She tried to shake him.
Nothing happened.
“Apollo, get up!” Evangeline cried, panicked tears coming fast and hard.
She shook him again. He needed to move. He needed to breathe. He needed to be alive. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead. If he was dead—
Another sob choked her throat as the worst thought of all occurred. If Apollo was dead, it meant that not only had her kiss broken the spell, it had killed him. She had killed him, and Jacks had tricked her into doing it.
36
Jacks had once told Evangeline, “There’s no point in having another person commit murder if you’re in the room with them.” And Evangeline’s last kiss with Apollo was the first enchanted kiss where Jacks hadn’t been in the room.
“Help!” Evangeline cried as more ragged sobs racked her chest.
The door flew open, and a suite that had been filled with fire and flower petals moments ago turned into a rush of heavy boots, flashing weapons, and unbridled curses.
“We need a doctor,” Evangeline sobbed. It felt too soon to cry, but she couldn’t stop the tears.
“What did you do to him?”
“I think he’s dead!”
“She killed him!”
The soldiers’ words flew like arrows, quick and sharp, as two men yanked her off the bed by her wings, sending feathers flying everywhere.
“Get out of here,” someone ordered.
“Wait—” Evangeline protested between tears. She knew this was partly her fault, but she wasn’t the only one to blame. “I—I didn’t—I didn’t—”
“We heard him yelling at you. And now—” The soldier didn’t even finish. He let the words hang there as two other guards hauled her toward the door. “Tie her up in an empty room. And you”—he pointed to another pair of soldiers—“find Prince Tiberius, and be discreet. We need to keep this quiet for now.”
Evangeline tried to protest, but her words were strangled by more sobs. Horrible racking sobs, so intense she barely felt the chill of the tower or the soldiers’ punishing grip as they dragged her down the stairs, shredding her wings with every flight and leaving a trail of feathers and tears.
“You—you need to find Lord Jacks—” she finally managed. “He did this—he’s the Prince of Hearts.”
“Grab a gag for her,” the shorter soldier grunted as they jostled her into a dim room that smelled of damp and dust. Together, they ripped off the rest of her wings. Ruthlessly cold air hit her back as they shoved her in a lone wood chair. Her wrists were promptly tied to the arms, and her ankles to the chair’s legs, before the shorter soldier stuck a fetid cloth inside her mouth.
It cut off her pleas, and its foulness briefly stopped her tears. But it didn’t last long. In the silence that followed, all she could hear were the words murderer and fool, and all she could see were Apollo’s desolate eyes, until a flood of tears blurred even that memory.
“Why hasn’t that gag shut her up?” said the shorter soldier.
“Just let her cry,” the other muttered. He was broader, and his head was shaved. He’d gone to build a fire in the empty hearth. She recognized him as Apollo’s personal guard—Havelock. She couldn’t imagine he cared if she was cold, but the abandoned room was like ice, and she doubted they’d leave her there alone. As if she could escape. Even if they untied her, she wouldn’t get far in her current state. She sobbed harder.
She’d killed Apollo.
Apollo was dead.
Apollo was dead, and she’d killed him.
“You need to shut it now.” The shorter soldier lifted up one hand to strike—
“Is that how a royal guard treats his next queen?” drawled Jacks, appearing at the half-open door. It was difficult to see him through the dark and the tears, but she’d always recognize the cruelty in his voice.
It’s the Prince of Hearts! He’s the murderer! Evangeline tried to yell, but the awful gag still filled her mouth. And now there was something wrong with the guards. Neither of them moved.
Evangeline rocked her chair in a feeble attempt to break free.
“Stop her from hurting herself,” Jacks said flatly.
The shorter soldier who’d been about to strike her imme diately put a firm hand on the back of her seat to keep all four legs on the ground.
What was going on?
It was as if the soldiers were possessed. Havelock stared at Jacks the way one might regard a shadow holding a knife, yet he didn’t move until Jacks strode into the room and softly said, “Get out.”