Send Me Their Souls (Bring Me Their Hearts #3) - Sara Wolf Page 0,48

else will I know to spring a kiss on you out of nowhere?”

His laugh is soft and deep. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Fione sighs at us. “The world includes more people than just you two, you know.”

“Regrettably,” Lucien says, never once looking away from my face as I finish the braid up his shirt with renewed vigor.

“First I guard him with my life for most of my life,” Malachite huffs. “And now he’s saying he wishes I was never born!”

I lay a hand on the prince’s chest to indicate I’m done, and he immediately turns to Malachite and reaches for him, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him into a headlock.

“I heard that, Mal.”

“Yeah!” The beneather squirms, clearly able to get out of the grip but allowing it. “Good! You ungrateful little bug!”

Lucien tries to yank him around, but Malachite ducks out of it, turning the tables on the prince and reaching for his collar when Fione taps her cane on the sandstone floor loudly.

“Enough! We can’t keep Lady Y’shennria waiting.”

“She hates tardiness,” I agree lightly. “And clams. But mostly tardiness.”

The beneather rolls his eyes and shoves Lucien away, and Lucien’s laugh is nice to hear. It’s nice, to see them playing around. To see Lucien being carefree, even when it’s hardest for him to be. Even if his heart is heavy. It’s nice, to walk beside him up the ramp, the stars gleaming down on us and Fione and Malachite walking with us, arguing over something small and probably etiquette related.

“You can’t put your feet on the table.” Fione sighs.

“Why not? We’re not in Vetris anymore! No more stuffy rules—”

“There are still rules,” Fione quips. “You’re the prince of Cavanos’s bodyguard. So start acting like it.”

“Spirits. You’re no fun anymore.” Malachite sighs. “I liked you way better when Varia was—”

He stops himself. Fione’s back goes straight, and Lucien and I exchange a glance.

“Sorry,” the beneather says quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

“Here we are.” Fione strides ahead of us, stopping before the south-facing door and tapping on it with her cane.

“Fione,” I start.

“No.” The archduchess interrupts me, her every word laced with steel. “We’re not here to dwell on the past, Zera. All of you. We’re here to change the future.”

“It’s all right to talk about these things, though—” Lucien starts, but she slices him off at the knees with her gaze. The starlight glimmers off her mousy hair, the periwinkle in her eyes turning to ice as she reminds us of the sober reality.

“As long as Varia d’Malvane has the Bone Tree, I don’t want to talk. I want to do.”

10

THE REPRIEVE

Y’shennria greets us at her door dressed in delicate black knit lace and a ruby-dotted net in her hair. If she notices the awkward atmosphere among the four of us, she doesn’t remark on it, showing us elegantly into the larger apartments. It’s lit up by witchfire—though by which witch, I’m not sure. More importantly, it’s decorated with all her old furniture, or most of it anyway, and my heart perks up seeing the familiar loveseat, the embroidered chaise lounge, the black leather couch on which I spent so much time bleeding and training to become a lady. The amazing bookshelves are here, replete with her whole library and the iron and glass orbs of varying spikiness I used on my shoulders to agonizingly train my posture. Even the grandfather sandclock is here, ticking out the halves in slow seconds.

Even Reginall is here, dressed in a smart suit and his manicured mustache and offering us tangerine cordials on a tray.

“Regi—” His name gets stuck in my throat, but he’s much calmer. He puts the tray down on the table and holds out his wrinkled hands to me. I dash to him, reaching, and he clasps me close, kind eyes twinkling.

“Milady Zera. How long it has felt, and how joyous it feels now. Are you well?”

“Well.” I nod, my smile so big it feels like it’ll split my face. “Better. I’m doing—” I look back at Lucien, at Fione and Malachite. “So much better.”

“I am very glad to hear it. I was muchly worried when we had to leave you behind in Vetris.” He looks down at my chest, as if searching. “Lady Y’shennria told me you are still Heartless.”

“Yeah. But I chose it this time.” I smile. “Turns out, it’s far easier to stop a valkerax incursion when you’re immortal.”

“And the hunger? It does not call to you?”

“It does still. But Lucien’s doing everything he can