Her eyes adjusted to the dim, allowing her to make out the hulking shape of the bed. She’d hoped to find a nightstand beside it, something that Tiberius would be sure to see before retiring. But there wasn’t a bedside table.
She’d have to settle for either the low table in the sitting area, where there was a line of bottles of liquor, or the vanity. If it had been Apollo, she would have chosen the vanity. But for Tiberius, the table where he kept his libations seemed best.
Her hands shook as she unwrapped the bottle of curiosity. Then she rapidly set it on the table and fled the room before she could be tempted to drink it.
It all took under a minute. She was terrified and she was quick, but she wasn’t quick enough. She heard the footsteps as soon as she was in the too-bright hall.
And then she saw her—Marisol.
Evangeline felt an almost childlike fright, as if she were watching a monster rather than just another girl her age.
Marisol was looking at something in her hands as she turned a corner, cheeks flushing prettily and beribboned braids of light brown hair shining under the torchlight. Her dress was the color of spun gold. The overskirt had an impractical train, and gilded ribbons crisscrossed over the bodice, matching the bands in her braids and the cuffed bracelets decorating her arms in an intricate lattice pattern. She already looked like a princess.
Run.
Leave.
Get out.
A hundred variations of the same thought raced through Evangeline’s head. If she ran, she might beat Marisol. Her stepsister’s lovely gown with its princess train wasn’t designed for running.
But Evangeline didn’t move fast enough. In her split second of indecision, in the moment when she looked Marisol over, taking in her happiness instead of choosing to flee, Marisol looked up. “Evangeline?”
It had felt like a long hall before, but clearly it was not. Within a heartbeat, Marisol was there, hugging Evangeline as if they shared blood rather than betrayal. She didn’t seem to notice that Evangeline stiffened, every muscle tensing all the way to her clenched hands.
“I’m so relieved you’re all right,” Marisol gushed. “I’ve been terribly worried—but we can’t talk here.” Marisol let go of Evangeline to open the door to Evangeline’s former bedchamber.
“Hurry! My guards are just around the corner.” Marisol waved a slender arm, frantic, as a single lock of hair fell out of its coiffure. If she was acting, it was a flawless performance.
“Evangeline, hurry—if the guards catch you, even I won’t be able to help you. Tiberius is convinced you murdered his brother.”
Boot steps thundered closer. If the guards found Evangeline dressed like a stylish assassin and scowling at the queen-to-be just outside the prince’s room, they would not only arrest her, they might suspect that Evangeline had done something nefarious. If they were smart, they’d search Tiberius’s room, find the bottle with the antidote, and there was a chance they’d be compelled to drink it instead, ruining her plans.
Evangeline knew she couldn’t trust Marisol, but she had no choice except to follow her stepsister into the suite, warm from a hearth that appeared to have been recently lit with a fire.
The room was just as Evangeline remembered, with hand-painted paper on the walls, a fireplace made of crystal, and an enormous princess bed. The only difference was the scent of vanilla and sweet cream, which told her this was Marisol’s room now.
At least she looked a little abashed.
“Tiberius wanted me close to him—his rooms are just next door.” Marisol worried her lower lip between her teeth. “We’ll have to get you out of here before he comes back. I can put you in one of my gowns. It will be a little small for you, but you’ll blend in better.”
Marisol pursed her lips as she looked over Evangeline’s leather boots, her short, tiered skirt, and her lacy I’m-off-to-meet-a-vampire corset, and Evangeline would have sworn there was a flicker of jealousy, as if now Marisol wished to be a fugitive instead of a princess. It was the sort of look Evangeline would have disregarded before. Something there and then quickly hidden before it was found, as if Marisol didn’t even wish to acknowledge it. But Evangeline couldn’t ignore it.
She had been wrong to think she could just drop off the cure for Tiberius and then wait from a distance until she learned if it worked or not. That would never be answer enough. She needed to know why Marisol had done all of this.
“Why are you helping me?”
A tiny line formed between Marisol’s thin brows, but Evangeline swore her skin went pale. “Did you think I would betray you?”