“I don’t like this,” Evangeline muttered to Jacks.
“Then help me end it,” he whispered. “The sooner I get what I want, the sooner she gets her nasty temperament back.”
“There are other places I could take you,” the matriarch went on. “What if I give you a tour of the house and show you portraits of all my favorite grandchildren?”
“As interesting as that sounds, Jacks is right.” Evangeline felt a pang of guilt for willingly aiding Jacks, but this wouldn’t end until he achieved his goal. This was also her chance to figure out what he was after, and why he wanted her to marry Apollo. “I would like to see the vaults.”
The Fortuna matriarch gnawed on her lip and squeezed the broken skeleton key dangling around her neck. She didn’t want to do this, not even a little. There must have been something very precious—or dangerous—in her vaults. But since this request came directly from Evangeline, the enchanted woman seemed unable to fight it. She was doll-like again, lips forming a jolly smile that was completely at odds with her shaking limbs as she turned and led them toward the vaults.
28
A twist of narrowing halls.
A handful of locked doors.
A passage hidden in a vanity.
A long flight of iron stairs.
A thousand too-quick heartbeats.
And they were almost there. Deep underground, in the bowels of the storybook castle.
It was the sort of place that made Evangeline want to hug her arms to her chest. The damp granite walls were covered in soot-stained sconces, but only a few were lit, and all their flames were too weak to chase the shadows from the corners. It was merely enough light to reveal the lonely arch in the center of the chamber.
Evangeline hugged her arms to her chest.
Since coming to the North, she had seen three other arches. The enormous Gateway Arch to the North, the symbol-covered arch at Apollo’s first party, and the ever-changing arch of brides that had led to Nocte Neverending.
This arch was much plainer, yet it thrummed with a similar power to the others. Covered in dried moss and sepia cobwebs, it looked more gray than blue and it made her think of something that had gone to sleep a long time ago and been intentionally left alone.
“Looks as if I’m not the only one who’s been misbehaving.” Jacks raised an imperious brow as his gaze swung from the mossy arch to the trembling Fortuna matriarch.
“You can’t tell anyone!” the older woman cried, arms flapping at her sides before her hands went to pat the dogs that had stopped following her at some point in their quest. “Evangeline, please don’t think poorly of me for having this here.”
“Why would I think less of you?”
“Because this arch was supposed to be destroyed.” Jacks stopped right in front of the structure and went absolutely still. Evangeline doubted he was even aware of it. No—he most certainly wasn’t aware. If he had been, he would have shuttered his features much sooner than he did. Locks of blue hair fell across his forehead, but they didn’t hide his eyes. They were wide, broken star-bright, and full of something that looked a lot like hope.
Evangeline felt as if she shouldn’t stare so blatantly, but she couldn’t turn away. The look in his eyes had softened some of his sharp edges, making Jacks appear more like the Prince of Hearts she’d imagined before meeting him, all tragically handsome and heartsick.
They were getting closer to what he wanted. Evangeline only wished she knew what that was.
She scrutinized the sleeping arch again, wondering what made this one different from the others. It took several moments and some squinting to see through the grime, but she found a set of foreign words etched in small letters across the top. A jolt of excitement raced down her spine. Evangeline couldn’t read the words, yet somehow she recognized the language.
“Is this the ancient tongue of the Valors?” she asked, flashing back to the beheaded statues that had whispered to her across the sea when she’d first entered this part of the world.
Jacks cocked his head, surprised. “What do you know about the Valors?”
“My mother used to tell me about them.” Of course, as Evangeline worked to recall what her mother had said, she couldn’t seem to remember much. All she had were hazy images of an ancient royal family who’d had their heads removed. “They’re like the Northern equivalent to Fates.”
“No—”
“Not at all—”
Both Tabitha and Jacks answered at once.
“The Valors were merely humans,” Jacks corrected.