Once Upon a Broken Heart (Once Upon a Broken Heart, #1)

by Stephanie Garber

Unfortunately, this girl, who believed in hope and fairytales and love at first sight, often misinterpreted the bell’s chimes.

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

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.

During her search for the missing door, she’d read that the Prince of Hearts’ church held a different aroma for everyone who visited. It was supposed to smell like a person’s greatest heartbreak. But as Evangeline entered the cool cathedral, the air did not remind her of Luc—there were no hints of suede or vetiver. The dim mouth of the church was slightly sweet and metallic: apples and blood.

Perhaps this church wasn’t sinister, it was sad—

According to the myths, the Prince of Hearts was not capable of love because his heart had stopped beating long ago. Only one person could make it work again: his one true love. 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.

He looked bored and rich and cruel.

He gave her a real smile, revealing a pair of dimples that briefly made him look more angel than devil. But she imagined even angels would need to beware of him. 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.

This was the most dangerous being she’d ever met.

“But even if you do really love this boy, you’re better off without him. If he loved you back, he wouldn’t be marrying someone else. End of story.”

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

“I don’t think what you want will help you. But I do appreciate a good lost cause. I’ll stop the wedding in exchange for three kisses.”

He looked half–bored young noble, half–wicked demigod.

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

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?”

He was the one people needed saving from.

But hope is a difficult thing to kill, just a spark of it can start a fire,

She could never tell Evangeline if the archer kissed his fox-girl and they lived happily together forever, or if he killed the fox-girl, ending their story in death.

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

It was the feel of candlelight at twilight, paper dust caught in the air, and rows and rows of unusual books on crooked shelves.

The invitation could be fate manipulating her path and bringing her back to Jacks, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t also her chance at finding a happier end to her own story.

She did not move. She did not change. But she felt. She felt so very much. Loneliness touched with hints of regret, or hope colored by impatience. It was never just one pure emotion. It was always one thing plus another. Exactly like today.

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.

He’d lost something since she’d last seen him as if he’d been a touch human before but now he was not.

When she turned, Jacks was still cutting through the party, all cold-blooded grace and disinterest.

Here he was just an insolent young aristocrat with a ruthless face and the ear of the prince.

He was a thousand cuts happening all at once.

But something about his lack of care made her care even more.

Jacks stopped tossing his apple. “I’ve never had anyone mauled by a wolf. That’s incredibly messy.”

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.

If looks could speak, this one would have told her, Just because I said it doesn’t mean I believe it.

Fleetingly, she wondered if he’d had painters capture the way he kissed, if that’s why everything felt a little like a performance.

There were still embers of heat in his gaze, but she couldn’t tell if it looked like passion or anger.

“There’s always a piece of truth in those pages, enough to make the lies seem real.

There was something fantastically bewitching about the idea that a person’s destiny could change in one single, wondrous night.

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

But the word she felt most was wanted.

They felt more like an obsession—hungry and outrageous, and if she were being entirely honest, a little unsettling.

“No, I don’t think Apollo would harm me. He practically worships me—that’s the problem. I’m all he thinks about. He gives me bathtubs of jewels and tells me that I’m the only thing he needs.”

She sensed that she was living in an illusion and if she looked closely, she’d see that everything she’d thought was stardust was really just the burning embers of a wicked spell.

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

Something inside of him was broken.

A drop of blood fell from the corner of his mouth, and something godforsaken washed over his expression. “Hurt is what made me.”

She could have continued fighting with Jacks until the end of Time.

The look in his eyes had softened some of his sharp edges, making Jacks appear more like the Prince of Hearts she’d imagined before meeting him, all tragically handsome and heartsick.

Jacks continued tossing his skull with the ruthless elegance of a young man who’d catch it just as easily as he would let it fall.

She felt as if he was toying with her. But she’d also come to believe that even when Jacks played with her, he was being serious.

“It wasn’t that long ago that I saw you in my church, willing to promise me almost anything to make the pain stop. Was that a lie? 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 nothing left of you to be destroyed?”

Jacks had acted as if Evangeline didn’t have much of a choice, that her only option was to marry Apollo. But Evangeline rarely believed there was only one option. She believed what her mother had taught her, that every story has the potential for infinite endings.

But if she was being honest, a part of her did want to marry him. She wanted the chance at the fairytale—another chance at love. But she knew this wasn’t really love.