the words coming out more slowly now. Apollo took a deep breath through his nostrils and continued, “What did you say to Evangeline, Mr. Knightlinger?”

The journalist held his confused expression for a few more seconds before looking away and pressing his lips together, as if giving up. The brief moment he spent in silence seemed to indicate that he was gathering the courage to answer the question truthfully, and that made Apollo's heart beat harder between his ribs. When Kristof finally faced the prince again, he looked terribly uncomfortable.

Apollo fiercely hoped that his worst assumptions would be wrong, which in the end proved to be in vain.

“I. . . told her that she knew Lord Jacks. . . before all this happened.”

This time, the stab that struck Apollo's head was so strong that he could very well have staggered to the side.

The prince's expression turned murderous, and he took a dangerous step forward, his hands itching to meet the journalist's chin in a punch.

“You what?” he asked in a menacing voice.

Kristof's eyes widened so much that it almost seemed possible that they would pop out. He took a quick step back, raising his hands defensively.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, please. . . I-I. . . didn’t know that Princess Evangeline wasn’t aware she knew Lord Jacks, I. . .” Kristof stammered as Apollo's scowl intensified. “I didn't mean to. . .”

Apollo took another step forward, which caused the journalist to step back as well.

“Who do you think you are to do something like that?” the prince asked, stopping himself—with an effort—from shouting. He could feel his face heating up. “My wife's recovery concerns only me and the physicians who are treating her, and therefore, no external help is required. What you did may have caused serious damage to her progress.” Apollo's lips twitched slightly. “She is in no condition to receive shocking news at the moment, and your actions today have put her at risk.”

The journalist backed away until his legs hit the white well behind him. He shook his head frantically when he realized he was cornered.

"I would never have said anything if I’d known about. . ."

"Well, but you did," Apollo interrupted, taking the final step to stand before Kristof. "Not only did you tell Evangeline something she was not yet prepared to know, but you also agreed to talk to her in a place where she is exposed, without any guards present, while the criminal responsible for her condition is still at large.”

Kristof Knightlinger nervously shook his head, looking desperate for a way to escape; and there was none.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he implored, clasping his hands together as though he were praying. “I deeply regret what I did.”

Apollo shook his head reproachfully.

“For a long time, I’ve allowed you to roam around limitlessly for the sake of your much-esteemed newspaper,” he said, running a hand over his chin. “Now I realize the extent of my mistake.” Apollo stared into the journalist's eyes and raised his other hand with the palm turned up. “Give me your notes.”

Kristof immediately moved to obey and quickly removed the small notebook from his harness.

“Let me repair my mistake, Your Highness,” the journalist said as he handed the object to the prince. “Let me serve you to the best of my ability.”

Apollo studied his face for a moment, measuring the honesty in his words. He could feel the anger inside him curl up and turn into perversity as he cracked a wicked smile at Kristof.

“And how exactly do you intend to do that?” he asked, tucking the book under his arm to examine it—and most likely destroy it—later.

The journalist stared at the prince, as if the question gave him hope.

“Tell me what you need, and I'll do it for you,” Kristof assured him.

Apollo gave himself two seconds to make up his mind. Although he was certainly still angry at the journalist, he had to recognize that the influence that man possessed was something very valuable, something Apollo could use to help him navigate this chaotic time. The prince just needed to have the power to control him.

Apollo studied him once more. Then, he squinted his eyes and pointed his finger at the journalist's face.

“You will announce the upcoming ball in a grand manner, emphasizing the stability it will represent for my reign,” he said in a dictatorial way.

Kristof nodded eagerly, as if he were more than happy to accept that form of forgiveness.

“And,” Apollo continued “from now on, all the articles you write will have to be approved by me before being published.” The smile that Kristof had forced onto his lips faltered for a moment, but he was quick to disguise his displeasure. Either way, Apollo did not particularly care what he thought as long as he complied with the prince’s orders. “I even have a few topics in mind that I want you to publish about, so I'll be in touch with you soon.”

The journalist agreed, “Of course, Your Highness.”

"And lastly,” the prince announced “I want you to come to me with any news that you deem urgent or extremely important," Apollo tilted his head slightly. "Are we clear?" he asked in a calm, threatening voice.

Kristof nodded, putting on a serious expression, and said, "We are."

Apollo shook his head approvingly, holding the journalist firmly by the shoulder.

"Good," he said. "You already know the way out of here."

Without another word, Apollo left Kristof Knightlinger behind, not wanting to be in his presence for another second. The first heavy drop of rain fell just as the prince stepped out of the Wishing Garden, wetting the back of his neck and making his skin crawl.

Chapter Text

Evangeline felt like the sense of betrayal would end up eating her alive.

She sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. Days had already gone by since her meeting with Kristof Knightlinger, and still she couldn’t feel any better. Apart from going over every new information she’d learned, she hadn’t done much. Evangeline refused to let anyone other than her maids and the physician’s apprentices into her suite, and now, more than ever, she was determinedly trying to recover her memories. When she wasn’t doing that, the princess spent the whole time lying on her bed, sulking. There was nothing else for her to do anyway, seeing as her days stretched on a never-ending emptiness she couldn’t seem to fill. 

Apollo had tried to see her—many times—but Evangeline hadn’t yet given him a chance to explain himself. She was too disappointed in him to even look at his face and kept dismissing his presence, even though she knew they would have to talk eventually.

The prince hadn’t lie to her, no, but sometimes Evangeline considered what Apollo had done to be even worse. By omitting the fact that she knew Lord Jacks—in a personal way, if the columnist’s words could be fully trusted—before the loss of her memories, he’d allowed her to start developing a fragile sensation of stability. Despite not feeling completely accustomed to the environment she was in, she’d begun to try to adapt; and for a moment, Evangeline actually felt less like a foreigner.

Apollo, who was the person to smile at her and try to help her out when she was lost, the man she supposedly loved so much she’d married him, had teared that apart. It was as if he were encouraging her to solve a complicated puzzle without all the pieces—a pointless, exhaustive, impossible task. And so, Evangeline was still trying to find a way to soothe her nerves enough so that she could face him and get the answers she deserved.

There were times when she didn’t want to believe what was happening, didn’t want to acknowledge that information as true. After all, she’d obtained it from a man who could well have deceived her; Evangeline didn’t know him, and after just one conversation, she could easily tell that Kristof was the kind of person who enjoyed watching the unfolding of overly dramatic narratives. Apollo’s reaction, however… that she couldn’t forget or misinterpret. The desperation that took over his features left no room for any doubts: Mr. Knightlinger might’ve manipulated the information in his favor, but there was truth in it nonetheless.

Evangeline knew Jacks.

She knew him.

In what way, she couldn’t be sure, but that fact alone terrified her. And it wasn’t just because that man was the probable culprit for her present condition, or because Apollo trembled with barely restrained rage every time his name was mentioned in a conversation. It was something else entirely.

Evangeline wouldn’t admit that aloud, but every time she thought about the relationship between the two of them, her heart beat wildly in her chest—and she knew it had to do with more than just fear. Maybe it was... guilt? Sick remorse? Perhaps Evangeline had actually been naïve enough to make a deal with Jacks?

But why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

In all those days, Evangeline asked herself a thousand questions, and a thousand times she felt frustrated. No matter how much she changed her perspective or from what angle she looked at what she knew, she couldn't come to any new conclusions—not with a mind as broken and flawed as hers, at least. In the end, Evangeline knew there was only one way for her to end her misery.

It was only a matter of when she would accept it.

*  *  *

A sudden knock came from the other side of the doors. Evangeline had fallen asleep as the afternoon went on, and she opened her eyes and sat up to look around, startled. She turned her head toward the window for a second, only to realize that everything outside was already covered in absolute darkness.

“Evangeline,” Apollo said from outside the doors, his voice pleading and hoarse. “I can’t take it anymore. We need to talk. Please.”

Evangeline didn’t answer at first. Her heart was beating fast as she tried to catch her breath, still shaken by the scare. With her lips pursed, she silently waited for him to become discouraged and give up at last, but that did not happen. Since he kept knocking frantically as the minutes passed, Evangeline finally got up and started looking for her robes.

“Just let me in, Evangeline,” he said, loud enough that she worried people might hear him from other parts of Wolf Hall. “I need to talk to you. Let me in!”

Evangeline bit the inside of her cheek, staring at the doors.

She didn’t want to see him, and he had respected her wishes until then. The times he tried to see her, he’d asked politely if he could come in, but not once did he stand behind the door begging, demanding to see her. Her silence had been enough of an answer before, but that’d clearly changed.

For five seconds, Evangeline stood frozen beside her bed, trying to think properly. By the way Apollo was acting, she could tell he wasn’t planning on giving up—and, to be quite honest, she was getting alarmed, frightened even, by his behavior.

Evangeline looked around, as if something in the room might help her figure out what to do. She thought again of the answers she so desperately wanted. At this point, her curiosity and concern had grown bigger than the resentment she felt toward Apollo. And maybe this was the right time to finally face him, although it didn’t really feel like she was making a choice; she was under the impression Apollo would end up forcing his way in if she didn’t budge, and the only thing left for her to do was to be complacent.   

With her heart still pounding, Evangeline slowly walked to the doors. Her hands shook as she reached for the golden handles, and she forced herself to take a deep breath through her nostrils.

As soon as Evangeline saw him, she felt her stomach churn violently.  

“Finally,” Apollo said the moment his eyes met hers, sighing. His face lit up, as if he couldn’t believe she actually opened the doors for him. “Evangeline…” he said, looking her up and down. It was almost as if she were an ethereal creature he’d never imagined seeing again.

Evangeline said nothing, and soon Apollo trailed off. For a second, the two of them remained silent. Behind him, she could see her guards, who were staring at their feet, looking uncomfortable. Evangeline wondered if this was due to an order from Apollo or if it had been a natural reaction to his nervous breakdown; both possibilities deeply bothered her.

Evangeline swallowed hard. She regretted her decision immediately, but there was nothing she could do now. She didn’t want to keep staring at him, so she turned around and moved toward the center of the room. She heard him close the doors behind her. Then, he took a few steps forward, but she could tell there was still some distance between them—at least he was sensible enough to respect her space, even though that didn’t make her feel much better.

Apollo took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“It’s been some time,” he said quietly, which seemed a bit odd since he’d spent the last few minutes yelling at her to let him see her. “And I know you are mad at me, rightfully so, but…”

“Mad?” Evangeline cut him off, her tone dry. Or at least she hoped it was dry, although she knew he could probably hear the hurt in her voice. “You think I’m mad, Apollo?”

He didn’t answer her right away, and she huffed, turning to face him.

“’Mad’ is not the word to describe how I am feeling right now,” she said, shaking her head. “In fact, I don’t think it can be described with one single word.”

He nodded and said, “I know that, and I am sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“How could you do this to me?” she asked, frowning. “How could you hide the fact that I knew Jacks personally?”

Apollo stood still, his gaze on the floor. His breathing turned ragged.

“If you truly love me the way you claim you do, you’ll tell me the truth,” she said, lifting her chin. “I deserve to know it.”

Evangeline tried to sound confident, but deep down she feared he would refuse to be honest with her. She crossed her arms and waited, looking at him expectingly.

At last, Apollo looked at her.

“I do love you,” he said, exhaling through his mouth. Then, he went to sit on the edge of her bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “You see, when you arrived here, Evangeline, Jacks and I were… friends, so to speak. He, just like you, came from the Meridian Empire, and it didn’t take long for him to become notable among the aristocrats around me. Jacks may be cruel and cunning, but he does have a way with words; he can be very persuasive. Before I knew it, he’d already become a person of trust.”

Apollo paused, shaking his head in contempt.

“When you and I got married, Jacks was still around, and soon he found a way to destroy us. I had no idea what he was capable of back then. Through vicious curses, he tried to kill me, and then pinned all the blame on you,” he let out a bitter laugh. “Even though I was still alive, he made everyone believe I was dead. And with my brother out of the way and you framed for Jacks’s crimes, there was nothing standing between him and my crown. Our crown.”

Evangeline furrowed her brow, her arms still crossed.

“Mr. Knightlinger said I was on the run with him, and that it did not look like a kidnapping,” she said, skeptical.

Apollo pursed his lips and huffed, and she saw a glimpse of irritation in his eyes.

“You were kidnapped, Evangeline. Despite intense gossip and people's relentless efforts to tarnish your image, you were indeed kidnapped by him.”

“But why would he do that?” Evangeline insisted, exasperated. “Why kidnap me if he had already framed me?”  

Apollo shrugged.

“Jacks was clever, but he couldn't predict that someone else would take my place before he could do so—the Lucien I mentioned to you. With this obstacle in his way, he began to look for another way to get to the throne. I believe that kidnapping you was his way of preventing you from trying to prove your innocence in the meantime.”

Evangeline looked away, thinking and replaying his words in her head, trying to decide if she believed him. After a few seconds, she looked at him again.

“Are you being honest with me?” she asked.

Apollo got up and stared intently at her.

“I swear on my life that I am, Evangeline,” he said, his voice deep and slightly choked. His pale skin, slightly disheveled hair, and dark circles under his eyes made it clear how worried and desperate he was to talk to her again.

Evangeline sighed. His words sounded plausible enough, but she had to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything out.

“Are you omitting any other information?”

“No. I’ve told you everything.”

Apollo hesitated before stepping closer. Despite her urge to retreat, Evangeline forced herself to remain still.

“I know I did wrong, but you have to believe me when I say I was trying to protect you, Evangeline. You were doing so well these last few days, and I’ll never forget how terrified you were when I found you at the library,” his voice was definitely shaking now. She could swear she saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, such was his distress. “I didn’t want to burden you with such heavy news. I know I had no right to keep that from you, but I never meant to hurt you. I love you, Evangeline. I need you to forgive me. Please.”

Apollo got even closer, and Evangeline let him.

“The ball I’ve been planning will take place tomorrow, and I can't wait to show my wife to the world, the way it should have been, without curses or crimes or schemes between us.”

Evangeline widened her eyes. She must’ve lost track of time; she had no idea the ball would be the next day, and no one had even bothered to tell her. That explained Apollo's urgency to talk to her, though.

She swallowed hard, feeling her stomach churn once more.

Apollo tried reaching for her hand, but she withdrew it before he could. He curled his lips, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Will you attend it with me?” he asked.

Evangeline felt like saying ‘no’ could actually make him faint—or do something even worse than what he’d done before she let him in the room.

“Do you promise not to do anything like this ever again?” Evangeline said, her voice stern.

He extended his hand for her to take it and said, “I do.”

She hesitated. Apollo held his breath in anticipation.

“Then,” she started to say slowly, placing her hand on top of his, “I will be attending the ball tomorrow by your side.”

Apollo sighed in relief, gently squeezing her hand. He smiled brightly at her.

And even though she offered him a grin, deep down, Evangeline knew she would never trust him the way she did before.