The Fall Of Snow: Guard Your Heart

22. Twenty-Two

Twenty-Two

Madam Evangeline

"I pay good money for your products, and this is the thanks I get?" The woman pulls the frilled rose-colored hat from her head, revealing only wisps of brown hair beneath. "Look here. Just look at what your serum has done to my hair!" The woman thrusts her head towards Evangeline's face, paying no mind to the consequences that will surely come from accusing the Lady of the Orchard. Evangeline eyes the round, shining skull with a stone-cold face, only the slightest detection of disgust lining her grimace.

"That is unfortunate, surely but I know you are not suggesting I had anything to do with it. I know you are not questioning my integrity and legitimacy outright." Not to mention, this client has been using this product for the past six months and has never had any reaction before. Explaining this to the woman is not worth Evangeline's breath.

"I most certainly—"

With a raise of her hand, Evangeline cuts the woman off. "Because that would be a grave mistake on your part." Evangeline drops her hands onto the desk, leaning over the space between them, eyeing the woman with a threatening stare, her irises aglow. The black pearls dangling from her ears sway with the movement. "Do you know who you are dealing with, Miss Brocksomon?"

Miss Brocksomon is a fairly new client of Evangeline's, coming in for a serum that regenerates hair growth on contact. Something that Miss Brocksomon saw as a necessity when the aging process started thinning her hair prematurely.

Finally, the woman thinks better of herself and backs down from her opponent, just the slightest bit. Evangeline leans back, letting her fingertips graze the wooden surface of the desk, steepled on either side.

"The way I see it, Miss Brocksomon, you have two choices right now. You can either leave my property at once and never return, or you simply will never set foot off these grounds again. Your call."

It is hard to say how widely known Madam Evangeline's dark powers are, but from the look on Miss Brocksomon's face, it is safe to say Evangeline's notoriety has reached her at some point.

To Miss Brocksomon's credit, she keeps her mouth shut while having this inner struggle with herself, part of her is ready to bolt out the door but another part of her is determined to stand her ground. Finally, she finds the sense that the good Mother gave her and hastens out of the shop, her frilled hat clutched tightly to her chest.

"Oh and Miss Brocksomon?" The woman stills in the doorway at the sound of Evangeline's lethal voice, turning over her shoulder. "It would be wise for you not to spread lies about my shop. You never know what kind of fate can sneak into your bed at night." Evangeline's grin doesn't falter as she notes the tears welling in the woman's eyes.

Of course, Evangeline knows her product is never faulty. She never makes a mistake. That serum did exactly as it was intended too, just as one of the many enemies of Miss Brocksomon asked her to. She paid a handsome price not only to procure such a serum but also for Evangeline’s discrepancy.

But it wasn't just the money that swayed Evangeline to betray one of her customers. No, someone who helped her climb the slick ladder that led her here was calling in a debt. And there is nothing Evangeline hates more than owing someone a favor.

Later that afternoon, Evangeline stands in her study staring at the most up-to-date map of their country, searching for where Snow could be headed, searching for where the small clues revealed in the looking glass could be located. The triangular shape of the dead leaves in the forest, the rounded shape of the rocky cliff, and the thrashing white-tipped waves of the ocean. She marks the areas of the map where Snow could be hiding, all along the coastal borders of the country. Although from the last image she had seen, it didn't appear like Snow was doing any hiding at all. It appeared like she was enjoying herself, as if she could ever find a life of value without her mother, sitting under the stars, smiling. Her laugh lines showing.

Evangeline has narrowed down the areas that could be a potential place for Snow to be. She will not rest until revenge has been delivered—until Snow pays for the pain she has caused and the threat that she poses. Before she grows too powerful and too deadly. Evangeline is not such a fool that she would believe Snow wouldn't find some other way to destroy her as she's done in the past. Evangeline will have the last word, just as a mother always should.

She takes a step back and views the map with fresh eyes. A dozen or so places are occupied by Arion warrior camps, which are off-limits to her huntsmen. There is no way the army would allow a runaway, let alone an armed huntsman, to step onto their camp. That leaves the other handful of places in question that she can dispatch another few huntsmen out to.

Evangeline sits at her mahogany desk, prompting a letter out to her distant cousin in Iliad. He has connections to bounty hunters and spies for hire that may just do the trick.

"Madam, your client is here to see you." Margaret, one of the staff at the manor, peeks her head through the study, just enough to see Madam Evangeline deep in thought.

"Yes, Margaret. I will be down when I'm ready. Have him wait in the Day Room." Without even glancing up at Margaret, Evangeline gives the order while continuing to write her letter, the quill scratching against the parchment in hard strokes .

When she finishes up in her study, Evangeline walks down to the day room to meet a potential hire, one more huntsman scouring the country. This one is hopefully closer to the prize now that she has narrowed down possible locations.

When she enters the Day Room, she sees the man standing at the wall of windows overlooking the orchard below, the sun filtering into the room causing everything to seem brighter. His blond curls are pulled back into a neat bun and his dark trousers and jacket are a stark contrast to the rest of the room lit up by the sun. If Evangeline weren't so foreboding herself, she might have been a bit intimidated by the menacing man standing in her home, sucking the life out of the air.

The click of her heels draws the man's attention away from the window as he turns to face the most notorious woman of the land. Known for her cunning and her skill, Madam Evangeline is not one to be fooled with. The man bows as she approaches.

"Madam. It is an honor."

Evangeline offers the man her hand before finding a seat on the velvet gold-framed couch facing the unlit fireplace. "Sir Vicente, thank you for coming all this way." She folds her hands in her lap, eying the man as he takes a seat across from her.

"Tell me, what makes you think you'll be the one to return with my prize?" The man eyes her almost suggestively as if she wouldn't eat him up and spit him out.

"I never fail, Madam Evangeline."