She hadn’t been invited to the wedding ceremony of Luc Navarro and Marisol Tourmaline, whom many of you know as the Cursed Bride. And yet, when Evangeline stumbled upon the gathering, which had been transformed to stone by one of the Fates, Evangeline didn’t hesitate to save the entire wedding party by taking their place and becoming a statue.
“I think I just did what anyone else would have hopefully done in my situation. I’m really not a hero,” she told me.
Evangeline was so humble. It was difficult to get her to speak about her own heroics. But Valenda’s Sweetheart Savior was eager to talk when I mentioned the Cursed Bride’s mother, Agnes Tourmaline, and her magnanimous plans to adopt Evangeline.
“I already feel as if the horror I went through is turning into a fairytale,” she said.
Agnes also informed me that Evangeline is eager to move on with her life as soon as possible. She’s accepting suitors by way of applications for her hand in marriage—
（continued on page 3）
* * *
“Oh my…” Evangeline gave the patroller an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry, this paper is mistaken. I’m not looking for suitors.” She cringed at just using the word. It didn’t surprise her. She knew Agnes’s hugs and smiles yesterday had been false. But Evangeline hadn’t expected her stepmother to sell her off so quickly.
Other passersby on the street had already stopped to stare. A few eager gentlemen looked as if they were building up courage to approach.
If Jacks had been there, he’d probably taken it as proof that he’d done Evangeline a favor by making her so popular. But this wasn’t what she wanted.
Evangeline threw the scandal sheet in the closest trash bin and looked once more at Luc’s note. The message was old. She knew that now—he wouldn’t have asked her to meet at the shop knowing it was shuttered.
Evangeline didn’t want to cry so much as she wanted to find a way back in time, to before. To before Agnes, to before Luc, to before she’d lost both her parents. She just wanted one more hug from her father. One more moment of her mother smoothing her hair. The pain she felt at missing Luc wasn’t even a scratch in comparison to the absence of her mother and father. She still wanted Luc, but what she really wanted was the life and all the love that she’d lost.
* * *
It was difficult not to feel heartsick as Evangeline trudged back to a house that hadn’t been home since her father had died. Normally, she adored the city. She loved the tangle of noise, the bustling of people, and the way her street often smelled of fresh-made cakes from the bakery around the corner. But that afternoon, the street smelled of too much unfamiliar cologne.
The scent made her nauseous, but it was the sight of all the gentlemen that stopped her in her tracks. Decked out in their finest coats and capes and hats, the men lined the street to her house, where Agnes stood on the doorstep happily receiving flowers, compliments, and paper pages.
She’s accepting suitors by way of applications for her hand in marriage—
Evangeline’s hands curled into fists. A fraction of the men were almost attractive, but many of them were the age her father had been or older. She might have turned around if she had somewhere else to go, but thanks to Agnes, the curiosity shop was closed. And Evangeline found she was more in the mood to fight than to run.
She marched toward the house with a demure smile.
“Oh, there she is,” Agnes cooed.
But Evangeline didn’t give her the chance to say anything else. She quickly turned to the gentlemen, raised her voice, and said, “Thank you all for coming, but I wish to turn everyone away.” She paused and theatrically pressed the back of her left hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, mimicking a move she’d once seen in a tragic street play with her father. “I’m not a statue anymore, but I’m still cursed, and anyone I kiss will turn to stone.”
Murmurs erupted everywhere. “Stone…”
“Cursed!”
“I’m getting out of here.”
The gentlemen quickly dispersed, and with them went her doting stepmother’s fa?ade.
Agnes grabbed Evangeline’s shoulders and dug her slender fingers in. “What have you done, you wretched girl? Those suitors weren’t just for you. This was Marisol’s chance at getting noticed again.”
Evangeline winced and pulled away. She felt a stitch of guilt for her stepsister, but as of yesterday, Marisol wasn’t over Luc either.
“Don’t pretend I’m the villain,” Evangeline said. “You shouldn’t have done this, and you shouldn’t have sold my father’s shop. That store was willed to me.”