Bring Me Their Hearts(64)

“But if a prince is blackmailed into spending time with one of his subjects…” Lucien smiles sadly at me. “Then what choice does he have?”

The loneliness in his voice claws at me like a starving wildcat.

“The Welcoming,” he continues, staring up at the three moons, the heavenly orbs reflected in his obsidian ones. “After you gave that answer and looked at me—like I was equal to you. I could tell in your eyes; you weren’t afraid. Of me. Of anyone. And that’s the exact moment I knew you’d be a thorn in my side.”

His arm crooks above me against the barrels, his shadow blocking the moonlight from my face as he leans in.

“But now I’m not so sure. Are you a thorn? Or are you a flower?”

The heart locket on my chest thunders against my skin. I’m still, terrified any movement of mine will be uncontrollable. He’s still a human, and the hunger is still very much within me, begging to end him where he stands.

He’d open so easily under your fangs.

This is the perfect place—quiet, no onlookers. A short jog to Y’shennria’s manor, and I’d have his heart in the jar in no time, despite her overcautious fears. It’s his freedom for mine. My freedom, Peligli’s and Crav’s, and delaying a war on top of all that—for his heart. A prince who’s never stepped foot out of Vetris, who lives alone, locked away in the insincere world of the court and his own mourning—shackled to a witch and forced to fight for her. Forced to live somewhere dark and isolated, forced to become one of the very monsters who took his sister from him.

Forced to live with this dark hunger.

It was so easy a week ago. But now he has a face. Now he has a story. Now he stands here, looking at me as if I’m the greatest mystery in the world, his eyes both sad and hungry—starving for something he’s never known the name of.

Challenge. An equal. A friend. He’s starving for it all.

Starving for me.





10


A Liar’s

Dance



The Verdance parade breaks the spell over the two of us as it passes our hideaway behind the barrels. Lucien watches it, then reaches out for my hand and tugs me toward the dancing crowd and blaring music. The hunger in his eyes isn’t gone, but it’s hiding.

“Vetris doesn’t celebrate much anymore,” he says. “It’s all purges, not parades. Join me for this rare occasion, would you?”

I should pull away. I should stab my sword through his chest and take his heart while we’re still hidden. But the music, his face lit by the moonlight, that strange thrum in my locket beating relentlessly whenever it’s just him and me—I haven’t danced in three years. The drums call to me, beg me to revel with them like a girl without a care in the world. Just one dance won’t kill me. Just one moment of genuine happiness amid a storm of lies.

I let him lead me into the parade, his hand so warm and broad compared to my cold one.

Dancers in long white skirts line up behind the carts, whirling madly to the music. This celebration feels somehow older—a deeper tradition than the strict temples and blessing days of the New God. The dancers move out, letting parade-goers shuffle into their places and continue the dance. Lucien slides in, his movements perfectly in sync with the others, more lithe and graceful than anyone. When he reaches out to me as the music shifts, I swear I see his dark eyes grinning above his cowl.

“This is the partner sequence of the dance,” he calls. “If you’d do me the honor.”

“Y’shennria didn’t teach me this one,” I protest. He shakes his head.

“It’s simpler than anything in the court. Just follow my lead.”

“All right. But I’m warning you—I’m a terrible student. I ask all sorts of questions and make a thousand mistakes.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both!”

His steps are light, the crowd moving in the same patterns, their arms raised and their knees bent. Their feet and his move so fast I can barely keep up, but I grasp the basics of it—a quick turn, a joining of hands of the partners, and then they rotate around each other. The world spins with Lucien’s face as the center point, his obsidian eyes practically sparkling out of his hood. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him—all that wariness, all that bitter armor, cracked and discarded. It’s like he’s another person entirely out here, among his people, sharing in their traditions and their joy.

The end of the dance demands one of the couple hold the other around the waist from behind. It’s then I notice who our dancing neighbors are—young couples, old, but all of them glowing with affection for each other. Lucien snakes his arms around my waist, gingerly, careful not to tighten and truly embrace me. His heat looms behind me, tall and against my spine.

If I were a human girl, perhaps this wouldn’t be my first time feeling such a thing. But it is, and it’s terrible and terrifying and terrific all at once. The hunger keens for me to whirl around and sink my sword into him, but I can hardly hear it over the rushing of blood in my ears and the frantic beating of my heart locket.

And then, just like that, the dance is over. Lucien is the first to pull away, immediately, like he’s touched hot iron. He clears his throat brusquely as we move out of the parade to catch our breath, letting others dance into the center.