Once Upon a Broken Heart (Once Upon a Broken Heart)

Northern wedding receptions were supposed to last until dawn. People were meant to eat and drink until every cask was dry and every crumb of cake was gobbled up. But shortly after twilight, when there were still towers of cakes and an empire of more goblets waiting to be passed out for yet another toast, Prince Apollo leaned close to Evangeline and whispered in her ear, “I love my kingdom, but I’d rather not spend my entire wedding night with them.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her lobe. “Sneak away with me, my heart. Let’s go to the wedding suite.”

Evangeline’s insides coiled up in anxious spirals. This had gone too far. She needed to find Jacks. Enjoying part of a reception wasn’t bad, but things weren’t supposed to reach this point, not while Apollo was still under a spell.

It was time to end this curse and find out how the prince she’d married really felt.

It took her multiple promises of meeting Apollo in the wedding suite shortly before he finally let her go. Even then, she felt his eyes on her, watching as she wove through the guests, the clockwork musicians, and the towers of cakes, on a mission to track down Jacks.

After dancing with Apollo, Evangeline had finally glimpsed the Prince of Hearts heading out of the main hall and into one of the icy corridors. At the time, she and Apollo had been introducing Marisol to the group of noble bachelors who’d be participating in the kissing chess game that Evangeline had set up for her stepsister. Evangeline hadn’t wanted to sneak after Jacks then. But she’d seen others scurry off in that direction. Most returned later, with pale or alarmed faces, making Evangeline suspect that Jacks was holding some sort of terror-inducing clandestine court.

And it seemed she was right. She was shivering, ready to be done with the cold of this glacial castle by the time she finally found him in a commandeered throne room. The ceiling was all thick, vaulted beams of ice. The walls were shimmering frost etched with images of stars and trees and one smirking crescent moon.

Jacks reclined in a throne of ice as he glared down at a fox that looked more corporeal than ghost—all fluffy white fur, save for a circle of tawny surrounding one of its coal-dark eyes.

He appeared horrified by the animal, as if its adorableness might somehow soften some of his nasty edges. Evangeline wished it would as she stood back a little to watch, enjoying that, for once, Jacks was the one in the uncomfortable position.

He flinched when the creature nuzzled his scuffed boots.

She laughed, finally drawing his attention. “I think it likes you.”

“I don’t know why.” Jacks scowled at the beast.

It responded by affectionately licking the buckle at his ankle.

Evangeline continued to smile. “You should name it.”

“If I do that, it will think it’s a pet.” Jacks’s words dripped with disgust, which only further convinced Evangeline this fox might be the best thing that had ever happened to this Fate.

“How about I name her for you? What do you think of Princess of the Fluffikins?”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

She smiled softly. “Next time I make a deal with a Fate, it will be with one who has a sense of humor, like Poison.”

Jacks slowly dragged his eyes up to Evangeline. They were pale blue, like the ice of his throne, and surrounded by a crown of dark blue hair that curled around his face from the cold. He wore a half-undone doublet of smoky blue gray, raven-black pants, and a low-slung belt that rested just above his hips, giving him the appearance of a tousled winter king. An angry one, from the way he glared at Evangeline. “I would have thought you’d have learned your lesson about making deals with our kind.”

“I have, which is why next time I need something, if I make a deal, it won’t be with you.”

“This isn’t something to joke about,” Jacks growled.

“I didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t. But you still owe me one more kiss, and until I collect it, you’re mine, and I do not like to share.”

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you sounded jealous.”

“Of course I’m jealous. I’m a Fate.”

“If you’re so envious, then why haven’t you undone the spell that’s on Apollo?”

“I couldn’t care less about what happens between humans.”

“Then undo it, because Apollo and I are married,” she said firmly. “I kept up my half of our bargain. It’s time for you to keep your promise to me.”

“Very well,” Jacks drawled, shocking her with his easy acquiescence. “I still think this is a shortsighted choice, but if you really want Apollo to no longer feel for you, I’ll give you the means to do it.” Jacks pulled out his jeweled dagger and pricked the tip of his finger, drawing a drop of familiar gold-flecked blood.

The fox sniffed the drop once and reared back with a whimper.

“See?” Jacks said blandly. “Even the creature knows this is a bad idea.”

“No, it knows you’re bad. There’s a considerable difference.” Although Jacks’s blood made Evangeline uncomfortable as well. “What’s the catch?”

“Is it that difficult to believe that I’m willing to keep my word?”

Fates were actually known for keeping their word when it came to bargains. It was why, despite all the warnings, people were willing to make deals with them. But something kept her from moving forward.

“Having second thoughts? I’ll be the last being to judge you if you want to keep him under your thrall.”

“It’s not my thrall, it’s yours.” Evangeline took a step toward the throne.

Jacks’s brows jumped up, betraying his surprise.

It should have made her feel triumphant. But instead it made her think of the last time she’d shocked him. When she’d drunk from Poison’s cup and turned herself to stone.

She swallowed thickly.

Jacks leaned forward with indolent grace and lightly pressed his bleeding finger to her lips.

Gooseflesh pebbled across her skin. His touch wasn’t colder than the castle, but it was always unnerving to be caressed by Jacks.

“Once you kiss him, any false feelings that Apollo has for you will disappear.” Jacks dragged his icy finger more firmly across her mouth, rough and a little punishing. Today, his blood tasted bitter instead of sweet. The taste of a mistake. “You must kiss him before sunrise for the magic to work. But I warn you, if you do this, your prince won’t think that you’ve done him a favor. Heroes don’t get happy endings.”