But something had happened to that girl—to her. And Evangeline couldn’t help but think it went beyond her missing memories.
Her heart still hurt, as if it had been broken and only jagged bits remained. She put a hand on it, as if to keep more pieces from breaking off. And once again, she was struck with the inescapable feeling that among everything she’d forgotten was one thing more important than all the rest, more important than anything.
There was something absolutely vital she needed to tell someone. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not remember what it was or who it was she needed to tell.
Chapter 3
Evangeline
Evangeline was only vaguely aware of the setting sun and the slow darkening of her rooms as she paced across the carpets, fighting desperately to remember anything at all. She hoped that when Apollo returned, he’d be able to give her more answers. But when the door to her rooms finally opened, instead of the prince, she was greeted by an aged physician and a couple of his younger apprentices.
“My name is Dr. Irvis Stillgrass,” said the senior physician, a bearded man with spectacles perched on the tip of his pointed nose. “Telma and Yrell are my apprentices.” He motioned to the others. “His Highness wanted us to ask you a few questions to see just how many of your memories were taken.”
“Do you have any way to bring them back?” Evangeline asked.
Dr. Stillgrass, Telma, and Yrell all pursed their lips at once. A response that Evangeline took to mean no. She wasn’t surprised, which was almost as disturbing. Evangeline almost always felt hopeful, yet she couldn’t summon that hope today. Again, she wondered what had happened to her.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Princess.” Dr. Stillgrass motioned toward a tufted chair near the fire, which Evangeline dutifully took.
The physicians remained standing, towering over her as Dr. Stillgrass asked his questions.
“How old are you?”
“I’m . . .” Evangeline had to pause to think about it. One of her last clear memories was from when she was sixteen. Her father was still alive, and she could faintly remember him smiling as he opened up a new crate of curiosities. But that was all she could recall.
The rest of the memory was blurry around the edges, like a dirty pane of glass that gave the impression of an image without actually showing what it was. Evangeline was sure her father had died some months after this weak memory, but she couldn’t recall any of the particulars. She just knew in her heart that he was gone and more time had passed since then. “I believe I’m seventeen.”
Telma and Yrell appeared to jot down notes about her answer, while Dr. Stillgrass asked another question. “When is your first memory of meeting Prince Apollo?”
“Today.” Evangeline paused. “Do you know when we actually met?”
“I am here to ask, not to answer,” Dr. Stillgrass said briskly before continuing with his questions: Did she recall her engagement to Apollo, her wedding, the night he died?
“No.”
“No.”
“No.”
It was the only answer Evangeline had, and whenever she tried to turn the questions around, Dr. Stillgrass refused to answer.
At some point during the interview, a new gentleman entered the room. Evangeline hadn’t even seen him slip inside, but suddenly he was there, standing just behind Telma and Yrell. He was dressed much like them, in a long brown leather tunic worn atop fitted black pants and belted with two straps of leather that secured a series of knives and vials to one hip and a harness for a book to the other. The book appeared to be in his hands now, but something about the way he jotted things down in his notebook was different from the other apprentices.
This young man wrote with a flourish, swishing his feathered pen in a way that kept drawing Evangeline’s eyes. When he caught her staring, he winked and brought a finger to his lips, gesturing for her not to tell.
And for some reason, she didn’t.
Evangeline had a feeling this man wasn’t supposed to be here, despite his similar manner of dress. But he was the only one of this group who seemed to feel anything for her as she struggled for answers. He nodded encouragingly, smiled at her sympathetically, and whenever Dr. Stillgrass said something particularly unkind, he rolled his eyes.
“I can confirm that your memories of the last year are entirely gone,” Dr. Stillgrass said self-importantly and quite callously. “We’ll report this to His Highness, and one of us will return each day to see if any memories come back.”
The trio of physicians turned to leave. Dr. Stillgrass swept past the young man without a glance, but Yrell and Telma finally noticed him then.
“Doctor—” Telma started.
But Yrell, who looked slightly dazzled by the interloper, yanked the sleeve of her robe, stopping her from saying more as the trio exited.
Only the nameless young man lingered.
He sauntered toward Evangeline and pulled a rectangular red card from his pocket.
“I would not have believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes,” he said softly. “I am sorry for the loss of your memories. If you’d ever like to talk and perhaps answer some questions, I might be able to fill in a few blanks for you.”
He handed her the card.
Kristof Knightlinger
Southern Morningwatch Tower
The Spires
“What kind of questions . . . ?” Evangeline started to ask as she finished reading the curious card.
But the gentleman was already gone.
The fire crackled.
Evangeline felt herself startle awake, although she hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She was curled up in the fireside chair where she’d puzzled over the little red card from Kristof Knightlinger. She could still feel it in her hand.
She could also feel something else. A man’s arms sliding under her, carefully picking her up and holding her close to a chest that smelled of balsam and something woodsy.
Apollo.
Her stomach dipped.
She couldn’t be entirely sure it was Apollo picking her up. Her eyes were still closed and she was tempted to keep it that way. She didn’t know why she had this urge to pretend or why her heart beat faster as he carried her. Apollo had to have answers to at least some of her questions. Yet she felt unexpectedly afraid to ask them.
She wasn’t sure if it was because he was a prince or because he was still a stranger.
His arms tightened around her. Evangeline tensed. But then suddenly she felt as if she was starting to remember something. There wasn’t much there, just a vague recollection of being held and carried, followed by a thought.
He would carry her through more than just freezing waters. He would pull her through fire if he had to, haul her from the clutches of war, from falling cities and breaking worlds . . .