“They are not scandal sheets; it’s a periodical,” Agnes corrected with a sniff, making Evangeline think that the fledgling paper had grown in readership and credibility since the article that had inspired her to search for the door to the Prince of Hearts’ church.
“I actually don’t care what you call it, Miss Fox, as long as I’m allowed to feature you in it.” Kutlass Knightlinger brushed a black-feathered pen across his lips. “I’ve been covering everything related to the return of the Fates, and I have several questions for you.”
Evangeline was suddenly unsteady on her feet. The last thing she wanted to talk about was what had happened with Jacks. No one could ever know she’d made a deal with a Fate.
If Evangeline had been fully recovered, she would have pulled away with a clever excuse. But instead, Mr. Kutlass Knightlinger, of the lacy jabot and the black leather pants, was the one who did all the pulling.
Quickly, he wrangled her away from the party, through a pair of thick gold curtains and onto a bench hidden in an alcove that smelled of mystery and musk and imitation magic. Or was that Kutlass Knightlinger’s cologne?
“Mr. Knightlinger—” Evangeline pushed up from the bench, and the world began to spin. She really needed to eat. “I don’t believe today is the best day for an interview.”
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t really matter what you say. I make the people I interview look good. And everyone already loves you. After the sacrifice you made, you’re one of Valenda’s favorite heroes.”
“But I’m really not a hero.”
“You’re too modest.” Kutlass leaned in closer. The heavy scent around her was definitely his cologne. “During the Week of Terror—”
“What’s the Week of Terror?”
“It was so exciting! It started right after you were turned to stone. The Fates returned—would you believe they were trapped inside a deck of cards? So much mischief and mayhem when they escaped and tried to take over the empire. But the story of how you took the place of that wedding party and turned yourself to stone inspired people all over during that difficult time. You’re a hero.”
Evangeline’s throat went suddenly dry. No wonder so many people were there. “I hope that I did what anyone else would have done in my situation.”
“That’s perfect.” Kutlass pulled out an impossibly small notebook from his leather vest and began scribbling away. “My readers are going to love this. Now—”
Her stomach cut him off with a loud grumble.
Kutlass laughed, quick and practiced as his pen strokes. “A little hungry?”
“I can’t remember the last time I ate. I should probably—”
“I only have a few more questions. There are rumors that while you were still stone, your adoptive mother started receiving marriage proposals for your hand—”
“Oh, Agnes is my stepmother,” Evangeline cut in quickly, “she never adopted me.”
“But I think it’s safe to say she will now.” Kutlass winked. “Your star will only continue to rise, Miss Fox. Now, may I have a parting word of advice for all your admirers?”
The word admirers left a bad taste on Evangeline’s teeth. She really didn’t deserve any admirers. And everyone would undoubtedly feel differently if they knew what she’d truly done.
“If you’re a little speechless, I’ll come up with something brilliant.” His feathered pen swished over his journal.
“Wait—” Evangeline still didn’t know what she was going to say, but she shuddered to think what he might be writing. “I know that stories often take on lives of their own. I already feel as if the horror I went through is turning into a fairytale, but I’m nothing special, and this is not a fairytale.”
“And yet it turned out well for you,” Kutlass cut in.
“She was stone for six weeks,” said a soft voice behind them. “I wouldn’t say it turned out well.”
Evangeline looked over Kutlass’s shoulder to see her stepsister.
Marisol stood in between the gold curtains, holding her sugarbelle cake like a shield.
Kutlass pivoted in a swish of lace and leather. “The Cursed Bride!”
Marisol’s cheeks turned a painful shade of red.
“This is excellent!” Kutlass’s feathered pen began moving again. “I’d love to have a word with you.”
“Actually,” Evangeline interrupted, sensing that Marisol was the one who needed rescuing now. “My stepsister and I haven’t had any time together, so I think I’m going to steal her away to enjoy some cake.”