It should have been easy enough to find. The map was quite good, and the Flower Garden was manicured to perfection.
Yesterday’s rain had left the castle grounds full of rich, damp colors so deep that Evangeline imagined that were she to touch any flowers, their petals would stain the tips of her gloves. It was lovely in a way she almost wished it wasn’t. Evangeline didn’t want to be ensorcelled by the beauty. It felt too close to being dazzled once more by Apollo.
But it was hard not to feel just a little bit enchanted. The silver fog swirled around the grounds like magic, adding misty sparkles to all the trees and shrubs. It was such a lovely fog that Evangeline didn’t notice how dense it had become until she took a step and realized she could see nothing but the stone path a couple of feet directly before her. The fog was so thick she couldn’t even make out where her guards were behind her. She almost called out to see if they were still following. But then she thought better of it.
Evangeline didn’t really want to be followed by guards and . . . a wild idea struck her.
Perhaps losing the guards was the tutor’s plan. Maybe she wanted to see Evangeline alone. The woman was supposed to be an expert in all things Wolf Hall and royal, so she must have expected that the garden would be concealed by fog. Perhaps the tutor had arranged this to tell Evangeline something she did not wish others to hear.
It was perhaps too much to hope that this something would also help Evangeline find her memories, and yet she found herself quickening her steps.
“Princess, could you slow down?” called Hansel. Or maybe it was Victor. She couldn’t distinguish who was yelling, only that they both were calling after her.
“We seem to have lost you!” one of them cried.
But Evangeline moved faster, stepping off the path so her boots wouldn’t click and the guards wouldn’t be able to easily follow her. The ground was damp and soft underfoot. Fallen petals clung to the edges of her cloak and to the tips of her boots.
Ding-dong!
In the distance, the tower clock chimed half past eleven.
Evangeline feared she was going to be late, but then she saw the bridge to the walled Wishing Garden. She quickly crossed it, leaving a trail of mud and flowers that would make it easy for the guards to find her once they got closer. But she’d hopefully get at least a few moments alone with Madame Voss.
The fog dissipated slightly at the end of the bridge, revealing a rounded door speckled with age. Evangeline had the impression it had once been a brilliant bronze, but that its color had faded over time, like a memory that would one day disappear altogether.
The door handle had a green patina that reminded her of a story she’d once read about a doorknob that could feel the hands of everyone who touched it and tell what sort of heart the person had. It was how the doorknob knew who to let inside.
Evangeline couldn’t remember who the doorknob had been protecting, but she knew that someone with a wicked heart had tricked the doorknob by removing their own heart. She forgot what happened after that, but she didn’t want to take the time to stop and remember. She needed to enter the garden before the guards caught up.
Fog swirled around her boots as she stepped inside. Unlike everything else on the royal grounds, this square of space was wild with rebellious flowers and drunken vines that curled around the garden’s abundant trees and dangled from their branches like ribbons at a party. The path was entirely covered in bluish-green moss that stretched before her as if it were a carpet, leading to a little well that somehow remained untouched by all the overgrown plants.
It was white with an arch of stones that held a length of rope and a dangling golden bucket. Drops of rain began to fall again as Evangeline started toward it.
She looked around for her tutor. Her eyes darted about the trees and back to the strange door, but she didn’t see or hear anyone. The garden was quiet, save for the growing drumming of the rain. What had started as a sprinkle was quickly turning into a storm.
Evangeline huddled under the hood of her cloak and willed her tutor to arrive. Then she remembered the end of the note.
I will of course try to be there on time, but if I’m late, don’t hesitate to make a wish.
Evangeline’s first thought was to wish that the tutor would get there soon. But that would be a silly thing to waste a wish on. She also wondered if perhaps the tutor was not being literal.
Maybe there was something on the well she wanted Evangeline to find. She took a closer look, in search of a clue. There appeared to be something carved into its bricks.
She could just make out the words Instructions for Wishing, but the other words were so faded she had to lean closer—
Hands pushed her from behind.
Evangeline screamed and tried to grasp the well. But the shove was forceful, and she was caught off guard.
She pitched forward like a stone and fell . . .
Chapter 10
Evangeline
Evangeline had heard countless stories about girls falling through time and through cracks in the earth, and it always sounded magical. She pictured them like leaves, gentle and graceful and somewhat lovely as they drifted down, down, down.
Her fall was not like this. She plummeted hard. The air was knocked from her lungs as she hit the icy water and continued to sink. Her cloak and boots were like bricks, pulling her deeper and deeper.
Evangeline had never learned how to swim. She could tread water, but barely.
Frantically she undid her cloak—it was so much easier to kick this way. Her boots still weighed her down, but she feared drowning if she tried to untie them. It took all her effort just to break through the surface of the water. Thankfully, there was a piece of driftwood that she was able to use to stay afloat.
“Help!” she gasped. “I’m down here!”
From up above, she heard cawing birds, gusts of wind, and the relentless fall of rain against the well, but there wasn’t so much as a footstep.
“Is anyone up there?”
In between cries, she fumbled with the ties of her dress. The wood was keeping her afloat, but barely.
It was a little easier to kick in just her chemise, but it was so cold, it was freezing. Her legs were losing strength, and without the kicking, she wasn’t sure the wood would support her.
“I’m down here!” she yelled louder, but somehow her voice sounded weaker. “Help . . .”
It was getting harder to cry out. And it was so, so cold. Her kicks were growing weaker.
Evangeline should never have lost her guards. She probably shouldn’t have gotten so close to the well, but she never thought someone would push her. Who would have done this?
She hadn’t seen anyone, but she wondered blearily if her attacker had been one of the people that Apollo had warned her about.
She used what remained of her strength to kick toward the side of the well. She tried to grip a stone to climb out, but it was too slick and her fingers were numb. She fell back into the freezing water with a splash.
“Evangeline!” someone cried. The voice sounded male and unfamiliar. “Evangeline!”
“I’m . . . down . . . here . . .” she tried to call, but it came out like a whisper.
The stranger cursed.
Evangeline attempted to see up and out of the well. But she had fallen too far, and the walls were too high—all she could see was the golden bucket, lowering toward her.