Bring Me Their Hearts(57)

“I think we’ll start by making it so you’ll never be able to show your face in court again.”

He pulls a dagger from his hip, the honed edge of it glinting in the light. I slide across the floor in fear—not of the injury, not of the pain, but of the thought of them seeing me heal, right before their very eyes. If only I had my sword right now! I knew leaving it behind was a terrible idea. I kick at the first twin, but he orders his brother to sit on my legs, and his weight is enough to staunch my efforts.

I flail wildly—I trained in the sword for three years! I’ve endured agony the likes of which they could never fathom! I won’t sit here and let two arrogant little pups take my one chance at freedom from me!

I head-butt the first twin, and he howls in pain and stumbles back. The second one moves toward me, and I feel my teeth growing—out of fear, or desperation, or simply the smell of human so close, I can’t tell.

Two delicious morsels of arrogant. The hunger laughs. What color will their blood be on our pretty shoes?

If he moves any closer, I’ll bite him through. If I can’t use my sword, I’ll use my teeth. I’ll use anything. But before he ever makes it to me, a deep voice rings out.

“Why in the world wasn’t I invited to this little get-together? It seems infinitely more fun.”

There’s a resounding crack, and I look up to see Malachite, his arms crossed over his breastplate and his crimson eyes utterly unamused. The door swings wide open behind him, the lock in shattered slivers on the ground. Did he break it? Are Beneathers really that strong? The twins freeze, the first one hiding the dagger behind his back quickly and both their faces draining paler than Malachite’s skin.

“We were just— She—” The second twin starts. “We found her like this! Someone must’ve been kidnapping her!”

“We were just trying to help,” the first twin insists, his hands shaking. They might be cruel, but they aren’t very smart.

Malachite taps his chin. “I see.” He moves in to the twins, putting one pale arm around each of their shoulders and drawing them close. “Well, if you find the person who did this, please let them know: If I ever catch them, I will disembowel them. Slowly. One inch of intestine at a time.”

They nod, fear ripe in both their eyes. Malachite shoves them toward the door.

“Be off with you.”

When their panicked footsteps are gone, he turns to me. Gratitude is the last thing on my mind as I struggle to my feet, but he wraps a strong hand around my elbow and helps me up. I’ve never been this close to him—not close enough to see the way light makes his gray mop of hair look threaded with silver stars. His skin is cooler than a human’s, like a shaded creek in summer. I flinch away as he reaches for my gag. He meets my eyes—the pupils of them small, for once, is that how they get at night?—and pulls his hands away.

“I suppose you’d want to do that yourself,” he murmurs. He saws at the twine around my wrists with a fanged dagger, huge and hefty, nothing like the smooth little things intended for human hands that the blacksmiths sell in the Vetrisian streets.

“I’d say thank you, but that would imply I didn’t have the situation perfectly handled,” I pull out my gag and retort.

“If you want to thank anyone, thank Luc,” he says. “He’s the one who sent me to look for you. Dark Below—” The way he says that sounds like a swear. “He’s going to be so pissed when I tell him what the little idiots were up to this time.”

“I wasn’t aware a bodyguard’s job includes stalking.”

“It normally doesn’t. But Luc was concerned.”

“That I’d be unable to find my own way to the godsdamn bathroom?” I say it with more venom than I intend, but Malachite just smirks.

“Most people would be flattered to have the Crown Prince send his personal bodyguard to ensure their safety.”

“I’m not most people,” I snap, rubbing the twine imprints on my wrists to ease the pain. “Those little horseshits. Who do they think they are?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen the Priseless twins terrorize someone they don’t like.”

“And the nobles just let them do it?”

“The Priseless family has allied themselves with Archduke Gavik heavily. Apparently in human terms that means they get to do whatever they want.”

I scoff. There’s a quiet before Malachite makes an O with his mouth and fishes for something in his pockets. He holds out a folded paper.

“For you. Luc wanted me to give it to you before you left the banquet, but this seems as good a time as any.”

“Bodyguards are watertells as well, then? What a multifaceted role.”

“The watertells,” Malachite stresses, “are controlled by lawguard hands. Luc’s being a worrywart—thinks someone might sneak a look at your correspondences. So from now on, I’ll be delivering them.”

“You’re awfully candid about the prince.”

He shrugs. “I’ve never been one for suffocating Vetrisian decorum. Besides, he likes it; I’m the only one who dares talk bad about him. Well, I was. Until you came along.”

I act offended. “I do not talk bad about the prince!”

“No, but you don’t mince words around him, either. And you dared to speak to him first during the Welcoming. That took vachiayis.” I quirk a brow. He clears his throat and translates, “Ox balls.”