Page 28 of These Vile Hearts

It’s ridiculous because the owner of this hand has no idea the silent battle my body is fighting and losing right now. But I glare up at him anyway. It takes three seconds too long for me to register the thin golden crown encircling his head.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Dark horns.

A black mask covers only the left half of his face. Like the Phantom of the Opera’s evil twin.Moreevil twin.

The king pops the tart into his mouth, chews twice, then swallows. “Was that meant for you? Sincerest apologies.” He plucks another from the pile and offers it to me. “Here.”

He smells of wine and insincerity.

Snatching the tart from him without a word, I stuff it in my mouth.

The king chuckles, taking one more from the pile and placing it in my now-empty hand. “Have another. You seem rather hungry.”

You seem hungry for my dagger, Your Majesty.

“Your Highness,” a soft voice echoes my thoughts. A man with dark locs piled atop his head approaches. He wears a plain black mask covering the top half of his elfin face, which is only a fewshades lighter than the fabric. Holstered in his weapons belt are a series of knives and a single scythe. “A word?”

The king nods to this man before turning back to me. “Enjoy yourself tonight.” He winks. “May want to lose the gown, though. I hear the king is attracted to gold.”

People who refer to themselves in the third person are my least favorite sort of people. I nearly throw my tart at him. Then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd along with my chances of stabbing him. But it’s okay. A few more minutes and my vision will clear, my hands will stop shaking, the world will stop spinning.

It shouldn’t be difficult to find the king with the black mask and the golden crown.

8

Castor

Masks and marvelers swirl around me in a dizzying display of decadence. Everyone who is anyone in the Redwood Kingdom is here. Well, I suppose that’s not true, becauseIam here. But there is a fantastic amount of important people at this masque.

Even the druids, who almost never step out of their roots, sit in the high viewing boxes. Though their gray, weathered skin, sunken eyes, and drab brown frocks need some tending to. And they didn’t even bother to wear masks over their tusked faces.

And then there are the mortals. The main reason I’m showing my face at this pompous party.

They think they only came for a night of magic and dancing with dryads in the treetop city they’ll later remember only in their dreams. But, for one of them, what lies ahead is not quite so lovely a picture. I glance over my shoulder at the mortal with the sugared tarts, her silver eyes sparking like two blades striking together.

Plucking two glasses of auric wine from a passing waiter, I offer Tamarind one. “Wine?”

“Not tonight, Your Highness. King Durian is—”

“Have you found a particularly awful mortal for me to dazzle?” I drain one of the glasses, leaving it on another tray as we wind through the crowd. The wine pools with the anxiety and desperation in my gut. The pounding in my ears sounds like a ticking clock.

Taking a deep breath, Tamarind tries again. “King Durian is asking for you on the throne, Your Highness.”

“Is he trying to interfere with my search for a loving mate?” I click my tongue three times. “Why on the gods’ forested earth would he do such an inconsiderate thing?”

A line has formed up the wide dais to the throne—dryads and arborfae wishing to pay their respects to respectable King Durian. Howverycharming he looks tonight with his golden hair and golden mask and golden everything. It’s a useless element, really, painted over stronger metals because it can’t stand on its own. But when my sapling brother discovered a mortal pirate book that told of the treasure that is gold, he decided he wanted to acquire as much as he could. The desire hasn’t seemed to lessen as he’s grown into maturity. Our kingdom was once, in fact, quite gold-free, save for Durian’s room.

“Pardon us,” I announce loudly, sidling past the line of eager idiots. “Must speak with my brother, the mighty and gracious Redwood King.”

Some of them gasp at the sight of me. Some trip on the steps as they hasten to move out of my way. Mutters and whispers ripple through the line. You would think I’d get used to reactions like that. I haven’t. My eyes close for a second too long, shoulders tightening.

“That’s the cursed prince,” one particularly loud dryad tells another. “I heard he kills every creature he sleeps with.”

Well, that’s a new one.

I reach the throne to find Durian grasping the hand of Lady Calla, the Redwood Kingdom’s resident stargazer. Somehow, I always forget how terrifying she looks, with gray, papery skin and thinning hair pulled tightly back. All of her void of color, nonexistent lips and nose, open sockets instead of eyes. But they aren’t empty…more like endless. As if they hold the entire universe inside.

“Lady Calla,” I say. “How is your evening so far?”