Page 35 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

34

Bastian

W ord reached me of Cyrus’s latest order just before I was due to report to the queen. I sent my assistant Brynan instead. She would understand.

I charged through the palace corridors and out into the city beyond as it completed its transformation into Tenebris. The dark stone and gathering gloom reflected my mood. Though there should be more fire.

It wasn’t enough for Cyrus to kill my athair—he had ordered his head displayed at the city gates.

Anger didn’t factor in to it. I was past simple anger.

Fae scattered from my path as I stomped towards the walls.

Technically only Braea could countermand Cyrus’s direct order, but I dared anyone to try and stop me on a technicality. My muscles sang, ready to rip apart anything and anyone who got in my way. Shadows swept along with me in a bow wave, harbinger of my arrival.

As I turned onto the road leading to the gates, I couldn’t even speak. My jaw had fused shut from being clenched so hard.

A crowd waited ahead, here to witness Cyrus’s show. They’d better get out of my way. They’d better?—

I stopped in my tracks.

Spikes had been erected above the gates. The murderer’s head was up there alongside the rapist’s. Blood coated another spike, but otherwise it was empty.

Someone glanced over their shoulder, eyebrows rising when they spotted me. They whispered to their neighbour, and one by one, word spread of my arrival.

“Where is he?” I managed through gritted teeth. “ Where ?”

The crowd turned. Each person placed one hand over their heart as they had after the Winter Solstice attack. A traditional sign of respect. They weren’t here to mock my athair’s desecrated remains. Then what?

As I glowered, about to demand they tell me what they’d come for, the group parted, and through the centre came a guard wearing Dawn’s pale grey. He carried a shroud-wrapped bundle.

“Ser,” he said, bowing his head as he reached me. “We’re taking the others down, too. We…” He swallowed. “It isn’t right. And?—”

His gaze skipped past me, and when I turned, I found a retinue of Queensguard arriving. They brought wooden caskets, one marked with my serpent.

They were head-sized, as was the bundle.

Throat tight, I turned to the guard, and he offered me my athair’s head. There was movement up on the walls as Dawn guards worked to remove the rest of the grisly display.

It was past sunset. They were no longer ruled by their king. And they’d used that to…

I blinked at him and took the carefully wrapped load. It was the second time today I’d held my athair , felt his dead weight. It dragged on everything, making the world seem slow and distant, making my feet and thoughts sluggish.

“Her Majesty ordered these be sent,” the head of the Queensguard, Cavall, announced gruffly.

Braea had seen to this personally. The intensity of my gratitude was staggering.

Cavall’s face pinched as they gave me a solemn nod. “These will be buried with the rest of their remains, under the moon, so they may return to the earth with no further interference.”

With numb hands, I lowered my precious load into the serpent-marked box.

Behind me, a woman’s voice rose in a soft lament that called spirits on to the next place.

Cross into the darkness. Let it cradle you.

A deeper voice joined her in haunting harmony.

Cross into the night. Let it be a comfort.

The whole crowd sang now, filling the night streets.

Cross into eternity where we will meet again.

I clutched the casket to my chest, unable to trust my voice to join theirs. If I sang or spoke, I would break, and that wasn’t a luxury the Serpent of Tenebris had—not in public.

I’d come here indignant, ready to rage against anyone who got in my way. I hadn’t expected this.

I made it through hearing the first two verses before I lurched forward and gave the casket to Cavall. With a brisk nod, I left.

There were no plans. No direction or destination. There was only one foot in front of the other over and over. The streets I’d walked my entire life.

The Hall of Healing transformed into black marble now it stood in Tenebris. Narrow alleys with endless steps leading towards the palace. Squares with fountains and wells and little cafés with tables under the stars.

Those tables would normally be full, but tonight I only saw one woman hurrying away, head ducked, a drink in her hand. No families gathered by the fountain sharing the day’s news as a child splashed in the water. The well’s bucket hung empty.

It was as though the city had died today and I walked through its lifeless remains.

The spires were ribs spearing the night. The streets were veins and arteries, now empty of its lifeblood. The palace’s great dome sat above all else—its skull.

I wasn’t sure it had a heart. Or was it just that I’d lost mine?

Eventually, I found myself at his door.

I pressed my hand to it and waited a long while, letting the night air nip at my fingers and nose.

Standing here, I could pretend he was just inside. Hating me or not—I’d take either.

If I knocked, he’d tell me to piss off… or open the door and take me in his arms. I didn’t care. I just needed him to be the other side of this door.

I stood there until my lip trembled and I could hold it in no longer. The house let me in, no key needed, and soft golden lights sprang up, blurring through my tears.

His teapot sat on the side. The same deep blue one he’d always used, despite its chipped lid. A cup waited next to it, as though he’d come back any moment.

Two pairs of slippers and two arm chairs. Like he’d always expected Sylen to join him by the fire.

The only sign anything was wrong was the bloodstain on the rug. Katherine’s, from her nosebleed. Evidence of who I was had been there the whole time.

I had so many questions and no one else could give me answers. But more than that, there were things I needed to tell him. That I still loved him. That I’d stayed away to respect his need to distance, to give him space to hate me. I wanted to talk to him about Kat. He knew and loved her. He would understand why I’d chosen her, and he would smile when I let myself babble on about all the little things I adored about her.

There was so much we’d missed.

With a wordless sound, I sank into the less worn of the two armchairs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The stags my father Sylen had carved stood over me, sentinels on the bookshelves, as I buried my face in my hands and lost myself in still and silent grief.

There was no time until I sensed a presence and finally looked up. Faolán stood in the doorway, blocking the night outside. “You all right?”

I nodded. I even smiled. “I’m fine.” But my voice cracked, and the next thing I knew, I was sobbing in his arms.

“I’ve got you.” His voice rumbled through me. “I’ve always got you.”