Page 103 of These Vile Hearts

“That’s right…Anyway, I ran into him on the docks while I was glamoured to look mortal. Our dalliance turned into something deeper, and I carelessly told him what I really was after he started asking questions about my home and why I didn’t want to meet his friends.

“He asked if he could try tieg wine. Just a drop. Enough for him to see the real me but not become overly intoxicated. It was my first real, genuine relationship. One that didn’t revolve around Magesté or meaningless sex. I was terrified to tell him about the curse because I thought, surely, he would leave—that he’d be too afraid to continue on with me. But he didn’t run away. He laughed and said, ‘No curse can touch me.’ After all, my rotting power did nothing to him.”

“I thought maybe I’d found the secret work-around. The fatal flaw in my curse. So I would sneak him up into my branch. We’d smoke nepenthe and sleep together, and everything seemed to be going perfectly. Then he told me he loved me.”

My cheeks warm. It feels odd to tell her about this, to tell anyone. But especially her.

“And, even though I thought he was safe, it still set my nerves on edge. I berated him, saying he shouldn’t have said that, just in case. He laughed it off. The day passed, and nothing happened. So we went about our day and at the end, crawled into my bed and made love. Afterward, Jace laughed and said, ‘See? Told you I’m invincible.’ But when I woke the next morning, he was no longer next to me. I found him hanging from my heartwood.”

Maddox flinches, taking my face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Cas. I just—” Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, as if she’s caging words. “I hate that you’ve endured so much loss.”

Grief joins Guilt in this bed, pressing on my chest, burning my throat. Tears brim in my eyes. I’ve told her almost everything, all the deep, dark, and deadly secrets I carry with me day after day. But the pact still presses on my conscience.

I could tell her. Ishouldtell her…but I don’t. Because I’m a coward. An unlovable abomination. Because I don’t want to see the tenderness in her eyes turn to shards of ice again. I don’t want to see the starlight morph back into daggers.

And then there’s Tam. My childhood friend with a terminal diagnosis because he got too close. Because Ilethim get too close. The tears in my eyes make guilty tracks down my cheeks.

“Come here,” Maddox murmurs, opening her arms for me.

In her eyes is a vulnerability I’ve never seen there before. Without speaking, I slide over, and she gently pulls my head to rest in her lap. Her arm curls around my shoulders, hand resting at the base of my horns. Maddox holds me in a way I’ve never been held by anyone. Not in a sensual or passion-crazed way. Not possessive or desperate. Her arms are a cocoon of warmth and safety. If things were different, it would be easy to fall asleep here.

But things are not different.

The sun gently rises, bleeding through the darkness. Guilt and Grief turn to shadows stroking my back, whispering in my ear. Soon, Maddox’s breathing slows as she succumbs to sleep. But mine doesn’t.

This evening, Durian and I are meant to welcome visitors from all over Sylveris as they flood in for the Solstice. But I won’t be staying for the prolonged celebration. I’m going to tell him that I’m out. I’m finished with it all. With this pact, with this curse, with sentencing good people to death. He can lock me in the Bloodwood Tree and just keep me there. Madness almost sounds like a relief.

It will be better for everyone. Because it’s too late for Tam…but I can still save Maddox.

Guilt slides out of the bed, but Grief stays.

33

Maddox

Iwake up alone in late afternoon light.

For the millionth time in my life, it takes me much too long to remember where I am. How I got here, naked, tangled in sheets. Then it all floods back.

The Myrtle Queen arrived in the Redwood Court.

I nearly poisoned Castor…who is not the king.

Durianisthe king.

Castor is the cursed prince.

Castor.

His curse, the torture and pain in his warm brown eyes. Something he thinks is his fault. Butsomethingjust doesn’t add up. Feels off about it all.

Because he thinks it was his curse that killed King Cyperus. Like some random mortal just happened to decide to sneak up here and chop down the king’s heartwood by compulsion. But that random mortal was my dad. My dad, who made a pact with the Myrtle Queen. Castor’s curse had nothing to do with it.

On the pillow beside me rests a single rose, deep red petalsedged in black like a burnt scroll of parchment. I pick it up, worrying the stem between my thumb and forefinger. Castor’s horror stories replay in my mind. Each of them drags at my skin like a dull needle.

A thorn on the rose pricks me, and a bead of blood pools on the tip of my finger. I might as well take the opportunity to test my blood sugar. Judging by my dry tongue and aching head, I already know it’s a number I don’t want to see.

My weapons belt and supply pouch sit on the table beside Castor’s bed. I pull out my meter and test strips.