The thought made something unclench inside her and, for a second, Evangeline felt safe. More than safe, actually. But she didn’t quite have words for the exact feeling. She only knew it wasn’t something she’d experienced before—this deep level of protectiveness.
Slowly, she cracked open her eyes. Outside it was now full night, and inside there was only firelight, leaving most of the room cloaked in shadows, save for the prince who held her. The light clung to him, gilding the edges of his dark hair and his strong jaw as he carried her toward the bed.
“I’m sorry,” Apollo murmured. “I didn’t want to wake you, but you looked uncomfortable on the chair.”
Gently he laid Evangeline on a downy quilt. Then he brushed a quick kiss to her cheek. It was so soft she might not have felt it if she weren’t so acutely aware of his every move, of the slow slide of his warm hands releasing her body. “Sweet dreams, Evangeline.”
“Wait.” She grabbed his hand.
Surprise briefly colored his features. “Did you want me to stay?”
Yes probably should have been her answer.
They were married.
He was a prince.
A commanding prince.
A very attractive prince.
A prince she might have sacrificed quite a lot to be with.
He stroked her hand with this thumb, waiting patiently for her reply.
“I’m sorry that I don’t remember you—I’m trying,” she whispered.
“Evangeline.” Apollo lightly squeezed her hand. “The last thing I want is for you to be in pain, and I can see how much it hurts you to have forgotten so much. But if you never remember, it will be all right. We’ll make new memories together.”
“But I want to remember.” And more than that, she felt as if she needed to remember. She could still feel the pressing need to tell someone something critically important, but she couldn’t remember what this crucial something was or who she needed to tell it to. “What if there’s a way to get my memories back?” she asked. “Maybe we can make some sort of bargain with the man who took them.”
“No.” Apollo shook his head vehemently. “Even if that were possible, it wouldn’t be worth the risk. Lord Jacks is a monster,” he added roughly. “He poisoned me on our wedding night and framed you for the murder. While I was dead, you were almost executed. Jacks has no conscience, no remorse. If I thought for a second that he could help you, I’d do whatever necessary to bring him to you. But if he ever finds you, I fear I’ll never see you again—”
Apollo took a deep breath, and when he spoke once more, his voice was softer. “I can only imagine how hard it is to let this go, but it really might be for the best, Evangeline. Jacks has done atrocious, unforgivable things to you, and I truly believe you might be happier if those things stay forgotten.”
Chapter 4
Apollo
The late King Roland Titus Acadian had always disdained the word nice. Nice was for servants, peasants, and other people who lacked personality. A prince should be clever, formidable, wise, shrewd, even cruel if he had to be—but never nice.
King Roland often told his son Apollo, “If you are nice, it means you are not enough of anything else. People are nice because they must be, but as a prince you must be more.”
As a boy, Apollo had taken this advice as a license to be careless with life and with others. He was not cruel, but neither did he embody any of the other virtues his father extolled. Apollo had always imagined he had time to become clever, formidable, wise, or shrewd. It never occurred to him that, in the meantime, he was becoming something else.
Apollo realized this alarming truth upon first waking up from the suspended state of sleep that his former friend, Lord Jacks, had placed him in. Upon discovering that the entire Magnificent North believed him to be dead, Apollo had expected to find monuments of flowers and bastions of stubborn mourners who continued to weep for him, even though the official period of grieving had ended.
Instead, he’d found the kingdom had already moved on. Within the span of a fortnight, he’d become a footnote, remembered as a single unremarkable word in a scandal sheet.
While he’d been under the Archer’s curse, he’d come across this particular scandal sheet from the day after he’d been supposedly killed. The paper had mentioned only that he’d died. Just one word, beloved, had been used to describe him, but that was it. The paper had said nothing of his great deeds or his acts of bravery. And how could it have, when the bulk of what he’d done was sit for portraits?
Apollo could barely stand the sight of the pictures now, as he strode through Wolf Hall on his way to meet with Mr. Kristof Knightlinger of The Daily Rumor.
This was his second chance to finally make himself more, as his father had urged. After his shocking return from the dead yesterday, Apollo noticed the different way people regarded him. Voices were more hushed, heads were quicker to bow, and eyes were full of wonder, as if he were more than a mere mortal.
And yet he’d never felt more human, more vulnerable, or more miserable.
It was all a lie. He’d never returned from the dead. He’d merely been cursed, and cursed, and cursed again. Now, for the first time in nearly three months, he was no longer under any spell, and yet he felt cursed by what he had done to Evangeline.
Apollo had thought that once he was free of the Archer’s curse, he’d think about her less. The curse had forced him to hunt her. Under its influence, he’d thought about her every second. At every moment, he’d wondered where she was and what she was doing. There’d been a constant picture of her angelic face in his mind. All he’d wanted was her—and when he’d found her, all he’d wanted was to eviscerate her.
Now he still wanted her, but in a different way. When he saw her, he didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to protect her. To keep her safe.
This was why he’d erased her memories.
He knew it was for the best. Jacks had tricked her, just as he’d fooled Apollo into being his friend. If Evangeline fell under Jacks’s thrall again, he would only destroy her. But Apollo would make her happy. He would make her a queen who would be loved and adored. He would more than make up for what he’d done to her in the past, as long as she never found out.
If she ever found out he’d taken her memories, it would all come crumbling down.
Only one other person knew that Apollo had taken her memories. After today, if all went well, he wouldn’t have to worry about that person. And as far as finding Jacks, Apollo hoped this morning’s interview would assist with that.
Finally he reached the small tower room where he’d arranged for this meeting to take place. Normally he preferred grander settings: large rooms with lots of light and windows and ornamentation that made it impossible to forget that Apollo was royalty. But today he had chosen an unadorned tower room to make sure no one overheard the conversation that he would be having.