Page 16 of Hearts Lost

My smile makes me feel like my skin is cracking.

“Of course,” I reply.

“Most people think you’re a spy,” Elanerill continues. “You’ve probably figured out that’s why you’re being followed. And it’s just going to take time, I’m afraid, to win them over. But I think it would help if you’re with me today, as a visible sign of the solidarity of the Kingdom of the Summer.”

I nod and smile as my insides burn. Stars above, Amarille, I think, as though my sister could hear me all the way down here. You’d better enjoy every damned heartbeat of the freedom I’m buying you.

“Sure,” I say. “Um, what are we doing today?”

Elanerill’s smile turns into something sharp.

“We’re taking down the barrier,” she says.

* * *

That hasto be a teleportation hub.

We have them in the Kingdom of the Summer, of course, although none of them function properly anymore. My father talked about them with snide disdain, as though he always expected magic to fail us sooner or later. Then again, my father’s livelihood was horses; he didn’t trust anything he couldn’t see or touch, anything he couldn’t calm with words or caresses.

My chest pinches as loss, sharp and hot as a branding iron, lances my heart. Thinking of my father hurts. I blink, trying to clear my eyes as the teleportation hub looms before me. There’s a large group of people inside the ring of standing stones, including Elanerill and Orryen, and many of them are setting up magical equipment. I watch, trying not to look too interested in any one thing. I never got to see my sister’s equipment. King Grathgore’s magicians were practically prisoners, just like his healers and his Royal Guard. And everyone else in the palace, if I’m being honest. Even Princess Elanerill.

I bring my knuckles to my chest and rub at the ache just beneath my breastbone. King Galan runs his palace very differently, apparently. Elanerill told me the magicians of the Kingdom of the Fall aren’t just magicians. They’re bakers and gardeners and who knows what else, and they come together only when there’s a problem to solve.

I’d assumed she was lying to me, that no king would ever treat something as valuable as a magician so casually. But I already see a few familiar faces inside this teleportation hub, like the portly man from the kitchens who’s adjusting the dials on some silver instrument.

A kingdom where magicians can also live their own lives and follow their own interests? Stars above, that thought hurts almost as much as the memories of my father.

“Afternoon,” someone says from behind me.

I jump and spin, feeling my waist for the sword that isn’t there. And I see Aloserin, the man who came through the portal with Prince Folwynn. The man who’d given me tea and brandy my first night here. He raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says.

He’s watching me like he doesn’t quite know what to make of me, which is fair. No one here knows quite what to make of me. Hells, I don’t even know what to make of myself.

“It’s fine,” I say, clambering for an explanation that will make me sound like I’m not a spy. “I just— Magic freaks me out.”

Stars, I sound like an idiot. But Aloserin’s expression relaxes, and what might almost be the beginning of a smile flits across his lips.

“Lythienne assured me it would be perfectly safe. This time,” he says.

I recognize the name Lythienne, the king’s chief magician and apparently also his chief gardener, because that’s how things work in this inexpressibly bizzare kingdom.

“Still,” Aloserin continues, “I’m going to stay on this side of the teleportation stones.”

A strange, soft laugh bubbles out of me. It’s not much of a laugh, true, but it’s also the first time I’ve laughed since I left the Kingdom of the Summer.

“Good plan,” I say.

Aloserin nods, and that ghost of a smile tugs again at the corners of his lips. For just a heartbeat, some of the warm contentment I’d felt when the two of us shared tea and brandy in the middle of the night spreads through my chest. Then someone barks Aloserin’s name, he turns away, and the moment shatters.

Because I have a job to do.

Fixing my sister’s face in my mind, I fiddle casually with a button on my cuff as I watch the magicians, my gaze shifting back and forth over the scurrying figures and their gleaming, mysterious equipment. I’ve chewed the threads on this button to almost nothing, and it only takes a moment of tugging for the button to pop off.

I gasp as the button lands in the overgrown grass at my feet. Then, with my eyes wide and innocent, I bend down to pick it up. As I do, I pull my cuff open and let the sleek silver sphere from King Grathgore fall to the ground.

I stand, smooth down my shirt, and glance around me. No one seems to be paying the least bit of attention to me. A strange sort of pain twists in my chest, and I try to ignore it, to tell myself that this is good. This is for the best.