Bring Me Their Hearts(35)
“Now here’s a fresh face I’m unfamiliar with.”
I make a small bow. He might be the Minster of the Blade and an archduke leagues above my lady status, but Himintell is a Firstblood family equal with the Y’shennrias.
“Archduke Himintell,” I say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Zera Y’shennria, Lady Y’shennria’s niece.”
“So you know who I am? How is that, considering this is your first time at court?”
A mistake. Of course I wouldn’t know who he is if I’ve never seen him before. But I have. Y’shennria warned me to stay on my toes at all times around him. If I play the stupid little girl act, I might be able to hide my real intentions from him.
“My aunt told me to look for the handsomest man at court.” I pepper my words with an eyelash bat or twelve. He’s quiet, and for a second I think I’ve offended him.
“Of course.” His smile is just as bright as mine. We’re both forcing ourselves. “Lady Y’shennria spoke of your discovery with such happiness the last time I saw her. It’s good she retrieved you safely. Let us hope you merit her joy.”
“I plan to, milord.”
He doesn’t blink, and neither do I. It feels like he’s sizing me up, trying to see into my inner workings. It’s all I can do to keep my face clean of the rage I’ve bottled up at him ever since the purge. Thankfully, he breaks our stare-down first and turns to the others.
“I hope you are all prepared to meet the court,” he says. “The Brides especially.”
“Ready as we can be, milord.” The Steelrun girl curtsies.
Gavik nods. “You need all the readiness you can muster if you’re to be dealing with Prince Lucien.” The way he says it is touched with just enough disdain. He clearly doesn’t like the prince much. “If you would excuse me, then, I should’ve been gathered in the Hall with the rest of the court long ago.”
“Of course,” Ulla says, and bows deeply. “Good day, milord.”
We all bow with her, my eyes lingering on the Minister as he passes me. Ulla leaves with the Spring Grooms. And finally it comes our time to enter the Hall. As I follow Ulla with the rest of the girls, I try not to ogle the gold filigree on the doors, the luscious oil portraits of hounds and lions, of Kavar himself, depicted as a young man with eye symbols all over his skin, holding a scale of justice in one hand and a sword in the other. He’s both sinister and awe-inducing at once. Nightsinger’s books were insistent a witch should never presume to know what the Old God’s physical form might look like, and yet here the humans are, painting their New God with abandon. Banners of jade-green silk waterfall from the tops of the spotless windows, the silver serpent logo stitched there catching the sun. The palace’s pure grandeur makes Y’shennria’s manor look small and modest.
Ulla takes us down a vast hall with walls made entirely of colored glass. The sun shafts through, dyeing our skin all colors of sunset and twilight. It takes me a shameful few seconds to understand that the colors depict scenes from history—the humans first building Vetris, important polymaths inventing things like watertells and sandclocks, the Eight Winters’ War when Helkyris was our bitter enemy fighting for control of the Tollmount-Kilstead mountains, and finally, in the most recent section, the Sunless War. It stretches on all around me—armored battalions of celeons and humans viciously fighting tall, dark-eyed figures with darkened hands and nails—witches. And in front of them, a horde of fanged monsters, each depicted with a red chasm where their hearts should be.
Heartless.
I clench my fists. Is that how they really see us? Is this how terrifying we look to them? We’re hunched and wild-eyed, moving like animals instead of people. During the War, Heartless were on the front lines, making up the bulk of the witch army, whether they wanted to fight or not. I don’t doubt the witches commanded their Heartless to protect them. And on top of being surrounded by all those humans? Their hungers probably ran rampant, transforming them into bestial monsters that cared little for human behavior. I’ve felt it sometimes, deep down; the darkest part of the hunger waits for me to weaken, to lose. And this mural reminds me, painfully and vibrantly, exactly what losing means.
It would be so easy, the hunger insists. Just a moment, and it would be all over. You’d never have to worry about anything again—
Orange and yellow glass engulfs the Heartless. Flames. The humans learned, early on, that there weren’t many ways to slow Heartless down save for burning them. It takes a witch much longer to heal charred flesh. It’s their preferred way of dealing with us. Water for a witch, fire for their thralls, the baron had said. I shudder at the thought of the pain, of enduring that much agony for so long. Pain is bearable only when you know with absolute certainty it’ll end quickly. And that’s how I spent the last three years—certain. Now? Now nothing at all is certain.
“What are you staring at?” the deer-dress girl asks me quietly. I skitter my eyes away.
“N-Nothing.”
She doesn’t seem to believe me, staring at the Heartless over my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she leans in and whispers. “I feel sorry for them, too, sometimes.”
She turns her back to me quickly. Her admission is so hushed, so forbidden in these halls. But it tugs at my chest regardless. To think a human could pity me—us—after everything we’ve done, everything I’ve done. I shake my head. If she knew what I really was, she’d run far and fast from me. She’d cheer as I was burned and my witch purged on the archduke’s stage.