More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
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.
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.
The Prince of Hearts took a final bite of his apple before it dropped to the floor and spattered everything with red. “People who don’t like me call me Jacks.”
When she opened it, the door did not return her to the Temple District. It spat her out in a musty old apothecary full of floating dust, empty bottles, and ticking clocks. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
In the stories, the Fates were wicked gods that only wanted mayhem and chaos. But this was what people should have been scared of. Evangeline looked at these human statues and saw it as a horror, but Jacks saw it as helpful. The Fates weren’t dangerous because they were evil; the Fates were dangerous because they couldn’t tell the difference between evil and good.
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 into 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 into a fox and the young archer who loved her, but was cursed with the need to hunt her down and kill her.
But her mother always refused. “I believe there are far more possibilities than happily ever after or tragedy. Every story has the potential for infinite endings.”
WELCOME TO THE MAGNIFICENT NORTH STORIES BE HERE
“I have, which is why next time I need something, if I make a deal, it won’t be with you.” “This isn’t something to joke about,” Jacks growled. “I didn’t think you cared.” “I don’t. But you still owe me one more kiss, and until I collect it, you’re mine, and I do not like to share.”
“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.”
“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.”
Most of Jacks’s 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.
