“I could give a horseshit if you’re a Heartless, or a witch, or the Old God himself,” he interrupts me. “I’m a beneather who lives in the upworld—I know what it’s like to be different. It’s not the fact you’re a Heartless I’m mad about. It’s the fact you messed with Lucien’s head. You gave him false hope. And that’s something I can’t forgive.”

I chew my lip and nod, all the words I wanted to say stolen from me. He’s right. I did give Lucien false hope, didn’t I? I forced my way into his life, promised love when I couldn’t give it. Malachite’s anger is righteous, deserved, and it’d be selfish and pathetic to try to beg for his trust again. Words can only speak so much louder than actions. My stomach curdles, harder this time, the pain no longer able to be ignored. I turn on my heel and start to walk away when his slightly raised voice stops me.

“He’s left out the back way in his all-leather getup. If you’re quick, you can catch him in the common quarter. Fleshhouse Avenue.”

I whirl on my heel, my unheart spasming wildly. “Thank you!”

He’s out of the palace. I can approach him.

I dash down the hall and back to the palace entrance. My eyes search for the black carriage of Y’shennria, for Fisher who should be driving it, waiting for me with his large ears and scarecrow body. But he’s gone. All the carriages parked here are waiting for their respective nobles at the banquet.

It’s strange, that such small things can make one feel so alone. Walking down the palace steps without a carriage waiting for me, I feel unmoored. Out of place. There’s no one for me in Vetris anymore. No safe house to go back to. No allies. Two weeks ago I still had Y’shennria and her household. And now I have no one.

abandoned, the hunger insists. abandoned by everyone.

I lift my head, wait for an opening in the guard patrols, and dart off into the hot night. The cicadas are the only ones who cry when I am gone.