Agnes released Evangeline from the embrace, only to turn her toward a gentleman that Evangeline hoped was not a suitor.
He wore a flowing white silk shirt with a lacy jabot that cascaded down to a pair of black leather pants so tight she was surprised he could move.
“Evangeline,” said Agnes, “this is Mr. Kutlass Knightlinger of The Whisper Gazette.”
“You write for those scandal sheets?”
“They are not scandal sheets; it’s a periodical,” Agnes corrected with a sniff, making Evangeline think that the fledgling paper had grown in readership and credibility since the article that had inspired her to search for the door to the Prince of Hearts’ church.
“I actually don’t care what you call it, Miss Fox, as long as I’m allowed to feature you in it.” Kutlass Knightlinger brushed a black-feathered pen across his lips. “I’ve been covering everything related to the return of the Fates, and I have several questions for you.”
Evangeline was suddenly unsteady on her feet. The last thing she wanted to talk about was what had happened with Jacks. No one could ever know she’d made a deal with a Fate.
If Evangeline had been fully recovered, she would have pulled away with a clever excuse. But instead, Mr. Kutlass Knightlinger, of the lacy jabot and the black leather pants, was the one who did all the pulling.
Quickly, he wrangled her away from the party, through a pair of thick gold curtains and onto a bench hidden in an alcove that smelled of mystery and musk and imitation magic. Or was that Kutlass Knightlinger’s cologne?
“Mr. Knightlinger—” Evangeline pushed up from the bench, and the world began to spin. She really needed to eat. “I don’t believe today is the best day for an interview.”
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t really matter what you say. I make the people I interview look good. And everyone already loves you. After the sacrifice you made, you’re one of Valenda’s favorite heroes.”
“But I’m really not a hero.”
“You’re too modest.” Kutlass leaned in closer. The heavy scent around her was definitely his cologne. “During the Week of Terror—”
“What’s the Week of Terror?”
“It was so exciting! It started right after you were turned to stone. The Fates returned—would you believe they were trapped inside a deck of cards? So much mischief and mayhem when they escaped and tried to take over the empire. But the story of how you took the place of that wedding party and turned yourself to stone inspired people all over during that difficult time. You’re a hero.”
Evangeline’s throat went suddenly dry. No wonder so many people were there. “I hope that I did what anyone else would have done in my situation.”
“That’s perfect.” Kutlass pulled out an impossibly small notebook from his leather vest and began scribbling away. “My readers are going to love this. Now—”
Her stomach cut him off with a loud grumble.
Kutlass laughed, quick and practiced as his pen strokes. “A little hungry?”
“I can’t remember the last time I ate. I should probably—”
“I only have a few more questions. There are rumors that while you were still stone, your adoptive mother started receiving marriage proposals for your hand—”
“Oh, Agnes is my stepmother,” Evangeline cut in quickly, “she never adopted me.”
“But I think it’s safe to say she will now.” Kutlass winked. “Your star will only continue to rise, Miss Fox. Now, may I have a parting word of advice for all your admirers?”
The word admirers left a bad taste on Evangeline’s teeth. She really didn’t deserve any admirers. And everyone would undoubtedly feel differently if they knew what she’d truly done.
“If you’re a little speechless, I’ll come up with something brilliant.” His feathered pen swished over his journal.
“Wait—” Evangeline still didn’t know what she was going to say, but she shuddered to think what he might be writing. “I know that stories often take on lives of their own. I already feel as if the horror I went through is turning into a fairytale, but I’m nothing special, and this is not a fairytale.”
“And yet it turned out well for you,” Kutlass cut in.
“She was stone for six weeks,” said a soft voice behind them. “I wouldn’t say it turned out well.”
Evangeline looked over Kutlass’s shoulder to see her stepsister.
Marisol stood in between the gold curtains, holding her sugarbelle cake like a shield.
Kutlass pivoted in a swish of lace and leather. “The Cursed Bride!”
Marisol’s cheeks turned a painful shade of red.
“This is excellent!” Kutlass’s feathered pen began moving again. “I’d love to have a word with you.”
“Actually,” Evangeline interrupted, sensing that Marisol was the one who needed rescuing now. “My stepsister and I haven’t had any time together, so I think I’m going to steal her away to enjoy some cake.”
Evangeline finally pushed past him, linked arms with her stepsister, and departed through the curtains.
“Thank you.” Marisol clung tighter to Evangeline, and though they’d never been much for linking arms before, Evangeline felt as if her stepsister had grown thinner. Marisol had always been slender like her mother, but today she felt fragile. And her skin was almost waxen in its paleness, which could have been from interacting with Kutlass. But there were also circles beneath her light brown eyes that looked as if they’d been there for days or maybe weeks.
Evangeline stopped abruptly before they rejoined the rest of the gathering. Earlier, she’d wondered why Luc wasn’t there, but now she felt afraid of the answer. “Marisol, what’s wrong? And … where is Luc?”
Marisol shook her head. “We shouldn’t talk about this now. This is your happy day. I don’t want to spoil it.”
“You made me cake and saved me from the king of scandal sheets—I think you’re actually the hero.”
Marisol’s eyes welled with tears, and Evangeline felt a knife twist inside her.
“What is it?” Evangeline pressed. “What’s the matter?”
Marisol worried her lip between her teeth. “It happened four weeks ago, when Luc and I decided we’d try to get married again.”
They tried to get married again when she was still stone? This time, the knife inside Evangeline felt as if it were drawing blood. The news shouldn’t have wounded her so much. When she hadn’t seen Luc waiting for her in Poison’s laboratory or at the welcome party, she’d imagined that nothing had changed between them. But it still hurt to hear he hadn’t even mourned her, that a mere two weeks after she’d been turned to stone, he’d planned another wedding.
“We thought we would be safe because the Week of Terror had ended. But on his way to the wedding, Luc was attacked by a wild wolf.”
“Wait—wait—what?” Evangeline stammered. Valenda was a bustling port city. The largest animals it had were dogs, followed by the feral cats that prowled the docks for mice. Valenda didn’t have wolves.
“No one knows where the wolf came from,” Marisol said miserably. “The physician told us it’s a miracle Luc survived. But I’m not sure he really did. He was badly mauled.”