Page 55 of These Vile Hearts

“Surely it isn’t all that bad…”

My face deadpans. “I yelled at her about mortals killing dryads, and then I showed her myinner darkness, if you will. I owe you a bureau in the red room, by the way.”

An exasperated chuckle. “Ever the dramatic prince you are.”

“When I’m locked in the Bloodwood Tree, make sure Tamarind has somewhere to work, will you?”

“Stop that. Don’t go giving up already. You just need to get the girl to open up to you.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Figure out what she craves. Go out of your way to visit her, to bring her things she would like. Speak to her as if you are entrancedby her beauty and charm. And for the love of the forest gods, don’t look at her like you did last night. She is observant and will see the revulsion in your eyes.”

I lean my head back until it cracks against the door. Dull pain, numbed by nepenthe, throbs from the impact. “How can Inotlook at her like I despise her? She clearly loathes dryads even though she likes to revel with us. She betrays no hint of emotions or fear or anything. Plus, there’s the fact that she tried tomurderme.”

“The same way someone can look at you and see past your curse.”

A million horrified faces flash across my memory. Dryads dashing into shadows. Arborfae flying off paths. Whispers and quick shuffling feet. Glances filled with trepidation or disgust. Durian shaking his head at me after Cyperus’s death. Tears well up, choking me. I almost can’t swallow them this time.

“Except people cannot see past my curse.”

“Tamarind does.Ido.”

“Well, you are both fools.”

“Look at me, Castor,” Evodia demands. There’s frustration and a weary fatigue in her expression, but no hate, no fear. Perhaps there is even a bit of compassion, maybe more than a bit. “You see what you expect to see. I know you think it will be torturous, but some nights you drink yourself sick, yet wake up the next day and order a glass of the same wine that ailed you.”

“That’s because wine is the love of my life.”

Candlelight dances in the glossy shine of her amethyst eyes. “Then pretend she’s a glass of wine.”

18

Castor

If I’m to pretend this mortal girl is a glass of wine, then I must offer up some grand gesture to make her see me as a comforting mug of coffee. What better way to do that than to bring her a steaming carafe of the revolting beverage?

I return to Magesté the following morning with a bleary-eyed Tamarind. The bits of sky that can be seen through the spired tops of the redwoods are gray and melancholy, drizzling rain every few minutes.

We take a samara to avoid potential run-ins with creatures not yet chased away by the dawn. I wasn’t lying when I warned Maddox about the dangers that lurk in this forest. There are creatures not even I am safe from—not even Durian. Unseelie creatures who follow their own laws and can’t be bothered with the Redwood King. Spider wraiths. Blood nymphs. The Erlking and his siren daughters. Monsters who generally keep to the outskirts of dryad kingdoms buthave been known to get bored and travel farther in, close to the courts.

It’s become an increasing problem that Durian has all but ignored. His solution, of course, has just been: more guards in more places. Which helps the Crown District and parts of the Rose District.

When the Sylveris Council—made up of all the leaders in the Western forestlands—meets, the topic of Unseelie is broached every time. And every time, Durian somehow manages to charm the others, assuaging their fears with lighthearted jokes until they change the topic. To protect the other fae cities from Unseelie beasts would mean using resources Durian would prefer to keep for himself. The Myrtle Queen is on the other end of the spectrum and sends her protectors out daily to fight off unwanted pests. There’s a reason her lands are the safest—or perhaps the most dangerous, depending on who’s asking.

“Do you have a plan, Your Highness?” Tamarind asks me under the cloak of vines of silence as we land at the edge of the District Center.

“Play the part of a humble king and stare deeply into her soul as she jabbers on about mortal things.”

He blinks at me. “That’syour plan?”

“A little banter, a little eye contact. What is there to plan? Mortals are drawn to money and magic and dangerous things. I have them all.”

“There are twelve days until the Sylveris Solstice,” he reminds me.

“More than enough.” I’m lying, of course. That’s not nearly enough time. But I’ve had people fall for me in less. People who are dazzled by dangerous things. Maddox seems like one of those people.

We wait outside of the barren establishment in silence. Tamarindstands at attention in the shadows beside a bush bursting with white oleander.