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“Wait!' Evangeline called. 'What's your name?' You already know, Little Fox. But once again, his thoughts weren't projected loudly enough for her to hear. Instead, he gave her the name he'd planned on. He knew she wouldn't remember it, and he needed to make sure he didn't forget it. 'You can call me Archer.”

“I'm starting to feel as if you don't want to escape.' He definitely nipped her ear this time, teeth sharp as they scraped her skin. She wondered if he liked to hurt everyone, of if it was just her. Something about this was starting to feel personal. Although the nip of teeth at her ear didn't hurt so much as it unsettled her. 'Do you want me to toss you over the edge?' he taunted. 'Of course not!' she yelled. 'Then why aren't you fighting?' He sounded angry. 'I'm trying my best.' 'And I'm not, which means you need to try harder. Kick me.”

“This is where you break free,' he said softly. 'I don't want to,' she said, but the words came out wrong, breathless. And despite all the cold and the damp, she could feel herself go hot from her cheeks all the way down to the bare skin beneath Archer's hands. 'I mean, I just need to catch my breath.' He mad a scolding sound with his tongue. 'You don't get to catch your breath. If you stop fighting, you lose.' He moved one icy hand to her throat and she felt the sharp tip of a knife against her neck. Evangeline went very still, or she tried to. It was surprisingly hard not to move with a blade to her throat and a hand intimately wrapped around her stomach. 'Are you insane?' 'Undoubtedly.' He slowly moved the dagger, drawing a careful line over her pulse. He didn't pierce her skin, but the effect was still dizzying. 'Never imagine you're safe,' he scolded. His knife traced a line from the hollow of her throat to the centre of her chest all the way down to the laces of her vest.”

“Why is it that people are always trying to kill you?' His voice was low, on the edge of something deadly. 'You need to be more careful.' 'How is this my fault?' 'You have no sense of self-preservation.' Archer took another angry step. 'If someone labelled a bottle poison, you would drink it. You take warnings as invitations. You can seem to stay away from all the things that will hurt you.' Like me.”

“Butter-soft light streamed through the rounded windows, gilding every surface of the unexpectedly bright flat that Evangeline found herself in. The walls were covered in bold yellow and orange flowers, the shelves were speckled with glitter, and the books on them were arranged by the colour of the spine.”

“The first door she opened was carved with a picture of a pastry goblin tossing sweets. The room on the other side was even more delightful, decorated with apothecary jars full of colourful candies. The pillows on the bed all looked like sweets as well- wrapped taffy, gumdrops, and fluffy marshmallows. It felt tempting to lie down, just for a minute. She could almost hear the bed say If you sleep here, your dreams will be sweet, too.”

“... torches on either side of it illuminated carvings that were equally intricate and far more inviting. Evangeline saw symbols from countless Northern tales and ballads: star-shaped keys and broken books, knights in armour, a crowned wolf's head, winged horses, bits of castles, arrows and foxes, and twining vines of harlequin lilies.”

“Tonight, her dress was designed to mimic the flower trellis in her mother's garden, where she'd saved Marisol's wedding. But no one looking at her would think about that. The base of Evangeline's bodice was nude silk, making her look as if she were wrapped in nothing but the crisscrossing cream-velvet ribbons that went to her hips. There, pastel flowers began to appear, growing denser until every inch of her lower skirts were covered in a brilliant clash of silk violets, jewelled peonies, tulle lilies, curling vines, and sprays of gold crawling paisleys.”

“His teeth grazed her pulse. 'Jacks-' It was suddenly impossible to form words. His mouth was against her throat and his teeth were on her skin. HIs teeth! Evangeline finally pressed against his chest. But it was as useless as trying to battle a block of marble. Hot, sculpted marble. She wanted to tell him not to bite her, but saying the word bite didn't seem like the wisest idea just then. 'You won't want this later.' 'Not really thinking about later.' He licked her, one languorous stroke up the column of her neck. She gasped. 'You don't even like me.' 'I like you right now. I like you a lot.' He gently sucked her skin. 'In fact, I can't think of anything I like more.”

“Jacks of the Hollow," warned the queen. "Those arch stones can only be used one time to go back. They were not created for infinite trips to the past." "I know," Jacks growled. "I'm going to go back and stop your son from killing her." The queen's face fell. For a moment, she looked as old as the years she'd spent lying in a suspended state. "That is not a small mistake to fix. If you do this, Time will take something equally valuable from you." The Fate gave the queen a look more vicious than any curse. "There is nothing of equal value to me.”

“Most of Jacks' books were crookedly stacked and next to volumes without any apparent reason, except for a small collection of the last book she'd have expected to find here: The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox. Something warmed inside of her at the sight of so many copies of her favourite storybook. Jacks owned seven volumes, ranging from old to very old. Positioned more precisely than anything else in his den, they sat side by set, on the tip-top of the shelf, the sort of place where a person stored books they didn't want anyone else touching. What was all this about? ... Evangeline reached for the first volume- she knew she was being distracted. But all she wanted was to look at the last page and see what sort of ending the story had. She wanted to know if it had a happy ending- if the Archer kissed his Fox girl or if he killed her. And maybe seeing all these books felt like a sign. She was starting to think that sometimes she imagined things were signs when they weren't. But that didn't mean they were not actual signs. She opened the first book, but the pages in the back were all ripped out. And unfortunately, she did not have better luck with any of the other volumes. Every copy fought her. One book kept falling from her hands every time she tried to open it. Another book only had blank pages at the end.”

“So you're saying you'd settle for a boring romance if it ends well?' 'Yes. I would gladly take an uneventful happily ever after.' Jacks smirked. 'No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't have been happy with Luc, and definitely not forever. The two of you aren't well suited. He's not half as strong as you- he didn't even hesitate before he tried to bite you. And he wouldn't have turned himself to stone to save you.' 'You don't know that.' 'Yes, I do. There's always a way to break a curse. As soon as you drank from Poison's goblet, it refilled. I didn't stay to explain the rules, but they would have appeared on the side of the cup. Luc could have saved you if he wanted.”

“Tall and scuffed, the bookshelves covered nearly three-quarters of the library's walls, and their owner did not care much for organisation. For example, on the first wall of shelves, nearest to the front door, Evangeline found a number of different books about time travel, but none of them were grouped together. They were scattered haphazardly, placed next to volumes on topics like the colour blue, how to write poetry, an encyclopaedia for the letter E.”

“The first time I met her, she threatened to throw me from a sky carriage.' 'And you liked her for that?' Evangeline asked. 'I'd just threatened to kill her.' He said it as if they'd been flirting. 'This is a terrible love story, Jacks.' 'Who said it was a love story?' His tone turned back to acid.”

“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 it's 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 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.”

“There are much better ways to die than this, Little Fox.' 'Your attempts to comfort are tr-tragic,' Evangeline stuttered. 'You're still alive,' he grumbled. His fingers found her eyelids then, and with feather-soft touches, he brushed away the melting ice. Maybe he wasn't entirely hopeless. She wondered if he just hadn't had much practice at this. Comforting someone was an intimate thing, and according to the stories, intimacy didn't end well with Jacks. But he clearly knew how to be gentle. She felt herself thaw in increments as his fingers went to her cheeks, sweeping away the frozen tears.”

“I'm so confused. How do the two of you even know each other?' 'She's the Fate that poisoned you,' Jacks said. Lala gave Jacks an impressive glare. 'This is why everyone hates you.' He laughed in response as if they were flirting. Was this how Fates flirted- with accusations of murder?”

“A split second later, Jacks had her pinned against the closest tree. Her back hit the wood, his fevered chest pressed to hers, and his hands went for her throat, burning fire hot against her skin. 'Jacks,' Evangeline gasped. 'Let me go.' He moved away as quickly as he'd grabbed her. She slumped against the tree from the force of his release. When she righted herself, he was talking toward the crypt.”

“No matter what I tell you about vampires, you're going to be intrigued instead of horrified. Your kind always wants to be bitten or changed.' 'Not me,' Evangeline argued. 'But you're curious,' Jacks challenged. 'I'm curious about a lot of things. I'm curious about you, but I don't want you to bite me.' The corner of Jacks' mouth twitched. 'I've already done that, Little Fox.' His cold fingers found her wrist and slipped underneath the edge of her glove to stroke the last remaining broken heart scar. 'Lucky for you, no matter how many times I bite you, you'll never turn in to what I am. But sometimes all it takes from a vampire is one look, and you're theirs.”

“Jacks slid an arm underneath her cape and wrapped it around Evangeline's waist, holding her possessively tight as he drawled, 'Stop flashing your fangs. I'm the only one who gets to bite her.' Jacks nipped at Evangeline's ear, cold and sharp. She felt the sting of it everywhere, covering her with gooseflesh, which somehow turned to blush when it reached her cheeks. No matter how many times I bite you, you'll never turn in to what I am, he'd said. And now he was doing it, just to prove that he could. Evangeline started to pull away. Don't. Jacks spread his fingers and tightened his grip on her waist. Humans don't have power here. If he thinks I can't control you, he'll do it, and I guarantee you'll enjoy that even less. You still didn't have to bite me, Evangeline thought. And she would have shaken him off, but she wasn't there to fight with Jacks. She was there because Apollo was dead and she needed to find out who'd killed him. So instead of battling Jacks, she gritted her teeth as he released her waist and took hold of her hand.”

“Evangeline found herself squeezing Jacks' hand harder, feeling thankful he'd not let her go. Chaos tilted his head, eyes landing on their intertwined hands. 'Interesting.' 'This is getting tedious.' Jacks dropped Evangeline's hand and sauntered back in to the scholarly suite, where the rasp of vampire changelings and the rattle of cages weren't so all consuming.”

“Do you want to be a vampire?' Evangeline asked. 'No,' Jacks spat. 'I don't want to be a vampire, but I do want to bite you.' Evangeline's skin went hot all over. Jacks ground his teeth, looking furious at her for still being there. 'You should go,' he repeated. 'I'm not leaving you like this.' Evangeline searched the entryway for shackles. 'You are not pinning me to a wall.' Jacks glared. 'Do you have a better suggestion?”

“In the North, fairytales and history were treated as one and the same because their stories and histories were all cursed. Some tales couldn't be written down without bursting in to flames, others couldn't leave the North, and many changed every time they were shared, becoming less and less real with every retelling. It was said that every Northern tale had started as true history, but over time, the Northern story curse had twisted all the tales until only bits of truth remained. One of the stories Liana used to tell Evangeline was The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox, a romantic tale about a crafty peasant girl who could transform in to a fox and the young archer who loved her, but was cursed with the need to hunt her down and kill her.”