Page 83 of Hearts Lost

Like a horse trader, I think as sorrow and bitterness close their iron fists around my ribcage. Just like a horse trader whose children were stolen to serve King Grathgore. I think of Ithronel’s magic, how she’d led me through the void. How she’d smiled every time she’d talked about horses. I did work wonders with horses, she’s said. But that was before Grathgore pulled her from her life, from her entire world, because he’d decided she’d be a useful tool for keeping her magician sister in line.

A long, slow shiver runs up my spine. That’s all this is to the dragon Rensivar, to my parents, to Nyana, and to whatever other magicians might currently be betraying my king. This is a trade, an exchange of goods. Rowan for Ithronel; one worthless low-born elf for another. And what does it matter what happens to any of them once they pass through that portal? Who in the Lands Below would possibly care?

Disgust roils my stomach, squeezing hard around the remnants of the shots I’d slammed down last night with the nothing people of the World’s End. People who were just another form of currency to my family.

“Aloserin—” my mother begins. She’s leaning forward with her hand out, almost like I’m a child again and she’s trying to comfort me.

I pull back, the hot sting of bile pressing against the back of my throat, dimly aware that I’m shaking my head. As if I could negate all of this, everything I’ve just seen, everything I now know the family Ravadithas has done.

“Just bring Rowan to us,” my father says, and his voice is so calm and collected. The voice of reason. “This will all be over when you bring Rowan here.”

My lips curl back in a snarl, but I can’t even find the words. My mother’s watching me with a sort of pleading expression, as though she could cajole me into understanding. Her eyes shine with tears.

“We’re getting out of here,” Mother says. “Rensivar has a new place for us, for all of us.”

“All of us?” I rasp.

My voice sounds hollow. My mother nods; she looks like she’s trying to smile. I open my mouth to ask if all of us includes the people living in the Outer Ring, people like Rowan’s brother Phaedron.

But I don’t even need to ask. Because of course, it doesn’t. Those aren’t even people to her.

I’m still shaking my head as I back toward the door. Archibald moves aside silently, allowing me to pull the door open. And then I’m plunging into the murky gloom of the dungeon hallway, trying not to hear the voices rising in my wake.

“If he doesn’t—” Nyana begins, but my feet are pounding up the stone stairs, carrying me out of the Ravadithas estate before I have to listen to the way that sentence ends.

* * *

I stopoutside the door and hold my breath. The glowsoft orbs are dim, and the palace halls are nearly empty. I asked the guard at the foot of the stairs if he’d seen Ithronel, so I have a reason to be in this wing. For the moment, at least, my presence in the palace guest quarters shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.

Still. Best not to linger. I take a deep breath, raise my hand to the door of Princess Elanerill’s guest room, and freeze. Voids below, I really don’t want to know if they’re fucking. I have the sense that Orryen and Elanerill have been going at it like dogs in heat ever since she came through the portal clutching my arm, but still, I send a little prayer to whatever stars might be listening that I’m not about to bust in on them in full coitus. I think I’ve had enough humiliation in my life, thank you very much, I whisper to the universe.

I knock first, because I’m not a complete barbarian, but it’s gentle; I don’t want to risk drawing the guard’s attention. Then I slide my finger beneath the doorknob and press the secret release on the locking mechanism. The door swings open. I slip inside, close my eyes, and hold my hands up.

“What the hell?” Orryen whispers.

I slowly open one eye. Orryen is here, which is good, and he’s wearing pants, which is even better. I open both eyes and see Elanerill sitting on the bed, wearing something thin and silky that at least covers all the essential bits.

I pull the door closed behind me as quietly as possible. The voids only know how many spies my parents have in the castle. Or how many spies Rensivar has.

“We,” I whisper to Orryen and Elanerill, “have a serious problem.”

Orryen glances to the door, then the window, and then gestures toward the bed. I sit down on the edge of the mattress, try not to think about the things this bed has probably seen in the past couple of weeks, and tell them everything.

Elanerill goes pale. Orryen looks furious. The two of them are holding hands by the time I finish, and for some reason, that small gesture hurts to watch. Heart magic would make things easier, I think bitterly. There’s no deception in heart magic, no wondering if the person who was presented to you exists or if she was just a facade.

Wow, that is not helpful right now. I huff out a sigh and try to pull myself together. Orryen is looking at me like he’s ready to murder someone.

“Nyana,” Orryen growls, shaking his head. “I never would have thought—”

“We don’t even know if she’s the only one working with him,” I say, as gently as I can. “For all we know, half the magicians in Galan’s court could be going behind our back.”

Elanerill makes a soft, sad little gasp.

“But, why?” she asks.

I shrug. Orryen makes a face like he’s just tasted something bitter.

“Damn it. You were right,” Orryen says.