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

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Bastian

A fter, I made my way back to the palace, stopping in to check on Vespera. I was waylaid as various guards and servants stopped me to talk about the day’s events. Eventually, I managed to reach the queen’s rooms, ready to make my report to her now the sun had set.

Except I wasn’t ready. Not to see her face, calm and relaxed, like this was just another evening and just another report. It heaped fuel on the smouldering embers that had flared at Cyrus.

“How could you?” I bit out, like part of me didn’t want to speak, but the words were an overwhelming storm.

She looked up from picking out her clothes for the night. At first her eyes widened, but gradually they narrowed as she canted her head in question.

“How could you give her to them?”

She watched me a long while, like she had spotted something new and couldn’t decide what it was. “I assume you meant to include a ‘Your Majesty’ in there.”

My shadows stilled, like they were waiting to see what I would do. I bit the inside of my cheek until a coppery taste flooded my mouth, reminiscent of standing over my father as our blood mingled on the floor.

Just like that night, I needed to take a step back.

“Your Majesty, Albion won’t let this slide. Katherine is their subject. You sent me there for months to reforge that alliance. Now you’ve given her to Dawn as a hostage—they won’t be happy.” I won’t be happy. Hadn’t that crossed her mind?

She cleared her throat and returned the sheer blouse to the drawer. With a solid clunk, she closed it and straightened, lifting her chin. Despite wearing a dressing robe, she was now every inch the Night Queen. “First of all, she isn’t a hostage. She’s an esteemed guest, just like those from Dawn are.”

Semantics. But I ran my tongue over the jagged cut inside my mouth and kept quiet.

She stalked closer. “Second”—she jabbed a finger into my chest—“ you took her on missions. You asked me to let her stay indefinitely. You gave her a ring . You know that has meaning.” Every accusation was punctuated with a poke.

I felt every rebuke and the unfurling implications—barbs inside my chest.

“She is yours and you are hers. Did you think no one would notice? Did you not think about how that might give the Albionic queen a hold over you and me a hold over the girl?”

I could barely shake my head. I had caused this. Allowed it. Helped put her in the line of fire. My rage turned upon itself, hot and bubbling like I was going to be sick.

“Or did you only think with the contents of your trousers?” The queen curled her lip, and for a second I felt what it was to be her enemy.

It was not good.

Not when I’d spent my life serving her. As her Shadow, as a member of the Queensguard, and before that as a stable hand who dreamed of being more.

Now, for a moment, I stood outside. In the face her look, everything I’d ever done crumbled away.

It was as though I’d been thrown from my home into a blizzard with the door slammed shut behind me. And just like shelter in a snowstorm, I needed her. The realm needed her. She was stability, a constant. She and Lucius had delivered us from the terrible wars of succession and we’d had peace for a thousand years. Now he was gone and only she remained.

She huffed a long breath and her cold fury thawed into frustration. “You are not in Albion, however, and the human girl is here in my realm. She may still be a subject of Albion, but your actions have made her a subject of Elfhame, too.”

And there it was.

The agonising truth.

This was my fault. By showing Kat favour, I’d exposed her, but I hadn’t taken enough steps to keep her safe.

“Cyrus wanted her,” Braea went on, a little more herself than the cold queen. “I couldn’t deny him.”

Fuck. Fuck!

I should’ve given her more than a ring—I should’ve sworn myself to her. Properly. A marriage. Then they wouldn’t have been able to separate us. Cyrus wouldn’t have been able to take her.

I swallowed back the bitter taste licking its way up my throat.

“Considering the attackers were from Dusk, I was on the back foot when it came to negotiating. If he’d asked for you, I’d have been hard pressed to say no.” Braea sighed as she turned away.

She yanked the blouse from a drawer and found some trousers to pair with it, then disappeared behind the dressing screen.

When Elthea raised the hair dye, our position might improve. That was some minuscule comfort. In the meantime, I had to bite my tongue and stick to my plan of letting her share her discovery.

By the time Braea emerged, I stood in a tight pool of my own shadows. It felt more like I stood in a pit.

She buttoned the cuff of her pale blue blouse. “Maybe it’s for the best.” She looked up just in time to see me twitch at the comment. Brow knotted, she gave me a pointed look. “You don’t need any more distractions. There must’ve been signs of this attack. You missed them.”

I’d failed her. Myself. Elfhame. Katherine.

I fell deeper into that pit as my thoughts spiralled, as dizzying as going down to the mortuary. Only now, I kept going down, down, down into the unfathomable hells that waited below.

“Oh, Bastian.” Braea squeezed my shoulder. “Remember, it’s only temporary.” She blanketed her earlier harshness with a soft smile. “And who knows? Perhaps her links to Albion will keep a leash on Cyrus.”

I managed a grunt and a vague nod.

Another squeeze before she let go. “Get to bed. You’re dead on your feet and you stink of bonfires.”

I didn’t even have the energy to argue. Without another word, I made my way back to my rooms. I shrugged off my jacket, caught up in the simple routine of hanging it up and stretching in the living room doorway, ready to crawl into bed. Without thinking, I called, “Kat?”

But there was no answer.

The jolt of remembering cut through my exhaustion.

My gaze fixed on the settee where she liked to curl up and read. Despite all my magic, she didn’t appear.

I held my breath and listened. There was no hummed tune as she ran a bath or showered.

This was it. She was gone. Truly gone. And not only had I been unable to stop it—I had helped cause it.

My chest heaved as that terrible, searing heat from earlier broke over me. “Fuck this.” I swept an arm across a side table, sending trinkets flying.

They smashed against the wall, and it felt good. Hot and awful and destructive, like the thing inside me that didn’t deserve anything better.

I threw the side table across the room. Glass tinkled. Wood cracked.

I barely knew what I was doing. Barely understood my own thoughts as they spun further and further from control, and I gave myself over to feral rage.

My bellowing became wordless as the room became shards and splinters.

Fuck Cyrus. Fuck Dawn. Fuck me for letting this happen.

Only the Stars knew how long I erupted until, finally, I searched for the next thing to break.

And found nothing left.

I held a chair leg like a club, muscles tight and ready. But there was no enemy to strike and no object to crush into tiny pieces.

I met my own gaze in the shards of mirror still clinging to the frame. My hair was a mess. My eyes glowed like some kind of unholy fire above the dark circles that gathered underneath.

But my shadows only pooled around me. They hadn’t joined in the destruction as though I was doing exactly what they would, given free rein.

Surrounded by a kingdom of ruin, I looked every inch the wicked, wild unseelie everyone feared.

Grimacing, I turned from my reflection. I could carry all this into my workroom. Tomorrow, I would begin fixing it.

But no, they were just things, and I was a fool to think I could achieve anything by fixing them.

I flung the chair leg into the fire, sending sparks flying.

“Are you done?”