Page 125 of These Vile Hearts

Sparks of memories return to me, the cruel-faced dryads with the leather armor and spears. No trace of gold or grandeur. Of course they were Myrtlewood dryads. “Youhad my parents murdered.”

“I was fulfilling your father’s pact.”

“He made a pact to become your servant in exchange for his own death? Sorry if I call fucking bullshit on that.” I hate that my voice is shaking, betraying my unraveling.

“No. He asked for me to save you. So I did.”

Acid fills my stomach. “Saveme?”

“You two asked for the same thing, actually. Ironic, isn’t it?” She chuckles. “Though he didn’t word it quite so precisely as you. Your father and I knew each other for quite a while, in fact. He’d been my mortal servant for many years. King Cyperus’s pathetic excuse for military aid was doing rather little in the way of protecting my forests. So when your father found me, I thought…who better to serve a dryad kingdom than the very thing it was protecting itself against? A mortal axman.”

“So…that’s when he asked you to save me?”

“No, no.” She waves a dismissive hand. “That was long before you were even thought of. Your father wanted something quite different the first time we met.”

“What did he—”

“Now is not the time for that story. Anyway. For a time, he was an excellent asset. He would report to me the forests his company intended to fell, and I would suggest alternatives. Preferably in the Redwood Kingdom, just outside of the Redwood Court wards. But he got clever with me. Started felling only some trees and leaving the ones housing dryad souls behind.” She shakes her head in disappointment. “Then when he came to me again, beside himself with grief, he said his daughter was very sick. Afraid you might die, the poor thing. He told me about your disease, about your ailments. But I’d been watching you, watching your family. I knew you both had the Sight, that he was a mortal axman. And I saw what your mother did.”

What my mother did.

The images from the Bloodwood Tree return, poisoning my mind. I always knew, deep down, that what my mom was doing wasn’t okay. I knew that she was the reason I kept getting so sick. It wasn’t me sneaking an Oreo or having a low blood sugar. It was her keeping insulin from me, keeping glucose from me when I needed it.

But she wasn’t like that all the time. Sometimes she was gentle, loving. She taught me how to play piano and the ukelele. She sang me to sleep in the hospital beds her actions put me in.

My father, though, had no idea. He didn’t deserve to be punished for his wife’s actions.

“So my father fulfilled his side of the pact with you, killed the Redwood King…and you repaid him by taking his life.”

“I punished him for betraying my trust, for thinking he could find a work-around in our first pact and then come crawling back to make a second one. So, yes, I took his life…but I satisfied thepact by saving yours. A few more weeks with that abusive mother of yours and you would have been the one lying still and cold on the ground.” Queen Amanita promenades around me, stepping slowly. The spotlight makes her shadow giant. “You should be grateful.”

This is why I ended up in foster care? This is why I ended uphere? Sure, my mother was flawed—greatly flawed, even—but she was still my mother. I never really thought of what she’d done as abuse, not like parents who hit and hurt their children. She was…ill. Maybe she could have gotten better with time.

I will never know. Because of the dryad queen before me.

“Well, thank you so much, Your Majesty,” I intone. “How shall I repay your kindness? Leap off the edge of this treetop kingdom? Guzzle poison? Murder the final Redwood King?”

Her laugh catches me off guard. “No, we can keep dear little Castor alive…for now. I have need of him yet.”

I shake my head, trying to process everything, still unused to the weight of my antlers.

“Oh, don’t look so sullen, darling,” she says. “I did you a favor.”

“By changing me into a dryad? Taking away my autonomy?”

“You should be glad to be rid of your mortal stench,” she growls, animallike. Somehow, now that I am her physical equal, she has never seemed more alien. “Mortals have done nothing good for the world. Besides, I gave you what you wanted. Gave you more than you even asked for. Not only will you get to live a full, human lifetime, but much longer. Dryads live as long as their heartwoods.”

Right. I have a heartwood now. I wonder where it is. The thought of my life source being tethered to a tree anyone can access makes me feel oddly vulnerable and exposed.

I run my hands up the base of my antlers to the pointed prongs. I’m not even upset anymore. I’m not sad. I’m just angry. Livid. So mad I’m shaking. For a bizarre moment, I wonder about my bloodsugar. Then I blink, shaking my head. I don’t have to worry about that anymore. A lump forms in my throat.

A surge of dark rage spreads through my veins. I glare up at the Myrtle Queen through my lashes. I have no physical barriers now. Nothing to stop me from plotting against her. Mark my fucking words: Saving the axman’s daughter will be the greatest regret of her life.

40

Maddox

Decked in an obsidian gown with a skirt that looks like fog turned solid, I follow Queen Amanita to the Sylveris Solstice. News of Durian’s death has spread through the kingdom. There is a mixture of low chatter, tears, and worry mixed with nervous whispers about Castor becoming the Redwood King. If they only knew how cruel their former king was.