Castor had no idea that version of their history even existed. It wasn’t entirely fair to judge him for it. But Jacks hadn’t cared about being fair for a very long time.
“If you’re here to lecture me,” said Castor, “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Then I’ll keep this short. You need to control yourself. Or your parents are going to find out and maybe this time, instead of placing a helm on you, they’ll just place you in a grave.”
Castor worked his jaw. “They wouldn’t do that.”
“They’re still human, Castor. Humans do a lot of stupid things when they’re scared.”
Jacks had. And the worst part was, he’d thought he’d been doing the right thing. As when Castor had died.
Jacks had been the one who’d told Castor’s mother, Honora, to bring him back from the dead.
Castor and Lyric had been Jacks’s best friends, more like his brothers. Lyric had just died, and Jacks couldn’t lose Castor, too.
He hadn’t thought about what it would cost to return him to life. He hadn’t imagined how much blood would be shed. One of the reasons Jacks had allowed himself to be turned into a Fate was so that Castor wouldn’t be alone. Then he’d started the rumor that Castor was Chaos and that Chaos was a Fate, so that the world wouldn’t figure out he was the last remaining Valor.
“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Jacks said. “You finally have the helm off and your family back. I don’t want to see you destroy this chance.”
Castor scoffed. “I’m not the one about to destroy my life.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I talked to my sister. Aurora told me what you want and what you’re willing to exchange for it.”
“Your sister—” Jacks stopped himself. Even he knew better than to insult the twin of a vampire with control issues. Although it was tempting. He could feel his hands clenching into fists, but Castor wasn’t the one he really wanted to punch. “I know what I’m doing.”
The vampire gave him another hard look. “If Evangeline ever gets her memories back, she’ll never forgive you for this.”
“At least she’ll be alive to hate me.”
Chapter 22
Evangeline
The Hunt . . .”
“. . . the Hunt.”
“. . . the Hunt . . .”
Normally Evangeline did not hear her guards talking, but these two words kept sneaking through her door, as if just the name of this hunt had more power than other, more ordinary words. She’d heard mention of it before, but she’d thought it had just been a reference to the hunt for Lord Jacks. Now she wasn’t so sure.
She would have asked her maid, but Martine had stepped out to return her luncheon tray. After all that had happened last night, Evangeline had slept half the day away.
As she sipped a cooling cup of starmire tea, she reached for that day’s scandal sheet, hoping it might have an answer for her. And it did—only it wasn’t an answer to her questions about the Hunt.
Evangeline turned the page. This time there was no shadowy image. There in freshly printed black and white was a drawing of Archer. He wore a devil-may-care grin and tossed an apple in one hand, looking nothing like a murderer—and everything like what Evangeline secretly wanted.
“No,” Evangeline breathed.
No. No. No. No.
“This can’t be,” she said, her words coming out more frantic this time.
This had to be a mistake.
Maybe Archer just looked like Lord Jacks. Or perhaps this was the wrong drawing. Archer couldn’t be Lord Jacks. He was a guard. He’d saved her life—twice.
“Your Highness,” said Martine as she stepped back into the room, “you look a bit pale in the cheeks.”
“I’m fine. I just saw something in the paper that alarmed me.” She held up the page for Martine to see. “Is this really what Lord Jacks looks like?”
“That is him, Your Highness. I can see why you’ve gone all pasty. He’s just awful, isn’t he?” But her voice came out like a sigh, and Evangeline swore there were hearts in Martine’s eyes as she looked at the black-and-white image, which was anything but awful.
Jacks looked like a happy ending that was just out of reach, and Martine was clearly bewitched by him. Just like Evangeline had been, only she was afraid her feelings for him had been a lot deeper than bewitchment.
Even now she could feel things just looking at this picture.
She didn’t want to believe it. Evangeline still wanted to think the paper had gotten it wrong. Archer—rather, Lord Jacks—had been with her last night.
But he hadn’t been with her all night. He’d found her only after Apollo had been called away. But . . .
She tried to make another excuse. She once again reminded herself Archer—Jacks—had saved her life, so he couldn’t be a killer. Yet last night, he’d as much as confessed to her.
Maybe I just enjoyed killing people, he’d said. And instead of being horrified, she’d felt—Evangeline couldn’t actually think about how she’d felt last night. Now she just felt sick and foolish and stupid and absolutely furious with herself.
She should have known. She should have put it together that Archer was in the memories Apollo wanted her to forget. Apollo had warned her. Jacks has done atrocious, unforgivable things to you, and I think you might be happier if those things stay forgotten.
And he was right, because Evangeline felt awful.
She still didn’t want Archer to be the villain. She didn’t want him to be Jacks. And she definitely didn’t want to have feelings for him.
Her cheeks flashed with something like shame.
Martine looked at her with concern. Evangeline wanted nothing more than to smile and burn the paper and pretend none of this had happened. But even if she could pretend away her feelings—which she doubted, since feeling was what Evangeline did—she could not pretend away all the people Jacks had murdered last night.
She needed to tell Apollo that she had seen Jacks in Wolf Hall masquerading as a guard named Archer.
Evangeline grabbed the first dress she could find—a gown with a moss-green velvet bodice, a sweetheart neckline, and slender straps lined in pale pink flowers that matched the gown’s long gauzy skirt.
Martine handed her a pair of matching slippers, which Evangeline quickly pressed her feet into. Then she started toward the door before she lost her courage. She didn’t want to think she would, but she needed to act quickly.
Jacks needed to be stopped before he murdered more innocents, and Evangeline hoped her confession might help. If Jacks was sneaking in and out of the castle, obviously there were people here who were loyal to him, like her guards from last night. Unless they were also naive like her.
With a deep breath, Evangeline finally opened the door from her rooms into the long hallway.
Her guards from late last night were not there. Instead, Joff and Hale, the same soldiers who’d found her at the well, waited on the other side, wearing shining bronze armor and friendly smiles. Like all the other guards, they had mustaches—another thing Archer had not possessed.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” they said in perfect unison.