“But we also want to ask for a favor,” the princess chimed in.
The empress eyed her sister, who was apparently going off script.
“What? I’m sure she’s dying with curiosity. I’m just trying to save her life.” The princess reached across her sister’s plate and picked up a square of cream paper covered in copper print.
* * *
In Honor of
His Highness Crown Prince Apollo Titus Acadian
You Have Been Summoned to the Magnificent North
to Attend Nocte Neverending Festivities Begin on the First Winter’s Day
and They Will Not End Until Prince Apollo Has
Found His Bride
* * *
The metallic ink shimmered as if it were still wet—or touched with Northern magic. Evangeline tried not to leap to any conclusions and failed almost immediately. She’d been hoping there was another happy ending waiting for her, and as she looked at this invitation, it was practically impossible not to imagine that this could be her way to find it.
“The North has different customs from ours,” the empress said softly. “The crown prince can’t fully ascend to the throne until he’s wed, and hosting a ball to choose a bride is one of their oldest traditions.”
It was also a tradition that Evangeline was familiar with, which felt like another sign. Her mother had told her all about Nocte Neverending. As a little girl, Evangeline thought it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. Secret ballrooms were built for it in forests where fallen stars had once landed, leaving everything laced with bits of enchantment. Liana Fox used to say that there were special kinds of magic that only existed in the North, and not even memories of this magic could pass to the south. Then she would tell Evangeline how every night during Nocte Neverending, the current crown prince would watch from a hidden location until he picked five ladies to dance with. Night after night, he’d follow the same routine, watching and then asking ladies to dance until he found the perfect bride.
“I’d always hoped Nocte Neverending was real,” Evangeline said. “But I was never quite sure.”
“Well, it is, and we want you to go.” The empress took a sip of tea as a hummingbird dropped peach flower petals into her cup. “We would attend, but I don’t believe it’s wise to leave the empire so soon after being crowned and—”
“There’s someone in the North that I’m avoiding,” inserted the princess.
“Tella,” the empress scolded.
“What? It’s the truth.” The princess turned back to Evangeline. “I love balls and parties that have a high probability of ending dramatically. But I could cause an international incident—possibly a war—if I attend this celebration.”
The empress’s forehead creased with mortified lines.
“We can’t ignore the invitation,” the empress went on more diplomatically. “And I’d rather not begin my reign by neglecting one of the North’s most treasured celebrations. So my counsel and I have given a great deal of thought as to who should represent the Meridian Empire.” Her hazel eyes met Evangeline’s. “What you did during the Week of Terror was brave and selfless, and it made us think you’re exactly the type of person whom we’d like as an ambassador.” Her royal smile widened as her sister nodded.
Evangeline finally shoved a blackberry cream in her mouth to hide the sudden strain on her own smile.
She wanted to say yes. She’d always wished to go north, to explore the world where her mother had grown up and find out which of her mother’s tales were true. She was desperate to know if there really were pastry goblins that dropped off sweets on holidays and pet-size dragons that turned to smoke if they tried to fly south. And she wanted to go to this ball. She wanted to meet the prince and dance all night and finally let go of Luc.
If there was anything on earth that could make her forget about him, Nocte Neverending was it.
But could Evangeline say yes? The empress and her sister wanted a hero as their ambassador, they wanted the orphan savior from the scandal sheets, and Evangeline was not that girl. She was the opposite. These sisters had fought against the Fates, and Evangeline had made a deal with one.
Her throat went suddenly dry. No matter how much Evangeline tried not to think about Jacks, he was always tucked away in the back of her thoughts, a secret she feared would escape one day.
She still didn’t know where Jacks had disappeared. Poison had said that most of the Fates had ventured to the North, where they’d been given asylum, and every rumor she’d heard since confirmed it. None of these rumors had specifically mentioned the Prince of Hearts. But hadn’t Poison warned her that she’d be drawn to Jacks, whether she wanted to be or not? What if that was what this was really about? What if this wasn’t Evangeline’s chance at a happy ending but fate manipulating her path?