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

Evangeline had not thought this through quite enough. If she had, she would have asked Apollo exactly where the wedding suite was. Upon learning that it was at the top of one of Wolf Hall’s spiraling towers, she then might have suggested they meet somewhere else—somewhere closer to the ground, preferably with multiple exits.

She didn’t actually believe that Apollo would throw her from the tower window once she’d rid him of Jacks’s magic. But Evangeline still didn’t know who Apollo would be after she broke this spell. Would he be the sweet prince who had told her fairytales, or would he become the angry prince who’d nearly attacked his brother tonight?

Would this be the true beginning of their love story or the end of it?

Evangeline was committed to the idea of loving Apollo and making this marriage work after the spell was broken. But all she could hear were Jacks’s words. Your prince won’t think that you’ve done him a favor.

There were six soldiers guarding the wedding suite she was about to enter.

It was suddenly very tempting to turn around, to leave things as they were.

Or she could go in and avoid kissing Apollo. She had until sunrise to break the spell. What if she went in but didn’t kiss him right away? They could stay up talking. How long was it until dawn?

Evangeline tried to take a deep breath, but it became lodged somewhere in her throat as she approached the wedding suite door. She didn’t turn around. But she wished she had once she stepped inside and the door snapped shut behind her.

The room was too hot from the fire of a hundred blazing candles and too sweet with the heady scent of a thousand white flower petals. They covered almost every surface, from the floor to the lounges, to the giant four-poster bed.

“Hello, my heart,” purred Apollo, who stretched across that same bed in a come-hither pose. His shirt was already gone. All he wore was a large amber stone over his bare chest, which glistened with something that looked a lot like oil.

Evangeline’s stomach roiled. Any doubts she had about kissing him tonight disappeared. She had to end this spell, no matter how hard it might be for her afterward.

“You’ve kept me waiting, wife.” He dragged a flower petal up and down his oiled chest.

Dread joined the breath still trapped inside her throat. She hoped he wouldn’t hate her when she undid this, but in that moment, it felt unlikely.

“I just need a moment,” she stalled. Evangeline was not particularly fond of wine, but there was a carved table with a pretty plum-colored bottle on of it. She poured herself a generous glass.

The drink sparkled but tasted of rotten blackberries and salt. She almost spit it out, but she wasn’t ready to approach him yet. She took another long sip, finishing half the glass. She would have probably kept going, but she didn’t want to be intoxicated for this.

She set the wine down and stepped boldly toward the bed.

Apollo licked his lips.

Before she lost her nerve, Evangeline closed her eyes and kissed him.

His arms snaked around her, slick and hot. He pulled her up onto the bed with him, and she didn’t try to resist. This would all be over soon. It would all be over soon. Even as she thought it, she felt Apollo’s tongue retreating, and his grip loosening.

Evangeline slid out from his arms.

Apollo didn’t try to hold on as he normally would have. In fact, he gave her a little push as he sat up on the bed.

His hands fisted, and his shoulders tensed. His strong mouth opened and snapped tightly closed as his gaze darted from the flower petals, to the candles, to his oiled chest.

He scowled, ran a hand across his abdomen, and wiped the oil on the bed.

The room became smaller and the air turned hotter and far too sweet from the scent of all the flowers, but it was Apollo’s silence that was smothering.

Evangeline had never understood why it had taken her so long to stop loving Luc. Even when she didn’t want to love him, the feeling had lingered. People called it falling out of love, but falling was easy. Letting go of Luc had been more like climbing the face of a rock. She’d clawed her way out, fighting to shake it off, to let it go, to find something else to hold on to.

She’d wanted to just forget him, to close her eyes and have it all go away. But there were reasons powerful emotions didn’t vanish in a blink, reasons why a person had to become stronger than her feelings to let them go.

Apollo gripped the sheets of the bed tightly. Then he scrubbed a hand down his face and all the anger vanished, replaced with naked hurt. His eyes were red, his mouth twisted, and his jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might crack.

“What have you done, Evangeline?” His harsh words weren’t quite a yell, but they were certainly loud enough that the guards on the other side of the door probably heard. “Why do I feel as if you’ve stabbed me in the heart?”

He grimaced in pain as his eyes closed.

Her throat went tight with remorse. She tried to swallow down what felt like a sob. She’d expected him to be angry. But she hadn’t expected him to look so wounded.

She wanted to reach out to him, to offer him comfort, but it was probably better to give him space.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t want to hurt you.” She slid off the bed.

“Don’t—” Apollo grabbed her hand. “I—we—this—”

She thought he was trying to decide what to say.

Then all at once, he dropped her hand, his skin went gray, his shoulders slumped, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the bed.

His head lolled horribly to the side.

“Apollo!” Evangeline shot forward and pressed a hand to his chest. It felt slick and warm, but it wasn’t moving.

“Apollo—Apollo—” She repeated his name as her hand went to his neck, searching for a pulse that she couldn’t find. Her hands moved back to his chest, where he’d tattooed her name inside a heart made of swords. There was no beat there either, but the skin around the ink had gone an odd shade of blue. No. No. No. No. No.

She tried to shake him.

Nothing happened.

“Apollo, get up!” Evangeline cried, panicked tears coming fast and hard.

She shook him again. He needed to move. He needed to breathe. He needed to be alive. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead. If he was dead—

Another sob choked her throat as the worst thought of all occurred. If Apollo was dead, it meant that not only had her kiss broken the spell, it had killed him. She had killed him, and Jacks had tricked her into doing it.