The trebuchet in the dining hall looked even more horrid in the dark—a giant slumbering beast that might follow Evangeline to the portrait of Glendora and then rip her from the room before she could slip through the passage.
She gripped her gold dagger, which she’d tied to her robe. She thought she heard a movement, but the trebuchet remained inanimate as she scurried past on slippered feet in search of Glendora Slaughterwood’s grave.
With only the moonlight pouring through the stained-glass panels of the dining room, it was a challenge to find the right painting. All Evangeline could see were Glendora’s eyes, still sad, as she opened the frame.
She paused before stepping through, wondering briefly at Glendora’s sorrow. If she had possessed the mirth stone, she should have been much happier, but perhaps Glendora hadn’t been in possession of it at the time of this picture?
Evangeline hoped that was the case as she entered the corridor. Thankfully, torches still burned, lighting her way as she traveled the same path she’d taken earlier that night.
Her stomach clenched as she reached the spot where she’d found Jacks with the Darling girl. The dusty air smelled faintly of apples, and she half expected him to step out from the shadows.
Again, she thought she heard something.
But all she saw were spiders crawling along the walls over the words Glory in Death.
The air changed when she turned a corner. Sconces appeared between the torches—dirty glass filled with skeletal stems and a few dried petals. The scent of apples vanished, and all she could smell was stale dust that made her think of dry bones and dead flowers.
The unsettling fragrance thankfully lessened as she neared the monument. An enormous thing, watched over by two statues of weeping angels and covered with a layer of dust that made her think no one had visited in a very long while.
Evangeline held her breath as she approached, preparing to feel the magic of the mirth stone. But perhaps the coffin was dampening the arch stone’s power?
The casket appeared to be made of marble, a fact Evangeline confirmed when she tried to shove the lid aside and it wouldn’t so much as budge.
“Need a hand?”
Evangeline jumped as Luc appeared from out of the shadows, with a thin gold crown atop his head and a high-collared coat that looked as if it had been sewn together with pure swagger.
“Luc, what are you doing here? Were you following me?”
“I heard you came to the party after all, so I decided to join you.” He flashed a crooked smile. “I was going to sneak into your bedroom, but then I saw you sneaking out, so I suppose I sort of followed you.”
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“Why not? I used to do it all the time. I mean, not the following part, just the sneaking into your bedroom.” He looked at her through his long and lovely lashes. But Evangeline didn’t let herself get caught in his gaze like the last time they’d met.
“Is this because I’m a vampire?” he pressed. “Or are you still mourning your dead husband?” Suddenly, Luc was sitting atop the coffin, dangling his legs and looking far more harmless than she knew him to be.
Although she really didn’t think he would bite her. When she took a moment to look past the princely swagger, Luc seemed to be more lonely than hungry, just like the last time she’d seen him. Evangeline was not an expert on vampires, but she wondered if being a vampire meant more than just thirsting for blood. Vampires didn’t age. They remained unchanged throughout time. Perhaps this wasn’t just physical; maybe their hearts were like that as well, making it harder for them to move on from things in their past.
“It’s not because you’re a vampire,” she assured him. “In fact, there’s something I need to do before the sun comes up, and I could actually use your vampire strength.”
This seemed to brighten his mood. He grinned down from atop the coffin as Evangeline eyed the heavy marble lid, letting her gaze linger.
Like Evangeline, Luc was very curious. It only took a few moments before he asked, “What do you want in the coffin?”
“Help me open it and you’ll see.”
Luc jumped off the tomb, shoved the heavy lid, and turned to her with a satisfied smile as the marble thunked to the ground. “Can I bite you now?”
“No, Luc, I’m never going to let you bite me.”
“Never say never, Eva.” He flashed a hopeful smile made of fangs before peering into the box. “Are you sure this is the right coffin?”
“Positive,” said Evangeline. Yet she felt a stab of worry as her gaze followed Luc’s. Glendora Slaughterwood’s body was all dust and teeth. She’d died so long ago there were no bones or clothes or necklaces. And there was still no feeling of magic. There was no tingling, no prickling, no sudden bursts of mirth.
But Evangeline had to believe there was more.
She took a deep, nervous breath and dug her hand into the murky gray dust that was Glendora Slaughterwood.
“Eva! What are you doing?” Luc clearly thought she’d lost her mind. He grabbed onto her shoulders, tugging her back from the coffin, but thankfully, she’d already caught hold of something that felt like a chain.
Evangeline pulled free of Luc and shook the dust off the rock dangling at the end of the chain until she was holding a butterscotch-yellow stone that looked as if it were made of shimmering sunlight.
Luc eyed the gem askance, obviously not thinking it was as pretty as she did. “I could get you nicer jewelry than that.”
He grabbed for it.
Evangeline clutched the necklace tighter, feeling that familiar swell of protectiveness, followed by a wash of relief. This had to be the mirth stone. Perhaps she just hadn’t felt it as strongly because she already had a hopeful disposition.
“Thank you, Luc.” Hopping up on her tiptoes, she pecked him on the cheek and started back down the corridor.
“Wait,” Luc cried. “There’s a costume party tomorrow night. Will you be my date?”
Evangeline stopped halfway down the hall. If she went with Luc, she could avoid Jacks. At least until he showed up and found her with Luc.
Of course, that thought also tempted her because she imagined Jacks would not be happy to see her on Luc’s arm, especially if the youth stone was near and working its jealous magic.
“I wish I could say yes,” Evangeline said. “I just fear that wouldn’t be a wise idea.” As much as she enjoyed frustrating Jacks, this was LaLa’s party, and she wouldn’t make a scene. “But I promise to save you a dance.”
Evangeline tucked the sunshine-yellow mirth stone underneath her nightgown, where she could feel it safe against her chest as she climbed up the stairs to her guest room. It was actually a bit of a relief that the stone didn’t feel more powerful. After the tendrils of envy she’d felt from what she imagined was the youth stone, she’d been a little nervous about what the mirth stone might do.
She’d feared it might make her drunk with happiness, or so giddy with joy that she lost all sense of urgency.
But for now, if anything, she felt uneasy. Her skin prickled with an uncanny sense that made her slow her steps as she reached the fourth floor of Slaughterwood Castle.
It was quiet, so still she could almost hear the flickering of candles in sconces. Then she saw it—a streak of moonlight hair attached to a shadowy figure darting quickly down the hall. Petra.
Evangeline felt the same wrench of discomfort she’d experienced every other time she’d seen the girl. Then she felt it again as she wondered if Petra had come from Jacks’s room.
Evangeline ran to the other end of the hall to look down the corner that Petra had just turned. But it was already empty.
It was tempting to wonder if she’d just imagined her. It was so late it might have actually been early. And Evangeline was starting to feel fatigued again. The rush of finding the mirth stone had started to wear off, leaving her tired. And yet she knew what she’d seen. She just couldn’t understand why she’d seen it. What was Petra doing sneaking around at this hour?
Evangeline’s mind flashed back to earlier that night. Jacks had said he’d thought Petra looked familiar. Then Petra had warned Evangeline about Jacks; she was the one who’d revealed to Evangeline that Jacks had snuck off with another girl.
Petra had seemed to dislike Jacks, and yet Evangeline couldn’t shake the idea that Petra had just come from Jacks’s room.
Evangeline supposed she could stand there in the hall, wondering until the sun came up, or she could simply knock on Jacks’s door.
Her knuckles hit it three times. Softly at first, but when he didn’t answer, she knocked once more, louder.
Jacks, she thought silently.
Again, he didn’t answer.
Was he just asleep? Or was he ignoring her?
If Petra had visited him, he had to be awake.
Evangeline considered knocking again, but if she made any more noise, she might wake others. However—
She looked down at her finger. If she cut herself, she wouldn’t need to knock.
Using her dagger, Evangeline pricked the tip of her finger and unlocked Jacks’s room.
She knew right away that he wasn’t there.
The fire was dead, and the sun was already coming up, shining through the frosted windows and revealing that the four-poster bed had not been slept in. The creamy quilts on it weren’t even wrinkled.
But Jacks had clearly been in this room at some point. Apple cores were piled high on his desk. There were also heaps of clothing strewn across chairs and lounges.
From the look of it, Jacks had brought more clothes than she had. There were breeches and belts and piles of boots. She knew it would have been better not to touch anything, but she couldn’t help running her fingers over a pile of velvet doublets in various shades of blue, black, and gray. They were soft, and they smelled good, too.
She would never admit it to him, but she was feeling a little too tired to lie to herself, and she had to admit, she loved the way Jacks smelled, like apples and magic and crisp, cold nights that made her want to curl up in a blanket.
She wandered to the bed. It didn’t smell like him, but it was soft when she perched on the edge of it. And the pillows felt amazing, fluffy and downy, and just leaning on them allowed Evangeline’s body to relax.
She closed her eyes, just for a second. Or maybe just for a minute.…
Evangeline wanted to snuggle deeper into her blanket and ignore the shadow that had fallen over her. She didn’t much feel like dealing with shadows, especially irritable ones. This shadow was cold and close, and she sensed that it was in a foul mood. Perhaps, if she just kept her eyes shut, it would go away.
“How long do you plan on pretending you’re asleep?” drawled the shadow.
Evangeline reluctantly cracked one eye open.
The shadow was closer than she’d realized, as if he’d been about to stumble into bed until he’d seen her there. He’d already done away with his doublet: his shirt was half unbuttoned, his golden hair vaguely tousled, and his silver-blue eyes looked more threatening than usual, as if he might still join her in bed.
Her heart tripped at the thought, and then it stumbled again as Jacks’s lids lowered and his gaze skated over her body. His eyes traced the way she curled in his bed, one hand tucked underneath her head, the other pressed to her chest, clutching the blanket to where her night robe had slipped open.
Slowly, his mouth slid into a grin. “Now you’re obsessed with my shirts?”
Evangeline felt it then, the buttons on her blanket—or rather his shirt, which she’d been cuddling like a blanket.
Her cheeks pinked immediately.
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Were you missing me last night?” Jacks leaned against the bedpost and stroked one hand slowly up and down the wood as his eyes trailed back to her legs and the part in her robe.
Mortification was not a strong enough word for how she felt just then. Evangeline thrust the garment aside and rose on her knees until the two of them were nearly level. Her pulse briefly fluttered as she met his eyes. Up close, they were a little too powerful for her liking, but she refused to look away.
“I came in here to look for you after I saw Petra outside your door.”
“Who is Petra?”
“The girl from the dinner last night, the one with the moonlight hair. Who is she to you, Jacks?”
He shook his head, brows drawing together. “I don’t know her.”
Evangeline eyed him warily. She was tempted to believe him. But she also knew better than to trust her judgment when it came to Jacks. “You said she looked familiar last night. And she’s the one who told me that you snuck off during dinner.”
What remained of his amusement instantly vanished. “I don’t know who this girl is, but you should stay away from her.”
“Why? If you don’t know—”
“I don’t like her,” Jacks cut in.
“Why? Because she doesn’t like you?”
“No one likes me,” Jacks answered swiftly.
“We both know that’s not true,” Evangeline challenged. “Plenty of girls appeared to like you last night.”
“They liked Lord Jacks. But, as you know, Little Fox, I am not Lord Jacks.” For a second, Jacks’s entire face changed, any hint of humanity slipping away as he looked at her with eyes as dead as Chaos’s. “I’m the person who’ll kill this Petra girl if she goes near you again. So you should stay away unless you want her dead.”
