Bring Me Their Hearts(49)

“My favorite! Oh, you shouldn’t have, Y’shennria.”

“Nonsense. It’s the least I could do,” Y’shennria insists, smiling brightly. Not once does she pull away from the girl, make space between them. Neither is she trembling. I frown as I watch the girl consume a cookie with almost childlike happiness, rocking side to side on the sofa. Reginall said “Lady.” But Gavik has no children, and she’s far too young to be his wife.

“Hello.” Lady Himintell smiles at me. “You can just call me Fione.”

“Zera.” I return her smile, though mine isn’t nearly as sincere. This cheerful girl is the spy Y’shennria praises so highly? I was expecting a servant, not a noble. How much does she know about who I am? “Though I was under the impression using first names is strictly forbidden in court.”

Fione waves a dainty hand, crumbs flying from it. “I think formality is a little silly considering we’re risking our lives together.”

“Only our lives?” I smile with all my human teeth. “I happen to be risking many more than that.”

Fione blinks, a wounded look to her eyes, but Y’shennria snaps.

“That’s enough, Zera. She’s done more than you have to stem the war, and with much less training required.”

I glower into my tea, but Fione’s laugh pulls me out of it.

“That really isn’t necessary, Y’shennria. I’m sure Zera’s trying her best. We all are. We have to.” Her last few words grow soft, and her smile wanes sadly.

“Fione told me about Gavik’s plan with the royal polymaths,” Y’shennria says. “Apparently he commissioned them months ago to create a powder that produced flames identical in appearance to witchfire.”

“Witchfire. What exactly is it?” I ask. Fione shoots a look to Y’shennria, who suddenly becomes very quiet.

“It’s black fire,” Fione blurts. “It burns hotter than normal fire and never stops burning. It can’t be put out unless the witch wills it or is killed. It was used…um. A lot. In the war.”

Her eyes dart nervously to Y’shennria. Witchfire decimated Ravenshaunt. Maybe it even burned her family alive. No wonder she stayed inside the temple. Just the sight of the stuff that consumed her home would’ve been too much to bear. It’s strange to think the little black flames that constantly warmed my heart on Nightsinger’s hearth were capable of so much destruction.

“It’s my belief Gavik intended to use this powder to imitate a witch attack,” Y’shennria recovers. “He’s been doing nothing but sowing unrest and unease toward witches and the Old God since he rose to his position as Minister. When Fione informed me of his request to the royal polymaths, I knew he was going to use it for that purpose alone. I just didn’t know when. But I should’ve seen the signs that it was soon—Gavik was encouraging the nobles to attend blessing more fiercely than usual.”

So Gavik really was behind the fire. That bastard! The fire was a show, an act—a ruse to manipulate the nobles and devastate the common people.

“Why doesn’t King Sref do anything to stop him?” I ask.

Fione blurts a laugh, then looks to me wide-eyed. “Oh. Sorry. You were being serious.”

I quell the irritation rising in my throat. “I haven’t been here long.”

“Right. Sorry, again. I’ve spent my whole life in Vetris—it’s hard to remember some people haven’t.”

“King Sref encourages Gavik’s behavior,” Y’shennria interrupts our tension. “Half because they’ve been friends for a very long time, and half because King Sref rules with fear. And the more Gavik feeds that fear, the more control King Sref has.”

“Queen Kolissa—” I start.

“The queen is powerless,” Fione says with surprising force. “Gavik’s made sure she is.”

“Powerless? She’s the godsdamn queen.”

“Gavik convinced the other Ministers to revoke old traditions granting the queen influence in political matters.” Y’shennria stirs her tea delicately. “She was once active in politics, but when Princess Varia died, her priorities shifted dramatically to ensuring her only remaining child stayed safe. From everything—but especially from magic.”

“My uncle is just feeding more fear into her about the witches.” Fione clears her throat. “Effectively paralyzing her.”

“Your uncle,” I repeat. “So you’re Archduke Gavik’s niece?”

There’s a pause, and then she nods, curls bouncing. No wonder Y’shennria recruited her. But why would Fione risk betraying such a powerful family member? From what I’ve seen so far of the nobility, I wouldn’t put it past her to be doing it for the thrill, for a change of pace from the stagnant, bloated life of the Vetrisian upper crust. Or, since she’s Gavik’s niece, she could be a traitor, a double spy, ready to spill our secrets to Gavik at any time.

As if hearing my thoughts, Y’shennria speaks up. “I trust her wholeheartedly, Zera. And you will do the same.”

“You can’t tell me what to think,” I mutter quietly.

“You aren’t here to think,” Y’shennria fires back coolly, every word like icy razors. “You’re here to look pretty, to say the phrases I told you, and to win the prince’s affection.”