As if to prove her point, her heart gave a sudden leap and pain spread along her collarbone to reside in her jaw. She set the box down with a sharp click and clutched at her chest. Viktor was at her side in seconds.
“Sit.” He half dragged, half carried her into the nearest chair and kept his arms wrapped around her. His voice was heavy with worry. “You can get better. I know you can. Just stop doing magic for a while. Let yourself regain your strength—”
“I won’t regain my strength.” She caught his hand in hers and held it as her magic tingled in her palm, waiting to exert itself over his willing heart. “Not without help.”
“I’ll help you.” He crouched beside her, his blue eyes earnest.
“I know a spell that will take the remaining years from another’s heart and give them to mine. I’ve tried it over and over again on our prisoners, but it just makes me weaker. My magic refuses to accept a heart from Ravenspire.”
“Maybe it isn’t where they’re born. Maybe you need nobility—”
“I’ve tried. Ravenspire nobility. Akram nobility. Gentry from my kingdom and others.” She picked up the gold box again and cradled it as the boy’s heart thumped steadily inside. “The only hearts I haven’t tried are those from Eldr or Morcant.”
She kept her eyes on the box as she waited for Viktor to understand what she already knew.
Viktor took her hands in his, box and all. “It’s one thing to punish your prisoners. It’s another to take more from the king of Eldr than he’s promised you.”
She tightened her hold on the box and met his gaze. “I told you. I’m dying.”
“Then walk away from this.” His eyes begged her to listen. “We’ll go to Súndraille. I hear there’s a fae in exile there who can perform miracles for the right price. We could get your heart cured and buy a ship. Sail the seas and find an island—”
“I’m not leaving.” She pulled her hands from his and raised the box so that it glittered in the candles that lit her room. “I’ve fought too hard for this. Ravenspire is my kingdom, and I will not give it up. I’m going to try replenishing my heart with the Eldrian’s,” she said, and half believed it was true. She could try. Maybe this time it would work.
Or maybe Viktor, always dependable Viktor, would come up with a different solution so that she didn’t have to suggest it—didn’t have to even truly consider it—herself.
He held her gaze for a long moment, a myriad of emotions crossing his face, and then he said with quiet force, “No.”
She stared at him. “What did you say to me?”
She’d expected agreement or a logical suggestion that would solve everything. Not resistance. Not from him.
He clenched his jaw, and his eyes seemed to be begging her for something. “I said no, Irina. You cannot ruin that boy’s life any more than you already have. And if his heart proves as poisonous to yours as all the rest, you could die.”
“I will do as I please. And when I’m finished, you and I will have a discussion about your proper place—”
“We will have that discussion now.” Something wild entered his eyes. “In fact, we will discuss everything we’ve been leaving unspoken for years. Starting with the fact that you never loved King Arlen, that you might love me, and that even though I desperately want you to be safe and happy, I can’t go along with this plan of yours.”
“Not now, Viktor.” She pushed a hand against his chest, but he refused to give ground.
“Yes, now.” He ignored the icy glare she sent his way and leaned forward until she was pressed between his chest and the back of the chair. “I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I’ve given you my time, my energy, and my heart.”
“I didn’t ask for your heart.”
“No, but you took it anyway. You take, Irina, from the land, from the people, from me. And because I understand why, I’ve held my tongue. I’ve swallowed my words and my pride, knowing it was the price I had to pay to stay by your side. I understand you.” His voice gentled, and the pain inside it ripped at something Irina refused to let him see. “Unloved by those who were supposed to love you most. Passed over for the marriage and the throne that should’ve been yours. And then, when you did marry Arlen, he’d barely look at you, his children wouldn’t trust you, and the gentry treated you like an interloper instead of like their queen. The wounds run deep—”
“I’m not wounded.” Magic sped down her arms and gathered in her hands, looking for a target.
“You are. And the wounds others caused you are nothing compared to what you’re doing to yourself. Irina, you don’t have to destroy this boy and yourself to get to Lorelai. You don’t have to keep everyone too terrified of you to dare lift a finger against you.” He raised a hand and laid it softly against her cheek. “You don’t need magic to be loved. You have everything you need to be a beloved queen—a beloved woman—right here.” His hand dropped to press against her heart.
“Viktor . . .”