“Didn’t anyone try to stop him?”
Aurora laughed. “No one tries to stop my father. I don’t imagine tonight’s toast will go on that long, as he seems to have rallied enough of the dinner party to his cause. But we should move on before anyone notices.” Aurora bounced forward, swishing her violet hair. “Where are you going? Do you have a secret lover? Or perhaps you’re off to see your personal witch who tells the future?”
“Oh no,” Evangeline replied quickly. “I don’t have a lover or know any witches. I was just planning on going back to my suite.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” Aurora sighed. “Still, I suppose walking you back to your room is better than listening to my father.” She linked her arm with Evangeline’s.
Earlier, Evangeline had liked Aurora, but now there was something about the girl that didn’t feel right. Or maybe it was just that she was ruining Evangeline’s plans to find Archer.
“Thank you for the offer,” Evangeline said carefully, “but I’d actually prefer to be alone.”
Aurora gave her a dubious look before she flashed a brilliant smile. “So you do have a secret lover after all?”
“No,” Evangeline repeated calmly. “I’m married.”
Aurora twisted her mouth. “That usually doesn’t stop other people. There’s really not a guard or handsome stableboy who has caught your eye?”
“There’s only Apollo,” Evangeline said firmly. Although, even as she spoke, her thoughts flashed to Archer. She pictured him standing there on the bridge in the rain, shirt clinging to his chest as his eyes clung to her. But she didn’t want him as a lover. He was reckless and uncivilized and he’d lied about knowing her. She only wanted to find him so he might spark a new memory.
But it seemed that wouldn’t be happening tonight.
Footsteps had begun to pound down the hall. Aurora had waylaid Evangeline long enough for her guards to notice her absence and finally catch up.
Disappointment made Evangeline tired. As her guards had walked her to the room, she kept looking over her shoulder for Archer. She didn’t know if she really thought he could appear, or if she just wanted him to arrive so much that she thought she could will it to happen.
She imagined colliding with him in the hallway and regaining all her memories in a sudden rush that made everything in her upside-down world make sense.
But alas, after an uneventful journey, she was returned to her room, where she found herself undressing for bed and thinking words like alas.
She didn’t know when she crawled into bed exactly, or how long she’d been there. She was somewhere between asleep and awake when she heard the floor creak beside her. It didn’t sound like Apollo’s confident stride. It sounded like someone sneaking in. Evangeline dared to imagine it was Archer as she opened her eyes—
A broad hulking figure loomed over her bed.
Not Archer or Apollo.
She tried to scream.
But the assailant moved faster. In the time it took her to open her mouth, he was on the bed, slamming a large gloved hand over her lips and pressing her down with the weight of his body.
He smelled like sweat and horses. Evangeline couldn’t see his face—he wore a full mask that left him with only a pair of dull eyes exposed.
She tried to scream again. Tried to bite his hand. Archer hadn’t taught her what to do in this position. But she could hear his words from this morning. If you stop fighting, you die.
She kicked, aiming between her assailant’s legs.
“It’d be better if you stayed still.” The assassin flashed a knife the length of her forearm.
Help! Help! Help! she cried wordlessly, frantically fighting to buck him off.
He lowered the knife, parting the top of her nightgown. Then she felt the blade’s sharp tip carve a painful line beneath her collarbone.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” growled Archer.
Evangeline hadn’t even noticed him enter the room, but suddenly he was there—golden and glowering and possibly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. He ruthlessly grabbed the assassin by the neck, yanked him from the bed, and pinned him to a bedpost, holding him aloft so his legs dangled as uselessly as a doll’s.
Evangeline scrambled off the bed. “I tried to fight him.”
Blood streamed down her chest as she tightened her robe with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
Archer’s eyes narrowed on the blood and Evangeline swore they flashed from blue to molten silver. He looked back at the assassin and snarled.
The sound that came out of his mouth was purely animal. He ripped off his mask, pulled out a knife, and brought the blade to the man’s left eye. “Who hired you to harm her?”
The assassin paled but gritted his teeth.
“I’ll ask you one more time, then you lose the eye. And I almost hope you don’t answer, because I’d love to cut out your eye. Who hired you to kill her?”
“It was anonymous,” the assassin rushed out.
“That’s too bad for you.” Archer lowered his knife.
“I swear, I don’t know,” the man spit out. “I was just told to make it slow and painful and bloody.”
Evangeline went numb all over. It was one thing for someone to want her dead, another to learn they wanted to torture her.
“Did they say why?” Evangeline asked.
The assassin clamped his mouth shut.
“Don’t be rude. The princess asked you a question.” Archer lifted the man higher and roughly shook him by the neck until his head rocked to the side. “Answer her.”
“I dunno why,” the man spit out. “I was just told to make it hurt.”
Archer’s nostrils flared.
“You’re lucky that I’m kinder than your employer.” He cocked his golden head, looking almost thoughtful. “This will hurt, but not for long.” Then he took his knife and stabbed the assassin in the heart.
Chapter 18
Evangeline
The assassin fell to the floor with an ugly thud. He twitched, convulsed—Evangeline wasn’t quite sure of the proper words, only that he didn’t die immediately.
It was all rather horrifying, but she couldn’t say she was sorry. She could still feel her own blood staining the robe she held to her chest. It had been such a pretty gown, periwinkle blue and lined in delicate cream lace that was turning dark with the welling blood.
The assailant made a few gurgling sounds that resembled curses.
“You’re wasting your last words,” said Archer. “I’m already damned.” He leaned down and twisted his knife. When he pulled it out, blood spattered on his dark cloak and the pale shirt he wore beneath it, but he didn’t appear to care.
He stepped over the body and stalked along the edge of the bed, glowering at Evangeline.
“Why is it that people are always trying to kill you?” His voice was low, on the edge of something deadly. “You need to be more careful.”
“How is this my fault?”
“You have no sense of self-preservation.” Archer took another angry step. “If someone labeled a bottle poison, you would drink it. You take warnings as invitations. You can’t seem to stay away from all the things that will hurt you.”