But she wasn’t going to be deterred. “Why are those names here?” she pressed.
“We used to measure our heights on this wall.”
“I gathered that, Jacks. I’m curious who all of you were to one another. You said you weren’t part of the Merrywood Three, but you didn’t mention being friends with them.”
“I was only friends with Lyric and Castor.”
“What about Aurora and the Archer?”
“Aurora was a pest, and I wouldn’t say that the Archer was my friend.” Jacks finished with the bandage, tying it tight enough to make her catch her breath.
“Why—”
“You should go to sleep now,” Jacks cut in.
“I’m not tired anymore,” she lied.
He gave her a withering look. “You were just flayed.”
“Exactly, and I’m feeling very awake.” She was actually feeling a flood of fatigue. With Jacks’s hands no longer on her, there was not quite so much adrenaline. But somehow she managed to smother a yawn with a smile as she said, “If you want me to sleep, tell me a bedtime story.”
“This isn’t a bedtime story, Little Fox.”
“Most fairytales aren’t.”
The frown lines around Jacks’s mouth deepened. “This isn’t a fairytale, either. Fairytales have heroes. But all the heroes in this story died that day at Merrywood Manor.” Jacks looked back at the notches on the wall, his gaze turning far away and a little lost, making her think that the past was not a place he visited very often. “We were all a little like you back then, stupid enough to believe that if we did the right thing, it would all work out. Lyric was good, Castor was noble, and I—”
He paused and shook his head darkly, as if he didn’t think much of his former self.
“I tried to be the hero that day at Merrywood Manor when Vengeance attacked. I wasn’t there when it happened. When I arrived, everyone was dead except for Castor.”
Evangeline watched regret wash over Jacks’s face.
“He’d been stabbed in the back, and I foolishly thought I could save him. His mother, Honora, was the greatest healer in all the North. And I believed if I could just get him to her fast enough, then she could mend him. But…” He trailed off. She could see on his face he hadn’t been fast enough. “Life is not a kind storyteller. And I’m not meant to be a savior.”
Jacks turned to go.
“You’re wrong.” Evangeline reached out and grabbed his hand. Her grip wasn’t as strong as she would have liked. Exhaustion was starting to take a deeper hold on her, but she held as tight as she could. She wanted to remind him that he’d held her as she’d cried, he’d carried her as she’d bled, he’d bandaged her wounds. But her head was growing so heavy, all she managed to say was “Tonight, you saved me.”
“No, I stopped you from dying. That’s not the same thing.” Jacks pulled away and abruptly left.
* * *
Evangeline didn’t remember closing her eyes, but when they opened again, the loft in the tree was dark, and she feared she was alone. She didn’t know if Jacks had even returned to check on her after taking the supplies. She wanted to think he wouldn’t leave her when she was injured like this, but he’d done similar things before.
“Jacks,” she whispered.
When he didn’t respond, she tried it louder. “Jacks?”
The floor beneath her creaked, but there was nothing else. It was just Evangeline, a pile of blankets, and lingering pain.
Gingerly, she pushed up on two arms. Her entire back smarted at the movement, but it wasn’t horrible, and she couldn’t ignore the pressure inside her that said she needed a bathing room.
Another push to her knees and—
She remembered her lack of clothing. There were only the bandages around her chest and a blanket that had just fallen from her hips.
Jacks had clearly returned at some point. He must have removed her blood-soaked dress entirely while she’d slept. She couldn’t blame him. But suddenly, she was very relieved he wasn’t there as she fumbled around with the bedding until she found something soft that felt like a shirt. He must have left it. It smelled of him; of apples and magic and cold, moonlit nights.
He really did smell good.
She slowly put the garment on and then rose on shaking legs. There were no burning candles to guide her, but thankfully, there were the starry lights outside. It wasn’t much, just whispers of gold, but it was enough to make out the edge of the loft, where an old rope ladder led to another darkened room below.