Page 99 of These Vile Hearts

“Hey.”Castor moves to stand before me. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I laughed.”

“Why did you lie to me?” The irony sounds absurd to my own ears. Buthedoesn’t know I’ve been deceitful this whole time. That I nearly murdered him…more than once.

He freezes, tan face growing pale. “Lie about what?”

“What do you think,Prince Castor?”

Letting out a breath, he bows his head. “Oh.”

“ ‘Oh’? That’s all you have for me? I’ve spent weeks with you, mornings drinking coffee, spilling secrets about my family, kissing you on piano tops, dragging your drunk ass home, and all the while you’ve been playing me like a fool.”

“I never wanted you to feel—”

“Like an absolute idiot? How long were you planning to pretend with me? What was your end goal?”

I can’t tell him the other half of my anger. The real reason I want to punch him in the jaw right now. That I’ve wasted so much time going after the wrong brother. That I’m nearly out of insulin and time and no closer to completing this pact.

Castor opens his mouth and closes it.

“So, tell me,Prince, why go to such lengths to lie to some random mortal girl you met at a masquerade?”

He doesn’t speak. His hands are trembling.

“Say something.”

“I’m the cursed prince.”

“Yeah, I’ve fucking heard. And?”

“And you’re the first person who’s actually spoken to me like I’m not about to snuff out their life. Who has cracked jokes with me and given me a hard time and made melaugh. No one chooses to sit across from me in the stillness, sipping coffee; no one wants to ask me casual questions or do anything more than fuck me for a night just to feel like they’re flirting with death.”

My jaw unhinges slightly.

Castor continues. “When you mistook me for the king, I thought…I thought I’d see what it would be like, to be someone who didn’t strike fear in people for existing. I just wanted a break from the loneliness. I thought you would understand what that’s like.”

My heart stutters and starts to race. I can feel it in my throat. Moments ago, all I wanted was to slam my fist against his face. Now I want to do something else.

It’s a bad idea because I’ve so little time left…but I really don’t fucking care right now.

Two steps are all it takes to close the distance between us.

Toes nearly at ballerina pointe, I take Castor’s face in my hands, bringing his lips to mine. They crash together differently this time. At the masque, I was certain of my goal—kill the king—and every move was calculated and confident. On the piano, my hands were claws of hate, my mouth a bear trap waiting to snap him in half.

Now, I’m uncertain, terrified, waiting for him to break it off.

Waiting to break.

Castor kisses me for just a moment, hands sliding down to my waist, then he pulls back an inch, forehead pressed against mine. “Maddox, I don’t think—”

“Then let’s not,” I say in a low murmur. “Think, I mean. Let’s stop thinking for a little bit.”

I wait, standing on the edge of a precipice. He breathes deeply, in and out, like he’s considering all the ways this could go badly,weighing all the reasons he should pull away. I’m weighing them too. But if I learned anything from being in foster care, it’s that sometimes playing it safe is more dangerous than being reckless.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you, Castor,” I whisper into the space between us. “Right?”

Because of course I won’t. Not this fast. Love is supposed to take time. Supposed to be slow and thoughtful. People like me—a willing murderess—can’t be pure enough for such an emotion.

Something like pain flickers in his eyes before they turn molten. “Right.”