All because of Evangeline.
And now Evangeline had even more to lose if she told Marisol the truth about her dealings with Jacks.
The tea suddenly tasted like tears and salt as Marisol continued, “Prince Apollo’s proposal was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen—it might actually be the most romantic thing that has ever happened. You’re going to be such a beautiful bride!”
“Thank you,” Evangeline said softly. “But we don’t have to keep talking about this.”
Marisol frowned. “Evangeline, you don’t have to hide your happiness to make me feel better. You’re going to be a princess. No one deserves it more than you. And you were right about last night. Not a single person recognized me as the Cursed Bride. Someone even asked me to dance. Did you see him?” Marisol bit down on her lip and smiled. “I think he was the handsomest person there—next to Prince Apollo, of course. He had dark blue hair, and bright blue eyes, and the most mysterious smile. His name is Jacks, and I’m already hoping—”
“No!”
Marisol reared back as if she’d been slapped.
Evangeline cringed. She hadn’t meant for that to come out so harshly, but she had to protect her stepsister from Jacks. “Sorry, I’ve just heard dangerous things about him.”
Marisol’s lips pinched tight. “I know the gossip sheets have been kind to you, but I would think that you’d still know better than to listen to the nasty words whispered behind other people’s backs.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t listen to gossip, but it’s not just the rumors.” Evangeline tried to say it softer this time. “I’ve met Jacks. He was at the party that first night, and … I don’t think he’s good for you.”
Marisol snorted. “We can’t all marry a prince, Evangeline. Some of us are lucky to get any attention at all.”
“Marisol, I—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Marisol rushed out, color draining from her face. “I shouldn’t have said that. That’s my mother—not me.”
“It’s all right,” Evangeline said.
“No, it’s not.” Marisol looked down at the splash of tea she’d just spilled on her skirts, and her eyes turned watery. But Evangeline knew she wasn’t really crying about the skirts. It was never about the skirts.
Marisol perched on the edge of the bed, still staring at the stain on her gown, her voice far away. “Did you ever play that game as a child—the one where there’s a circle of chairs, and when the music stops playing you have to find a chair to sit in? But there’s never enough chairs for everyone, so one person is always left without a seat in the circle and then tossed out of the game. That’s how I feel, as if I missed my chance at a chair and now I’ve been tossed out of the game.”
Marisol took a shuddering breath, and Evangeline felt it in her own chest.
It had always been a challenge for her to connect with Marisol. They’d never seemed to have much in common, except for Luc, which was a terrible thing to share. But that was starting to feel like the least of what they’d shared.
Looking at Marisol now reminded Evangeline of those months when she had worked in the bookshop and started to feel like one of the forgotten novels on the used shelves in the back, overlooked and alone. But Evangeline always had hope that things would change. She might have lost her parents, but she’d had their memories to hold on to, their stories and their words of encouragement. But all Marisol had was her mother, who had torn her down instead of building her up.
Evangeline set aside her tea, slid across her bed, and hugged Marisol tightly. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be brave enough to talk to her about Luc or confess what had really happened the day of Marisol’s wedding. But she would keep trying to find ways to make it up to Marisol, especially now that Apollo was putting Evangeline in an ideal position to do so.
Her stepsister leaned in with a sniff. “I’m sorry for spoiling your happiness.”
“You didn’t ruin anything, and you haven’t been thrown out of any game. In the North, they don’t even play that musical chair game. I’ve heard it was outlawed and replaced with kissing chess.” As she said it, Evangeline could already imagine setting up a match for her stepsister with every eligible young man in the land. Maybe she’d ask Apollo for help?
It might not remedy everything, but it was a start. Evangeline was about to suggest the idea when the pounding on the door began.