Page 121 of These Vile Hearts

“Well, I had no other choice.”

“None you knew of,” I say softly. “If you had come here, come tome, I could have—”

“Stop.”Her ever-steady voice quakes. “What’s done is done. Neither of us can change the past. Just get me out of here.”

Agony settles in my chest. For a moment, I see it reflected in her eyes. Then it’s gone.

For a handful of torturous minutes, when she admitted what she’d done, I’d tried to dredge up my buried hate for her. For lying to me, for not telling me what her father did, or about her true intentions in this kingdom. But then I looked at our mutual sins scattered before us. Both selfish and ugly, and yet…I couldn’t bring myself to hate her. I still can’t.

I lead Maddox down the stairs of the Bloodwood Tree. We pass by a cell, and I do a double take. Tamarind is pressed against the wall, wearing a haunted expression. The tree must have a deep hold.

“Tam.”I press my hand to the bars, and they immediately open for me. My brow furrows. “How—?”

“Durian’s dead,” Maddox says impatiently. “Technically, that would make you the only Sovereign brother left.”

“I can’t…beking.” I press a hand to my forehead, to the minuscule crown I wear, a fraction of the golden monstrosity Durian donned every day. How can I go from the cursed prince to the Redwood King? I’ll say two words and the entire kingdom will flinch away from me. I’ll be speaking to an empty throne room.

A weak voice breaks through my panic. “Cas?”

Tam blinks up at me, expression disoriented and confused. I reach for his hand, pulling him to standing. “Gods, you look like death. Good people aren’t meant for this place.”

“I’m fine.” He looks past me to Maddox. “Did you…?”

“Eventually,” she grumbles and then nods once. “He’s dead.”

“Yes, about that.” I turn to Maddox. “His heartwood will already be dying. If anyone has noticed, which I’m sure they have, they’ll be panicking, looking for his body—and the last they saw, you were climbing up the throne room with tree poison. So…you’ll want to keep your hood up.”

Maddox lifts the dark material, hiding her red hair.

A group of golden guards waits at the base of the staircase, seemingly surprised to see the three of us rather than their king. I’m guessing they haven’t been outside to see that their boss is…no longer their boss.

“He’s with a prisoner,” I tell them with as much authority as I possess. “He asked not to be disturbed and for all of you to wait here for him. Don’t let anyone up there.”

The guards exchange wary looks, unused to being ordered around by the cursed prince but outranked all the same. Maddox keeps her head ducked as I guide her out by the arm. Tam follows, avoiding eye contact with the guards.

The entrance to the Bloodwood Tree lets out in sight of the candelabra branch. Durian’s heartwood has lost all vibrancy. The green leaves gone, the once-red bark now a dull rust color. Panic has broken out among the citadel guards and servants. Shouts can be heard in the distance. Quick feet and lamentations.

“Tam, stay here and make sure no guards go in or come out—for as long as possible.”

He nods curtly, the shadows under his eyes deep and dark from a night spent in the Bloodwood Tree. I press a hand to his shoulder, and he covers it with his own. Maddox tracks the gesture, and the hint of a smile lifts her lips, but it’s gone just as quickly.

“I overheard Evodia say the Myrtle Queen is staying at Magesté,” she tells me.

“I can walk with you.”

She doesn’t agree to this, but she doesn’t tell me not to either.

We descend a winding staircase to the bottommost path, where few dryads travel. Maddox walks quickly, arms crossed. “Well, congratulations,” she says in a falsely bright tone. “Your pact is complete. Your revolting brother is dead, so you don’t have to worry about people dying if they get close to you. You got everything you wanted.”

“Not everything,” I admit quietly.

“What did you not get? A fancy crown made of gold and rubies? An outfit woven from moonlight and stars?”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“Whatdoyou care about? Anything other than wine, nepenthe, and sex?”

Her assumption stings. “Right now, there are few things I care about. The foremost of which is walking beside me.”