Page 43 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

42

Kat

I entered the masquerade a little late, which by fashionable fae standards was the perfect moment. Sepher escorted me on one arm and Zita on the other, and he absolutely looked smug about the fact. He’d arranged for Celestine to walk on my other side, bracketing me from view.

“It seems a shame to keep such a gem hidden, but I think it best we keep you away from my brother as much as possible today.” Yet the look he gave me was more sharp than protective, like he also saw me as prey.

I shifted, the iron bracelet settling against his sleeve.

Almost imperceptibly, he flinched and the way he looked at me changed.

I wasn’t a hapless victim. Not anymore.

And the outfit I wore wasn’t easily hidden, especially contrasted with Zita’s grey gown and matching mask.

Ari had taken my brief and made a skin-tight body suit that covered me from ankle to wrist and throat. The colours blended to the brighter sunrise tones from my waist upwards. Cupping every curve, it fitted so seamlessly, it looked as though the glittering crystals were attached directly to my skin. Over my arms and bust, the top edge of the crystals mimicked an off-the- shoulder neckline, fading into a sheer fabric that blended into my tan skin, and that in turn ended with a gold collar.

Unlike the gold dress, I was in no danger of spilling out if, for some reason, I needed to run.

I never could shake practicality.

She had even encrusted a pair of shoes in midnight toned crystals to match, so they flowed into the bodysuit. My mask was a copper sunburst with glittering strands that blended into my hair.

I had to give it to Ari, she was an absolute master of her art, and even though the fabric clung to me in every place possible, it allowed me to move like a second skin. I walked with my head high.

Sepher glanced at me and made an approving sound. He wore a leafy green mask and matching shirt, which hung open even wider than usual as if to make up for the fact his face was hidden.

I wasn’t sure of his motivations. He was no hero, but at least he didn’t pretend to be one like Cyrus did, and he seemed to have some level of respect for me. I would take him over his brother.

Just like I would take Bastian on the Moon Throne over Braea. But that was a problem for another day. One monarch at a time.

At my side, Celestine craned, searching the crowd with a little bounce in her step.

What had her so excited? But I couldn’t tell who or what she was searching for, and instead I used her as cover to scan the glittering ballroom.

I spotted Bastian’s hair quickly—a single point of utter blackness that made all other colours seem washed out. His back was to me, though, but I met Ella’s gaze through her peacock mask. We exchanged subtle nods. All was well for our plans. We just needed to wait for Krae’s message to give us the exact place and time for the meeting.

Bastian looked down at her and seemed about to turn, but Ella placed a hand on his arm and whispered something. I was sure she warned him not to turn and look at me.

Play the game.

After all, it was coming to a close, pieces making their final manoeuvres, ready to declare checkmate.

I turned my back on them and accompanied Sepher, Zita, and Celestine through the crowd. We managed to avoid Cyrus as we smiled and chatted, accepting drinks whenever they were offered. If I was seen avoiding alcohol, people would question why I needed my wits about me. Every so often, Sepher and Celestine swapped glasses with me, so I only drank the occasional sip.

My heart pounded in anticipation of meeting Krae and finally ending this ordeal. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the ornate orrery that stood at one end of the ballroom. Even the music’s beat seemed to count down.

Soon. Soon .

I dared a glance at Bastian. I’d kept track of him on the periphery of my vision. The darkness, I longed for.

“Ah, there she is.” Cyrus’s voice rang out over the music and the crowd. “Come here, my pretty little thing.”

The music stopped. The crowd parted.

I turned and smiled.

He wore gold. Of course he wore fucking gold. Cyrus was about as predictable as a winter cold and even more unwelcome.

No mask. I would bet a lot of money he didn’t want to cover his face. Legs and arms spread, he was sprawled on his throne, apparently relaxed. But as I obeyed his summons, I caught a glimpse of the tension edging his smirk.

Danger . My heart whispered it with each beat.

Yet, I had to walk into that danger.

The crowd formed a corridor leading to him. Their eyes were on me. Their murmurs were about my outfit.

When I reached the foot of the dais, I bowed, slow and deep, and the king preened, clearly happy to have a public display of my obedience.

“Leave us.” He sent away the cronies gathered around him, then beckoned me. “Closer.”

I sauntered up the steps.

“Closer,” he repeated, patting his leg when I reached the top.

Run. Danger. Run!

But instincts didn’t play by the rules of this game. They were wild things and thought we could do whatever we wanted. That wasn’t true.

It had never been true.

We had to skirt their rules and seem to believe in them. We had to wear the smiling mask, while inside we nursed our poison and vitriol until we could use them as tools for our hidden rage.

So I sat on his lap and let him lift my chin as the music resumed.

“My naughty little thing.” A dark flicker entered his eyes as he said it, setting my teeth on edge. “You are only mine , aren’t you?”

I frowned like it was a strange question. “Of course, my king. Of course . Who else would I belong to?”

He made a low sound, snatching his hand and attention away. There was a cut on his knuckles.

The ill feeling iron left in my stomach doubled. Zita was right. Something was very wrong. He’d never questioned me like this before. And that cut… he’d hit somebody. One of the servants he’d killed? But he wouldn’t think I had cheated on him with one of them.

Draping myself over him, I surreptitiously scanned the crowd, not for Bastian this time, but for who wasn’t here.

Ella, Rose, Ari, and Perry. Asher, Lysander, Faolán. Sepher and Zita and their friends. Brynan and his partner, Gael. I counted the Convocation members, though I didn’t know them well.

Caelus. There was no sign of Caelus. Guards had seen me entering the hot springs with him. Had word reached the king?

“Not searching for him, are you?” Cyrus’s voice, soft yet sharp in my ear.

I blinked, innocent and confused. “I was merely enjoying the outfits.”

He made a dismissive sound and ran a hand up my thigh. “I’m enjoying the thought of tearing this one off you later, particularly as I can’t remember much about the last time I had you. I’ll be sure not to drink so much today.”

My throat closed. Shit. Not today. We would act quickly, but I wasn’t sure we could get a king dethroned in an afternoon. I needed an excuse.

I caught his hand, stopping its path. “But… I’m not sure how I feel after you killed Kaliban. Whatever he might have done, he helped me.”

His nose wrinkled, somewhere between a sneer and a snarl. He pulled his hand free and caught me by the throat, sliding his palm up it so I had to meet his gaze.

Mine. Mine. My body is mine . I had to remind myself, but it worked. I didn’t try to go away or get dragged into that memory.

“Don’t you adore me anymore, Katherine?” He said my name slowly, dragging out the syllables until it became a threat. “Or is it that you’re afraid of your beloved Bastian seeing us? Perhaps your allegiances lie elsewhere after all.”

“No.” I leant into his touch to prove my point. “Not at all. I just…” I fluttered my lashes, looking away. “You look so strong up here and… I confess I’m a little afraid.” I said it on a shaky breath, like it excited me a little, too.

“ Good .” He kissed the corner of my jaw, squeezing my cheeks so my teeth dug in.

Despite the pain, I let out a little breath of relief and forced myself to run my fingers through his hair and caress his pointed ear. I was his lover. He was happy with me. All was well. All was well .

“After all,” he whispered right in my ear, grip growing harder, “you were heard enjoying yourself yesterday.”

Blood flooded my mouth. I clung to its coppery taste instead of letting fear drag me away.

“A man might wonder what his lover was up to without him… or who she was up to it with.”

Shit. All was not well.

Someone had heard me with Bastian. We hadn’t been careful enough.

“That’s right. The guards heard you,” he went on. “They assumed it was me, that I was waiting in your rooms. But we both know that wasn’t the case, don’t we?”

I could barely swallow.

“I didn’t set them straight. I can’t have everyone knowing my little fuck creature has fucked someone else. Not when I’m the king, and you didn’t have my permission.”

“Your Majesty, I—I didn’t have anyone else,” I managed to whisper around his grip. More cuts opened up inside my mouth, strengthening the metallic taste. “We haven’t… you know … in so long, and I needed relief, so I… I touched myself and thought of you.”

My jaw sagged with relief when he released me. As he threw his head back and laughed, the jagged little cuts throbbed.

I forced my mouth shut, despite fresh pain lighting up with every movement. His laughter was unreadable. He could believe me and be pleased with my answer. He could be about to erupt. I had to believe in my lie if I was going to make him believe it, too.

So I shifted further up his lap like I wanted— needed to be close to him, and he squeezed me in, catching me in his trap.

His gaze landed somewhere out in the crowd as his laughter died to a smirk. “My poor little thing, so starved of attention.” He kissed my throat and worked his way down, hand clamping on my hip.

I couldn’t squirm. I couldn’t pull away. Instead, I held still, pretending my tension was focus on his touch.

When he reached my cleavage, right at the top edge of the crystal neckline, he bit down. Hard.

I flinched, but caught my pain between my teeth, making no sound. What the fuck was he doing? Was this…?

But I realised as he pulled away, my blood on his lips, teethmarks on my skin—his eyes were still fixed out on the crowd.

I followed his gaze.

Bastian stood there, staring at me, at the marks Cyrus had left. From twenty feet, I could feel how tightly he held himself, thrumming like a bowstring.

Calm down and look away, Bastian. Look away . I shouted it in my thoughts. If he didn’t, Cyrus would realise we’d been playing him all this time, and we were so nearly done.

We had almost won.