Jacks, she thought silently.
Again, he didn’t answer.
Was he just asleep? Or was he ignoring her?
If Petra had visited him, he had to be awake.
Evangeline considered knocking again, but if she made any more noise, she might wake others. However—
She looked down at her finger. If she cut herself, she wouldn’t need to knock.
Using her dagger, Evangeline pricked the tip of her finger and unlocked Jacks’s room.
She knew right away that he wasn’t there.
The fire was dead, and the sun was already coming up, shining through the frosted windows and revealing that the four-poster bed had not been slept in. The creamy quilts on it weren’t even wrinkled.
But Jacks had clearly been in this room at some point. Apple cores were piled high on his desk. There were also heaps of clothing strewn across chairs and lounges.
From the look of it, Jacks had brought more clothes than she had. There were breeches and belts and piles of boots. She knew it would have been better not to touch anything, but she couldn’t help running her fingers over a pile of velvet doublets in various shades of blue, black, and gray. They were soft, and they smelled good, too.
She would never admit it to him, but she was feeling a little too tired to lie to herself, and she had to admit, she loved the way Jacks smelled, like apples and magic and crisp, cold nights that made her want to curl up in a blanket.
She wandered to the bed. It didn’t smell like him, but it was soft when she perched on the edge of it. And the pillows felt amazing, fluffy and downy, and just leaning on them allowed Evangeline’s body to relax.
She closed her eyes, just for a second. Or maybe just for a minute.…
* * *
Evangeline wanted to snuggle deeper into her blanket and ignore the shadow that had fallen over her. She didn’t much feel like dealing with shadows, especially irritable ones. This shadow was cold and close, and she sensed that it was in a foul mood. Perhaps, if she just kept her eyes shut, it would go away.
“How long do you plan on pretending you’re asleep?” drawled the shadow.
Evangeline reluctantly cracked one eye open.
The shadow was closer than she’d realized, as if he’d been about to stumble into bed until he’d seen her there. He’d already done away with his doublet: his shirt was half unbuttoned, his golden hair vaguely tousled, and his silver-blue eyes looked more threatening than usual, as if he might still join her in bed.
Her heart tripped at the thought, and then it stumbled again as Jacks’s lids lowered and his gaze skated over her body. His eyes traced the way she curled in his bed, one hand tucked underneath her head, the other pressed to her chest, clutching the blanket to where her night robe had slipped open.
Slowly, his mouth slid into a grin. “Now you’re obsessed with my shirts?”
Evangeline felt it then, the buttons on her blanket—or rather his shirt, which she’d been cuddling like a blanket.
Her cheeks pinked immediately.
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Were you missing me last night?” Jacks leaned against the bedpost and stroked one hand slowly up and down the wood as his eyes trailed back to her legs and the part in her robe.
Mortification was not a strong enough word for how she felt just then. Evangeline thrust the garment aside and rose on her knees until the two of them were nearly level. Her pulse briefly fluttered as she met his eyes. Up close, they were a little too powerful for her liking, but she refused to look away.
“I came in here to look for you after I saw Petra outside your door.”
“Who is Petra?”
“The girl from the dinner last night, the one with the moonlight hair. Who is she to you, Jacks?”
He shook his head, brows drawing together. “I don’t know her.”
Evangeline eyed him warily. She was tempted to believe him. But she also knew better than to trust her judgment when it came to Jacks. “You said she looked familiar last night. And she’s the one who told me that you snuck off during dinner.”
What remained of his amusement instantly vanished. “I don’t know who this girl is, but you should stay away from her.”
“Why? If you don’t know—”
“I don’t like her,” Jacks cut in.
“Why? Because she doesn’t like you?”
“No one likes me,” Jacks answered swiftly.
“We both know that’s not true,” Evangeline challenged. “Plenty of girls appeared to like you last night.”
“They liked Lord Jacks. But, as you know, Little Fox, I am not Lord Jacks.” For a second, Jacks’s entire face changed, any hint of humanity slipping away as he looked at her with eyes as dead as Chaos’s. “I’m the person who’ll kill this Petra girl if she goes near you again. So you should stay away unless you want her dead.”