Imogen with the strange pamphlet. Imogen upset when I asked her if she shopped at Madame LeFleur’s. Imogen’s jealous glances, her obsession with Evander. Imogen being the first to inform me that Evander’s father could annul our betrothal bargain.
Adrenaline burst through me, rattling my brain and speeding up my thoughts. “Evander, don’t. Don’t make the bargain.”
Unadulterated pain sliced the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I can’t let you die. I need you alive. Even if I never get to see you again. It would be enough just to know you were safe.”
My breath caught, but my brain stumbled for words, for anything to buy my mind more time to find the last piece of the puzzle, the part it couldn’t quite grasp, no matter how ardently I fumbled in the dark.
What my brain latched onto wasn’t much. I could only hope it would be enough as I blurted, “How long did it take you to summon up the courage to ask Madame LeFleur for something a little stronger than her usual brew?”
Cinderella stiffened next to me. When she spoke, her voice was an impatient command. “You’ll need to enter this bargain now, Prince. Before I change my mind and decorate her father’s workshop with his daughter’s blood.”
Evander eased toward us, his hand outstretched.
“No,” Cinderella said, her words practically spat. “Do it verbally first. I won’t have you yanking me away from her.”
He shook his head. “You know that’s not how this works.”
“Then swear that you won’t try to overpower me.”
Evander clenched his teeth. Clearly, that’s what he’d intended to do. “I swear it.”
“Say the whole thing.”
“I swear I won’t try to overpower you when I take your hand.”
Placated, Cinderella reached out, keeping her forearm braced to my neck so I couldn’t move, the knife still in her other hand at my throat.
“If Madame LeFleur turned you into this, I’m sure she can turn you right back,” I belted out, desperate now for anything that might rile her.
Cinderella cut her eyes toward me, a deadly sneer smeared across her full features. “That old hag is dead.”
Dead?
The shock that must have crossed my face wasn’t mirrored on Evander’s. “Did you know?” I asked.
He grimaced. “Yes, but I didn’t make the connection.”
I turned back to Cinderella. “You murdered Madame LeFleur, didn’t you? When she figured out that you’d used her potion to trick the prince into falling in love with you.”
“And what if I did? Does it matter to you, Prince? Would you bind yourself to a murderer to preserve the lives of these little girls you hold with such fondness?”
Evander winced, but he didn’t have to nod.
Everyone in this workshop knew the answer.
“Evander, please. You don’t have to do this,” I said, but the words died a breath away from my lips.
Of course he had to do this.
It wasn’t just my life at stake. It was Blaise’s. It was his life in exchange for ours, and he’d pay that price.
Perhaps if it had meant the fate of the kingdom, I could convince him otherwise. But as long as he lived, Cinderella would have no more power than Evander’s mother.
Cinderella would never grasp even that, either. She could never hope to match the queen in wit, no matter how cunning Cinderella might be.
If Evander and his parents lived, that is.
I couldn’t bear to think of what Cinderella might do to them if I was wrong about her feelings for Evander.
Perhaps even if I was right.
She was obsessed with him.
But how tested by time, how well-worn was the story of a scorned lover who murdered the object of their affection.
I had to do something.
Think, Ellie, think.
Cinderella slipped her delicate hand into Evander’s.
They each shuddered.
I was going to be sick.
Evander’s throat worked. “You first.”
For a moment, I thought she’d refuse, but apparently she had little doubt that Evander would risk my life, because she rushed through the vow. “I vow that, in exchange for your hand in marriage come the next full moon, along with full legal immunity”—Evander groaned—“I shall spare the life and health of Ellie Payne and shall cause no physical harm to the servant Blaise.”
