Page 49 of These Vile Hearts

“It’s more than just my home. The orchids, the dancers, Evodia—they’re my family.”

Ignoring the tightness in my throat, I pull aside the dark curtain covering the window and stare down at the line of visitors snaking around the circle. Dozens of them wait to be allowed inside to watch the show, to be entertained, pleasured, to escape for the night.

Fern materializes by my side. “Ready?”

I’ve had a lot of first days at a lot of new places. This is the first one that’s made my chest flutter with anxiety. But on the outside, I’m calm and resolute, a force of raw femininity and fire. This is all just temporary. A convenient excuse to bide my time, learn how the king ticks, and find a way to kill him without getting scythed.

I don’t turn away from the window. “I think the question we should be asking isAretheyready?”

16

Maddox

The Magesté theater fills like sand in a broken hourglass. Only a handful of the dryads and arborfae in line are here for the orchids; the rest have come to see the show.

I sweep the disarray of scribbled-upon papers into a pile and start a new book that doesn’t make my eyes turn dizzying circles around the page. I’m nothing if not painfully organized. Though Javen likes to say it’s not organization, it’s just the manifestation of my childhood trauma.

Fern hovers by my side, whispering suggestions in my ear as visitors point to the orchid they want on my new, neatly printed list.

The show begins with a rolling cymbal crash, and I step through the green-feathered curtain to watch the opening act while there’s a lull in visitors for the orchids. The theater is packed with an audience of hundreds of dryads and arborfae dressed in gowns, breeches, and doublets. I feel like I’m attending an odd amalgamation of a Renaissance faire, opera, and Broadway show. Soon, the music climbs to a climax, and the crowd hushes in anticipation.

Evodia sashays onto the stage dressed in a tight gown sparklingwith bottle-green gems. She greets her guests with a dramatic spread of her arms and a sultry voice. “Welcome, my friends, toMagesté. May you leave your troubles at the door, drink a little more, and go home with lighter pockets than you had when you came.” She winks, and the audience laughs. “And now, please sit back and enjoy the Magesté Marvels.”

Dancers decked in feathers and glittering costumes stream onto the stage with Cornelia at the center, her rose-colored hair glowing in the red lighting. The crowd bursts into whistles and applause. The jazzy music and provocative dancing are a hypnotic mix of cancan and burlesque with a dash of acrobatics and blue fire. It isn’t difficult to see why people line up for hours just to witness the Magesté dancing troupe. The arborfae with wings soar over the audience, twisting and twirling and reaching out to graze their fingers along the shoulders of the dazzled crowd.

“They’re something, aren’t they?” a voice says, startling me.

Evodia stands beside me, much taller than she seemed when we first met—now that she’s not sitting behind a desk.

“Yeah, they’re—”

“I’m rather protective of them,” she interrupts. “My dancers, my orchids. They’re my family.”

“I…can see that.”

She fixes me with a penetrating gaze. “If anyone were to hurt them, they would pay most dearly.”

My chin lifts, but it doesn’t make me feel any taller. I don’t know exactly what she is implying—except of course I do. I may have tricked Castor into trusting me, but this woman is not fooled. “I’m not going to hurt anyone, Madam Debray.”

Not here, anyway.

Her eyes scan me up and down, twice. “Good. It was rather gracious what the king did for you. He’s by no means an orchid, obviously. But he’s something like family here.” She doesn’t elaborate,but her words are clear. If something were to happen to Castor at her establishment, I would paymost dearly.

I keep my face impassive. “The king is lucky, then,” I say, “to have such a big family.”

“Indeed.” Evodia fixes me with another look that clearly saysWatch yourselfbefore she pats me on the arm. “Enjoy your night, Oleander. Do let me know if you need anything.”

Like a mop to clean up all of your king’s blood after I slash his throat?“Will do.”

I spend most of the night in the foyer with Fern, greeting visitors and asking her logical questions like “So…what sort of protection do the orchids use?”

Fern tilts her head. “Like weapons?”

“No. Like. Sex protection.”

She blinks at me. “I don’t understand.”

I gesture awkwardly with my hands. “You know, like, things for the males to wear on their, uh—sticks?—to protect from sexually transmitted diseases and making tree babies or whatever.”