Malice, Heather Walter [hardest books to read txt] 📗

thorn, gilded it, then blessed it with his very blood. It was a blessing that symbolized the Fae alliance, promised Fae protection, and ensured that only the new queen’s heirs could rule Briar from that day on. The crown itself would kill any usurper.

As a child, when I was subjected to every manner of experiment to determine how a half-Vila infant had appeared in Briar, I dreamed of what it took for Leythana to earn that crown. Our first queen was a warrior. Legend says she sailed into the realm she was destined to rule on ships constructed of dragon carcasses, their great wings fashioned into sails and their enormous jaws roaring at the bows.

I’d read and reread Leythana’s story until it was written on my heart. Repeated it to myself when the healing Graces came, their brutal, cold hands holding me down while they drew vial after vial of my blood. Pictured myself wearing that Fae-blessed crown as they dunked my head under vats of Etherium-seasoned water until it filled my lungs. Pretended that as they poured countless sticky-sour tinctures and serums down my throat I needed only to endure. One day it would be worth it. One day I would be like that first queen—untouchable.

Someone hurtles past me so fast he drops his bundles, jarring me out of the cesspool of my memory. Callow screams and he fires off complaints and curses at me, then I see myself mirrored in his gaze and he begins spluttering terrified apologies instead.

And once again I’m reminded that my imaginings were nothing but childhood fancy.

I’ll never be a heroine like Leythana. In Briar, I’ll only ever be a villain.

—

Hilde is the one woman in Briar who doesn’t treat me like I’m a pile of horse droppings on the street. Perhaps that’s because she sees her fair share of oddities in her line of work. Or because she’s like me, in a way. Both of us pinned by circumstance in a place we don’t belong. I visit her personally for my own enhancements instead of enlisting a servant to fetch them like the other Graces do.

She waves from behind her counter as I enter, the little bell on the door jangling merrily. A few of her other customers glance up. I let my hood fall around my shoulders and scowl at them. The shop is empty in seconds.

“Always one to make an entrance.” Hilde shakes her head. Sweat glistens on her tawny brow, and she wipes it away with a long, lean-muscled forearm. In a realm where nearly everyone sports Grace-gifted features, Hilde is refreshingly plain. Her black hair, sprinkled with gray, is swept into a messy bun beneath her cap, and fine scars—the marks of her trade—etch themselves across the backs of her hands and along her fingers.

“Sorry.” I settle Callow on the counter and unfasten my cloak. The scent of enhancements is so thick I can taste the earthy sage and the tang of citrus, laced with the undercurrent of coppery blood. “I didn’t mean—”

“They’ll be back.” Hilde shoos away my apology. She fishes a few dead beetles from a jar for Callow, who gobbles them up as if she hadn’t already eaten her weight in venison trimmings this morning. “I’ll not be lacking for the coin, I can tell you that much. Not with everyone losing their minds over that ball. Now what can I get for you today, Alyce?”

I hand over the list. Hilde doesn’t flinch as her fingers brush mine.

“This isn’t your usual sort.”

“It’s not for me.” I don’t even try to keep the salt out of my tone. “Rose sent me.”

Hilde snorts. “I see. High and mighty Grace too busy to come here herself?”

“But never too busy for Madame LaRoche.”

“What a surprise.” Setting the parchment on her counter, Hilde begins filling the order. I let my attention drift. Dried plants hang in bundles from the eaves—sachets of periwinkle and yellowed bouquets of calla lilies and leathered strips of birch bark. Vials of every shape, size, and color crowd the shelves. Stuffed wildlife with glass eyes snarl down at me from high corners. Hilde’s pets, she calls them.

“I don’t see why you let them order you about.” The apothecary’s voice is muffled as she roots around in the back stores. “They aren’t any different than you are.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Why?” She reappears, half of Rose’s order stacked precariously in her arms. “Because your blood is green and theirs is gold?” She wrinkles her nose. “I’ve never liked gold much myself. Too gaudy.”

“I don’t think the rest of Briar agrees with you.” I begin helping her pile the items into a sack. “They started a war over it once.”

“The rest of Briar can take a dive off the Crimson Cliffs as far as I’m concerned.”

A strangled laugh escapes me.

“What? So they can. Obsessed with charm and beauty and whatever other fripperies those Graces can dish out. Mark my words, Alyce. When the Etherians created the Graces, they weren’t doing us a favor.”

I stifle a groan. Hilde and her conspiracies. She’s been breathing in too many of her potions. Graced children are the most coveted in the realm. Expecting mothers, especially those in the Common District, pray that the Etherians will visit and Grace their unborn babies.

“More of your stories, Hilde?” Callow pecks at a glass case filled with withered snake carcasses and I nudge her away.

“Don’t sass me, little miss.” Her honey-brown eyes narrow. “If you used your brain, you’d know I’m right. The entire realm has gone mad for Grace elixirs. Nobles rip one another to bits to get a particular shade of hair or a clever tongue. It’s a Fae trick, girl. They’re laughing at us from their courts. Same as when they set that challenge.”

Confusion rumples my brow. “You mean the challenge to win the Briar crown?”

“And do you know of any other challenge set by the Fae?”

“No.” I grab a handful of small vials and stuff them into my sack. “But I don’t