Page 85 of These Vile Hearts

“You genuinely care about him, don’t you?”

“It’s my duty as his guard to protect him,” he says in a low voice. “That is all.”

“Mmm.” I consider him a moment. “I don’t believe you.”

I move to swipe a lock of hair off my forehead and wince at the sharp pain in my wrist.

Tamarind zeroes in on it. “You were injured by that blood nymph,” he notes. “I have some tinctures in the kitchen that will reduce the swelling.”

He’s avoiding the conversation about Castor. That, or planning to murder me while Castor is incapacitated. Either way, I follow him. If I’m murdered, then I don’t have to murder the king. Not the brightest silver lining, but it’s starting to sound better and better lately.

I perch on the inky marble island, watching in tense silence as Tamarind opens a cabinet filled with different-sized bottles. He snatches one from the topmost shelf—a squat, pear-shaped one full of scarlet liquid—and brings it to me.

“Poison?” I ask, mimicking what Castor said to me when I first offered him wine.

Tam’s face deadpans. “You don’t have to take it. I thought you would like to reduce the swelling in your wrist, but if you think I’m trying to poison you, then I’ll just—”

He starts to turn away, but I swipe the bottle from his hand, draining it in two gulps. I smack my lips. “Oh, that’s actually not bad. I was expecting something revolting, like cherry cough syrup or—”

“What happened in that brandy room?” he interrupts, a deep frown line forming between his brows.

My muscles go completely still. Does he somehow know what I was planning? Did I give something away? “What do you mean?”

“What did you say to make Castor behave this way? I don’t think I have ever seen him this upset.”

I don’t respond immediately because I’m stunned thatthisis what he’s worried about. “Um, I’m sorry, but did you see what he just did to Magesté?”

“Yes, I did. I did see that, Maddox. That is what tieg winedoesto him. That’s why he hasn’t consumed it since—” He breaks off, pain arcing across his features before he begins pacing around the kitchen island.

I lean back on the heels of my palms, the swelling in my wrist already greatly diminished.

“Why doyoucare so much?” I ask. “Why are you so passionate about what affects the king’s delicate feelings?”

“I told you. I’m just his—”

“Bullshit. You are not just his guard. You care about him. More than care, even.”

His dark face turns ashen. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Or does this explain why you are oh-so-overprotective of him when I’m around?Perhapsit has nothing to do with you being worried about his safety.”

“What else would—”

“Perhapsyou are jealous of the fact that your precious boy king is spending all his time with a stupid mortal woman instead of you.”

He does an exceptionally good impression of me by rolling his eyes to the ceiling, but the set of his brow is somewhat unconvincing. A mix of fear and agony. “What is it with you mortals and your belief that everyone is besotted with you?”

My lips curl cruelly up on one side. “You are good at dodging questions and hiding from the truth, I’ll give you that.” I slide to the edge of the island and hop off, not even bothered by my lack of skirt or pants. Feels kind of badass to walk around in only a bodysuit, bloomers, and a weapons belt.

Tamarind moves to stand in front of me, his voice rising in decibel. “I’m not hiding from any truth.”

“So you’re saying you don’t care at all for the king? That he is nothing more to you than a royal bastard you protect from mortals like me?”

“Well, no—”

“So you do care about him, then.”

“I mean, of course I care about him, but not—”