Page 122 of These Vile Hearts

She whirls around. “It’s too late for all of that, Castor. Whether your curse was real or not, you believed it was. You went into that pact believing I would die in the end. And when we were both lying naked in your bed and you were spilling out your soul, you could have told me then, but you didn’t. So I’m sorry, but you don’t get to say that you take it all back. Because that doesn’t change what you did.”

Her cheeks are flushed, eyes wild and on fire, hands shaking. Mine are shaking too.

“And what ofyourpact?” I say, agony morphing to anger. “Let us not dance over the fact that you believedIwas the Redwood King. Do you take me for a complete fool, Maddox? Do you think I don’t realize that the only reason you spent all that time with me was because you were trying to find a way for me to trust you? To get me alone?”

“Igotyou alone and still I spared your life,” she snarls.

“Before or after you thought you’d poisoned me with oleander wine? I’m guessing that wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“I—”

“And yetyoufeel validated in painting me to be the one with blood-coated hands when you showed up in this kingdom with a golden dagger. A dagger you wasted no time in hiding behind your back as you kissed me at the top of the throne room.”

“Okay, but—”

“A dagger you had every intention of plunging deep into my heart if Tamarind hadn’t caught you. Am I wrong?”

“Castor—”

“Am. I. Wrong?”

I know the answer before she says it.

A muscle twitches in her jaw as she lifts her chin. “No. You aren’t.”

“Then which of us is the kettle and which is the pot?”

“Neither. I am the dagger, and you are the disease,” Maddox says hotly. “I am the axe, and you are the poison. We were a doomed combination from the start.”

“Why, then, do I feel this way?” I ask, aware that offering up any vulnerability to her is dangerous now. It always has been. “Like I’ve just lost a vital organ and am meant to continue on without it.”

“Because we dance with darkness, you and I,” she murmurs. “I told you I was drawn to broken things. Evidently, we both are.”

We dance with darkness.

I’ve always been rather fond of darkness. The moon and stars are brightest in the deepest hours of night.

“You know what the worst part of it is?” There’s a catch in her voice. “The worst part is that this was the first place that truly felt like home. But it was all an illusion. It always is for me. Every time I think I’ve found something safe, something real, it’s ripped away and exposed for the lie it was.”

Heat burns in my eyes, sears my throat. “Maddox—” I reach for her, but she pushes my hand away.

“Don’ttouch me. I know the way to Magesté. You can return to your tree castle in the sky. Better get ready for the Sylveris Solstice; you represent the Redwood Kingdom now, after all. Enjoy your new throne, Your Majesty. And don’t forget that I’m the one who put you up there.”

Her words slash, sharper than her dagger. Cutting and digging and tearing through my flesh, leaving me bleeding on the dark path as I watch her walk away. A slowly dying flame.

39

Maddox

My anger at Castor has fizzled out into exhaustion. I know I’m being a hypocrite. I know I came here, dagger in hand. Brewed a bottle of poison I had every intention of delivering if I hadn’t discovered his true identity. But for just a moment, I thought he wasgood. Actually good. Turns out, he was just good at pretending. Just like me.

At Magesté, everything continues as normal. No matter that their former mortal bookkeeper murdered their king. No matter that the “cursed” prince will soon be crowned the Cursed Redwood King.

Nothing matters but sex, drinks, drugs, and dances.

Outside, the purple lights are blurry. My tingling feet drag. It’s been…I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve taken insulin. Since I’ve eaten anything. My head pounds and my stomach aches. I place a hand before my mouth, huffing air to find my breath smells sweet and fruity. A sign of impending diabetic ketoacidosis.

The Magesté doors swing in. Evodia stands beside her desk, dressed in a gown of dazzling rubies. An exceptionally drunk satyr is telling her a dirty joke, and she pretends to laugh.