My eyes skitter to his parents instead—the king and queen. They lavish their attention on Varia, roaring with laughter at her jokes and hanging on her every word. The whole banquet is drawn to her, so when Lucien stands and excuses himself, his parents let it happen. Malachite follows him. The table whispers about it for a moment, but then someone mentions how beautiful Varia looks, and that’s the end of their concern.

Varia is probably the reason why, when I get up and excuse myself, too, no one pays much attention, not even Varia herself. She might be my witch, and she might have my body under her control, but I’ll be damned if I linger beside her every minute of every day yearning for my heart.

I throw on the cloak that came with the dress—a simple blue thing—and follow Lucien from a forty-pace distance. Somewhere between the deepfish stew and the roast pork, I made up my mind to say something to the prince tonight. An apology? Would that be too hollow? I don’t know, but I have to try. I ignore the telltale clenching in my stomach as the food tries to come out as blood tears—in this palace there are no less than a hundred shadowy places to duck into and rearrange oneself if one must.

Malachite pads at his side, and I follow them as far as I can, to the border of the Serpent’s Wing, where only the noble family is allowed. The two boys disappear around a corner, leaving me to hover at a window, pacing back and forth. If he’s retiring for the night, if he doesn’t come out again—

“If you were any more obvious, you’d be wearing a sign with his name on it.”

My head snaps up at the voice—Malachite saunters down the hall toward me. The moonlight from the Blue Giant outside catches the rubies in his armor, the combined light flashing violet. His eyes are hooded, and his mouth is set in a flat line. When he reaches me, I’m not sure what to say. Or how to say it.

“I’m sorry,” I finally manage. Malachite scoffs, his ruby eyes rolling.

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to.”

I swallow. “You’re…not mad?”

His lips thin in a mockery of a smile. “Oh, I’m madder than a one-legged valkerax. I just don’t like to go around showing it.”

My unheart stings. “I should’ve told you I’m a—”