Page 19 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

18

Kat

T he rest of the afternoon, I paced, the knowledge buzzing inside me.

Cyrus’s lover was Sura. That mirror was the one Nyx had used to contact her unseelie lover.

It haunted me all night, too, merging with nightmares about unCavendish, except his face kept flickering between Cavendish and Cyrus.

The next morning, when the orrery on the mantlepiece whirred to eleven o’clock, I slipped out. There was a particular garden room Sepher and his friends had taken to occupying. It seemed the best place to find him, so I could give him the fountain pen that sat in my pocket, evidence of my theft from a king. I needed to get rid of it. Clipped footsteps marked my route through the palace.

Could Sura be behind the letter from Cyrus’s office? Even if the writing was different, she might’ve dictated it to a secretary or disguised her handwriting or…

I shook my head, the possibilities crowding in.

Did Cyrus know she was alive?

And the mirror. Could that be used to contact Nyx’s lover? He had every reason to hate Braea—could he be an ally against her?

I didn’t know for sure that she’d offered me to Cyrus, but I wouldn’t be surprised. At best, it seemed likely she’d worked with Cyrus to select me. He got his hands on Bastian’s lover, while she had me out of the way.

After the veiled threat she’d given me outside the palace’s side entrance, I had no doubts she would welcome any opportunity to remove me from the board.

I turned the corner and a shadow loomed from an alcove. Tall and red-haired, for the briefest second, I thought Sepher had found me. But this hair was paler, and the smile that greeted me was far colder.

“Here she is at last, my elusive niece.” Uncle Rufus blocked my path.

“Uncle.” His timing was so irritating, I barely managed half a fake smile. It was growing harder to pretend to be an obedient niece when I had much bigger problems and much more powerful villains to contend with. “How good to see you. I was just on my way?—”

“To see me, I hope. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for over a week. Surely you received my messages?”

I’d burned them, unread. The thought of having something in my possession that came from him made my skin crawl. Blinking, I cocked my head as though confused. “You know, it doesn’t appear I have. My guard is rather zealous about what—and who reaches me.” I glanced around as though Amandine might appear at any moment, and for once I wished she would.

He made a sound that was part thoughtful, part dismissive. “Then we need a more in-depth conversation than I realised.” Lifting his chin, he stepped into my space, until I had no choice but to back into the alcove. “About Viscount Fanshawe’s estate.” His slow smile made my insides squirm, as I pressed against the wall. “Your late husband and I had an agreement that would alleviate his financial woes.”

I stiffened. I had been the one to suffer Robin’s financial disasters. I was the one who’d worked her fucking arse off to solve them. What the hells was he doing making agreements about what would happen to my estate?

“We agreed I would purchase the land for a large lump sum and rent it back to him at a fair rate for the remainder of his lifespan, with the understanding I would leave it to any legitimate offspring that might arise from your union.” His gaze trailed down to my belly, and a sneer spoiled his benevolent smile.

Well, no offspring were ever going to happen with Robin. But my mind snagged on the “remainder of his lifespan.” Now he was dead, what did that mean?

“And do you have a signed agreement to this effect? Did he sell to you before he died?”

He flinched, eyes skipping back to mine. “It was a gentlemen’s agreement. No money had changed hands.”

That was something. But it still left more questions. Where did Uncle Rufus get that kind of money? And why would he help Robin?

Viscount Fanshawe .

Of course. That was why. The estate came with a title. Wasn’t that what Uncle Rufus had always wanted? The second son who’d spent a lifetime aggrieved that his brother had inherited. Buying Markyate Cell was his way to become, at last, a lord with a title, an estate, and unbridled access to the very highest echelons of Albionic society.

He was so predictable, I could’ve laughed.

“Unfortunately, Uncle Rufus, without a written contract or any exchange of money, your verbal agreement died with the Viscount Fanshawe, and Markyate remains my estate.” I smiled innocently, like I was merely reciting facts and not enjoying every word.

His face grew red and he lurched closer. Every fibre in me squirmed away as my hand flew to my throat, afraid—so, so afraid he would grab me again.

Stupid girl. I had to remember my place. What he could do. And most of all—the fact that, without my magic, I wasn’t untouchable.

“You have nothing. You are nothing.” His voice boomed, echoing off the alcove walls, no longer kept quiet by the veneer of gentlemanly civility. “Or do you need another lesson in duty?”

“That’s not a very nice way to speak to one of my brother’s guests.” Sepher’s voice cut through the air, making my uncle jolt upright.

Rufus took a step back, turning, and we found the prince behind him, lounging against a statue, cleaning his claws. But unlike when he’d snuck up on me earlier, there was a thread of tension thrumming through him, like a bowstring released a moment earlier. He glanced up from his apparently idle work, but his claws caught the light, all of them unsheathed.

A reminder of what he was and the fact he needed no weapon.

“Your Highness.” Rufus gave a brief, tight smile. “This is a family matter.” He turned back to me, blocking Sepher out.

“You misunderstand the way things work in Elfhame, little man.” A growl edged the prince’s words as he loomed over my uncle. “She is Dawn’s before she is yours.”

Rufus blinked, swallowed, turned, and I found myself holding my breath.

“You might make your little deals, trading our goods to your people,” Sepher went on, voice terribly low. “You might even have made yourself very rich by human standards. But don’t think that makes you a person of importance. You have no place in our court. You are nothing. You’re only here as long as we suffer your presence, and right now my patience is in short supply. Get out of my sight before it runs out.”

Again, my uncle’s throat bobbed and the raging pleasure of seeing his brow sweat bloomed in me, fierce and hot like a desert flower. He paused as if waiting for Sepher to step back and give him space to leave the alcove.

Sepher didn’t move.

Instead, Uncle Rufus had to squeeze past as he had made me do so many times. He glanced over his shoulder with a look that said this wasn’t over, but in that moment, I could’ve kissed Sepher.

I leant against the wall. “Thank you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What for? I can’t stand the man. He fawns over my brother constantly and he is in-fucking-sufferable. Getting rid of him was a favour to no one but myself.” He shook off that thrumming tension, like a sabrecat shaking off irritating flies, and stepped back. “I’m guessing you have something for me. Come on.” He opened the door to the garden room and ushered me inside.