Page 124 of These Vile Hearts

The queen’s mouth thins. “Heartwood pact magic is the most powerful of dryad spells, which is why it’s reserved only for the Sovereign. Not even I could stop it from giving you what you asked for.”

The Myrtle Queen stands, moving downstage. When she reaches me, she holds out her hands, palms up. She speaks in a low, melodic tone. “Hand them over, Maddox, and you will be granted everything you asked for. You have my word.”

My heart roars in my ears. All of this suffering, this desperation to survive, has culminated in this moment. With trembling hands, I place Durian’s horns into the cradle of her palms.

A sudden and violent shudder shakes the ground, and a blinding pain shatters through my skull, bringing me to my knees. Time and space and existence blink out momentarily. As if I’m no longer here. As if I’m no longer anywhere. First, intense agony, so much that I think I might pass out. Then, nothing but darkness.

Slowly, every sense bleeds back in.

Hands pressed against Magesté’s stage.

Arms holding me up.

Legs and knees on the hardwood floor.

An odd taste settles on my tongue. Not metallic, but bitter, like I’ve been chewing on firewood. My head bows forward. Heavy. It’ssoheavy.

My eyes open. All I see before me is my shadow, and a pair oftwo-pronged antlers jutting out from my shadow’s head, like those of a young buck. I sit back on my heels, my hands sliding up my face, over my forehead, stopping at the base of the antlers, confirming their existence.

What. The actual.Fuck.

Climbing to my feet, my eyes catch on the shattered mirror headboard. A hundred redheaded girls with a hundred tawny antlers standing a foot above their heads reflect back at me.

I turn my head to the left and the dryad girl does the same. Her gray eyes blink when mine do. Her mouth falls open like mine does.

She is me.

I’m the dryad girl. Those aremyantlers.

Again, I reach up, jerking my hand away when I find they’re still there, rough and coarse like tree bark.

Everything is silent. Even my thoughts. Like a fractured cog in a clock that’s trying to tell the time but can’t, so it just clicks and clicks and clicks. The jazzy music has stopped playing. No one speaks. I turn my heavy head until my eyes land on the Myrtle Queen leaning against one of the four pillars of the bed, a sly smile on her scarlet lips.

“What did youdo?” I breathe.

“I did as you asked.” She lifts both of her hands, still holding Durian’s horns. “You no longer have to suffer with your mortal disease. You are cured and will live for averylong time. And, as your service is now bound to me, you will never want for a home or gold.”

Drosera and Atlas appear just as stunned as I feel, standing together near the curtain. Atlas’s eyes sparkle with tears.

“You turned me into adryad.”

“You didn’t ask menotto turn you into a dryad, now did you?”

A serial killer is all I want to turn into now. I already murdered the Redwood King. Might as well keep up my streak. “And my service is bound to you? What about that part?”

Her red lips curl up. “An added bonus for all of my kindness.”

“Youbitch.” I bolt toward her, intending to wrap my hands around her windpipe.

Stop.Amanita’s voice echoes in my head. My feet plant of their own accord. Ofheraccord. I can’t move. I try. But I can’t.

“Why?”Tears thicken my words. “Why would you do this?”

Queen Amanita saunters to me, running a long finger across my cheek and tucking a loose piece of hair behind my pointed ear as she leans in to whisper, “Because I can.” I shudder as she pulls away. “Because I lost my most loyal servant years ago, and it was time for a new one.”

Something in her tone makes me pause. “Did you lose him, or did you dispose of him?”

She raises both of her hands. “Either way.”