Time stopped, or maybe it was just Evangeline’s heart. Apollo was awake. Fully awake. This must have been what Havelock was trying to tell her.
Evangeline felt an impossible burst of hope.
When she looked in the prince’s eyes, they were no longer red. Unlike the last time she’d seen him, Apollo appeared fully in control of himself.
Beside her, Jacks went nightmare stiff, and she couldn’t help but smile. With Apollo awake, all of Jacks’s leverage over her was gone. She didn’t need to open the Valory Arch. The horror was over. At least Evangeline wanted to believe it was.
Apollo’s stillness as he sat atop his horse was entirely unreadable. He wasn’t riding away from her, but he wasn’t moving toward her. And suddenly, Evangeline thought of another memory—one she’d have loved to bury forever. Right after Jacks’s love spell had been lifted, before Jacks’s poison had taken effect, Apollo had been furious and devastated, and he likely hadn’t forgiven her yet.
Little Fox, Jacks thought. I think we should leave.
Not yet, she thought back. But you can go.
Jacks gritted his teeth. Then she heard his voice in her head again, softer this time, as if he were trying to use his powers to coerce her. This is a terrible idea. A dangerous idea. You need to leave the garden now.
Evangeline shut him out. She was determined to hope for the best—maybe Apollo hadn’t forgiven her for the love spell, but the fact that he was here made her think that perhaps he wanted to. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”
Apollo took a deep breath, exhaling a small cloud of white. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”
Three words had never felt so powerful. She took a tentative step closer.
“Don’t!” he said harshly.
Evangeline’s heart fell.
Apollo raked a hand through his dark hair. “I’m sorry. I—I really don’t want to hurt you. I just—” He paused, and through a shaft of moonlight, she could see pain distort his expression. It was raw and wounded and like nothing she’d ever seen on his face before.
This was not the same prince she had married. That prince had a charmed existence. He’d been protected by guards, sought after by subjects, and more than a little in love with himself. When they’d first met, she would have described him as gallant, and picture-perfect. But now Apollo had a past: a love spell had upended his world, another curse had almost taken his life. He’d somehow fought against the second curse and triumphed, but from the look on his face, it still haunted him.
Apollo took a deep breath, looking torn as he said, “I don’t know how much time I have, but I want you to know, I heard you. Every day that you came into my chamber—I heard your voice through all the fog asking me to try.”
His horse trotted one step closer.
Evangeline felt another flicker of hope. It was then she realized that Apollo looked the same as he had on the night he’d proposed. He’d also been on a horse at first, and he’d been dressed much as he was now, a little rugged, save for the elegant golden arrows strapped to his back. He’d been the Archer that night, she’d been his Fox—from The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox, her favorite childhood tale—and she dared to wonder if that was the case again. If he was making another grand gesture, an attempt at starting over.
“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” she asked.
“I want to,” Apollo said, but his words were oddly tight.
Little Fox, Jacks growled in her head, but she didn’t hear what followed over the sound of Apollo’s voice cutting him off.
“I wish we could try again—but I think you should go.”
“What?”
“Leave, Evangeline.” A flash of pain crossed Apollo’s face, hollowing his cheeks and scoring lines across his forehead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“What’s wrong?” She took a step closer.
“Stop!” he roared. “You need to go.” The prince pulled a golden arrow from the quiver at his back. Moonlight glanced off the tip as he held it in his fist.
Evangeline stilled. “What are you doing?”
“Little Fox—get inside!” Jacks roughly shoved her behind him.
Apollo’s eyes turned red, the same lurid shade as when he’d grabbed her wrist.
And then Jacks was yelling, “Run!”
Evangeline still didn’t understand what was happening, but she picked up her skirts and started to sprint, only she wasn’t quick enough.
An arrow whooshed through the air and struck her thigh. She screamed and stumbled as the bolt tore through her flesh. It hurt like a demon, turning everything else dull except for the pain as she tried to make it back to the safety of the castle.
Blood quickly soaked her skirts as she staggered forward.
Another arrow flew by, this one going wide, missing her arm and piercing a flower bush instead. Yet she felt a terrible burn in her shoulder as if she had been shot.
Evangeline didn’t know how she reached the door back to Wolf Hall. Blood dripped from a deep gash in her shoulder, down her arm to her palm. It was wet and sticky, and it left a smear of red as she turned the handle and staggered into the warmth of the hall.
Spots of light danced before her eyes. Her vision blurred as she looked down at the golden arrow protruding from a bloody tear in her skirts.
She didn’t see another arrow in her shoulder, but the wound hurt just as badly. And there was so much blood, soaking through the white bodice of her dress.
Her thoughts started to splinter, jumping between panic and pain and confusion as she fell onto a wooden bench and bled all over its carefully embroidered cushion. It was cream with dots of little red flowers, only now her blood was turning them into bigger, darker blooms.
She needed to get help.
She tried to shove up from the bench.
The leg that had been struck by the arrow buckled, and she collapsed back down as more and more blood poured forth.
Help. The word came out so softly she wasn’t sure she said it out loud. Perhaps it was only in her head. Around her, the castle was turning hazy. Her eyelids were heavy, and now she was seeing more blinking bits of light around the murky edges of her vision.
She closed her eyes, just for a moment. Just to rest for a second.
“Evangeline—”
It sounded like Jacks’s voice. But he’d said her name, not Little Fox. Jacks never said her name. Then he was murmuring something else. Two more words she’d never heard.
“I’m sorry,” he said, just before it all truly went dark.
