Page 112 of These Vile Hearts

Everything had been a clever lie. Every single thing. Every conversation—fabricated. Every move he made—calculated. Every touch—forced.

All lies. The pain of this realization cuts more deeply than the woodling’s blade in my thigh.

“Well, good!” Fern’s screech echoes my fury. “Good. If he makes deals to kill perfectly nice mortals like Maddox who have never done a single thing to him, he shouldn’t be the same.”

“Maddox tried tomurderhim.”

If I were filled with any emotion other than betrayal and anger, I may think she had a point. But all I see is burning red.

There’s a pause. Fern’s voice comes out less screech-like. Beneaththe music from the performance above, I can hardly hear her. “Maddox wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, don’t be naive, Fern. Of course she would. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been trying to murder him this entire time. You cannot trust mortals—especially when they have the Sight. You of all arborfae should know that. Who do you think cut down your forestlands? Who do you think killed your family?”

Shame joins the toxic mixture of emotions swirling inside me. The image of my father’s wide smile bleeds together with the prince’s lopsided grin. Both villains, depending on who is reading the story. But Castor is mine.

“You can’t blame all mortals for one’s mistake.”

“It wasn’t just one,” Evodia growls.

“Either way. Maddox deserves to know, and I’m going to tell her.”

Evodia’s next words come out quieter, tinged in desperation. “I know you care about the girl, but you’ve only known her two weeks. I’ve known Castor since he was a sapling careening down Nightshade roads. He’s like family to me.”

“If he’s like family and he is cursed to kill those who love him, then how are you still alive?”

For once, Evodia doesn’t have a retort.

And I don’t have time to wait for one.

Like a thief, I slip back out of my window with a renewed taste for vengeance.

Never trust a fucking dryad.

Here I was thinking that I was the bitch, the liar, the con man. All the while, Castor and I were playing a game of cards. Forget the king or queen; I am the joker.

It was all a game. And everyone was in on it—everyone except Fern.

As I leave Magesté behind for the last time, a familiar sensationsettles in, snuggling up beside the anger. A dark, sickening feeling the color of murky pond water.

Rejection.

It’s not the first time I’ve been abruptly and unceremoniously uprooted from my current residence. But this place—this hectic, ridiculous, incredible place—didn’t feel like just another spot to stay the night. For the briefest of moments, it felt like a home.

This magic city in the treetops wasn’t ever meant to feel this real.

In the mortal world, these same feelings would follow me as I climbed into the car of a social worker, looking out of the window to see the place I called home disappear around a corner. In the back seat, I would curl into a ball, locking down, protecting my heart from everything outside of it. Now it’s like that, multiplied by a thousand. My heart—my home—is a cage of impenetrable steel.

The sound of rustling, followed by a light wind, accompanies a desperate voice. “Maddox!Maddox, wait!”

Fern touches down in front of me, forcing me to stop abruptly. All my fury and betrayal and heartbreak are temporarily shrouded in affection and relief. I want to thank her for sticking up for me—to wrap her in a tight hug. But I’m too locked up and guarded to say anything other than “I forgot you could fly.”

“I— Well, yes, of course I can fly. I have wings. But, no, that doesn’t matter. I’m so glad I found you! You can’t go meet the king—Castor, I mean. Because he’snotthe king, actually.” She says all of this on one shaky breath. “He’s thecursed prince. And I only just learned what his curse really does; otherwise I never, ever would have let you—”

“I know.”

“—pursue him romantically or anything like that because you could actually die if you— Wait.” She blinks at me. “You know?”

“I heard you and Evodia talking just now. I was in my room.”