“Who is this?” The celeon frowns at me, then at the princess. “I won’t welcome another distraction in my lab, Varia. You’ve given me only one month—”

“She’s the Heartless you asked for,” Varia chimes, seemingly unmoved by the fact he’s addressing her so casually. The celeon narrows his eyes at me, the firelight catching his glasses and making them opaque.

“Hi,” I try, wetting my fear-parched lips. “Nice dungeon you’ve got here. I think. I haven’t seen much of it because you appear to have an aversion to interior lighting.”

There’s a beat as Yorl looks me over and then turns back to Varia. “I’d prefer Gavik over the talkative one.”

I bristle internally. I might not have a godsdamn clue what’s going on, but anyone who prefers Gavik to me is obviously either a terrible person or an uncaring one—they tend to occur in tandem.

“Yes, well.” The princess sighs. “Gavik can’t Weep. This one can.”

My eyes rivet to her instantly. So she does know about Weeping. Then her confidence that I wouldn’t tell the king she’s a witch is even more mystifying—unless she thinks the shaky promise of my heart is enough to silence me. And it is. But I’d rather rot in the afterlife than tell her that.

“Really?” Yorl scoffs. “This thing? She looks like she crawled out of a gutter.”

“And you look like you crawled out of a basement with a lot of valkerax drool in it, but you don’t see me insulting you about it,” I offer. It’s almost nice to be angry instead of devastated, and I let it fuel my tongue. Yorl doesn’t so much as blink at the insult, inspecting me from behind his glasses with a cool, unmoving gaze.

“There will be no arguing between you two.” Varia clears her throat, her voice every inch a princess’s. “We don’t have much time to do what is needed. Pray tell her, Yorl, precisely why that valkerax is here and why you need her here, too.”

Yorl narrows his emerald eyes on me. “You’re going to teach that valkerax how to Weep.”

Every word is Common Vetrisian. Every word is one I know, but strung together, they make no sense. I decide to make an inhale instead of a laugh. “I must’ve misheard you. What you said would imply valkerax are Heartless. And I’m one hundred percent certain there’s not a jar in the world that can fit a heart that big.”

Yorl scoffs, turning to Varia. “I’m not going to explain everything from the ground up to her.”

Varia just smiles at him sweetly. “I beg you to remember—I’m the only one outside of the Black Archives who can give you the polymath title you so desire.”