Heart Readers

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Dasis didn’t move. If anyone drew a picture of her heart then, they would see something wrapped in gauze, hidden away. Dasis made herself breathe the foul air. She couldn’t let this freeze her. She had to reach out.

  “You’re not going to do it again,” Dasis said. “And that’s different from him.” She put her arm around Stashie.

  Stashie shrugged her away. “I can’t go with you,” Stashie said. “Not after this.”

  “You need me more now,” Dasis said.

  Stashie shook her head. She wouldn’t budge. This was how it had been before, after Radekir died. Stashie wouldn’t let Dasis close, at least not for Stashie’s sake.

  People were walking past, carrying their belongings on their backs. In the background, the screaming and clashing of swords continued.

  Dasis grabbed Stashie’s arms. They were bone thin. “I love you,” Dasis said. “I will always love you and I always want to be with you. I need you, Stashie, not to read with me, but to be with me. Please, let’s leave. Please, let’s find a home.”

  Stashie stared at her for a moment, as if she hadn’t heard at all, and then she crumpled into Dasis’s arms. Dasis stroked her matted hair, whispering soft things into her ear, and wished.

  She always thought the reading was enough, but it was only the beginning. She had seen hearts that were wounded, unloved, destroyed. Their owners already knew in some way about the damage. The reading had just confirmed it. Heart readers failed because the reading wasn’t enough. Healing had to start, somehow. And Dasis had no magic for that. She wished she did, because then she would use it on Stashie and everything would be all right again.

  “I love you,” Dasis whispered and hoped that in the end, love would be magic enough.

  CHAPTER 58

  Vasenu paced back and forth in the Assembly Room. It seemed too large to meet his brother here alone, just the two of them. He should have chosen another place, but they all seemed too personal. His own chambers, Ele’s chambers, gave one brother power over the other brother. Vasenu didn’t want that. Instead he chose a neutral place, the last place where they had been equal.

  His heart had been pounding in his chest since he learned that Ele had surrendered. He had heard about the kidnapping, spoken to the guards, but wasn’t sure if he believed the story. Ele was cunning enough to make the guards speak for him and to put the rope burns on his arms. But Tarne was cunning enough to double-cross both brothers. Vasenu could order his brother’s death now and no one would think anything of it. He could pull his troops together, crush the rebellion in the city, and then rule with an iron fist. People would say that Leanda had remained strong and that its King was tough and powerful.

  His father would have done that. His father would have made the difficult choice and lived with it for decades. He probably had. Perhaps that was why his father wanted to control the succession, because of the pain he felt at causing his own brother’s death.

  Vasenu clasped his hands together tightly. He couldn’t bear to live with the thought that he might be wrong.

  The main doors to the Assembly Room opened. Two guards brought Ele in, his hands bound and his head lowered. His clothes were dirt covered and his hair matted against his skull. He looked as if he had been away from the palace for years instead of hours.

  “Untie him,” Vasenu said, “and leave us.”

  “Sire—”

  “Leave us.” Vasenu made his voice powerful. It echoed in the large, empty room. The guards undid Ele’s hands, then backed out of the chamber. Vasenu stared at his brother. Ele looked as if he hadn’t slept either.

  “The death chants for Father are tomorrow,” Vasenu said.

  “I would like to be present for those.” Ele rubbed his wrists.

  Vasenu nodded. “He was afraid of this, you know.”

  “I know,” Ele said.

  “He wanted us to work together.”

  “But he trained us both to lead.”

  Vasenu turned his back. His throat had gone dry. He surveyed the room for a moment, thinking how meaningless the rule was to him, alone. Then he unsheathed his sword and whirled around. Ele cringed. The fear in his brother’s eyes made Vasenu hesitate.

  “He trained us to work together,” Vasenu said. “We don’t work well apart. But”—he tossed the sword to Ele. Ele caught it with one hand—”if you want this rule so badly, take it. Kill me here and no one will question you. You will be able to rule, no matter how I die.”

  Ele stared at the sword in his hand, and then looked at his brother. Vasenu didn’t flinch. He had thought about this for hours, knowing it to be the only way. If Ele killed him, then Ele wanted to be King badly enough to protect it against anything. Vasenu didn’t have that desire. He held his hands at his side.

  Ele took a step forward, sword out. He took another step, so close that all he had to do was place the tip against Vasenu’s stomach and shove. Ele lifted the sword, tested its weight, and then dropped it. It clanged against the marble floor and skittered off to one side. Neither brother watched it go.

  “I was angry when I didn’t get the kingship,” Ele said. “I’ll not lie to you about that. You would have been angry too. But I never betrayed you. Tarne asked me to and I said no. He ordered your death. And he kidnapped me. Do you think that if I were leading those troops I would have been alone in the caves, undefended? Would you have done that?”

  Vasenu glanced at the sword at his feet. He would have thrown his entire self into the rebellion if he had been leading it. And he would have been angry at not getting the throne too. They had been raised together. Each was the other’s closest companion. They complemented each other. Even the heart readers had said that when they did their reading. One heart was the exact opposite of the other. Vasenu had felt as if he had been operating without one half of himself—and he had been.

  “I’ll be your adviser,” Ele said, “or I’ll go away, whichever you want. I even understand if you want to kill me as an example. But know that I never betrayed you.”

  Something had changed in him during the night, something as strong and powerful as the change that had come over Vasenu. “I’m not going to kill you,” Vasenu said. “And I don’t want you to leave. I can barely handle our father’s loss. If you go too, I’ll lose all of my strength.”

  Ele nodded. His face crumpled, and Vasenu could see the pain that had hidden behind the mask. “I’m sorry I got so angry—that I even provided the opening for Tarne.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Vasenu said. He took a step toward his brother, and suddenly they were in each other’s arms, holding each other tightly. They hadn’t done that since they were boys, and Vasenu hadn’t realized how much he had missed such a simple touch.

  “There’s still fighting in the city,” Vasenu said after a while. “We have to stop that. We have to stop Tarne.”

  Ele pulled away. “He’s in the city. If we send in all of our troops, then perhaps we can stop it.”

  “We have to surround it and stop the fighting somehow. All the innocent lives. We have to do something Tarne doesn’t expect.”

  “I know his plans. Let me work with the advisers,” Ele said. “That is, if you give me leave.”

  “I don’t have to.” Vasenu took his brother’s hand and led him forward, to the dais where their lives had changed. “You have the power to do that now. I’m not going to rule alone. We’re going to share this title, as we should have from the beginning.”

  “But Father—”

  “Is dead,” Vasenu said. “And I’ve been thinking about this. Haven’t you wondered why twins were always born to the royal household? One with a pure heart and one without?”

  Ele frowned. “I just thought that was the way of things.”

  “So did Father. But you and I have always worked together—your strengths compensating for my weaknesses, my strengths covering yours. Then heart readers come in and say I’m pure. Yet I killed a man for crossing me yesterday and you have been saying no to death. Perhap
s I am the pure one, the one who understands the consequences, but you’re the one who takes action.”

  “You’re saying that we’re supposed to rule together.”

  Vasenu nodded. “And I think Leanda will be stronger for it.” He clapped his hands. “It’s time to tell the others, and to get things moving as they should.”

  Jene peeked his head in the side door.

  “Send in the advisers,” Vasenu said. He took Ele’s hand and squeezed it. Ele squeezed back. And as the advisers came in, the brothers faced them, together.

  EPILOGUE

  Ten Years Later

  Vasenu stepped into the birthing tent. The air smelled of blood and sweat. It was hot, so hot he wished he wasn’t wearing his formal tunic. Ele already stood against one side, looking awkward and out of place.

  Dania was naked, her distended stomach and swollen breasts heaving. A pillow had been placed at the edge of the couch to catch the little prince when he appeared. Vasenu stood beside his brother, feeling as out of place. They had shared the woman so that paternity would not be questioned. Now they would share the birth.

  The midwives hovered around her. Dania clutched one of their hands and pushed as they commanded. Vasenu could see a bloody head appear between her legs. He took a step forward, but Ele held him back. Birthing was not his place. They were only present due to the grace of the midwives.

  Dania screamed and Ele turned away. Vasenu watched, his hands clutched together. The shoulders appeared next, and then the baby slid into wizened hands that placed him gently on the pillow.

  Dania’s stomach hadn’t lost much of its size. She had been a thin woman and the pregnancy had bloated her into odd proportions. Both brothers had hovered over her like the midwives did now, making sure she ate well and took care of the baby inside her. She had laughed at them and their fussing, but had taken it well. Vasenu liked her, as did Ele, and they had decided not to banish her from the baby as their father had done with their mother.

  Vasenu tapped Ele’s arm and his brother turned around again. Vasenu moved toward the baby, but the midwife held him back. She cleaned the baby’s eyes and nose with one finger, then stuck another in his mouth and emptied it. Vasenu wanted to hold the boy, blood and all, but Ele’s grip on his arm tightened.

  Another head had appeared between Dania’s legs. Twins. Vasenu glanced at Ele, who had gone white. Dania moaned as the shoulders poked through, then another midwife guided the baby next to his brother. Two boys. Twins. Just like every generation before them.

  Dania moaned one final time, and this time, a large bloody mess exited her body. A third midwife caught it, cut it away from the babies and took it out of the tent. Dania leaned back, her entire body covered with sweat.

  Vasenu came forward, kissed her, and then took his son. Ele took the other boy—his son too, since they couldn’t know who fathered them—not caring about the blood that smeared his tunic.

  The fourth midwife turned to open a tent flap.

  “Where’re you going?” Ele asked.

  “To get the womb caster,” the woman said. “We need to know which child will rule.”

  “No fortune-tellers, no superstitions,” Vasenu said. He clutched the warm squirming baby against his chest. “They’ll decide their own future.”

  “Together,” Ele added.

  Then they took their sons and brought them to Dania, placing one in each arm. She held the babies against her breasts, closing her eyes in contentment.

  Vasenu crouched beside her, feeling contented too. The future was assured. He wished, for a moment, that his father was here to see it, but then he decided that his father wouldn’t have understood. They were a new generation with new ways. And they had new sons.

  He took one of the baby’s curled fingers, feeling the tiny grip. He smiled at Ele, who was holding the other baby’s hand. Vasenu could see his own pride and pleasure echoed in his brother’s face. They would share these children, as they had shared everything. And it would be good.

  About The Author

  Award-winning, bestselling writer Kristine Kathryn Rusch has published books under many names and in many genres. Her fantasy novels have been published all over the world. Her most famous, the five novels of the Fey, were recently rereleased in the United States as audio books by Audible.com. She has won the World Fantasy Award and is the former editor of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. She also writes fantasy novels under the name Kristine Grayson. For more information on her work, go to kristinekathrynrusch.com.

  If you liked Heart Readers, you might try these other books by Kristine Kathryn Rusch:

  Dragon’s Tooth

  Fantasy Life

  The Fey: Sacrifice

  The Fey: Changeling

  The Fey: Rival

  The Fey: Resistance

  The Fey: Victory

  Five Fantastic Tales

  White Mists of Power