Page 39 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

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Bastian

A maya’s words reached me as I found the first body. Clad in black, grey, and darkest green, with soft leather boots and a hood, she was dressed for stealth rather than battle. I pulled back the fitted jacket, revealing the Hydra Ascendant insignia over her chest. Crimson and gold. Not scarlet. The differences in the two designs were stark, now I’d studied them. This was the real thing.

Who was “the anointed one” and what were they meant to do? How did Sura mean to find the Crown of Ashes here of all places? There had to be one final piece she needed in order to reach it—something that had been under our noses the whole time.

Drawing my dagger, I summoned darkness to shroud me and hurried towards the trees. More of the dead, all dressed the same, wounds bloody and steaming in the night air. Who had killed them? The Wild Hunt took souls rather than cutting down mortal bodies, so it didn’t seem their wardstones had failed.

The trail led to the Great Trees and a figure emerging from their ancient shade.

Braea rubbed a bloody smear from her cheek, scowling.

A sickly sensation stole over me—the cold presence of iron. Metal gleamed in her hand, partially covered by her sleeve. An iron blade?

She looked up and stopped dead. “ You . You’ve come for me. At last.”

As my shadows abated, I swallowed down the bitter taste at the back of my throat. “I came as soon as I realised something was wrong.”

“Bastian.” She exhaled, eyes easing shut. “I was just about to send for you. You always know my needs—sometimes before I do.” She glanced over her shoulder and turned back with a stern set to her jaw. “The sacred ground of the trees has been sullied. It needs clearing up.”

The bodies. It would cause an outrage if it was discovered, and Dusk would be blamed, since it had happened during her rule, and, judging by the blood, at her hand. “Of course.” I nodded, biting down on all the questions. What had happened? What had she done? Where was Sura?

“Thank you, Bastian. Sometimes I think you’re the only one I can trust.” She approached, stopping when she drew level with me. With a deep sigh, she cupped my cheek. “You’re the grandson I should’ve had. It may sound foolish, but sometimes I see my daughter in you.”

I held very still. Had she guessed? The emotion in her voice felt real, calling to my yearning to know more of my mother.

She smiled sadly. “If you weren’t half unseelie, I would’ve made you my heir. But some things aren’t meant to me.” She shook her head, gaze shifting to the palace beyond as she patted my cheek and let her hand fall. “This has to be done quickly and quietly. Tell no one what you find.”

I bowed my head as though this was a completely normal request and my chest wasn’t a storm of feelings I couldn’t master or understand. She disappeared behind hedges leading away.

I wanted to go back with her, back to the palace, back to this morning, when I’d met with her before sunrise, back before that to a time when I didn’t know she was my grandmother and might have killed my mother.

Whatever I would discover beneath the trees—it could be nothing good.

As I approached the Great Yew and the Great Oak, the darkness pressed in, deeper than my shadows. A form lay on the ground face-down, silent and still.

Before I turned her over, I knew.

It was Sura. Dead.

I would get no answers to my questions. There would be no negotiation.

I scrubbed my face, pushing away what this meant for me. Bastian had to squash his needs and let the Serpent do his work.

What did the scene tell me? They were the only answers I’d get now.

Her blood soaked into the soil from a single stab-wound. Efficient and precise. A red mark darkened her temple.

They’d fought. Braea had managed to hit Sura in the head, stunning her long enough for the finishing blow. But it was so neat. A perfect kill.

As I frowned down at her, I realised she held something, and for a moment, it was like Lara lay before me.

Not me . The Serpent. The Bastard. Whatever I needed to be to get through this.

As Kat and I had with Lara, I opened her still-warm hand. Not a pendant this time, but the bright red smear of something crushed.

Berries? I was missing something. Something I should see, some link that would make perfect sense. I dipped my finger in the smear and touched it to the tip of my tongue. Sweet. Overly so. Not something I’d eat for pleasure. And why bring them to a fucking coup?

There was something else caught in the redness—a light, grainy substance. I couldn’t risk consuming more of this mysterious mixture, not when it might’ve contributed to her death. Sura wouldn’t have taken anything Braea had given her, but she might’ve been eating the stuff when Braea found her, and that had affected her ability to fight. Not necessarily a deadly poison, but something that slowed her, granting Braea the advantage.

As carefully as I could, I placed her arms across her body. Her sleeves pulled back, revealing angry marks on her wrists.

Burns.

From iron.

That wasn’t an iron blade Braea had carried gingerly in her sleeve, but cuffs. What magic had she inhibited?

I rewrote the confrontation in my mind.

Fight. Hit on the head. Cuff. Kill.

This was no death in battle. Sura was already a prisoner and subdued. Braea could’ve let her live. We could’ve questioned her.

Instead, Braea had executed her with ruthless efficiency.

I always thought I’d saved Braea the horror of killing her own daughter. I’d killed my father that day. It had been messy and horrific. I was already damned by that action. The guilt and self-loathing had seized me at once. I wanted to save my queen that same torture.

But the wound in Sura’s chest was clean. No marks of hesitation.

Killing in self-defence or to protect the realm, I could understand. This was the ruthless killing of a helpless captive—her daughter . She’d left her face down in the dirt.

We found her on the banks of the river, a tiny baby in her arms. The river had washed the blood from her clothes and snapped the arrows.

I had been able to turn my back on the accusations against Braea when it came to my mother. Sura was far from unbiased. She could believe the queen was responsible for her sister’s death enough to say it, even if he was mistaken.

I’d been clinging on to that idea, because it meant Braea was the person I’d always believed in. The person I’d fought for. And I didn’t want to think ill of her.

But kneeling over Sura’s body, covering her face, so I could carry her away and bury her in secret, I could turn my back no longer.

The truth hadn’t been twisted. Braea had killed my mother.