Once Upon A Broken Heart Quotes

In the morning, you can forget it. You can go back to pretending you don't like me, and I can pretend that I don't care. But for tonight, let me pretend you're mine.

Heroes don't get happy endings. They give them to other people.

I believe there are far more possibilities than happily ever after or tragedy. Every story has the potential for infinite endings.

It hurts, Jacks.” “I know, love. I’m going to take you somewhere safe.

Where were you?” she asked. “I was killing innocent maidens and kicking puppies.” “Jacks, that’s not funny.

And he loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her so much he’d rewritten history.

Hope is a difficult thing to kill, just a spark of it can start a fire.

I wish our story could have had another ending.

I don't know if I can fix your broken heart, but you can take mine because it's already yours.

He held her with the type of intensity that only happens when a person wants something that isn't quite theirs.

I am a monster, but whether you remember it or not, I’m your monster, Evangeline.

If you think I'm jealous because someone else got to stab you, then you're right.

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.

Jacks no longer felt like her enemy, he felt like her home.

I do not want you dead, and I’ll kill anyone who tries.

Glad to know you're thinking about me when you kiss your husband.

Happy endings can be caught, but they are difficult to hold on to. They are dreams that want to escape the night. They are treasure with wings. They are wild, feral, reckless things that need to be constantly chased, or they will certainly run away.

Once upon a time, a girl who believed in fairytales stole the heart of a prince who had sworn to never love.

I already told you. You are the love of my life. You are mine, Jacks of the Hollow. And you’re not going to be the end of me.” “But you were dying.” “No,” she said, a little embarrassed. “I just forgot to breathe.

All stories are made of both truths and lies, [...] What matters is the way that we believe in them.

She tried to pull away, but Jacks held tight, knotting her hair in his fist and keeping his forehead pressed to hers. "Please, Little Fox, remember.

[...] After I got mauled by the wolf, my scars weren't sexy scars-" "He just said sexy scars," Jacks drawled. "Are you really listening to this?

Sorry to break your fairytale, Little Fox, but ballads don't end happily, and neither do the two of us.

It's all right. I'd probably kill another man if I found him with you like this.

The fates weren't dangerous because they were evil; the fates were dangerous because they couldn't tell the difference between evil and good.

But you have to have a working heart for it to break.

The Fate gave the queen a look more vicious than any curse. 'There is nothing of equal value to me.

The girl was dead. If her lifeless body had not confirmed it, then it would have been made clear by the horrible scream of the Fate who held her in his arms. The story curse was familiar with pain, but this was agony, the sort of raw grief that was only seen once in a century. The Fate was every tear that anyone had ever shed for lost love. He was pain given form.

It smelled of him; of apples and magic and cold,moonlit nights.

She was the moth and Jacks was still the flame.

Dark was for stars and dreams and the magic that took place in between days.

The Fate didn’t move. He didn’t let the girl go. He looked as if he never would. He continued holding her as if he could return her to life with the force of his will. His eyes were wet with blood. Red tears fell down his cheeks and onto hers. But the girl didn’t stir.

Nothing has been safe since the moment I laid eyes on you. And yet I don't want to look away.

He would carry her through more than just freezing waters. He would pull her through fire if he had to, haul her from the clutches of war, from falling cities and breaking worlds . . .

This isn’t just for now, it’s for always, Little Fox.

Every story has the potential for infinite endings

For anyone who has ever hoped for a second chance.

I'm broken. I like to break things. Sometimes I want to break you." "Then break me Jacks.

You ask a lot of questions." "Only because you do a lot of questionable things.

Jacks gave her a smile that was all sharp edges. A drop of blood fell from the corner of his mouth, and something godforsaken washed over his expression. "Hurt is what made me.

He gritted his teeth. “Being yours does not make you mine.

It didn't matter if he stayed forever cursed. All that mattered was that he stayed, that he chose her instead of fear.

He held on to her as if she were a grudge, his body rigid ad tense, as if he really didn't want her there, and yet his arms were tight around her waist as though he had no intention of ever letting her go.

She feared that dreams were like fairytales, a little bit true and not entirely trustworthy

I'll never understand humans." Poison sighed. "All of you seem to welcome our lies, but you never like it when we tell the truth.

You don't want to be the hero, you want the happy ending- that's why you came to me. If you do this, that will never happen. Heroes don't get happy endings. They give them to other people. Is that what you really want?

I'm not going to tell you to trust me, because that's a terrible idea.

He was still indescribably breathtaking, but it was all the tragic beauty of a sky where every single star was falling. His hair was a storm of broken gold. His eyes were a mess of silver and blue.

She wasn't making love choices, she was making compromising choices because she wanted love. Luc wasn't her weakness- love was. Not even just love but the idea of it.

Stop flashing your fangs. I’m the only one who gets to bite her.

Happy endings can be caught, but they are difficult to hold on to.

She used to think love was like a house. Once it was built, a person got to live in it forever. But now she wondered if love was more like a war with new foes constantly appearing and battles creeping up.

I swear this is what I really want.” He spoke each word like a vow. “I want to erase every moment you and I have spent together, every word you’ve said to me, and every time I’ve touched you, because if I don’t, I’ll kill you, just like I killed the Fox.

Whatever it is, Jacks, you won't feel the same in a minute." He swalloved hard and clenched his jaw. "You have no idea what I'm feeling now." He looked at her lips, and the most tortured expression she'd ever seen crossed his face. When Jacks wanted something, it was with an intensity that could break worlds and build kingdoms. That was the energy pouring off him now, as if he wanted to destroy her and make her his queen all at once.

Being yours does not make you mine.

He considered setting the room ablaze just so that he'd have a reason to pick her up and carry her out, to save her one last time, before he left her for good.

Regret was the worst. Regret was sour and bitter, and it tasted so close to the truth she had to fight sinking into it.

He wanted her to look at him, just once, and know him the way she had before.

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.

She didn't want someone to hold her while she cried and tell her it would be all right. She wanted fury, she wanted rage, she wanted a villain to tell her she'd done exactly what she needed to do.

What is the point of having friends if they’re not there to support your bad decisions?

He looked like a bad decision some unfortunate person was about to make.

I’d give you the world if I could. The moon, stars, and all the suns in the universe. Anything for you, my heart

You know, biting is really like kissing but better, if you do it right.

I’m glad you came.” “I’ll always come. Even when you don’t want me to.

Jacks had so badly wanted to tell her that he couldn't even remember what Donatella looked like, that Evangeline's face was the only one he saw whenever he closed his eyes, that he would go with her anywhere . . . if he could.

Jacks’s chest was heaving, his clothes were soaked, his hair was a mess across his face—yet in that moment, Evangeline knew he would carry her through more than just freezing waters. He would pull her through fire if he had to, haul her from the clutches of war, from falling cities and breaking worlds. And for one brittle heartbeat, Evangeline understood why so many girls had died from his lips. If Jacks hadn’t betrayed her, if he hadn’t set her up for murder, she might have been a little bewitched by him.

A tormented scream pierced the night like a blade. The sky bled, and darkness fell instead of stars, erasing lights across the Magnificent North.

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's mouth twitched. "I've already done that, Little Fox.

Jacks looked down on her from the dark nightstand where he’d perched himself. His long legs draped negligently over the edge of the furniture as his hands played with an apple and a knife. “You talk in your sleep,” he drawled. “You said my name—a lot.” Evangeline felt a rush of heat crawl up her neck. “Obviously, I was having a nightmare.” “It didn’t look that way to me, Little Fox, and I was here all night.

I'd rather go up in flames with him than watch while he burns.

In the morning you can forget it. You can go back to pretending you dont like me. and i can pretend i dont care.But for tonight, let me pretend youre mine

This isn't just for now, it's for always, Little Fox." "I like the sound of always.

The truth is never what you want it to be, Little Fox.

He wanted to keep her pressed to the floor beneath him. He would have set the world on fire and then let it all burn just to keep holding her like this.

Always promise less than you can give, for Fates always take more. Do not make bargains with more than one Fate. And, above all, never fall in love with a Fate.

She wanted to be someone's love, not their curse.

Or have you already forgotten the way heartbreak rips apart the soul piece by piece, how it turns you into a masochist, making you long for the thing that just eviscerated you until there's noting left of you to be destroyed?

She didn't make being alone seem lonely as Evangeline had always feared. She made it seem like an adventure, as if every moment were the start of a story with endless possibilities.

Maybe it would be better to forget him. She hadn’t wanted the forgetting before, but she wanted it now. She wanted the pain to end. She wanted to forget his dimpled smile, his brilliant blue eyes, the way he called her Little Fox. And suddenly, her chest was tight at the thought she might never hear that nickname again. And she didn’t want to forget. She didn’t want to forget at all. She didn’t want the memories erased or rewritten; she wanted more of them.

Are you jealous of Luc?' 'I thought we'd already covered that yesterday. I'm always jealous. And so are you.

He glanced at her sideways. "You shouldn't stare at me like that." "Then how should I stare?" "You shouldn't stare at me at all." He abruptly looked away.

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.

You are my choice. You are my love. You are mine.

Jacks had been the moon and she'd been the tide, controlled by his impossible force.

Jacks, I think there's something wrong with you.' 'That's not anything new.' He gave her a slow, impish smile.

I used to fear it meant that I had no real choices. Then I secretly hoped fate was real and that you and I were fated, that by some miraculous chance I was your true love. But now I don’t care if fate is real—because I don’t need it to decide for me. I don’t need it to make this choice. I’ve made my decision, Jacks. It’s you. It will always be you, until the end of time. And I’ll fight fate or anyone else who tries to tear us apart- including you. You are my choice. You are my love. You are mine. And you are not going to be the end of me, Jacks.

Tick Tock Little Fox

Ballads never end happily, everyone knows that.

Like all admirers of fairytales, she'd always loved the scent of books. She loved the paper dust in the air, the way it swirled in the light like little sprinkles of magic. And most of all, she loved the way that fairytales always made her think of her mother and endless possibilities.

But when she finally glimpsed her rescuer, the world was suddenly brighter.

I know you're still angry with me, but you've always known what I am. I never tried to pretend otherwise, you just let yourself believe I was something I'm not.

Locks of blue hair fell across his forehead, but they didn't hide his eyes. They were wide, broken star-bright, and full of something that looked a lot like hope.

Evangeline wanted a real love powerful enough to break a spell, which was exactly what Jacks wanted, too.

Yes, I am a monster. I enjoy hurting people. I like blood. I like pain. I am a monster, but whether you remember it or not, I’m your monster, Evangeline.

Just love him the same way you live your life—love him without holding back, love him as if every day with him will be more magical than the last, love him as if he’s your destiny and the world will be better if you two are together, and he won’t be able to ever stop loving you.

I don't care what she wants!' roared the Fate. 'I don't want her dead. She saved you, you need to save her.

This is a very bad idea,” Jacks murmured. “I would have thought you liked bad ideas.” “Only when they’re mine.

And it struck her how intimate words could be, how they could be spoken only once, for only one person, and they would never be heard again, they would disappear like a moment, gone almost as soon as you realized they were there.

Wait- are you saying that your kiss isn't deadly if you don't want it to be?' 'Careful, Little Fox, you sound curious. But you shouldn't be.

Although given how driven Jacks was, if he were to be, loyal, she could see him being loyal to the death.

I’m actually a little afraid I’m going to lose. I no longer think love is a guarantee of victory or of happily ever after. But I think it’s a reason to fight for those things. I know my attempt to save Jacks could end in a fiery explosion, but I’d rather go up in flames with him than watch while he burns.

She could picture him flashing those deceptive dimples as he tricked an angel into losing its wings just so he could play with the feathers.

Then it hit her, not a feeling but a thought—a sharp, fragmented one. She had something important to tell someone.

It’s you,” she whispered. “You’re the Prince of Hearts.

Don't worry, I'm still not going to kiss you." His lips brushed over the delicate underside of her wrist. Once. Twice. Three times. It was barely a touch, and yet there was something incredibly intimate about it. It made her think of the other stories that said his kisses might have been fatal, but they were worth dying for.

His arms encircled her waist, keeping them close to his chest. She could feel his chest. Pounding. Pounding. Pounding

She hoped that he would argue with her- she hoped that he would fight for her. She hoped despite everything that he would choose her.

He seemed uncharacteristically nervous as he reached toward her cheek. He slowly took an errant pink strand of hair between his fingers and tucked it behind her ear. He was so careful, his fingers didn't even brush her skin, but he looked as if he wanted to.

She could feel the cool of his arms sliding gently under her legs and carefully under her neck as he cradled her to his chest. 'It hurts, Jacks.' 'I know, love. I'm going to take you somewhere safe.

All stories are made of both truths and lies, she used to say. What matters is the way that we believe in them.

Once, very long ago, Time fell in love with Fate. This, as you might imagine, proved problematic. Their romance disrupted the flow of time. It tangled the strings of fortune into knots.  The stars watched from the heavens nervously, worrying what might occur. What might happen to the days and nights were time to suffer a broken heart? What catastrophes might result if the same fate awaited Fate itself? The stars conspired and separated the two. For a while they breathed easier in the heavens. Time continued to flow as it always had, or perhaps imperceptibly slower. Fate weaved together the paths that were meant to intertwine, though perhaps a string was missed here and there. But eventually, Fate and Time found each other again.  In the heavens, the stars sighed, twinkling and fretting. They asked the Moon her advice. The Moon in turn called upon the parliament of owls to decide how best to proceed. The parliament of owls convened to discuss the matter amongst themselves night after night. They argued and debated while the world slept around them, and the world continued to turn, unaware that such important matters were under discussion while it slumbered.  The parliament of owls came to the logical conclusion that if the problem was in the combination, one of the elements should be removed. They chose to keep the one they felt more important. The parliament of owls told their decision to the stars and the stars agreed. The Moon did not, but on this night she was dark and could not offer her opinion.  So it was decided, and Fate was pulled apart. Ripped into pieces by beaks and claws. Fate’s screams echoed through the deepest corners and the highest heavens but no one dared to intervene save for a small brave mouse who snuck into the fray, creeping unnoticed through the blood and bone and feathers, and took Fate’s heart and kept it safe. When the furor died down there was nothing else left of Fate.  The owl who consumed Fate’s eyes gained great site, greater site then any that had been granted to a mortal creature before. The Parliament crowned him the Owl King. In the heavens the stars sparkled with relief but the moon was full of sorrow. And so time goes as it should and events that were once fated to happen are left instead to chance, and Chance never falls in love with anything for long. But the world is strange and endings are not truly endings no matter how the stars might wish it so.  Occasionally Fate can pull itself together again.  And Time is always waiting.

... it was tremendously hard to fully fall out of love with someone when you had no one else to love instead,

She must have lost her mind sometime during the night because she wanted him to move closer. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted him holding her, restraining her, teaching her to fight. She didn’t care, as long as they were touching.

Evangeline wanted to give love and to be loved and feel love at just the sight of someone. She wanted butterflies and kisses. She wanted it so much that sometimes she thought her heart would burst from it.

How can you keep mistaking me for someone who cares?

I love you, Jacks. I used to wonder if fate was real. I used to fear it meant that I had no real choices. Then I secretly hoped fate was real and that you and I were fated, that by some miraculous chance I was true love. But now I don't care if fate is real--because I don't need it to decide for me. I don't need it to make this choice. I've made my decision, Jacks. It's you. It will always be you, until the end of time. And I'll fight fate or anyone else who tries to tear us apart--including you. You are my choice. You are my love. You are mine. And you are not going to be the end of me, Jacks.

It had taken all the heartbreak, all the almost love and the wrong love, to know that this love was true love.

We were all a little like you back then, stupid enough to believe that if we did the right thing, it would all work out.

I know that stories often take on lives of their own. I already feel as if the horror I went through is turning into a fairytale, but I am nothing special, and this is not a fairytale.

She tried to take comfort in the books. Stories had always felt as if they were her friends. But all these stories felt like distant relations to the tales she knew.

There were three rules about Fates that Evangeline had been taught as a child. The most important of those rules was to never ever fall in love with a Fate.

And then they will write their vows on their hands and place them over each other’s chests, so they may sink into their hearts, where they will be kept safe forever and always.

Jacks' hand slid across the rail and twined his cold fingers with hers. He didn't hold back, he just held her hand, stunning her in to silence.

I am a monster, but whether you remember it or not, I'm your monster, Evangeline.

I didn't think you cared.' 'I don't. But you still owe me one 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 do this, Time will take something equally valuable from you.” “There is nothing of equal value to me.

She'd forgotten how hope could make colors brighter and feelings warmer, how it could shift thoughts from what wasn't to what was possible.

Chaos tilted his head, eyes landing on their intertwined hands. “Interesting.

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.

This young man was going to ruin the girl that worked inside the shop.

I’ve made my decision, Jacks. It’s you. It will always be you, until the end of time.

I’ll ask you one more time, then you lose the eye. And I almost hope you don’t answer, because I’d love to cut out your eye. Who hired you to kill her?

At least that’s what he’d told himself. She was only a key. A human. She wasn’t an obsession. She wasn’t his.

For finding dreams that don't exist yet.

You shouldn't stare at me like that." "Then how should I stare?" "You shouldn't stare at me at all.

She knew Apollo had warned that regaining her memories would only hurt her, but some things were worth hurting for, and Evangeline believed this was one of those things. She needed to remember.

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.

Then her parents would both be sure to tell Evangeline that not all loves happened at first; some took time to grow like seeds, or they might be like bulbs, dormant until the right season approached. But Evangeline had always wanted love at first- she wanted love like her parents, love like a story.

She ran her fingers through his soft hair, just once. He leaned in to her hand. 'That feels good,' he mumbled. 'You feel good, too.' He hooked an arm around her waist and drew her on to the bed. 'Jacks- what are you doing?' 'Just for tonight.' He tightened his arm, holding her even closer, until her chest was pressed against his bare skin. 'You're injured,' she breathed. 'This makes me feel better.' He spoke against her throat and finished with a lick that made her head begin to spin. Now would have been a really good time to untangle herself.

Or maybe she just likes me more than she likes you." "She hates me," Jacks said pleasantly. "So even if she likes you more, that's not saying very much.

They said his kiss was fatal to all but her—his only weakness—and as he’d sought her, he’d left a trail of corpses.

If Evangeline had a dagger, she imagined she could have sliced into that night as if it were a cake and stolen a piece of it to take a bite of all the wondrous dark.

He’d never heard her curse properly before. She wasn’t very good at it, but she was trying furiously.

Hurt is what made me.

Once upon a time, a girl who believed in fairytales stole the heart of a prince who had sworn to never love.

At the word sacrifice, something sparked in the Fate's cold eyes. He held the girl tighter, carrying her in his bloodstained arms as he stood and started down the ancient hall. 'What are you doing?' A crack of alarm showed in the queen's implacable face. 'I'm going to fix this.' He continued marching forward, holding the girl close as he carried her back through the arch. The angels who'd been guarding it now wept. They cried tears of stone as the Fate set the girl at their feet and began wrenching stone after stone from the arch. '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 suspended state. 'This 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.

... she couldn't believe the inexorable pull she felt was entirely one-sided. She looked up at his unreadable eyes as he lowered her in to the bed. 'Do you still think of me as just a tool?' Jacks frowned. 'I try not to think of you at all.

What have you done?' Evangeline demanded. 'Exactly what you asked.' Another bite of his apple. 'I made sure the wedding didn't happen.

His heart was racing again, and now so was hers.

You’re right. You keep saying Jacks is the villain. Yet you just let a man attack me with his pet bird in order to hunt another man down and kill him. You also told my guards—who aren’t very nice, by the way—not to let me leave the castle, despite promising me you’d never lock me up. So, no, I don’t know how much of a threat Lord Jacks is, but I’m starting to see you as one.

Don't be dazzled. You're useless to me as a vampire." "Well, let's hope I don't decide I'd rather be a vampire than be useful to you.

The secret to staying in love is having someone who will catch you when you start to fall out of it' and I promise to always catch you.

Evangeline Fox always believed she’d find herself inside of a fairytale one day.

The only magic in the room was that of touch and heartbeats and Jacks. And for a moment it was perfect. He felt like hers and she felt as if she was his.

I don’t know if I can fix your broken heart, but you can take mine because it’s already yours.

Archer held her tighter. He banded one arm firmly around her ribs, the other he circled just below her waist, almost on her hips, his fingers splayed in a way that felt less like he wanted to restrain her and more like he just wanted to touch her--to hold her on that bridge in the dark where it was only the two of them and the rain and the feel of too many heartbeats racing between them.

Luck had nothing to do with it,” Jacks mumbled. “I wanted you here, Little Fox. Who do you think asked Poison to save you and suggest to his empress that she send you to Nocte Neverending?

Then there is the other heart, the second heart, the one that breaks instead of beats, the one that loves so that there is a point to all this living.

As much as she hated the choice that Jacks was making, she didn't want to take it away. Instead, she hoped, one final time, that he would make a better one.

in that moment, Evangeline knew he would carry her through more than just freezing waters. He would pull her through fire if he had to, haul her from the clutches of war, from falling cities and breaking worlds.

You know,' she confessed, 'I've always loved your dimples.' 'I know.' He smirked. 'You were so obvious with your love at first sight.' 'It was not love at first sight.' She huffed. 'I only said I like your dimples at the start.' She dropped her hand from his cheek. 'I didn't even like you. I thought you were terrible.' 'And yet.' He grabbed her hand again and wrapped it around his neck. 'You kept staring.' Well...' She wrapped her other hand around his neck before sliding her fingers back into his hair. She really loved his hair. 'I might not have liked you, but you were always ridiculously handsome.

It felt as if he were reaching into her, as if there were invisible fingers digging in to her mind, taking things they shouldn't. Memories. ... With her body weakened, she fought to lock him out of her mind, to hide her remaining memories, but one by one he plucked them out. The night in the crypt with Jacks... gone. Marrying Apollo... gone. Her friendship with Lala... gone. Apollo infected with the Archer's curse... gone. Jumping off the cliff with Jacks- 'No!' she screamed. ... gone. The wonder of the Hollow... gone. Jacks bandaging her wounds... gone. Jacks confessing he was the Archer... gone. 'Please, stop,' she begged.

She no longer wanted to quietly sit at the end of a story. She wanted to keep stepping into new ones. She wanted to love, to discover, to feel. She wanted a life that felt like running through a field of wildflowers and then finding a gate at the end that led into an enchanted unknown. And she wanted to do it all with Jacks.

He held her so tightly it hurt, but this pain she didn't mind. She'd let him crush her, let him break her, just as long as he never let her go. This was what she wanted, and she refused to believe that he didn't want it, too.

Evangeline started to fall, and then Jacks was there. Her eyes were too heavy to open-but she could feel him. He held her with the type of intensity that only happens when a person wants something that isn't quite theirs. But she was. She just needed to tell him she loved him. "Evangeline-" His voice was hoarse. "Come back to me...." I'm not dead, she tried to say. But there was something wrong with her throat. And it seemed Jacks couldn't hear her thoughts. He silently held her tighter and pressed his forehead to hers. She wasn't sure if he was crying or if she was, but there was wet on her cheeks. It felt a lot like tears. And then she felt... Nothing.

She wanted the pain to end. She wanted to forget his dimpled smile, his brilliant blue eyes, the way he called her Little Fox. And suddenly, her chest was tight at the thought she might never heard that nickname again. And she didn't want to forget. She didn't want to forget at all. She didn't want the memories erased or rewritten; she wanted more of them.

You're good at this,' she murmured. 'Do you often travel with girls who've been flayed?' That earned her a soft laugh. 'No.' Then quietly, as he ran a cloth along her lower back, just below the dip in her waist. 'Would you be jealous if I did?' I'm not a jealous person was what Evangeline intended to say, but instead the words 'of course' came out. Jacks laughed, louder this time. Embarrassment surged through her. 'That's not what I meant to say.' 'It's all right. I'd probably kill another man if I found him with you like this.' Jacks' hands pressed harder as they went to her shoulders and, one by one, ripped off the sleeves of her dress so that what remained of the gown completely fell away. She made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. 'What that really necessary?' 'No, but everyone should have their clothes ripped off at some point.' She imagined Jacks was mostly trying to distract her from all the pain, yet she blushed all the way from her cheeks to her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw him smile. And for a second, nothing hurt.

Jacks wasn't safe. He came with no promises of happily ever after. If anything, he guaranteed the opposite. He didn't believe that heroes got happy endings. Loving Jacks felt doomed from the start. But Evangeline had learned that love was more than a feeling. And it didn't have to be the safe choice, because love was more powerful than fear. It was the ultimate form of hope. It was stronger than curses.

Little Fox. Two simple words. Only they did not feel simple at all. They felt like falling. They felt like hope. They felt like the most important words in the world. The words made her blood rush and her head spin until once again it was only her and Jacks. Nothing existed except for the press of his cool forehead, the feel of his strong hand tangling in her hair, and the pleading, broken look in his quicksilver blue eyes.

Evangeline stopped shaking his shoulder and smoothed back a lock of golden hair that had fallen across his sleeping face... it felt incredibly soft against her thawing fingers as she ran them through- Jacks' hand covered hers, cold and firm atop her fingers. 'Bad... idea...,' he murmured. She snatched her hand away. She hadn't meant to touch him like that. Jacks was not a thing to idly touch. He wasn't even a thing she liked. Although, as soon as she had the thought, she knew it wasn't true. Not anymore.

Jacks idly stroked her jaw with his fingers. 'I love you,' he said simply. Then his face went abruptly serious. 'I'm never going to let you out of my sight.' 'You say that as if it should be a threat.' He continued to look at her solemnly.'This isn't just for now, it's for always, Little Fox.' 'I like the sound of always.' She smiled against his fingers and then she reached up to touch his cheek, because now he was smiling, too. And he loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her so much he'd rewritten history. He'd given up what he had believed was his only chance at love. And now he had finally broken the spell that he never thought he'd escape.

He brought his hand up to her mouth and marked the seam of her lips with the blood. Metallic and sweet. Incredibly sweet. She wanted to hate the taste, but it was more like a feeling than a flavor. It was the last perfect moment before a dream ends, drops of sunshine falling like rain, lost wishes that had been found.

You sound jealous.' 'If you think I'm jealous because someone else got to stab you, then you're right.' 'Prove it.' She heard the slump of his dagger as it fell at her feet. It was the jeweled one he carried everywhere. So many of the gems were missing, but the knife's hilt still glittered in the torchlight, pulsing blue and purple, the colour of blood before it was spilled. 'What am I supposed to do with this?' 'You might want to use it, Little Fox.' The corner of his mouth twitched as he slowly slid his pale hands through the bars of the gate and broke the lock in half. It could have been a twig, a piece of paper, or her.

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.

Once, he’d been the Seducer, the Executioner, the High Priest of the Hourglass, the Prince of the Darkness, the High Lord of Hell. Once, he’d been Consort to Cassandra, the great Black-Jeweled, Black Widow Queen, the last Witch to walk the Realms. Once, he’d been the only Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood, feared for his temper and the power he wielded. Once, he’d been the only male who was a Black Widow. Once, he’d ruled the Dhemlan Territory in the Realm of Terreille and her sister Territory in Kaeleer, the Shadow Realm. He’d been the only male ever to rule without answering to a Queen and, except for Witch, the only member of the Blood to rule Territories in two Realms. Once, he’d been married to Hekatah, an aristo Black Widow Priestess from one of Hayll’s Hundred Families. Once, he’d raised two sons, Mephis and Peyton. He’d played games with them, told them stories, read to them, healed their skinned knees and broken hearts, taught them Craft and Blood Law, showered them with his love of the land as well as music, art, and literature, encouraged them to look with eager eyes upon all that the Realms had to offer—not to conquer but to learn. He’d taught them to dance for a social occasion and to dance for the glory of Witch. He’d taught them how to be Blood. But that was a long, long time ago.

Abandoned. The word alone sends shudders down a sensitive spine, troubling the thoughts of pained souls as their hurt swells in ripples. It is a sentence of undesired solitude often pronounced on the innocent, the trusting—administered without warning or satisfactory cause. One day the moon is yours, or so you believe. The next, his countenance transforms from Jekyll to Hyde with no intention of ever turning back, and you are left trampled upon in a deserted street, concealed by dirty fog that squelches all illumination or any hope for future rays of light. It is the worst of mysteries why a beast considered noble would forsake his duty, exhibiting a heart of stone. And all who once looked on him, now turn down their eyes and suffer, beguiled. Some poisons have no antidote, but are slow, silent, torturous ends that curl up the broken body swept into a cold, dark corner. There she is left to drown in her tears—a dying heart. Abandoned.

... the girl remained unmoving. Dead. And yet the Fate continued to hold her. 'Bring her back,' he said softly. 'I am sorry,' said the queen who'd just awoken. She was a petite thing. She's tried to pull her son away from the girl to stop his unnatural feeding, but her hands were not strong enough. The queen could not fight immortals physically, but she had an iron will forged of mettle and mistakes. 'You know I cannot do that.' The Fate finally looked up. 'Bring her back,' he repeated. For he also possessed an indomitable will. 'I know you can do it.' The queen shook her head remorsefully. 'My heart breaks for you- for this. But I will not do this. After bringing back Castor and seeing what he became, I vowed to never use that sort of magic again.' 'Evangeline would be different.' The Fate glowered at the queen. 'No,' she repeated. 'You wouldn't be saving this girl, you would be damning her. Just as we did to Castor. She wouldn't want this life.' 'I don't care what she wants!' roared the Fate. 'I don't want her dead. She saved you, you need to save her.' The queen took a shaky breath. If the story curse could have breathed, it would have held its breath. It hoped the queen would say yes. Yes to bringing her back, to turning her in to another terrible immortal. Despite what this Fate believed, the girl would be horrible- the ones with endless life always were, eventually.

Anyone who says love is free has never truly been in love. Your lover will need comfort. Your spouse will have bad days. Your child will have their heart broken, more than once and you will be expected to help pick up the pieces. Your beloved pets become a parade of joy and loss. Love costs, sometimes it costs everything you have, and sometimes it costs more. On those days you weigh the joy you gain against the pain; you weigh the energy given from the loving and the energy lost from the duties that love places upon us. Love can be the most expensive thing in the world. If it's worth it, great, but if not, then love does not conquer all, sometimes you are conquered by it. You are laid waste before the breathtaking pain of it, and crushed under the weight of it's obligations.

The girl was dead. If her lifeless body had not confirmed it, then it would have been made clear by the horrible scream of the Fate who held her in his arms. The story curse was familiar with pain, but this was agony, the sort of raw grief that was only seen once in a century. The Fate was every tear that anyone had ever shed for lost love. He was pain given form. ... The Fate didn't move. He didn't let the girl go. He looked as if he never would. He continued holding her as if he could return her to life with the force of his will. His eyes were wet with blood. Red tears fell down his cheeks and on to hers. But the girl didn't stir.

Little Fox, when I saw you, I thought-' He broke off as he set her atop all the twisted sheets. Then he fisted her hair in his hand and tugged until she was looking up at him. His face had all the agony of a fallen star, broken and beautiful, with eyes so blue, the colour of everything else looked dull. Deliberately, his gaze fell to her lips. Her breathing turned ragged, and she wished just once that he could kiss her. He leaned closer and gently twisted her hair, angling her head as he brought their mouths incredibly close. 'You're still bleeding.' He licked the centre of her lips, soft and agonisingly slow. His tongue felt like heaven and hell. Like everything she wanted and all she couldn't have. She had to stop herself from leaning closer, though she doubted Jacks would let her. She could feel his fingers against her scalp, holding her in place, keeping her lips just shy of his. But maybe it was close enough. Maybe they didn't have to touch. She could live like this as long as she could live with him.

You're a little scary right now, do you know that?' She glared at him. 'That's a compliment, Little Fox.' He reached towards her and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear with one featherlight touch. Butterflies moved inside her. Different from the ones that she felt whenever she saw Apollo. Because Apollo didn't frighten her. 'What are you doing?' she squeaked. Jacks chuckled. 'If I knew all it took to scare you was a little touch, I would have tried this sooner.' His fingertips played with her earlobe. Evangeline pulled away, almost stumbling on the frozen ground. She hated that her legs were so unsteady. That one small touch could affect her so.

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.

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.

She melted once more at the memory of how he'd said the word mine. It was only supposed to be for the night, but the pretending hadn't stopped. Light was bleeding through the windows, showering them in sunshine as they lay together, legs and arms entwined. One of his cool hands wrapped protectively around her waist, and the other had made its way up her skirt, holding her to him as if touching were a form of breathing. They had moved closer as they slept, as if drawn by some force that she suspected was simply each other.

Don't cry, my love.' She carefully wiped his tears with her fingers. 'I'm all right. She gave him a wobbly smile. His eyes went wide and as blue as a clear sky after a storm. 'How is this...' he trailed off. It was a little endearing to watch. His sulky mouth gently parted as he seemed to forget how to speak. 'I already told you. You are the love of my life. You are mine, Jacks of the Hollow. And you're not going to be the end of me.' 'But you were dying.' 'No,' she said, a little embarrassed. 'I just forgot to breathe.

The Trial By Existence Even the bravest that are slain Shall not dissemble their surprise On waking to find valor reign, Even as on earth, in paradise; And where they sought without the sword Wide fields of asphodel fore’er, To find that the utmost reward Of daring should be still to dare. The light of heaven falls whole and white And is not shattered into dyes, The light for ever is morning light; The hills are verdured pasture-wise; The angel hosts with freshness go, And seek with laughter what to brave;— And binding all is the hushed snow Of the far-distant breaking wave. And from a cliff-top is proclaimed The gathering of the souls for birth, The trial by existence named, The obscuration upon earth. And the slant spirits trooping by In streams and cross- and counter-streams Can but give ear to that sweet cry For its suggestion of what dreams! And the more loitering are turned To view once more the sacrifice Of those who for some good discerned Will gladly give up paradise. And a white shimmering concourse rolls Toward the throne to witness there The speeding of devoted souls Which God makes his especial care. And none are taken but who will, Having first heard the life read out That opens earthward, good and ill, Beyond the shadow of a doubt; And very beautifully God limns, And tenderly, life’s little dream, But naught extenuates or dims, Setting the thing that is supreme. Nor is there wanting in the press Some spirit to stand simply forth, Heroic in its nakedness, Against the uttermost of earth. The tale of earth’s unhonored things Sounds nobler there than ’neath the sun; And the mind whirls and the heart sings, And a shout greets the daring one. But always God speaks at the end: ’One thought in agony of strife The bravest would have by for friend, The memory that he chose the life; But the pure fate to which you go Admits no memory of choice, Or the woe were not earthly woe To which you give the assenting voice.’ And so the choice must be again, But the last choice is still the same; And the awe passes wonder then, And a hush falls for all acclaim. And God has taken a flower of gold And broken it, and used therefrom The mystic link to bind and hold Spirit to matter till death come. ‘Tis of the essence of life here, Though we choose greatly, still to lack The lasting memory at all clear, That life has for us on the wrack Nothing but what we somehow chose; Thus are we wholly stripped of pride In the pain that has but one close, Bearing it crushed and mystified.

I mean... it's just one night,' he said softly. 'In the morning, you can forget it. You can go back to pretending you don't like me, and I can pretend that I don't care. But for tonight, let me pretend you're mine.' She melted at the word mine. For a dizzying second, she couldn't think. She couldn't bring herself to pull away, and yet she couldn't tell him she would stay. 'If it's easier, you can pretend, too,' he whispered. 'You can pretend I'm still Jacks of the Hollow and that you want to be mine.' His mouth pressed against her throat once more and slowly traced a blissful line up her neck, to her ear. Then his teeth nipped her earlobe. She gasped. The bite was sharp and a little painful, as if he wanted to hold her and punish her, too. But he didn't have to punish her. This was already torture because she wanted it so much. She wanted him to want her, even if he was half-delirious in his wanting. 'I'm not delirious.' His voice was husky with something like sleep, but when he looked down on her, his eyes were clear and lucid. And Evangeline felt as if she was tumbling in to them.

Why are you being so cruel?' 'Because you won't leave!' Jacks shouted. 'And if you stay, you will die. Chaos hasn't fed in thousands of years. I know he thinks he can control his hunger, but he can't. That's why they put the helm on him.' 'You could have just said that. If you didn't want me to say goodbye or you want me to leave, you don't have to hurt me to get me to do it.' 'I'm not- I-' Jacks broke off abruptly. His eyes were no longer just red, they were blazing with fear. She'd never seen him look so terrified before. She'd been poisoned, shot, lashed across the back, and Jacks had always kept his calm until now. With a great deal of effort, he took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft but uneven. 'I'm sorry, Little Fox. I didn't want to hurt you, I just-' He looked suddenly at a loss for words, as if whatever he said next might be the wrong thing. He's never looked at her like this before. 'Jacks, please, don't use the stones tonight. Come with me instead.' He took a jagged breath. For a second, he looked torn. He raked a hand through his hair, his movements jagged. Evangeline took a step closer. He shuttered his expression and took a step back. 'This doesn't change anything. I still can't have you in my life. You and I aren't meant to be.' 'What if you're wrong?' Evangeline had once heard a tale about a pair of doomed stars, drawn across skies toward each other's brightness, even though they knew that if they drew too close, their desire would end in a fiery explosion. This was how Jacks looked at her now. As if neither of them would survive if they drew any closer. 'Evangeline, you need to go.' A thunderous roar poured out from the Valory, so loud it shook the arch and the angels and the ground at Evangeline's feet. 'Get out of here.' Jacks said. She held his gaze, one final time, wishing she knew how to change his mind. 'I wish our story could have had another ending.' 'I don't want another ending,' Jacks said flatly. 'I just want you to leave.

Jacks dropped a heavy arm around her shoulders, sending a shock straight through her as he pulled her suddenly close. 'Want me to kill any of them for you?' 'No, they're just gossiping.' 'Then what if I merely give them the urge to cut out their own tongues?' he asked, flashing one of his dimples. Evangeline stifled a giggle, though she knew she shouldn't be amused. She had no doubt he was serious about the tongues. 'Don't you dare-' 'You sure? They deserve it.' The whole House deserves it. The thought was so quiet, Evangeline wasn't sure Jacks intended for her to hear it.

I'm sorry Donatella wounded you so badly,' Evangeline said. And she meant it. She imagined Jacks was probably leaving a few things out, but she believed his hurt was genuine. 'Maybe the stories have it wrong and there's another true love waiting for you.' Jacks laughed derisively. 'Are you saying this because you think you can be her?' He eyed Evangeline through the bars, gaze bordering on indecent. 'Do you want to kiss me, Little Fox?' Something new and terrible knotted up inside her. 'No, that's not what I'm saying.' 'You don't sound too sure about that. You might not like me, but I bet you'd like it if I kissed you.' His eyes went to her lips, and the heat that swept across her mouth felt like the beginning of a kiss. 'Jacks, stop it,' she demanded. He didn't really want to kiss her. He was just teasing her to deflect the pain. 'I know what you're doing.' 'I doubt it.' He smiled, flashing his dimples as he ran his tongue over the tip of a very sharp and long incisor, looking suddenly thoughtful. 'Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay like this. I rather like these.' 'You also like daylight.' Evangeline reminded him. 'I could probably live without the sun if I could trade it for other things.' He cocked his head. 'I wonder... if I were to become a true vampire, perhaps my kiss wouldn't be fatal anymore.' His fangs lengthened. 'You could let me bite you and we could try it out.' Another piercing lick of heat, this time right beneath her jaw, then her wrist, and a few other intimate places she'd have never thought anyone would bite. Evangeline blushed from her neck down to her collarbone. 'We're not talking about biting,' she said hotly.

I'm broken. I like to break things. Sometimes I want to break you.' 'Then break me, Jacks.' His fingers tensed against her neck. 'For once I want to do the right thing. I can't do this. I can't watch you die again.' The word again scraped against her like a thorn. 'What do you mean, again?' 'You died, Evangeline.' Jacks pulled her closer until she could feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest as he rasped. 'I held you in my arms as it happened.' 'Jacks... I don't know what you're talking about. I never died.' 'Yes, you did. The night you opened the Valory. The first time you did it, I didn't go with you.' He went silent for a moment and then she heard him think, I couldn't say goodbye. 'It was only you and Chaos,' he whispered. 'As soon as his helm was off, he killed you. I tried to stop him- I tried to save you- but-' Jacks opened and shut his mouth as if he could barely get the words out. 'I couldn't. When I got there, he had already bitten you- and he'd already taken too much blood. You died as soon as you were in my arms. The only thing I could do was use the stones to turn back time. I was warned that it would cost me something. But I thought it would cost me. I didn't imagine it would take from you.' I'm sorry, he thought. 'You don't need to be sorry, Jacks.' 'It's my fault,' he gritted out. 'No, it's not. I didn't lose my memories because you turned back time. I lost them because Apollo took them from me.' Jacks looked murderous for a second. Then just as quickly he shook off her words. 'It doesn't matter. What matters is that you died. And if you die again, I cannot bring you back.' 'So you'd rather live without me?' 'I'd rather you live.' 'I am living, Jacks, and I am not going to die anytime soon.' Evangeline closed her eyes and then she kissed him.

If you really believe this is what you want, you're lying to yourself.' 'I'm not lying to myself,' Jacks snarled. 'Then tell me this is what you truly want. Swear you want this more than anything else and I'll never mention it again.' Jacks grabbed her by the shoulders and looked directly in to her eyes. For a minute, he didn't speak. He just looked at her, at the remaining blood still on her lips and the dried tears staining her cheeks. 'I swear this is what I really want.' He spoke each word like a vow. 'I want to erase every moment you and I have spent together, every word you've said to me, and every time I've touched you, because if I don't, I'll kill you, just like I killed the Fox.' Evangeline's heart stopped. She searched Jacks' eyes, but all she saw was darkness, and all she felt was the press of his hands. He held on to her the way a person might grasp the edge of a cliff, knowing once they let go, there was no taking hold again.

Everything between them felt as fragile as a raindrop that would cease to exist when it touched the ground. But the Hollow also felt like the sort of place where raindrops never touched the ground. Jacks slowly ran a hand up and down her spine. 'Have you decided to stay.' 'I thought you already heard what I was thinking?' she whispered. 'I want you to say it out loud.' His words were low and quiet; she wouldn't have heard them if she hadn't been so close. And it struck her how intimate words could be, how they could be spoken only once , for only one person, and they would never be heard again, they would disappear like a moment, gone almost as soon as you realised they were there. ... She meant to say, For tonight, I'm yours, but all that came out was 'I'm yours.

What the hell are you doing?' Jacks growled. Evangeline turned toward his voice, sweat trickling down her cheek, as she found him standing in the doorway. A vein throbbed furiously along the line of his smooth, marble neck. His skin looked so cool, and she was so hot. All she wanted was to press her mouth to his throat and maybe lick it just once. Her blood rushed faster at the thought, and her fangs started to lengthen. 'Jacks, get out of here!' Chaos ordered. 'Unless you've changed your mind about her becoming a vampire.' Chaos gripped Evangeline's wrists tighter, pressing them- along with her- more firmly to the bed. She writhed against his grip; he was crushing her again with the full weight of his body. Something loud cracked in the doorway. Her eyes shot back to Jacks, who was fisting the now splintered edge of the door. Had he done that with his hands? He certainly looked livid enough. His silver-blue eyes turned midnight dark as he watched her struggling under Chaos. Evangeline dimly knew that she should stop her thrashing. If she broke free from Chaos and managed to bite Jacks, the life she had- the life she wanted to keep- would be over. But she also wanted this. She wanted Jacks to stop her struggling. She wanted him to rip Chaos off her chest so that he could pin her to the bed instead. Evangeline took a rasping breath, and her gaze collided with Jacks' once more. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. With Evangeline's heightened senses, she could hear it clench under his palm. Then she heard the scrape of Jacks' boots as he sharply turned and disappeared down the hall.

What exactly are you doing?' Jacks drawled. The breath left her lungs, and the broken heart scar on her wrist caught fire. She hadn't even heard him enter. Evangeline stopped mid-twirl, her skirts still swishing as she caught his dashing reflection in the mirror. Her heart gave a silly jolt. She tried to stop it. But while Jacks was many terrible things, there was no denying that he was also painfully handsome. It was the golden hair. In certain lights, it looked like real gold, shining over eyes that glittered more than human eyes ever could. So maybe it was the eyes as well. And perhaps she could blame a little on his lips. They were perfect, of course, and right now they were smiling with amusement. 'So this is what you do when I'm not around?' Evangeline felt the sudden urge to hide inside her wardrobe, but she tampered it down as she turned and met his gaze with a smile of her own. 'You think about what I do when you're not around?' 'Careful, Little Fox.' He took a step forward. 'You sound excited by the idea.' 'I'm not, I assure you,' she said, wishing she didn't sound so breathless. 'I merely like the thought that I torment you as much as you torment me.' Jacks flashed one of his dimples, making him look deceptively charming. 'So you're the one who thinks about what I do when you're not around?' 'Only because I know you're up to no good.' 'No good.' He laughed as he said the words. 'I would hope you know by now that I'm up to far worse than just "no good".

Please, I know you understand heartbreak. Stop Luc from marrying Marisol. Save my heart from breaking again.” “Now, that was a pathetic speech.” Two slow claps followed the indolent voice, which sounded just a few feet away. Evangeline spun around, all the blood draining from her face. She didn’t expect to see him—the young man who’d been tearing his clothes in the back of the church. Although it was difficult to believe this was the same person. She had thought that boy was in agony, but he must have ripped away his pain along with the sleeves of his jacket, which now hung in tatters over a striped black-and-white shirt that was only halfway tucked into his breeches. He sat on the dais steps, lazily leaning against one of the pillars with his long, lean legs stretched out before him. His hair was golden and messy, his too-bright blue eyes were bloodshot, and his mouth twitched at the corner as if he didn’t enjoy much, but he found pleasure in the brief bit of pain he’d just inflicted upon her. He looked bored and rich and cruel. “Would you like me to stand up and turn around so that you can take in the rest of me?” he taunted. The color instantly returned to Evangeline’s cheeks. “We’re in a church.” “What does that have to do with anything?” In one elegant move, the young man reached into the inner pocket of his ripped burgundy coat, pulled out a pure white apple, and took one bite. Dark red juice dripped from the fruit to his long, pale fingers and then onto the pristine marble steps. “Don’t do that!” Evangeline hadn’t meant to yell. Although she wasn’t shy with strangers, she generally avoided quarrelling with them. But she couldn’t seem to help it with this crass young man. “You’re being disrespectful.” “And you’re praying to an immortal who kills every girl he kisses. You really think he deserves any reverence?” The awful young man punctuated his words with another wide bite of his apple.

Hello,' he said, almost shyly, as he approached the table. He was barefoot and shirtless, and adorably tousled, with golden hair falling over sparkly eyes that looked as if they were still waking up. 'Hi.' Her voice came out oddly shy as well, which only seemed to make Jacks smile. 'You didn't have to sneak out of bed,' he said. 'I didn't sneak.' 'Then why didn't you stay?' He casually slid in to the seat beside her and turned to her with a wolfish grin. It was a smile like a fairytale, part villain, part hero, part impossible ever after. She couldn't bear how much she loved it. But then she remembered the stone. She imagined she'd feel differently if it was in an iron box, and she feared that Jacks would, too. That he wouldn't be looking at her as if he wanted to devour her instead of the breakfast. 'Tomorrow, I won't let you leave so easily.' His eyes flashed with mischief, and he stole a bite of her toast. The gesture was so simple and so comfortable, and all she could think was that it would be so easy to stay here. 'I thought you said it was just one night.' 'I thought you never believed what I said.' He shook his head reproachfully and tugged her on to his lap. 'Jacks-' Evangeline put a hand against his chest. She could feel his heart was pounding, which surprised her. On the outside, he looked so casual and careless, but now she imagined he felt as nervous as she did. It made her want to pull him closer, to press her head in to his shoulder and tell him all the things that she was trying not to feel. She wrapped her arms around his neck , and for a second she held tight. She held him as if he was hers and she was his, and there was nothing else between them. No curses. No lies. No past wounds or mistakes. She held him as if there was only now, as if nothing else mattered but this moment. Then she let him go. She shoved off his laps with clumsy arms and even clumsier legs that stumbled as she tried to step back. 'Evangeline... what's wrong?' A line creased between his brows. 'This isn't real, Jacks. You and I, we're under the influence of the mirth stone.' 'You think you would only feel this way about me because of a rock?' Jacks' mouth clamped shut. For a moment he looked angry, but she looked in his eyes, all she could see was hurt.

Back out of all this now too much for us, Back in a time made simple by the loss Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off Like graveyard marble sculpture in the weather, There is a house that is no more a house Upon a farm that is no more a farm And in a town that is no more a town. The road there, if you’ll let a guide direct you Who only has at heart your getting lost, May seem as if it should have been a quarry— Great monolithic knees the former town Long since gave up pretense of keeping covered. And there’s a story in a book about it: Besides the wear of iron wagon wheels The ledges show lines ruled southeast-northwest, The chisel work of an enormous Glacier That braced his feet against the Arctic Pole. You must not mind a certain coolness from him Still said to haunt this side of Panther Mountain. Nor need you mind the serial ordeal Of being watched from forty cellar holes As if by eye pairs out of forty firkins. As for the woods’ excitement over you That sends light rustle rushes to their leaves, Charge that to upstart inexperience. Where were they all not twenty years ago? They think too much of having shaded out A few old pecker-fretted apple trees. Make yourself up a cheering song of how Someone’s road home from work this once was, Who may be just ahead of you on foot Or creaking with a buggy load of grain. The height of the adventure is the height Of country where two village cultures faded Into each other. Both of them are lost. And if you’re lost enough to find yourself By now, pull in your ladder road behind you And put a sign up CLOSED to all but me. Then make yourself at home. The only field Now left’s no bigger than a harness gall. First there’s the children’s house of make-believe, Some shattered dishes underneath a pine, The playthings in the playhouse of the children. Weep for what little things could make them glad. Then for the house that is no more a house, But only a belilaced cellar hole, Now slowly closing like a dent in dough. This was no playhouse but a house in earnest. Your destination and your destiny’s A brook that was the water of the house, Cold as a spring as yet so near its source, Too lofty and original to rage. (We know the valley streams that when aroused Will leave their tatters hung on barb and thorn.) I have kept hidden in the instep arch Of an old cedar at the waterside A broken drinking goblet like the Grail Under a spell so the wrong ones can’t find it, So can’t get saved, as Saint Mark says they mustn’t. (I stole the goblet from the children’s playhouse.) Here are your waters and your watering place. Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.

In my travels on the surface, I once met a man who wore his religious beliefs like a badge of honor upon the sleeves of his tunic. "I am a Gondsman!" he proudly told me as we sat beside eachother at a tavern bar, I sipping my wind, and he, I fear, partaking a bit too much of his more potent drink. He went on to explain the premise of his religion, his very reason for being, that all things were based in science, in mechanics and in discovery. He even asked if he could take a piece of my flesh, that he might study it to determine why the skin of the drow elf is black. "What element is missing," he wondered, "that makes your race different from your surface kin?" I think that the Gondsman honestly believed his claim that if he could merely find the various elements that comprised the drow skin, he might affect a change in that pigmentation to make the dark elves more akin to their surface relatives. And, given his devotion, almost fanaticism, it seemed to me as if he felt he could affect a change in more than physical appearance. Because, in his view of the world, all things could be so explained and corrected. How could i even begin to enlighten him to the complexity? How could i show him the variations between drow and surface elf in the very view of the world resulting from eons of walking widely disparate roads? To a Gondsman fanatic, everything can be broken down, taken apart and put back together. Even a wizard's magic might be no more than a way of conveying universal energies - and that, too, might one day be replicated. My Gondsman companion promised me that he and his fellow inventor priests would one day replicate every spell in any wizard's repertoire, using natural elements in the proper combinations. But there was no mention of the discipline any wizard must attain as he perfects his craft. There was no mention of the fact that powerful wizardly magic is not given to anyone, but rather, is earned, day by day, year by year and decade by decade. It is a lifelong pursuit with gradual increase in power, as mystical as it is secular. So it is with the warrior. The Gondsman spoke of some weapon called an arquebus, a tubular missile thrower with many times the power of the strongest crossbow. Such a weapon strikes terror into the heart of the true warrior, and not because he fears that he will fall victim to it, or even that he fears it will one day replace him. Such weapons offend because the true warrior understands that while one is learning how to use a sword, one should also be learning why and when to use a sword. To grant the power of a weapon master to anyone at all, without effort, without training and proof that the lessons have taken hold, is to deny the responsibility that comes with such power. Of course, there are wizards and warriors who perfect their craft without learning the level of emotional discipline to accompany it, and certainly there are those who attain great prowess in either profession to the detriment of all the world - Artemis Entreri seems a perfect example - but these individuals are, thankfully, rare, and mostly because their emotional lacking will be revealed early in their careers, and it often brings about a fairly abrupt downfall. But if the Gondsman has his way, if his errant view of paradise should come to fruition, then all the years of training will mean little. Any fool could pick up an arquebus or some other powerful weapon and summarily destroy a skilled warrior. Or any child could utilize a Gondsman's magic machine and replicate a firebal, perhaps, and burn down half a city. When I pointed out some of my fears to the Gondsman, he seemed shocked - not at the devastating possibilities, but rather, at my, as he put it, arrogance. "The inventions of the priests of Gond will make all equal!" he declared. "We will lift up the lowly peasant