Bring Me Their Hearts(72)

“Because he can’t deal with Varia’s death,” Fione insists. “Because he’d much rather pin it on some magical Old God tree than face the fact that we’ll never—” Fione’s voice catches, coming back scratchy. “That we’ll never see her again.”

I choose my next words very carefully. “Do you know how a witch becomes, Lady Fione?”

“No. Witchlore isn’t exactly the sort of thing you find poking around Vetris. Do you?”

I open my mouth, then close it. I’m Zera Y’shennria to her, not a Heartless. “Of course not.”

Her blue eyes flash. “Then why bring it up?”

When I don’t say anything, she approaches, looking me square in the face.

“I saw her, Lady Zera. I saw the parts of her, all that was left. I saw her blood, her fingers, her—” Fione winces. “She’s dead. And no amount of chasing superstitious beliefs about the gods—Old or New—will bring her back.”

There’s a long, yawning abyss of silence as I take it all in, and Fione regains her poise. I misunderstood Lucien. I counted him a murderer. A part of me squirms with shame. Another part laments—he’s untouched, unstained. He’s not the kindred spirit drenched in blood I thought him. He merely pretended, just as Fione pretends. These nobles move in dances more complex than I’ve ever seen.

“This hunt thing of the prince’s…it’s such an elaborate farce.”

Fione folds her arms, begrudging admiration in her voice. “He’s maintained it flawlessly for six years now.”

“You’ve both maintained facades,” I say. Fione’s grin is small.

“And now you do, too.”

The sandclock ticks into the shadows between us.

“Why did you volunteer me for teaming up with you and Lucien?” I ask.

“I’m an archduke’s niece—and Lucien is a prince. He has access to areas of the palace I can only dream of. And he likes you.”

Something catches in my throat, and I cough wildly. Fione smirks, holding up a nearby jug of water.

“Would you like some?”

“I’m perfectly…capable…” I manage between breaths.

“Oh, I’m sure you are. That’s why Y’shennria brought you in to marry the prince and restore status to her family, after all. I had plans in place to deal with you if you were dumb as rocks. But thankfully, you aren’t—”

“You should see me before I’ve had my morning cup of chocolate drink.”

“—which makes this whole thing much easier.” She ignores my quip. “I need the prince on my side to access certain areas of the palace. He needs you to even consider helping me. You need me to carve out more time with the prince for you.”

“Y’shennria’s doing a stellar job of that, thanks.”

“Without guards,” Fione presses, a sly smile on her face. “Without being in public. Dozens of opportunities to be with him, just the two of you, in many secluded locations.”

Her smile betrays her confidence—she’s so certain she knows that’s what I want. And she does. But not for the reasons she thinks.

“You’ll be queen in no time,” she asserts. “And as for me—four years of planning, gathering, waiting—it’s all going to pay off in the next several days. If I can get into a few places that are off-limits, my uncle will lose everything. All the respect and power and fear he’s accumulated—gone. And to him, that is worse than death.”

I stare at my hands, at the faint smears of blood on my outfit from my long-healed wrist wound. Something stirs in me, uneasily. You’re not afraid of death, Gavik had said to me.

“Isn’t that what you want? Time with Prince Lucien?” Fione presses. I look up quickly.

“More than the Red Twins want to dance with each other,” I answer. “More than anything.”

“Then why do you look so sad at the thought?”

Her words grip me in fingers of ice. I rub my eyes, worried she can see the truth in them. “I’m simply tired and in pain.”

“I know the feeling.” She taps her leg and flashes me a facetious lawguard salute. “I’ll leave you, then. If you agree to this arrangement, do let me know through a watertell. Nothing detailed, just a ‘yes’ will do. Good night, Lady Zera.”

When she’s gone I stumble up to my room, the yolshil finally wearing off, and collapse into the feather bed. Reginall knocks on my door—I’ve memorized his knock, two short raps followed by a pause. I answer it wearily.

“There you are, miss.” He bows. “Milady was looking for you. She asked me to send you to her room when you got home, but…” He trails off, looking at Y’shennria’s closed door. “I’m afraid she fell asleep some time ago. She hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Of course she hasn’t—with every day Verdance grows closer, we run out of more and more time. The stress must be killing her—even if she does have a plan for the Hunt.

“Let her sleep,” I say softly. “I’ll go to her first thing in the morning.” Reginall bows, and as he turns to leave, I stop him. “How many people did you kill in the war, Reginall?”

He freezes, back turned to me, but he doesn’t miss a beat. “Forty-seven, miss.”