A Curse for True Love (Once Upon a Broken Heart Book 3)

Evangeline

In the light of a fresh day, everything felt less like a blurred fever dream and more like a picture-perfect stained-glass window. Evangeline’s room smelled of lavender tea, buttery pastries, and some unidentifiable grassy sweetness that made her think of exquisitely manicured gardens.

For one beautiful moment, she found herself thinking: This is what perfect feels like.

Or it should have felt that way.

The broken bits inside of her warred with this elegant scene. A small but firm voice in her head said, This isn’t perfect, this isn’t right. But before the voice could say much more, it was drowned out by a host of other perkier sounds.

They started out softly on the other side of Evangeline’s door. Then, like a pop of soft flowery fireworks, the owners of the voices entered her suite.

Seamstresses, three of them, all smiling as they greeted her:

“Good morning, Your Highness!”

“You look so refreshed, Your Highness!”

“We hope you slept soundly, for your day will be busy, Your Highness!”

The women were trailed by a parade of servants carrying bolts of fabric, spools of ribbons, baskets of baubles and feathers, strings of pearls, and silken flowers.

“What’s all this?” Evangeline asked.

“For your royal wardrobe,” all three women said at once.

“But I have a wardrobe.” Evangeline looked questioningly toward the little alcove full of clothes that was situated between her bedroom and the bathing room.

“You have an everyday wardrobe, yes,” replied the head seamstress, or perhaps she was just the most vocal. “We’re here to fit you for special occasions. You’ll need something spectacular for your coronation. Then there will be your coronation ball, and the Hunt could happen any day.”

“Then of course you’ll be putting together your own council,” the tallest of the seamstresses chimed in. “You’ll need to be smartly dressed for each of those meetings.”

“And you’ll want some frothy gowns for all the upcoming spring festivals, and formal dinners,” said the third seamstress.

Then they all started chattering about how perfect her coloring was for spring, and wouldn’t it be lovely to make sure every gown she wore had at least a hint of pink to match her lovely hair?

In the midst of it all, more servants appeared. They wheeled in golden carts covered in snacks and treats as pretty as treasure in a chest. There were cookies shaped like castles, tarts topped in glistening pastel fruit, poached pears in a swirling golden sauce, candied dates wearing miniature crowns, and oysters on ice with pink pearls that glistened under the light.

“We hope this is all to your liking,” said one of the servants. “If there’s anything else you need, just ask. His Highness the prince wanted you to know that you can have whatever you wish.”

“And if you ever need a break, merely let us know,” said the tall seamstress before reaching into her little apron and pulling out a measuring tape.

It was shortly after this, when Evangeline’s arms were being measured for gloves, that she noticed the scar. It was on the underside of her right wrist, thin and white, shaped like a broken heart. And it had definitely not been there before.

As soon as the measuring was done, Evangeline lifted her wrist to examine the strange broken heart. She ran a finger over it carefully. Her skin prickled as she touched it.

In that instant, it was as if the precious bubble she was inside of burst. Pop. Pop. Pop.

The wonder of all the treats and sweets and beautiful fabrics faded as Evangeline stared at the little broken heart. She couldn’t remember it at all, but she did remember the little voice in her head from earlier, warning her that everything wasn’t perfect.

Evangeline continued to study the scar, trying hard to remember how she’d received it, until she caught the tall seamstress staring at her oddly. Evangeline quickly covered the scar with her hand.

The seamstress didn’t say anything about the heart. But something about the way she had stared at it made Evangeline feel inexplicably nervous. Then she noticed the woman covertly slipping away from the suite as the other seamstresses continued working.

Evangeline didn’t know if the scar was truly something to worry about, or if maybe she was just imagining the woman’s reaction. Evangeline had no reason to feel alarmed other than the voice in her head telling her that something wasn’t right. But maybe what was really wrong was that she was hearing a voice in her head.

Maybe she could have trusted it if she’d been tossed in a dungeon. But she was in a castle straight out of one of her mother’s stories and married to a dashing prince who’d come back from the dead and who was desperately in love with her. This new life was not just a fairytale—it was more like something from a legend.

While fabrics and feelings continued to swirl around her, another visitor arrived—one of the physician’s apprentices from yesterday. Evangeline remembered her name was Telma.

Evangeline didn’t know how long it was she’d been standing there. The current fitting was for a hooded raspberry cape made of deep velvet fabric that had been covering her eyes until a moment ago.

“I’ve just come for a quick checkup, Your Highness,” said Telma. “Is this a bad time?”

“Oh no, I’m just practicing being a pincushion,” said Evangeline, hoping to sound more cheerful than she felt.

“How are your missing memories?” Telma asked. “Have any returned?”

“I’m afraid not,” Evangeline said. She wondered then if maybe she should mention the voice in her head.

But Telma’s reply gave her pause. “I’m sorry you still can’t remember,” she said.

And it could have just been Evangeline’s overeager imagination, but she could have sworn this assistant didn’t look sorry at all. If anything, she appeared relieved. The reaction brought to mind what Apollo had told Evangeline last night: Jacks has done atrocious, unforgivable things to you, and I truly believe you might be happier if those things stay forgotten.

Until then, Evangeline had tried not to think about it. Thinking about her missing memories too much made her feel overwrought, overwhelmed, and in too far over her head. She so wanted to believe that if she could just find a way to get the memories back, it would all be better.

But what if Apollo was right? What if remembering only made everything worse? He’d seemed truly concerned at the prospect of her getting them back. And now this assistant looked as if she felt the same way, as if Evangeline was genuinely better off forgetting.

And yet it was difficult to completely dismiss her unease. Perhaps it was because thus far, she really had nothing but Apollo’s word.

“Telma, I heard something last night, and I’m just wondering if it’s true. I heard Apollo was murdered on our wedding night and I was framed for the crime.”

Telma paled at the question. “I never believed you did it.”

“But it’s true that others believed I did?”

Telma nodded grimly. “It was a terrible time for everyone. But now that Apollo is back, hopefully all of that’s come to an end.”

Telma slowly exhaled and something dreamy filled her eyes. “It’s amazing, isn’t it, that the prince came back from the dead for you?” The look she gave Evangeline was so earnest, so sweet and pure and awed, Evangeline couldn’t help but feel a little foolish for thinking about trusting a little paranoid voice in her head.

When the seamstresses, the physician, and the servants finally left, it was night, and Evangeline’s suite turned from a hive of activity to a quiet sanctuary only enlivened by the crackling fire and the distant chime of a tower clock. It was the first time Evangeline had been alone all day.

But the quiet did not last. Shortly after she found herself alone, a knock sounded on her door.

“May I enter?” asked Apollo.

Evangeline quickly looked in the closest mirror to check her reflection and smooth her hair, unexpectedly flustered, before she replied, “Come in.”

The door opened quietly and Apollo strode confidently inside.

He was still handsome, and he was still a prince.

Not that Evangeline had expected him to stop being handsome or a prince. She was just overcome by the truth of it once again. By his standing in her suite, all tall and regal. And she imagined he knew how good he looked and exactly what effect he was having on her.

He smiled wider as her cheeks grew warmer. She hoped it wouldn’t always be this way. It had been only a day and a half since she had met him, at least that she remembered.

“I heard you’ve been indoors all day. Join me for a walk?” He said the word walk with a twist of his mouth that made Evangeline think they’d be doing more than just walking.

Her stomach did a giddy little tumble.

She didn’t know if it was perhaps her memories coming back, or if maybe she was simply attracted to him.

“Yes, I’d love to join you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Apollo brought Evangeline a fluffy white cloak lined in snow-white fur. He helped her with her cloak, warm fingers lingering at the nape of her neck as he moved her hair. It felt more intentional than accidental. In fact, Evangeline was beginning to suspect that everything Apollo did was by design.

After leaving her rooms, he nodded at the waiting guards. It was an almost imperceptible tilt of his chin, but it seemed to hold the power of a barked command.

The guards dipped their heads in unison and stepped back so the pair could pass. Then they followed the two from behind, mindful to keep a respectable distance.

Evangeline and Apollo walked the first few castle halls in silence, flanked by the warm light of all the sconces on the ancient walls. She still had so many questions for Apollo, but now all she felt were nerves buzzing inside her.

Perhaps it was the cadre of guards in their shining bronze armor that stopped her from speaking. They were about a half a hall behind, but Evangeline could hear the fall of their boots against the stone floor, so she imagined that were she to speak, they would hear her as well.

Apollo took her hand.

Evangeline felt a shock.

“So that you’ll stop thinking about the guards and you’ll think of this instead.” Apollo gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

Evangeline had never held hands with a young man before, at least not that she could remember. Yesterday Apollo had taken her hand, but it had been more to tug her through the castle.

This was . . . nice. The soft pressure of Apollo’s fingers, the way her hand felt small and sheltered inside of his. Of course, it didn’t help the problem of being too nervous to speak. If anything, she felt more anxious than before. This was all so new that she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Apollo wasn’t a mere boy who worked in a stable or in his father’s bakery. He was the ruler of a kingdom. He had the power to hold lives in the palm of his hand. But right now, he was only holding her hand.

She was about to finally ask him once again how the two of them had originally met when she saw the poster nailed to one of the castle’s rounded doors.

Evangeline’s blood went cold.

Underneath the list of Lord Jacks’s crimes was a portrait—if it could be called that. The image was more shadow than man, a face with two dark holes for eyes and a slash of a mouth.

Apollo tugged her closer to his side. “Don’t pay those posters any attention.”

“Is that really how Lord Jacks looks?” Evangeline knew Apollo had called him a monster, but she hadn’t expected this.

“It’s a rough sketch. He looks more human than that, but barely.” Something like hate poured off Apollo as he said the words.

It was the type of emotion that made Evangeline want to curl away from him. She imagined Apollo had every reason to feel spiteful, but for a second, she felt the urge to run. Although perhaps that was because of the poster of Jacks?

Evangeline’s thoughts kept going back to the shadowy image until she briefly lost track of where they were and where they were going. Suddenly she found herself climbing a narrow spiral of stone stairs.

There was no rail on one side—just a terrifying drop to the bottom of the tower. If Evangeline had been in full possession of her senses, she’d never have started climbing.

She craned her neck, but there were so many steps ahead that she couldn’t see the top, and they were too narrow for her and Apollo to walk side by side.

“Where do these stairs lead?” she asked uncertainly.

“I think it’s better if it’s a surprise,” Apollo said. He was right behind her. She could hear his footsteps. But her steps and his were the only ones. The guards must have remained at the bottom of the stairs, and Evangeline soon found herself envying them.

“Can I just have a hint of where we’re going?” she asked. “Is there a tower up here you’re planning to lock me in?”

The sound of Apollo’s footsteps halted.

She immediately knew she had said the wrong thing.

“You’re not a prisoner, Evangeline. I would never lock you up.”

“I—I know. I was only jesting.” And Evangeline wanted to believe that she was. She didn’t really think Apollo would lock her up in a tower like a cruel fairytale king. Yet her heart had started beating differently. Danger. Danger. Danger, it seemed to say—but it was too late to turn around.

They were nearly at the top. A few steps ahead, she could finally see another door, a simple rectangle without any adornment.

“It should be unlocked,” Apollo said.

Nervously, Evangeline opened the latch and was promptly greeted by a dark night and whistle of cold wind that whipped her hair across her face.

Please don’t abandon me up here, she thought.

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” Apollo said tenderly.

Evangeline didn’t know if he’d sensed her fear, or if she’d actually said the words out loud. But he immediately came behind her, blocking some wind and providing a solid wall of warmth for her back.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that the night wasn’t quite so black as she had thought before—there was light from the windows of the castle below illuminating a short crenellated wall that surrounded the top of the tower. Beyond the castle, the world was dark, save for sprays of stars forming unfamiliar constellations.

“Is this what you wanted me to see?” she asked.

“No,” Apollo said softly. “It should just be a couple more seconds.”

A moment later, the bells of a tower clock rang out.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

With every chime of the bell, pops of light burst to life in the distance. There were just a few at first—far-off embers of glow appearing here and there like bits of fallen stars. But soon there was more light than dark. A world of bright, as if the sky and the ground had switched places and now the Earth was covered in shimmering stars.

“What is all this?” Evangeline asked.

“It’s a gift for us. It’s called a Firenight. It’s an old Northern blessing,” Apollo said, voice softer than before as he moved closer, pressing his warm chest more firmly to her back. “Usually this happens before a king goes to war. Bonfires are lit across the land and people burn words of blessing. Wishes for health and for strength and for stealth and for safe returns home. When I found out there would be a Firenight tonight in honor of us, I thought you’d want to see. Every bonfire down there is for us. Subjects from all over the Magnificent North are burning words of blessing for our health and our marriage as we speak.”

“It’s a like a fairytale,” Evangeline murmured. But even as the words came out, they didn’t feel true.

It wasn’t like a fairytale. It was a fairytale. It was her fairytale.

Would it really change things if she remembered exactly how she’d gotten here, how she’d met Apollo, how they’d fallen in love and married? Or would she just feel differently? Perhaps even if she had all her memories, Apollo would still make her nervous.

As the wind whipped around her and fires burst to life below, Evangeline slowly turned around and looked up at the prince. Her prince.

“You’re looking in the wrong direction.” He grinned, slow and cocky.

Her heart pounded faster and faster. Danger, danger, danger, it seemed to say again. But Evangeline was no longer sure she could trust it—or maybe she just liked the danger.

“Perhaps I prefer this view.” She brought her hand to Apollo’s jaw. It was a little rough against her palm as she tilted his face.

She wasn’t sure if she was doing this right; all she felt were nerves as she rose up on the tips of her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

“Finally,” Apollo growled. Then he took her lower lip between his teeth as he kissed her back.

Fireworks burst to life in the distance. Evangeline could hear them explode as Apollo’s hands slid beneath her cloak, pushing it aside as he pulled her closer.

She wasn’t sure if they were spinning toward the edge of the tower or if it was just her head going dizzy. But she could feel the wind rushing at her back, and she knew that the prince’s arms were the only thing that kept her from falling.