Page 74 of These Vile Hearts

I don’t know if it’s the sparkle in his green eyes or the dimples in his grinning cheeks, but I can see why people wouldn’t mind risking death to fall in love with the cursed prince.

23

Castor

Durian’s little game is rapidly unraveling.

Or perhaps that’s me.

What was meant to be a prolonged dinner designed to humiliate me has transformed into a full-blown night of torture. I played along as he ordered his servants to dress me up, as he instructed his guests on how to behave, how to treat him as ifhewere the cursed prince.

I acted as though I found it amusing. Grinned as he showed them how to leap out of his way if he got too close. Then I bit my tongue as he swept Maddox under his wing. A grand performance to paint me as the fool I am.

With each casual remark, pieces of my poorly made armor splinter and fall away. The wine isn’t helping like it should, and the smoking room doesn’t contain near enough brandy to take the edge off Durian’s calculated quips.

I’ve had an unswallowable lump in my throat all night and ducked away to the bathrooms for a brief panic attack.

Everything is fine. Completely and utterly fine.

As we enter the cavernous room of dark wooden walls and claret-colored furniture, the other guests shuffle in behind us, taking their places at redwood card tables and in clusters of armchairs, playing their parts effortlessly.

I lead our trio to a table in a darkened corner. If I must be humiliated by my brother, the fewer witnesses, the better. I may be playing king, but everyone—save for Maddox—knows who holds the true power here. Everyone knows what could happen if I step too far across the line.

“I do not suppose you would enjoy some brandy?” Durian says to Maddox, settling into the seat to her right as I take the one on the opposite side. “I fear it’s rather strong.”

Maddox’s chin lifts. “I would love some brandy, actually.”

Durian smiles and snaps his fingers. A woodling hurries over with a bottle and a crystal glass, filling it with the caramel-colored liquid. Maddox takes a sip, not looking away from Durian for a moment. I shift in my seat.

“That is…definitely brandy,” she says.

I wouldn’t know whether she liked it or not if her eyes hadn’t gone all watery from the burn of the alcohol.

“The best in the kingdom,” Durian says with a pompous smirk. “Aged in redwood barrels for nearly a century.”

Frowning thoughtfully at this, Maddox glances about the room a moment before querying, “How do you have so many wooden things if you don’t cut down trees?”

Durian chuckles. “Not all trees die by being cut down. Plus, we have a whole team of dryads who scour mortal shops and antique stores for genuine wood pieces, which are reclaimed and brought back here.”

What Durian doesn’t mention is that several of the felled heartwood trees in our kingdom are connected to dryads who have broken Redwood Law. That they were killedon his orders. Fortunately,he doesn’t, because it would make me look even worse in her eyes than I already do.

I hold my already empty glass out to a woodling to refill.

“The rarity of redwood is part of what makes our aged brandy so valuable. Not that I care so much about that, of course. I’ll admit I drink more than my fair share of the kingdom’s wine and spirits regardless of their quality,” Durian continues, his focus turning briefly to me. “It’s how I prefer to spend my time. That is, when I’m not sending people to an early grave for getting too close to me. Isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”

Maddox shifts uncomfortably, folding her hands in her lap.

The amber liquid in my glass sloshes as I set it on the table, keeping my fingers wrapped around the base, pretending it’s Durian’s neck. “A bit of an exaggeration, but notwhollyuntrue.” Seems Durian’s new acting role is bringing out words he has wanted to say, perhaps, but has kept to himself all these years.

“Would it also be an exaggeration to say it’s my fault our brother is dead?”

My hand tightens around my glass. I swear I can hear it crack. So there we have it. “No. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Maddox looks from me to Durian. “How is it your fault your brother died? He was killed by…” Her sentence drops off and she bites down on her bottom lip. When she speaks again, her words come out several decibels lower. “I thought a mortal killed him.”

I arch my brow at her. “A mortal did kill him.”

“Because of my curse,” Durian adds, sneering in my direction. “Isn’t that right,brother?”