“Good morning, Joff. Good morning, Hale. Could you please take me to see Apollo? I need to speak with the prince right away.”
“I’m afraid he’s already left for the Hunt,” said Joff.
“Then take me to the Hunt,” Evangeline said.
The day was already halfway gone and she could feel more minutes rapidly slipping away as she stood in the hall. She might have told these guards she had news on Lord Jacks—surely they would listen to that. But she wasn’t certain who in this castle she could trust. She imagined a number of the guards had to be loyal to him or he would not have been able to sneak in and out of Wolf Hall without notice.
Hale frowned. “Your Highness—”
“Don’t say you’re not allowed to take me off the castle grounds.”
“Oh no. We wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to go to the Hunt.”
Hale said the word Hunt with a combination of both reverence and excitement, and although Evangeline felt as if she really didn’t have time to waste, she couldn’t help but ask, “What is this Hunt?”
Hale’s and Joff’s square faces both brightened.
“It’s only the most thrilling event of the year!” said Joff.
“Everyone looks forward to it,” echoed Hale.
Evangeline didn’t have any brothers, but if she had, she imagined they might have been a little like Joff and Hale. Both young men were so animated, they finished each other’s sentences and echoed each other’s words as the two went back and forth to explain the wonder of the Hunt.
“It’s a tradition almost as old as the North itself,” said Hale.
“It was started forever ago by the Valors,” added Joff. “The story goes that one of their daughters—the pretty one—”
“They were all pretty,” Hale interrupted.
“Well, the prettiest one,” Joff continued, “had a pet unicorn, you see, and once a year, after the first rain of spring, they’d send this unicorn out into the Cursed Forest and everyone would hunt it.”
“And this was supposed to be fun?” asked Evangeline.
“Don’t worry, they weren’t trying to kill it,” Hale promised. “It’s terrible luck to kill a unicorn. And they’re far more useful alive.”
Joff nodded and added, “Whoever caught the unicorn was granted a half wish.”
“What’s a half wish?”
Both men shrugged.
“No one quite knows,” admitted Joff.
“There aren’t any more unicorns,” finished Hale. “But now, every year, someone volunteers to dress up like a unicorn for the Hunt. One year Joff almost did it!”
Joff nodded proudly. “I would have, but then that onionhead Quixton beat me to it.”
“May I ask,” said Evangeline in what she hoped was a polite tone, as these men clearly held a high regard for the Hunt, “why would anyone want to volunteer for this?”
“If you’re the unicorn,” Hale explained, “and you can make it through two nights and three days without being caught, you get a proper knighthood and a squire and a pile of gold.”
“And if you get caught?” Evangeline asked.
“Well,” said Joff a little less enthusiastically, “whoever dresses up like the unicorn usually gets maimed pretty badly if captured. And whoever catches them is the one who gets the title—if they need it—along with the pile of gold and the squire.”
“So . . . people love the Hunt because of the prizes at the end?”
“There’s also a big celebration afterward,” said Hale.
“And,” added Joff, “it’s the only time of the year anyone is allowed to enter the Cursed Forest.”
Evangeline had never heard of the Cursed Forest. “And people want to enter this forest?” she asked.
“Oh yes, the Cursed Forest is a special kind of cursed. But you should really change into sturdier shoes and put on a cloak or two before we go,” said Hale. “It always rains on the path, which was what I was trying to warn you about before.”
Chapter 23
Evangeline
Once upon a time, the Cursed Forest was supposedly not cursed at all. It was said to have been the loveliest forest in the Magnificent North. The sort of forest that the best parts of fairytales were born from, full of friendly forest folk willing to guide lost travelers back to their paths or help wounded ones find aid. This forest was filled with flowers that produced light at night and birds that sang music so sweet even the hardest heart wept at hearing it.
It was believed to have been a favorite forest of the Valors, and the Valors were said to be the forest’s favorite family.
Thus when the Valors were all beheaded, the forest grieved for its beloved family. It grieved so deeply that it transformed into something else entirely. Something cursed that in turn cursed all those who dared to enter it.
Some say this curse was the forest’s way of trying to make others love it the way that the Valor family had loved it—for the curse of the forest was a peculiar sort of curse. At first it didn’t even seem like a curse, it seemed a bit like a wonder. Until more and more Northerners went into the forest and never came out.
And so in true Northern fashion, it was decided that all paths to the Cursed Forest should be cursed as well, so that Northerners would stop disappearing inside of it.
Unfortunately, there were disagreements on how best to bewitch the roads, so several sloppy spells were all cast at once.
Evangeline was unaware of this history. But as soon as she reached the path she’d chosen to take with her guards, she immediately saw the evidence of such spells. It began with a sprinkle that was not too bad at first, but the rain grew heavier as the road went on. Suddenly there were gusts of wind and lashes of rain that pelted her sideways and slantways.
Soon she was soaked. She wasn’t sure how long the road was, but it felt like the rain beat down on her forever. It was so tempting to turn around. But she had to tell Apollo that Jacks had been sneaking into the castle to see her.
The only weapon Evangeline had was the jeweled dagger Jacks had given her. It was tucked into a little green velvet belt that circled the waist of her gown, and she told herself if she saw him again, she wouldn’t hesitate to use the blade. And yet, a part of her feared she might not actually be able to stab him. There was also a twisted part of her that was scared she might never see him again. Her stomach clenched as she remembered how she had turned her back on him last night and how he hadn’t chased after her.
She knew Jacks was the enemy, but a part of her still felt bewitched by the thought of Archer. On her own, she would never defeat him. Evangeline needed Apollo and his army and whatever else he had, and tromping along a rainy path was a tiny price to pay for that.