Jerome stood at the tall glass window and watched. The moonlight illuminated the royal garden spread out before him—swathes of cropped grass, neat rows of trees stretching beyond Jerome’s vision, and gaudy flowerbeds traversed by winding gravel pathways. Far in the distance, a wall separated the palace grounds from the rest of the city.
The wall that that scoundrel Killian might try to climb over tonight.
Jerome knew that the young man had been sneaking into the place, aided by Jerome’s own daughter to get through a hidden back door in the wall. A guard had found them together, tiptoeing through the gardens toward the palace, hardly a week after Jerome had once again confined Evangeline to the palace grounds. Killian had escaped, but his secret was revealed.
Jerome had been sure that this had happened more than once. He was all-too-familiar with the stubbornness of both his daughter and the penniless scum who wanted to ruin her life. And he was sure that they meant for their secret meetings to happen again.
In fact, they already had happened again—almost, at least. This was the fourth night since Jerome had magicked a death-like slumber over his daughter. Each night, Killian had shown up by the wall, waited there for nearly an hour, and then left.
Jerome had instructed his guards not to confront the young man. The past nights, Killian had simply left, but maybe tonight would be the night that—
Jerome straightened. His lips curved into a small smile. A dark shape was moving near the edge of one of the gardens.
It had to be Killian. As the shadow slowly approached the palace, heading toward a servants’ door, Jerome became more and more certain it was.
Jerome turned away from the window with a swishing of expensive fabric. He had to get upstairs before Killian did. He wanted to know exactly what was about to happen.
Jerome hastened up a set of stairs and down several hallways. When he reached his daughter’s room, he turned to the door opposite it and slipped inside.
This sneaking and hiding did not befit a king. But Jerome was willing to stoop lower than many kings would in order to get what he wanted. In this case, Jerome wanted Killian out of Evangeline’s life. And he wanted to be certain it happened.
Jerome closed his eyes. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a few tokens. Then he began to murmur words and move his hands through the air. Near his head, in front of his chest, past his ears. For a moment, a sensation of almost-painful pressure filled his ears. Then it was gone.
The sound of his own breathing now roared faintly through his ears like wind. Jerome waited. Less than a minute later, Killian’s footsteps padded down the hallway. The young man’s steps, his breathing, the rustle of his clothing, all of it echoed unnaturally loudly in Jerome’s ears.
Now was the time. Jerome would finally see if his scheme had worked.
The door handle clicked. A slow creak followed it. Then more footsteps rustled, broken by a second creak and click.
That was all as expected. Jerome had even ordered servants to ensure the door would be unlocked. Of course Killian would be able to get in.
Killian’s footsteps continued. Besides the soft sounds made by him and by Jerome himself, both rooms and even the rest of the hallway were as silent as death. The footsteps continued…continued…then stopped.
“Lina?” came a whisper.
Lina? Was that what Killian called her? Jerome wrinkled his nose. He’d had no idea the peasant had also given Evangeline a nickname.
There was no response to Killian’s call. “Lina?” he repeated.
Two more footsteps shifted. Something rustled. There was a beat of silence.
The rustling resumed, along with a more urgent but still whispered “Evangeline—”
A flurry of soft noises followed. A few clunks rang out this time. A long minute passed before the sounds stopped. Completely stopped. Jerome couldn’t even tell if Killian was breathing.
A small, wooden clunk sounded. Then there was a heavy, quiet thump.
“No,” came Killian’s choked murmur.
It had worked. Jerome breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked. The boy thought Evangeline was dead.
Jerome might as well wait here until Killian left, though. Just to make sure nothing happened unexpectedly.
He settled himself with his back against one side of the doorframe. Then a faint sound of…sniffling caught his attention from the other room. The sniffles continued, soon developing into a series of unsteady breaths and broken whimpers.
Killian was…sobbing.
Jerome stood up. He actually didn’t need to wait here any longer. His plan had worked, after all. What more was there to do? He would leave now, and tomorrow morning, he would come back to Evangeline and undo the curse.
But…what if Killian tried to do something horrid and unexpected? Like steal some of Evangeline’s belongings, or even take Evangeline herself with him? That wouldn’t do. Jerome had to stay, just in case.
Either that or confront him. That would be best. Then Killian would be out of Jerome’s house, and all this would be over.
Jerome opened the door and slipped into the hallway. Just before he could turn the handle to Evangeline’s door, he heard Killian murmur, “Lina.”
Jerome paused just for a moment.
“Lina,” Killian whimpered. “You can’t be gone. You can’t. Not this ending, please.”
Jerome should have opened the door. Instead he stood and listened.
“I’ll bring you back,” Killian murmured. His shaky voice began to grow stronger. “I swear it. I’ll bring you back. I’ll find a way. We’ll have the life we should have been allowed.”
Bring her back? Evangeline wasn’t dead, but if she had been…what was Killian talking about? Jerome wasn’t sure that such magic was even possible, much less without a ridiculously high cost.
No, there would be no “bringing back.” Jerome opened the door and burst into the room, which was now lit by the dull glow of a single lantern resting on a table.
Killian shot to his feet.
“What are you doing in Evangeline’s room?” Jerome bellowed. “Get out!”
Killian stared at him, wide-eyed, but didn’t run like he had when the guard had spotted him with Evangeline. “M-my lord,” he said, his voice still choked, “you should know something.”
“You should leave,” Jerome retorted, “before I call guards to bring you to the dungeon and execute you for breaking into the princess’s room!”
Killian finally turned and ran. Jerome waited until he was long gone, then released a deep sigh.
This had better be the last he ever saw of that boy.
***
Note: The plot and characters for this are taken from H. Thiebs' story, "Princesses," which you can find the first part of here!
