“Sylvester!” cried the king in a voice that carried unnaturally far. He did not seem at all surprised to see us. In fact, I could see the twitch of a smile at the corner of his thin lips.
The crowd stayed completely still and silent. I could feel my heart pulsing in my throat. Sylvester took my hand, and together, we walked toward the assembly.
Sylvester had never looked more regal: his hair falling in its dark waves across his white forehead, his gray blue eyes unnaturally light and gleaming. All the magic-workers seemed like actors in a play, and the rest of us were merely the audience lucky enough to gaze upon them. Only I knew that his teeth were gritted in pain.
“Father,” said Sylvester, and his voice had the same unnatural volume as the king’s. Everyone in every corner of the village could hear him, I was sure. We walked just far enough forward that everyone could see us clearly and stopped.
“That was a clever trick, putting us all to sleep,” said the king. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“You have never understood my powers,” said Sylvester.
“True, I suppose,” said the king. “You have never been consistent. Not like your sisters.”
“Which is why you always preferred them.”
“Preferred? No. I had a foolish desire for a son, despite my dislike for my own father. I made so many failed attempts! And it transpires that you are one of them, despite my initial hope. A problem easily solved, fortunately.”
“Perhaps because you killed your own father,” said Sylvester without expression. “That could lead to some trouble with sons.”
“You think I have a guilty conscience?” asked the king, smiling.
Sylvester shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Ah, yes. They are still angry about that then, over there?”
“I think they are angrier that you are invading their borders year after year.”
“So you know all about my younger days, now,” said the king. “ You and your little housekeeper. And armed with this knowledge, you have come here to do ... what, exactly?”
“To stop you.”
“Do you really think I would create a child capable of defeating me? Imadeyou. I know exactly what you can do.”
“No, you don’t. That has always frightened you about me. I see that now.”
“Frightened?” The king bared his teeth. “You do have odd fancies, Sylvester. Speaking of which. I still need the girl if we are to fight the corruption. And that’s what you want, after all, isn’t it?”
“What?” said Sylvester. “No. Of course I don’t.”
“I’m surprised. I thought your new, self-sacrificing nature would see the benefit of giving up your little housekeeper for the sake of saving a thousand others. If I stop the heart rot, we need harvest no more.”
“No.”
“Perhaps this will help.” The king gestured to one of the footmen. He opened the king’s carriage door and hauled Da out from within. I made an involuntary movement forward, but Sylvester held me back. Da was bound at the wrists but seemed unharmed. He tried to smile at me, and what was left of my heart twisted in my breast.
“Let him go!” I cried.
“Gladly,” said the king. “I will exchange the father for the daughter. A fair trade. Or rather, I shall trade the father andallthese fine people for the daughter. Really, you are getting the better end of the bargain, even though her sort is rare.”
“Father,” said Sylvester, “you cannot harvest all these people, and you cannot have Foss. Perhaps it is good that the hearts have become infected. It is time to try a different way.”
The king snorted. “You have been of age for only a few months. You do not understand.”
“But I do,” said Sylvester. “You don’t need hearts for magic. I know that now.”
“To help a cow with its milking and a hen its laying? No. But for anything more than that, we need them. How long do you think this kingdom would last without us protecting its borders with heart magic? Keeping invading armies at bay?”
“The only invading army is you,” said Sylvester quietly.
