Page 24 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

23

Kat

I followed Bastian’s instructions, the dread in me warring with the momentary relief of stepping through a lodestone into Dusk. The air felt different here compared to Dawn. Cooler, like fresh sheets, and scented with jasmine and other night-blooming flowers I didn’t know the name of.

But it was short-lived, as I hurried out of the palace, a borrowed cloak wrapped around me, hood pulled up. The guards nodded as I crossed the bridge, no doubt assuming I was a servant rushing to do my master’s bidding.

I barely registered the streets I hadn’t seen in weeks as I made my way towards Kaliban’s home. But the city’s magic filled me. It was like my chest had been constricted so I could only take shallow breaths, but now I could breathe .

As I turned a corner, I found myself caught in a crowd. Various fae craned to look at something, and I had to shoulder through them. Thankfully the iron bracelet seemed to help, as folk grimaced and edged out of my way.

I half fell out of the huddle and spotted what they’d come to see. Smile dazzling, hair perfect, crown golden and glittering, Cyrus worked his way through a select group of fae. The Kingsguard held back the rest as he shook hands and doled out gifts of jewellery and perfume.

As he clapped one man on the shoulder and shook his hand, he looked out at the crowd, as if posing, and his gaze reached me.

I froze, breath caught in my throat.

But he passed over me, eyes distant.

He hadn’t seen me. Didn’t even pause on the red hair I couldn’t stop spilling from the hood.

I almost laughed as I realised. He didn’t see these people. He only wished to be seen by them. Loved by them. Admired. Worshipped. Adored.

Turning, he continued on his way, eyes flashing when he saw a woman with a little boy of maybe five years old.

“Well, look what the gods have brought us!” Cyrus spread his arms and snatched the child from his mother, holding him high.

“I can fly!” The boy squealed in delight, winning a cheer.

Their pride was palpable. For them, children were a precious rarity—Cyrus had chosen well. They would associate him with that good fortune.

He knew it, holding the boy close for a long while as I worked my way through the edges of the crowd, and watched him from the corner of my eye.

I’d almost made it through when the child starting crying and wriggling. “Ow. It hurts. Too tight.”

As if nothing had happened, Cyrus’s smile remained in place, but he turned his head and whispered in the boy’s ear. The child’s eyes widened and his tears stopped. One corner of his mouth rose, but it didn’t warm my heart.

I knew fear when I saw it.

Wondering what he’d threatened the child with, I hurried away. At last, I reached Kaliban’s home. The magic bristled, on alert, but after a second, it calmed and let me in. With the door shut behind me, I flipped back the rug and opened the secret compartment as he’d instructed.

A blood-stained bundle greeted me. The fabric was a rich, midnight silk, with pinpoints of glittering stars scattered across it. Even amongst fae, it had to be an expensive cloth—the kind you’d find a way to clean.

My earlier dread returned. It felt as though I hadn’t chewed that cake at all.

Swallowing, I took the package. I wasn’t expecting whatever was inside to be so heavy, and it slipped from my grasp and out of the silk, landing with a solid thunk .

An astrolabe as big as my palm and dizzyingly intricate with discs and dials nestled together to chart the movement of celestial bodies.

I’d gathered from Bastian that orreries and astrolabes were deeply personal items gifted for special occasions like coming of age or passed from parents to children, just as his orrery had come from his baba Sylen. Did Kaliban mean to give this to Bastian now? Did he think he was going to…?

I shook away the thought and grabbed the astrolabe, standing as I did. I needed to get back. For protection, I placed it face down on the silk together with a note that had also fluttered out of the package.

The air went thick as I blinked at the astrolabe’s back. Inscribed in the gold surface was Dusk Court’s crescent moon and nine-pointed star with a crown above. The royal family’s insignia.

I blinked again, though it seemed to take an age as pressure built in my ears.

The note. I stared, unable to make sense of it, but the words “my baby” leapt out at me, and it was signed, in a wandering hand, “Nyx.”

Pain as sharp and sudden as a stick breaking in a silent forest cracked through my head.

My face tingled. I stumbled and shielded my eyes, the world too bright.

“What’s…?” But my voice came from far away as a ringing sound blocked my ears, rising in pitch with each moment.

The memory of Sura’s voice reached me but I couldn’t make sense of the words. I reached for them, but found myself falling, falling, falling.

Blood. Fresh, not from the shawl. Drops on my hand, on the astrolabe, on the floor.

My blood.

A woman on the bridge, hands cradling her round belly.

I was dying. The pain. Fuck. The pain .

It was opening me up. Blasting me apart.

She falls, arrows piercing her body.

The floor jolted through me at last, but the rich, dark wood had turned grey, and my blood was black. Darkness haunted the edges of my vision.

The river rips at her. She curls around the little life inside. But the rocks are cruel.

Each image was a gunshot. Fragmenting. Obliterating. Only a circle of light remained, showing the leafy pattern of Kaliban’s rolled up rug.

She washes up on shore at last. Alone. Soaked. Stomach heaving as though it wants to flush out anything that might hold her back.

Help.

Help me. I tried to cry out. Something was wrong. My head—splintering.

The pain racks her body. She bites on her leather belt. If she screams, they’ll find her. There’s no hope for her, but maybe…

My last pinhole of light fractured and the shards slipped away into darkness.