She was in another forest clearing, but this one was set for a party with lively musicians playing lutes and harps, and trees dangling celebratory ribbons. In the center of it all, a royal phoenix tree reigned, and Frangelica’s cryptic warning suddenly made sense. It was the first time Evangeline had ever seen such a tree, but she knew about them from her mother. A phoenix tree took over a thousand years to mature, branches stretching, trunks thickening, and leaves turning to real gold. They shone like dragon treasure in the candlelight, tempting people to pluck them. Although, according to myth, if one gold leaf was taken before all of them turned, then the entire tree would burst into flames.
Milling around the tree were all sorts of important-looking people. If the men at the docks had looked as if they could fell a tree with one strike of an ax, these people looked as if they could end lives with a few choice words or the stroke of a pen. Most men were in fine velvet doublets that matched the warm décor, while the ladies wore a variety of gowns. The majority were dressed in the fashion of the North with overskirts of heavy brocade, belts covered in jewels, and dramatic slashed sleeves that hung past their fingertips.
Thankfully, Evangeline didn’t see the Prince of Hearts among them. There were no young men with apples, cruel faces, and torn clothes.
She breathed a little easier and shifted her attention to searching for Prince Apollo among guests who casually sipped from crystal goblets as if attending events where princes chose their brides were as common as family bruncheon. Disappointingly, no one wore a crown, leading Evangeline to assume the prince had yet to arrive.
She might have asked someone at the party about him, but despite the ease everyone else seemed to feel, none of them included a stranger in their conversations. Circles closed and mouths snapped silent every time she moved near.
It made her feel unusually shy, and grateful that Marisol hadn’t been invited. She would have probably imagined that people were excluding her because of her curse.
A few people glanced Evangeline’s way, probably wondering if her rose-gold hair meant she was the girl from the scandal sheets. But clearly it wasn’t enough to enter any circles.
The only other girl who appeared to be intentionally ignored was another young lady around Evangeline’s age, dressed in an arresting dragon-scale gown the color of burning rubies. No one spoke to her, but they had to notice her. She was probably the prettiest girl there, and her dress was by far the boldest. It lacked Northern-style long sleeves in favor of having no sleeves at all—better to reveal swaths of smooth brown skin and shoulders with paintings of dragon flames that covered her arms in vibrant inked gloves.
Evangeline picked up two crystal goblets and headed toward the girl, who now swayed a little as if dancing with herself.
“Do you want one?” Evangeline held out one of her drinks.
The girl appraised the goblet, and then Evangeline with narrowed eyes.
“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned.” Evangeline took sips from both of her goblets before offering one to the girl again. “See?”
“Unless one is poisoned and the other has the antidote. That’s what I would do.” The girl flashed a surprisingly diabolical grin, and Evangeline had the sudden impression that there was a reason she was being excluded. Perhaps she was not a very harmless girl. Or perhaps Evangeline was just haunted by Marisol’s earlier warning about all the claws and teeth that would come out.
“I’m Evangeline, by the way.”
“I know,” hummed the girl.
Evangeline expected she’d introduce herself then, but the other girl only said, “I recognized the pinkish hair. I also noticed you looking for the prince when you walked in. But your gaze wasn’t high enough.” The girl finally accepted a goblet and used it to point toward the royal phoenix tree.
Evangeline didn’t know how she hadn’t seen him there before. Now that she knew what to look for, Apollo and his unexpected pose were impossible to miss. He was high up in the tree, in a wooded balcony, lounging daringly sideways across the rail.
The picture of a dashing princeling, dressed in shades of wine and wood, and wearing a golden crown shaped like a tangle of antlers. From so far away, she couldn’t clearly make out all his features, but as he lay draped across the railing, Apollo peered down on the party with utter concentration as if desperately searching for the love of his life. He almost looked as if he was posing for a portrait. No—
He was posing for a portrait!
Evangeline spied another balcony hidden in the trees on the other side of the clearing. There, a painter appeared to be capturing the prince’s dramatic arrangement with fevered brush strokes.