Page 30 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

29

Kat

F rom that moment on, I carried the vial in my bodice, ready for my opportunity to search his rooms again.

I didn’t have to wait long.

The next afternoon, Cyrus kept us all in the dining hall after lunch, ordering our glasses refilled with a deep berry coloured fae wine.

Strong and dangerous.

I dodged refills and surreptitiously spilt a little here and there. When he wasn’t looking, I even poured some of mine into his glass so he would think I’d taken more than a sip.

For a heart-stopping moment, I found the younger of the rose-gold-haired sisters watching me as I poured. Shit. She already disliked me, but had been less outwardly hostile since I’d arrived in Dawn.

I winked at her as though this was a fun prank to play on the king and not part of a larger plan.

She didn’t look particularly amused, but she slid her attention away without raising the alarm.

As we drank and laughed, the chatter grew more raucous, and they shared stories of hunting trips. Or at least, that was what I thought they meant when they spoke about “chasing him through the forest.” That had to be a stag, right?

“I had him take his clothes off and dance for me,” the fae continued. Glass in hand, she pointed at the rest of the table. “And the best thing was? He was tiny—tiny!” She held up her little finger and dissolved into peals of laughter.

Most of the others joined in, but I froze.

A human. She was talking about hunting a human . She’d used charm to make him strip and perform for her, and now she was telling it as an amusing dinner party tale.

“Ah, now, look.” Cyrus recovered from his laughter, turning to me. “You’ve upset my human. Come here, little thing.” He patted his lap.

This was it. I took a gulp of the sweet-sharp wine, taking courage from the warm haze it spread through me.

Standing up and taking two steps to him felt like it took a century. My stomach protested, curdling around lunch and the small amount of wine I’d actually consumed.

Get on with it .

I sank onto his lap, letting him slide an arm around my waist.

“There, that’s better isn’t it? Some of us don’t need charm, do we?” He squeezed me against him, breathing sour-sweetness over my skin as his gaze wavered like he was struggling to stay focused.

Nearly there. I needed to get him drunk enough that his lack of memory and passing out would seem a result of that. But I didn’t want him so drunk that we didn’t make it to his room.

He jerked his head up to the rest of the table. “We’ll have no more talk of charming the inferior species. No.” A wicked smirk lit his face. “Instead, look at my pretty little thing.” He jiggled his knee up and down, bouncing me.

With the intent of false seduction, I’d worn the lowest cut dress I had in Dawn, and the bouncing motion threatened to make me spill out.

There was nothing false about my gasp as I covered my chest, desperately trying to keep it inside my bodice… together with the little bottle.

The fae laughed.

Face burning, I caught Caelus’s gaze as he frowned and looked away. It was one thing choosing to be watched, commanding him to take in my naked body, but this?

Old shame flooded me. I was a girl once more, Father’s voice harsh in my mind, reminding me of the need to be demure, chaste, pure, otherwise I would be worth nothing.

In the hot springs, I had been the one in charge, but here, I was a plaything to be humiliated.

Cyrus’s hot breath brushed my neck as he gave a dark laugh. “I would say I was sorry, darling little creature,” he murmured, “but you know I cannot lie. I’m going to have you today, and once I’m done, I think I’ll share you. I’ve seen how Caelus looks at you—I’m sure he’d love the chance.” He squeezed my thigh. “Word will get back to Bastian, and I know you want to see him humiliated after he’s hurt you so much.”

Not helping the spilling situation was my heaving chest. This would be my chance. Much as his words disgusted me, I needed to smother all that I felt, all that I thought, the indignation that he hadn’t asked if I wanted to fuck him or be shared.

I stamped it down and made myself turn into the touch of his lips on my throat. “I don’t think the Bastard gives a damn what’s done to me.”

Another dark laugh wafted my hair. “I don’t believe that for a second. When he hears that I’ve had you, it will eat at him. When word spreads that half the fae in Dawn Court have had what was his, he’ll look a fool.”

Half the fae in Dawn Court . Fuck. Fuck . That vial wasn’t going to work on all of them. I was in over my head. So far over. I was drowning.

But fear wasn’t going to help.

So I stamped that down too and slipped an arm around his neck, letting my body press against his, even though it screeched at me to run and never look back.

He pulled away and gripped my chin. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy it. That’s half the fun, letting them see me make you come undone, knowing that your body is mine to play with.” His nose wrinkled as he grinned, making it almost a snarl. “That snake will hear you all the way in Dusk.”

My pulse thundered. He had to see it leaping in my throat. My face had to be red. I managed to swallow and touched my chest, breathing out his name as though my reaction was one of excitement and not horror.

He leant in for a kiss and horror won out. I turned my head.

No. No. No. I needed to do whatever it took to get another look at the information in his room of collections.

Think fast, Kat . I looked down, playing coy, making myself small. “Not in front of everyone, Cyrus. Not our first time.”

“Hmm.” He pressed a hard kiss on my cheek instead. “Silly humans and their silly ideas. I thought the Bastard might’ve trained you out of them, but it seems you need a firmer hand. Very well, Katherine.” He pinched my chin and forced me to look him in the eye. “To my rooms, then.”

“At last,” I breathed.

I weaved through the corridors alongside him, like I was drunk too, giggling when I tripped up a step. At one point, he pulled me against him and nuzzled against my throat, squeezing my arms so hard I knew there would be bruises.

It made me sick to pretend to enjoy it, sighing and writhing. I dared to grip the vial hidden in my bodice, a reminder that I had a plan, and it was only because of that I maintained control.

He tried to kiss me again, but head down, I reminded him of my need for privacy. I prayed to the gods it would make him forget any ideas of sharing me, but I had a feeling this was one of those many times they wouldn’t hear.

With each step, dread filled me. What if the potion didn’t work? What if I didn’t get a chance to give it to him? What if I had to go through with this?

We continued on our way, but he pressed on faster now, hand wrapped around mine.

He threw the doors open, and I peered around like I’d never seen the place before. I made the sounds a fae king would expect from a mere human upon seeing his grand royal suite, my ooh s and aah s deliberately suggestive.

Watching me, he smirked and sauntered in. Or, at least, I think he meant to saunter, but the alcohol was catching up to him, making his course through the room crooked.

Nearly there.

I spotted an ornate side table set up with a decanter and glasses and made a beeline for it. “Shall I fetch Your Majesty a drink?”

“I have to say, Katherine”—he plopped into a seat, head swinging back without control—“I had so many plans for you… showing you off, sharing you, making you cry and beg… but maybe I like you more than I expected, because I find myself wanting to keep you to myself… for a little while at least.”

Midway through pouring a drink, I glanced over my shoulder at him like he was paying me a compliment.

Arrogant prick .

Unlike when I’d poisoned Bastian’s drink at the wedding ceremony, my hands didn’t shake as I dripped the concoction into one of the glasses. A quick swirl and all traces of it disappeared.

I dropped into the seat beside him, careful not to spill his drink, and looked up at him, like I was so small and he was so big and powerful.

“Yes.” He smiled slowly, pupils growing wide as he looked down at me. “I find myself liking you very much, my pretty little thing.”

“ Oh .” I let my mouth drop open as though I was a girl from a fairy story, chosen by a fae king and not a woman with only terrible options.

He didn’t like me. He didn’t even know me. Whenever I was around him, I made sure I reflected nothing of myself, only what he wanted. That was what he liked.

But if I could keep fooling him into thinking he liked me, I just might buy myself time.

I offered his drink, watching intently as he took it and swirled it.

As I clinked my glass to his, I had to bite back a smile.

Because the high pitched ring of the glasses broke through the sickness swirling in my stomach and the tightness of my chest.

I wasn’t the victim here.

I was the snake in the grass, ready to strike, and he was my victim.

I wasn’t small, just hidden—a threat he didn’t see because he underestimated it. With my poison blocked, he thought I’d been declawed.

But it was a different poison in the glass he lifted to his lips. Maybe even one he’d supplied unCavendish with to use on Bastian.

Such beautiful symmetry.

I let myself smile.

He frowned as he gulped down his drink, one hand already wandering to my bodice, as though he planned to get the drinks out of the way and get to business.

I didn’t so much as flinch when he touched my breast, because his eyes blinked slowly once, twice, three times, and his grip weakened.

“Oh, Cyrus,” I cooed, catching his glass as I swung over and straddled him. It needed to be clear where this was heading, so when he couldn’t remember the rest, he’d fill in the gaps for himself.

“That’s it.” He slurred the words into one sound, head rolling as he fought to keep it upright. He was still aware enough to grab my arse.

Come on. Pass out, you vile toad . I pressed against him, getting closer like I was going to kiss him. Any second now would be perfect.

When I was half an inch from his lips, his grip dropped from my backside and his eyes rolled. I caught his head as it fell and slipped a cushion under it. He needed to think this had all gone perfectly, and a bump on the back of his head would ruin that.

I stayed there a long moment, hands braced on the back of the settee, checking his chest rose and fell steadily. I prodded him and clapped by his ear—no reaction. “Cyrus,” I shouted in his face.

Nothing. His whole body was slack like someone in a deep sleep.

Perfect.

Still, I found myself lingering. If I had a knife, I could end this all now. I had poison, yes, but there was something more satisfying about the idea that I could cut his throat and he’d be powerless to stop me.

The fantasy of blood filled my vision, and the part of me that had been made cruel salivated at the thought.

But I would just be a human from Dusk Court murdering Dawn’s king. I had no proof of what he’d done. It might satisfy my vicious streak, but it would only make things between the courts worse and get me executed.

I allowed myself one indulgence. My hand rang against his cheek in a gratifying slap. I relished the way my palm stung.

But I couldn’t stay here and pummel him. So, with a sigh, I crawled off the unconscious king.

First, I went to his bedroom to see what was blocking the secret entrance and whether I could move it.

I stopped in the doorway, eyes wide.

An enormous mirror stood at the foot of his bed, covering most of the wall. I had never seen one so huge.

It was the most Cyrus thing he could’ve done.

Laughing to myself, I made my way to his room of collections and picked the lock.

But while one mirror had appeared, the other had disappeared. There was no sign of the scrying mirror where I’d left it or in the display cabinets or any of the remaining boxes (most of which had been unpacked and cleared now).

The letters from Sura sat in a stack on the desk at the far end of the room. They’d been tied neatly with a ribbon, like he’d recently sorted through them. In fact, now I examined them again, I realised the worn edges suggested they’d been handled a great deal. I clenched and unclenched my hands. If I took one, it would be missed.

“Shit.”

No scrying mirror. No letters.

I couldn’t have risked so much for nothing.

I charged through the rest of his suite looking for something— anything that might prove useful. I searched through bookshelves and drawers, down the back of the armchair, up the inside of the fireplace. Eventually I found myself back in his bedroom, rattling through the armoire.

Gold and scarlet glistened as I rifled through the embroidered suits and shirts. Blinking, I flicked back.

The jacket he’d worn in the throne room during the eclipse. The thread that matched the fake Hydra Ascendant insignias the attackers had worn that day and at the Winter Solstice. I sighed with my whole body.

As evidence went, this was as flimsy as the thread itself. Huffing, I continued working my way through the room. A book on the bedside table caught my eye—I didn’t have Cyrus down as much of a reader.

When I saw the title, I gasped. This was the book I’d found reference to in the library—the one that spoke of the gauntlet but that I hadn’t been able to find a copy of. Feverishly, I skimmed through it, searching for anything to do with the Crown. At last, I came across the passage that had been translated in the other book. But here, in the original older form of High Valens, it read slightly differently.

“The gauntlet leads to the Underworld. The anointed one must call and the way will open.”

I read it three times, checking I hadn’t mistranslated. Not the “world beneath” but the Underworld. To get the Crown of Ashes, you had to travel to to the unseelie realm.

I gave a frustrated growl. What an idiot. How hadn’t I realised sooner?

And the mirror . If I had it, I could speak to someone in the Underworld. Bastian’s father or someone else—whoever it was, they might know more.

But there was no sign of the damn thing, and I found nothing else useful in Cyrus’s suite.

So, with a sigh, I returned to the lounge. There was one more thing I had to do before I could leave.

Grimacing, I peeled off Cyrus’s shirt and unbuttoned his trousers. I grunted as I tried to pull them off and almost fell over in the attempt, but eventually I had him naked and sprawled on the settee. To add to the effect, I knocked a few cushions on the floor.

He looked like he’d had a good evening, but the tableau wasn’t quite complete. It didn’t say that I’d been here.

Before I could overthink it, I wriggled out of my underwear and tucked the flimsy lace under him. That had to be enough to persuade him that we’d fucked, right?

Right ?

I scrubbed my face and stole away from his suite, pulling up the shoulder of my gown as an extra show for the guards waiting at the doors.

Their whispers followed me through the halls.

The sun had set by the time I slipped into my room, head hanging, heart sore. I needed this to be over before I had to give any more of myself.