Page 32 of Tale of the Heart Queen

“Don’t you agree?” he asks, looking at me expectantly.

“Sure,” I agree, because why not? “Very . . . ladylike.”

He nods and then proceeds to continue writing.

“What’s in the notebook?”

“Oh, these are my recordings of her form,” he says. “She’s a living thing. She shifts and changes in the water, growing new branches while others break off. It’s all part of her life cycle and what makes her so special.”

It’s like he’s in love with the thing. I watch as he stares up at Coral with adoration.

Maybe I can use this to my advantage.

North and West stand against the wall on the far side of the room, vigilant but giving me space. They probably wish I’d return to my room, but I guess they’re stuck babysitting me no matter where I am.

“Your name is Bain, right?”

“It is.”

“I’m Lor,” I say, pressing my hand against the glass. “She does seem very special. But maybe not as special as the Mirror.”

“The Mirror,” Bain sputters. “That hideous thing? It’s all flash and artifice. No, my Coral here is an organic creation of sublime beauty.”

“Your Coral?”

He smiles and nods. “My Coral.”

“Have you . . . ever spoken to her?” I ask.

His eyes widen before his face turns sad. “Alas, I am not the king, and she will not speak to me.”

“That’s a shame,” I say as I wander towards the other side of the tank, out of North and West’s view, hoping Bain will follow. When he does, I weigh the odds of revealing my hand. I turn around to face him and then crook a finger. “I have a secret about the Artefacts. About Coral.”

Like a fish being reeled in on a line, he approaches me.

“What is it?”

I stretch onto my tiptoes and make a show of whispering in his ear. “They talk to me.”

He gives me a skeptical look. I can tell he doesn’t want to believe me, though he desperately wants it to be true.

“They do?”

I nod and then once again place my hand on the glass, dragging my fingers as I continue my way around the circumference.

“Could you speak with Coral?” he asks.

“I think I could,” I say in a coy voice. “But I’d need to touch her.”

Bain looks at me and then at the Artefact. “No one but me and the king are allowed to touch her.”

“Why are you permitted to do so?”

“To clean and polish her,” he said. “Otherwise, she loses her shine.”

“Who are you?” I ask, wondering why Cyan has entrusted Bain with this task.

“I’m the king’s father,” he says, surprising me, though it does explain Cyan’s earlier bow of reverence.