She caught a glimpse of LaLa on the arm of Robin. He looked blissful now that she’d arrived. Since leaving Jacks’s room, LaLa had traded in her goblet for a trident and her nerves for an adoring smile. But Evangeline wondered if it was all an act, as her friendship with Evangeline had been. Was LaLa like Jacks, using Evangeline to get whatever it was that she wanted from inside the Valory Arch?
Evangeline didn’t want to believe that—it didn’t feel like the truth to her. But her head was dizzy from the wine, her chest was tight with hurt, and it was hard to think clearly. All she knew was that she didn’t think she could take another betrayal. She just wanted one person to trust. Was that too much to ask?
“You look as if you could use some fresh air,” Petra said. She linked arms with Evangeline before she could nod.
Petra was dressed as one of the figures that Evangeline didn’t recognize. She wore a very low-cut white chain-mail gown and a slender silver circlet around the crown of her moonlight hair. “Come with me,” she coaxed. “I know a secret way out of here.”
Evangeline’s stomach clenched as Petra led her toward a fountain spilling sparkling mead. She still didn’t like or trust this girl. But if she stayed in the ballroom, Jacks would catch up with her. She wasn’t sure what had kept him from doing so already. But Evangeline didn’t dare look behind her shoulder to find out. She’d talk to him again when the room wasn’t spinning and she felt steadier on her feet—right now, it would be far too easy for him to knock them out from under her.
“Where’s this secret passage?” she asked.
“Just over here,” Petra said.
In Evangeline’s head, it all happened quite fast. One moment they were at the edge of the dance floor. Then they were at the wallflower benches—empty since this wasn’t the sort of party that wallflower types were invited to.
“I think it’s this one.” Petra grabbed one of the bench legs, tugging it away from the wall and pulling open a concealed door in the process.
“Through here,” she said quickly, almost as if she were on the run as well.
Evangeline felt a flicker of unease. But instead of moldy stones and cobwebs, the other side was reassuringly bright. All torchlit white plaster walls formed of sculptures of Slaughterwoods from the past.
Or at least Evangeline hoped they were sculptures. A few carvings they passed looked so lifelike, Evangeline could all too easily imagine they were actual bodies buried in the white walls.
She slowed her steps, but Petra took her arm once more and urged her to continue forward.
“How did you know about this passage?” Evangeline asked.
“Oh,” Petra said quietly. “I’ve visited here a hundred times.”
“I thought you said you were lucky to get invited to this party?”
“I lied.” Petra winced. “I mean—I just—” she stammered, an action that looked especially strange on her lips, as if floundering for answers was not a thing she often did. “I’ve been coming to parties here longer than you’ve been alive.”
Evangeline felt another clench in her gut. Then she felt the mirth stone burning hot beneath her eyelet dress. Only now, Evangeline wasn’t so sure it was the mirth stone after all. Before, she hadn’t sensed much power from the rock, but now it was as if the stone were finally waking up; she could feel it coming alive with power. But this power didn’t give her a sense of joy or mirth as she would have expected. She felt the searing burn of truth—she was wearing the truth stone—and she felt it telling her to get out, to leave, to flee, to run for her life.
The world finally stopped spinning, and she regretted her lack of thinking.
Of course Evangeline had been thinking—it was just that one of her thoughts had been that when Jacks finally found her, it would feel like triumph to see the look on his face when he discovered her with someone he’d warned her against. Now, his warning about Petra felt a little more merited.
She slipped her arm free of Petra’s. “I’m going to go back to the ball.”
“No, Evangeline. I’m afraid you’re not.” Petra flashed a knife and thrust it straight at Evangeline’s heart.
Evangeline leaped back, barely dodging the blade. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not a bad person—but I don’t want to die.” Petra lunged again, and she might have struck, but her chain-mail gown was clearly slowing her down.
Evangeline skirted the blade and grabbed for the other girl’s wrist. She’d rather risk a slice in the hand than one to the throat. But Petra’s hair was everywhere. Instead of a blade or wrist, Evangeline caught a handful of her moonlit locks.