Bring Me Their Hearts(47)

I swallow hard, my voice cracking. “Don’t be modest. You would’ve caught him eventually.”

“Eventually. That’s time I don’t have. The lawguards and Gavik are looking for me. I’m the prince, after all—I should be cloistered and protected, not learning about what nefarious deeds my royal polymaths have committed.” He scoffs.

I watch the black fire burn and, beyond it, the cadre of royal polymaths on gilded horses approaching the flames. Gavik yells something to them, and they descend from their steeds and pull out a nozzle-like tool from their belts, spraying down the black flames with an oily yellow substance. It kills the fire remarkably well, leaving behind the scent of something like old yeast. More important, the royal polymaths make their way toward us as they spray, ensuring I can’t take Prince Lucien’s heart easily anymore. Godsdammit! I squandered my chance. The prince threw me off-balance once. But he won’t do it again.

“That stuff works fast on the fire.” I struggle to turn his attention from my blade, from me.

“Of course it does.” Lucien snorts. “The polymaths, for all their scheming, are geniuses first and foremost. If they invent a weapon, they invent a suppressor for that weapon at the same time. Pe deresas, in deresas.”

The foreign accent sounds like the Old Vetrisian songs of Kavar I just heard. “What is that?”

“Their motto. Create the power, control the power.”

“Why would they do something like this on blessing day?” I muse. Lucien’s quiet, staring at Gavik, and it’s then I put it all together. “Because the nobles are here.”

“They control the land of Cavanos, its resources, and its soldiers,” Lucien agrees.

“Make them think witches are attacking again,” I say. “Make them afraid.”

“Eager for another war,” he adds. My stomach twists uneasily. Then the witches were right about an impending war and someone in the city egging it on.

And that someone is most certainly Gavik.

The dark flames are all but dead now, only embers on the cobblestones. The archduke is doing his best to calm the frantic nobles on the steps. The panic is over. Without the firewall, the guards will find us soon. The royal polymaths are finished with their firefighting, returning to Gavik, their backs to me. I have to strike now. Just as I gather the willpower to approach Prince Lucien with my sword again, there’s a sudden crack above me, and I look up too late—the fire-weakened beam of a nearby house topples at breakneck speed toward my skull. Time slows, every sound coming into my ears dulled and muted.

“Lady Zera!” I hear the prince shout faintly. My body is suddenly assailed by a brute force knocking me to the ground, hard cobblestones digging into my back and something very warm and heavy pressing on top of me. The smell of rainwater and ash.

I blink, time catching up with me all at once. There, just above, is Lucien’s face. Dark, velvet eyes, looking more startled than I feel, his hair like a raven’s wing around his face. His striking features might be intimidating from afar, but up close they’re enough to knock the wind from me, if it hadn’t been already. A thrill runs through me—a soft terror at its heels, like a rabbit frozen by a hawk’s attention. His sharp hips are against mine, his legs tangled between my own. He cradles the back of my head, cushioning it from our fall against the cobblestone. No one has ever been this close to me before, this entangled in me. My sword lies utterly forgotten at my side.

The moment breaks, and he pushes off quickly, pulling me to my stunned feet by my hand.

“The wood,” he grunts roughly, pointing at the smoldering beam just inches from us. It would’ve definitely left a dent in me, if not killed me outright. And coming back from death in front of him—in front of anyone other than Y’shennria—would’ve been more than a little messy. He might think he just saved my life, but he doesn’t know the half of it.

Lucien can’t meet my eyes, and strangely neither can I meet his. Being killed a dozen times doesn’t make my body react any less violently to near-death experiences; my heart races fast and my hands shake. Or is it because of him? Both. I can’t tell.

“Th-Thank you,” I manage finally. “I would’ve—”

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly, dusting off his coat with a sudden zeal.

“Luc! Where did you go?” Prince Lucien’s Beneather bodyguard lopes up to us. “You made me walk through the fire to look for you. Scared the humans terribly.” The bodyguard spots me with his crimson eyes and bows. “Lady Zera! We haven’t been introduced; I’m Malachite. I didn’t expect you to walk through the fire after the prince, too.”

“As if I’d dare such a thing with my frail human body!” I act offended. “I scaled the same stable the prince did.”

The bodyguard, despite saying he walked through the fire, has no sign of fire damage on him, not even a single singed hair.

Malachite whistles, impressed. “And that’s no small jump. Well, well, she isn’t afraid of you and she can keep up with you. You’re in deeper trouble than I thought, Luc.”

Lucien ignores him and turns to me. “You were right, Lady Zera. It wasn’t witchfire. I’m starting to learn that doubting you has its consequences.”

And I’m starting to learn taking your heart might be harder than I thought. I pick up my blade and force a smile. “Let this be a lesson to you—never underestimate a woman with impeccable taste.”