I’m not sure if Evangeline heard the rumors that Apollo might not choose a bride and therefore set her sights on someone else, or if she merely hopes to make Apollo jealous. But it seems I was right when I called her a risky bet.
* * *
16
Evangeline tried to ignore the nearby whispers and the ever-present pit in her stomach. She was in the Magnificent North, home to her mother’s fairytales, surrounded by fantastic sights, and about to enjoy a dragon-roasted apple. But the murmurs were like villains at the end of a story. They just wouldn’t die.
“It’s her, I’d bet a dragon on it.”
“I read she kissed one of Prince Apollo’s friends last night—”
“Ignore them,” Marisol said, shooting an impressively scathing look over her shoulder toward the line of muttering people behind them. “They should know better to believe everything they read in the scandal sheets,” she added loudly.
And Evangeline loved her just a little then. Although much of what Kristof had written about her in that morning’s paper was accurate. She had been seen in a scandalous position with Jacks, he’d held her as if he’d wanted to kiss her, backed her up to a table, and then he’d painted her lips with his blood. Her stomach tumbled just at the thought.
Marisol had believed it all a lie as soon as she’d seen the paper, and Evangeline hadn’t corrected her. She’d simply tried to forget about it as she and Marisol had set off that morning to make the most of their time in the North by exploring a variety of spire shops. Her stepsister had sought Northern recipes and rare ingredients, while Evangeline had wanted to find the impossible things mentioned in her mother’s stories—like the dragon-roasted sticky apples they were waiting for now.
Her mother used to say that dragon fire made everything sweeter. Dragon-roasted apples were supposed to taste like true love. The queue for the treats was so intense, Evangeline and Marisol had been waiting nearly half an hour. All the while locals still chattered about Evangeline and her rumored kiss with Apollo’s friend.
A part of Evangeline was relieved that this was today’s gossip. It could have been so much worse. She’d left the party last night fearing her real kiss with Apollo had placed him under a spell. She’d been half-terrified she’d open the scandal sheets this morning and learn that something terrible had befallen the prince. But the only thing that had changed was her reputation, and the things people were saying weren’t even terrible. Still, they unnerved her.
She wondered again what Jacks was really after. She’d sensed a rivalry between Jacks and Apollo. But she didn’t understand why she would fit into that. Jacks had to want something from her kiss. But what?
Evangeline rubbed her wrist. Only two broken heart scars remained. The third had disappeared after last night’s kiss. Jacks had hinted he’d collect on another kiss tonight. But first he’d have to catch her, and this evening, she did not plan on being caught by him.
Avoiding the first night of Nocte Neverending was not an option. This morning’s rumors might have diminished her chances with Apollo, but Evangeline couldn’t bring herself to believe they’d ruined them. Something had happened between them when they’d kissed. The only question was, had the heat in Evangeline’s kiss with Apollo been a part of Jacks’s plan, or something he hadn’t expected? Evangeline didn’t know the answer, but she hoped to find Apollo again tonight and figure it out before Jacks found her.
“Salt! Get your salts and seasonings!” cried a vendor, pushing a heavy cart across the cobbled street. “Imported from the mines of the Glacial North. I’ve got sweet, I’ve got savory—”
“Evangeline, would you hate me if I left you alone?” Marisol gave the salt cart a longing look. “I’d love to take home some Glacial spices.”
“Go ahead,” Evangeline said. “I’ll grab you an apple.”
“That’s all right. I don’t actually want one.” Marisol was already backing away.
Evangeline sensed that although her stepsister was enjoying the North, she hadn’t quite gotten over her discomfort with all the little dragons.
“I’m still full from the goblin tarts we bought earlier,” said Marisol. “But you enjoy one! I’ll meet you back at the inn.”
Before Evangeline could argue, she was at the front of the line and Marisol was on her way to making her dreams of imported salts come true.
“Here ya go, miss.” The vendor handed Evangeline a smoldering apple on a stick, still sparking with dragon fire.