The girl went silent as Jacks pulled the cloak from Evangeline’s face.
“She needs you to save her now,” Jacks ground out.
“What have you done?” the girl demanded, and Evangeline liked her just a little then.
“I think we both know this isn’t my doing.”
“Are you—never mind, bring her inside. And do not let go of her,” warned the girl. “If you stop holding her, she might slip away. Try to comfort her while I put together an antidote. Pretend she’s someone you care for.”
Jacks’s arms tensed around Evangeline.
But then the world became warmer, crackling and fiery, and she didn’t care how Jacks held her as long as he kept heading toward the warmth. She couldn’t open her eyes, but after a few rough adjustments, he lowered her onto his lap.
She imagined they were in front of a fire, and he was sitting on the hearth, holding her with about as much affection as he might handle a log he was about to toss into the blaze. “There are much better ways to die than this, Little Fox.”
“Your attempts at comfort are tr-tragic,” Evangeline stuttered.
“You’re still alive,” he grumbled. His fingers found her eyelids then, and with feather-soft touches, he brushed away the melting ice.
Maybe he wasn’t entirely hopeless. She wondered if he just hadn’t had much practice at this. Comforting someone was an intimate thing, and according to the stories, intimacy didn’t end well with Jacks. But he clearly knew how to be gentle. She felt herself thaw in increments as his fingers went to her cheeks, sweeping away the frozen tears.
“Here.” It was the other girl’s voice. “Feed her this.”
Jacks’s hand left Evangeline’s cheek. Then his fingers were back, tentatively touching her lips. He painted them slowly, carefully, much as he had in the past with his blood. But unlike his blood, this didn’t taste sweet or bitter. It didn’t really taste at all; it was more like that bubbly feeling that accompanied the moment right before a kiss.
“The antidote’s working,” said the girl.
“Does that mean I can let her go?”
“Yes,” Evangeline managed at the same moment that the girl said, “No, not unless you want her to die. She’ll need close physical contact for at least a full day for the cure to take.”
Evangeline had a feeling that the girl was toying with Jacks—she had to be toying with him. And even if she weren’t, Evangeline couldn’t imagine that Jacks would hold on to her, or anyone else, for that length of time. And yet, he made no move to release her.
He held on to her as if she were a grudge, his body rigid and tense, as if he really didn’t want her there, and yet his arms were tight around her waist as though he had no intention of ever letting her go.
PART III
Chaos
37
Evangeline woke up in a pair of unyielding arms. She tried to wiggle free, but Jacks held her tightly as her eyes opened and slowly adjusted to the warm light of day.
She hadn’t even been aware that she’d fallen asleep, but she must have dozed off in Jacks’s lap. Heat curled in her stomach and rose to her cheeks. It was a silly thing to be embarrassed about. She’d almost died, and Jacks had saved her life. Had it been anyone else who’d gone to so much trouble—rescuing her from soldiers, carrying her through the midnight snow, finding her a cure—she’d have thought it might have meant something. But even though Jacks had held her all through the night, his arms were wooden in their grip, his chest was a flat rock against her head. They hadn’t curved into each other as she’d slept. Jacks had only saved her because he needed her alive for the prophecy.
She’d known he was lying when he’d called the prophecy dusty and said she didn’t need to worry about the Valory Arch. Without the prophecy, Jacks would never have saved her, nor would he have put her in so many terrible positions.
Evangeline tried to move, but her limbs were like lead. All she could do was blink the remaining sleep from her eyes as she finally took in the rest of her surroundings.
Butter-soft light streamed through the rounded windows, gilding every surface of the unexpectedly bright flat that Evangeline found herself in. The walls were covered in bold yellow and orange flowers, the shelves were speckled with glitter, and the books on them were arranged by the color of the spine. And yet none of it was nearly as bright as the girl dressed in a sequined robe, lounging on the striped ginger chaise directly across from Evangeline and Jacks.
“LaLa?”