Page 24 of A Curse for True Love (Once Upon a Broken Heart)

“A doctor will be here soon,” said Martine. “And Apollo’s been called back to the castle.”

Evangeline burrowed deeper into the covers. She almost said she didn’t want to see Apollo, but she wasn’t sure if that was true. It seemed he really had been right about the danger she was in here.

At first she hadn’t told anyone she’d been pushed into the wall. She’d lied and said she’d fallen. The lie had made her feel incredibly foolish. She had seen the faces of the guards on patrol who’d rescued her, twisting with looks that made it appear they were both thinking,What kind of idiot falls into a well?

The kind who doesn’t want to give her husband another excuse to take away more of her freedom,Evangeline had thought, while out loud she’d tried to continue the charade through chattering teeth.

Not that it mattered. As the guards insisted on carrying her back to the castle, she realized that they hadn’t actually believed her story about falling anyway. There were too many questions about whether she’d seen anyone. Did she still have the letter from the tutor? And did she know where her own personal guards, Victor and Hansel, had gone?

Evangeline felt silly as she realized how trusting she’d been. Although maybe the problem hadn’t been that she was trusting, but that she’d trusted the wrong people. She should have believed Apollo when he had warned her that she was in danger.

Dr. Stillgrass paid her a visit and prescribed her hot tea and blankets. But when she sipped the tea, it tasted… strange. She imagined it had some sort of sedative in it and dumped it in a potted plant as soon as she was alone again.

She didn’t want to be sedated. She already felt exhausted. But once Evangeline was all alone, she found it impossible to sleep.

Every sound made her jump. Each crackle of the fire and creak of the floor left her feeling tightly coiled, like a jester in a box just waiting to explode. When she closed her eyes, she swore she could hear her heartbeat pounding.

A gust of cold swept through the room and she burrowed deeper into the blankets.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have sent the maids away.

The floor creaked again. She tried to ignore it.

Then instead of a creak she heard footsteps, loud and confident. Evangeline finally opened her eyes.

Apollo stood next to her bed. His velvet cloak was damp, his dark hair was windswept, his cheeks were ruddy, and his brown eyes were glassy with concern. “I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but I had to make sure you’re all right.”

He looked as if he wanted to reach for her. But then he raked a hand through his hair instead.

Evangeline sat up carefully in the bed. Her fingers clung to the edge of the quilt. And she found she wanted to reach for him, too. She wanted a hug, she wanted to be held, and she knew if she asked, Apollo would do both.

She reminded herself why she couldn’t. But her reasoning felt thin. It was hard to be angry at Apollo when it seemed the protection he’d said she needed was necessary.

Tentatively she reached out her hand, touching the tips ofhis fingers. They were cold, not quite like ice, but near enough that he must have come straight to her from his travels. She’d refused to trust him yesterday, but that hadn’t stopped him from coming to her when she needed him. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’ll always come. Even when you don’t want me to.” He took a step closer to the bed and slid his fingers through hers. He was shaking a little, just like he had been the morning he’d found her after her memories had been taken.

She looked up and smiled reassuringly. But instead of seeing Apollo, she pictured the warrior angel from the well, the beautiful golden-haired guard with the arms that held her like bands of steel. It was only a flash—but her cheeks felt flushed.

Apollo smiled, clearly thinking he was the reason. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for yesterday?”

Evangeline nodded. And in her daze, she must have said something, for he grinned wider and replied, “I’ll always protect you, Evangeline. I meant what I said when I first returned from the dead—I’m never going to let you go.”

11Jacks

Jacks had always considered himself more of a sadist than a masochist. He enjoyed inflicting pain, not receiving it. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave the shadows of Evangeline’s bedroom.

It wasn’t an obsession.

One visit wasn’t an obsession.

Jacks just needed to make sure she was still alive. That she wasn’t bleeding. In danger. Unhappy. Cold. She was safe in her bed. She’d be even safer when he left her. But he was too selfish to leave just yet.

He leaned against the bedpost and watched as she slept. He’d never understood why someone would watch another person sleep…until her.

Castor did it. He said it was how he helped manage his urges.

It did the opposite for Jacks.

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