Evangeline’s head began to clear as soon as Jacks left her alone in the shadowy hall. She remembered the letter she’d written, warning herself not to trust him. She remembered all the things he’d done. Then she remembered Apollo.
Evangeline closed her eyes. Her legs were still shaking from Jacks’s hands, and now her stomach was twisting with guilt as well. What happened in the hallway couldn’t happen again.
The Archer’s curse had upended everything with Apollo. It was difficult to keep hoping for a future with someone who was trying to kill her. But even if there was no Apollo, Jacks would have never been an option.
Jacks wasn’t what she wanted. Evangeline wanted to give love and be loved and feel love at just the sight of someone. She wanted butterflies and kisses. She wanted it so much that sometimes she thought her heart would burst from it. And sometimes she made mistakes, like tonight when she’d let Jacks touch her. But she would not let him touch her again.
She needed to find the youth stone soon, but didn’t want to return to the dinner. She would have preferred to dance barefoot in the snow than sit back down at the table next to Petra Youngblood.
Evangeline hoped the dinner was lively enough that no one would notice as she crept back out of the portrait door. The dining hall was certainly louder than when she had left. Booming voices mingled with slightly drunken laughs and glasses sloppily clinking together.
“Miss Fox—” Her name was followed with a tap on the shoulder by an object that felt like a feather.
Evangeline turned.
Kristof Knightlinger of The Daily Rumor stood before her, smiling. As usual, he was dressed in black leather pants and a shirt with a frothy jabot.
Her stomach instantly dropped at the sight of him.
“It’s such a delight to find you here.” He took the feathered pen he’d just rapped against her shoulder and waved it about excitedly. “You look radiant! It’s so good to see you with so much color in your cheeks. Of course, now I have to ask if anyone in particular put that flush there?”
Kristof shot a questioning look toward the portrait door she’d just stepped out of.
“Oh no,” Evangeline said. The only thing that could make this night worse was if Kristof Knightlinger wrote in the papers that she’d been off trysting with Jacks. If Apollo read that news, he might go from being forced to hunt to actually wanting to hunt her. “I was just exploring some of the secret passages. Definitely nothing newsworthy—” She hesitated, fearing that maybe she was taking it a little too far.
She didn’t know Kristof Knightlinger well, though his scandal sheets were generally favorable toward her. Even when she’d been wanted for murder, he’d seemed to doubt her guilt. She didn’t think he was malicious. But he definitely didn’t wait for all the facts before he released a story—he actually seemed to enjoy printing rumors more than facts.
Evangeline couldn’t let him print anything about her. With Apollo currently hunting her, the consequences could be deadly if Kristof wrote in the paper that she was here, even if he didn’t mention Jacks.
She would have loved to flat-out ask him not to refer to her presence at all, but she feared that would only pique his curiosity.
“I didn’t make it that far. I heard some noises that made me think I might have been interrupting others. I’m actually a little embarrassed, so if you could keep this just between us, I would be so grateful.”
“Oh, my dear! Of course, your secret explorations are safe with me.” Kristof brushed the feathered pen across his lips as if to seal them shut. But Evangeline feared that might not be enough.
Evangeline considered telling Jacks about her run-in with Kristof—and that there was a chance he might mention her in his paper. But the last thing she wanted to do was seek Jacks out.
All she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. It had been an impossibly long day, and she was exhausted. Climbing back up to her guest room on the fourth floor felt akin to scaling a mountain.
And yet, after cleaning up, putting on a nightgown, and climbing into bed, Evangeline couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she flashed back to the hallway with Jacks. Her skin went hot, and then she was wide awake.
She wasn’t sure how long it went on, but eventually she gave up on sleep. She lit several candles and went to the trunk where she’d packed a few books, including The Rise and Fall of the Valors.
The last time she’d looked at the volume, the cover had been blank, but tonight it seemed to be coming to life again. She watched the lavender fabric darken until the entire book was the color of damp plums. Seconds later, a new set of metallic words shimmered across the front: The Inglorious History of House Slaughterwood.
Evangeline felt a thrill at the words, but knowing how tricksy this book could be, she tried not to get her hopes up as she returned to her bed and opened the cover.
An ancient piece of newsprint fluttered out.
It looked so old she feared it might crumble in her hands, but the waxy paper was surprisingly sturdy. The print was old-fashioned and difficult to read, but the words at the top were quite familiar.
The Daily Rumor
MONSTER!
By Kilbourne Knightlinger
Here ye, my dear Northerners. There has been another monster attack! Last night, the mighty Lord Bane Slaughterwood had his throat ripped out.
The Valors continue to swear that they did not create any monster. But for ye who haven’t been counting, this be the third violent attack on House Slaughterwood. And all these attacks began after the unfortunate death of our beloved Castor Valor—whom many speculate was killed by Vengeance Slaughterwood during the tragic slaying of House Merrywood.
It could still be coincidence that this monster is now coming after Slaughterwoods. There have been other vicious attacks, which have led many to speculate these monstrous murders are not targeted. But some fear that these attacks are only because the Valors do not have control over the abomination they have created.
The writing turned into gibberish after that, no doubt because of the curse. But thankfully, the original script stayed intact as Evangeline reread.
There was no date on the article, but she imagined this news had taken place after the story that Jacks had told her in the carriage—and it seemed to confirm everything Jacks had said. It mentioned both the tragic slaying of House Merrywood and the death of Castor Valor.
Evangeline tried not to jump to conclusions—this was a scandal sheet, after all—but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the information she’d been looking for. She’d wanted to know why the North had turned on the Valors, and this seemed to explain it. Their son had been killed, and they had created a monster in revenge. The article even used the word abomination.
Could this be the same abomination that many believed was locked up in the Valory?
But that didn’t quite make sense to Evangeline. Everything she’d read about the Valors made it sound as if they were magical and powerful—they would have no need to create a monster for revenge. But perhaps the rumor that they’d created the monster was enough to get people to turn on them.
Evangeline knew firsthand just how powerful rumors could be. And she could easily imagine a family like the Slaughterwoods starting the rumor—especially if Aurora Valor had left Vengeance at the altar for another man.
She looked once more at the book in her lap. It was open to a table of contents that appeared to list names of Slaughterwood family members:
The list went on for several pages.
Evangeline started with Vengeance, hoping to get more answers about the Valors, and compare the book’s account with the story Jacks had told her in the carriage.
Unfortunately, the pages were blank.
She flipped back to the table of contents, and this time, it was Glendora’s name that caught her eye. She hadn’t been in Jacks’s story, but she had been married to Vengeance, and there were large portraits of her throughout the castle, so perhaps Evangeline could learn something.
Glendora’s entry opened with a picture of her in a coffin. Her eyes were closed, and her face was aged with countless wrinkles.
The words Glory in Death were printed beneath the picture and above it a span of years that suggested she’d died at the age of eighty-six. The entry on the following page was a surprisingly opinionated piece of history, and Evangeline wondered if the story curse had given the words a bit of extra flavor.
Evangeline stopped reading and returned to the line about flowers and mirth. Her fingers shook with excitement as she rushed to pull out the page of clues that the previous key had written.
Just as she’d recalled, the flowers had been drawn by the words One for Mirth. She knew it could be just a coincidence— a lot of people planted flowers. But hadn’t LaLa said something about Glendora having a famed winter garden? The passage also described Glendora as generous and good and joyful. Perhaps she was just a kind person—as Robin Slaughterwood seemed to be—or perhaps something magical had made Glendora that way.
Evangeline took another look at Glendora’s picture. It was in black-and-white, faded with age, but it was clear enough to see the woman wore a long heavy chain with a jeweled pendant.
Could this be the mirth stone?
Evangeline felt a burst of excitement, followed by a bolt of hope that Glendora had been buried with this stone—since the drawing showed her in a coffin.
She considered telling Jacks of her discovery, but after the events of that evening, he was still the last person she wanted to see.
With another shiver, Evangeline grabbed a robe and threw it on. She had no idea of the time, but she imagined it was several hours until sunrise, which gave her a fair amount of time to covertly search for Glendora’s grave, and Evangeline knew exactly where to start.
Glory in Death—the words printed beneath Glendora’s picture were also the words that had been written on the wall of the secret corridor that Evangeline had ventured into earlier that night. And she’d reached it via a portrait hole that had been home to a picture of Glendora.
