Page 46 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

45

Kat

A s soon as Cyrus spoke, Bastian jerked upright, placing himself between us and Krae. I’d seen them move at last—unconscious, not dead. Thank the gods.

Cyrus had summoned me here to enjoy the view. Pale marble faces looked out from amongst the wisteria clinging to the palace walls and around the balcony’s edge. Many of the carvings smiled or laughed, while a handful scowled as though the plant’s incursion was more welcome in some quarters than others.

With such a picturesque setting, I’d assumed it was the view of Luminis he wanted me to see, but as soon as I’d spotted Krae in the chair, it became clear our plan was fucked. And seeing Bastian arrive, I realised the view I’d been brought here to witness was his capture.

So long as Cyrus thought I was on his side and had nothing to do with the Krae and Bastian’s meeting, I had a chance to stop this. I just needed to gain the upper hand. Somehow .

I smiled as though catching Bastian unawares was exactly what I wanted, because I only desired what the king beside me did.

From our position at the wisteria-knotted balustrade, Cyrus squeezed me closer, his smirk sharper and more cruel than I’d ever seen. Somehow he’d found out about Bastian’s meeting with Krae, but didn’t seem to know about my involvement.

At least, I hoped not. Though I feared my body would give me away.

“My pretty little thing, your heart sounds ready to explode. Are you afraid of the Bastard of Tenebris… or perhaps for him?”

I scoffed, leaning in to him. “Not afraid, my king—I’m excited . You’ve foiled his little plot and now we’re going to find out what treachery he had planned for you.”

He made a pleased sound as Bastian glowered at us. “What treason . Because that’s what this is. Treason . I am the king, and that wretch had a hand in my father’s murder.” He pointed at Krae, who’d managed to stand, but sagged over the table. “Now, here is the Night Queen’s Shadow, son of two traitors, meeting with a fellow traitor. Undoubtedly to plot another regicide.”

So that was his plan—have Bastian arrested for treason. How to get out of this? I had no weapon, nothing to hand. Bastian could run, but the Kingsguard waited outside—I’d heard Cyrus give the order to keep their swords ready and stay out of sight until “the right time.” They wouldn’t hesitate to cut Bastian down.

I needed to let him know. “Ah, and your guards outside are witnesses. So clever.” I spread my hand over Cyrus’s chest. A little higher and I could strangle him, but he had the advantage. Quicker and stronger, he would stop me before I stood a chance. No. I had to be smarter than that. More patient.

An opportunity would come my way. And if it didn’t, I would make one.

Bastian nodded slowly—message received and understood. “If you have evidence against me, I suppose that means you can kill me now and it won’t cause any issues with Dusk.” He seemed to be speaking to Cyrus, but his gaze was on me the whole time.

He thought we had Krae’s evidence. Meaning, if Cyrus died in this confrontation, we’d be able to present Krae’s evidence and, in the eyes of the law, it would go from murder to lawful execution. But Cyrus had burned it. Maybe we could salvage something from the ash.

“The problem is, Cyrus, you killed your father, didn’t you?” Bastian spread his arms with a bitter smile, coming a little closer. “Hey, I’m not one to judge. I can understand—I was protecting a throne; you wanted one.”

Cyrus dug his fingers into my hip but remained silent.

“It’s a shame you don’t have evidence to back up your wild accusations.” I stared at Bastian, hoping he would understand.

Bastian’s eyes widened the slightest amount before turning back to Cyrus. “Nothing? No confession speech? Normally we can’t stop you making overblown speeches.” He frowned “The thing I can’t wrap my head around is the Winter Solstice attack. Why drive Horrors to attack your own city?”

“They needed a hero.” Cyrus indicated himself, a wide smile spreading across his face as he lifted his chin, looking like the statue sketches I’d found in his desk.

He’d positioned himself as a heroic figure, taking action, looking bold and dashing. Whereas his father was nowhere to be seen that day.

He wanted the people to cheer when he took the throne. A man of action .

Although it wasn’t a direct confession, the fact he’d said this much meant he didn’t intend for Bastian to survive this confrontation, and he trusted me enough to keep his secret.

I could really do with that opportunity right about now.

“Perhaps today, they need a villain.” Eyebrows pinched together, Bastian said it thoughtfully, and something in his tone sent a chill through me. “Fine. You can take me, but I need to tell her something first.”

“How touching.” Cyrus waved for him to go on.

“Katherine, I love you.”

I froze.

He shook his head, eyes soft, expression pained, showing all the feelings he’d kept hidden. “It’s been torture to see you in his arms, a poison straight to my heart.”

Why the hells was he saying this? He’d warned me to never— never reveal my heart, but here he was, spilling it in front of his enemy.

My thoughts could race to only one destination that explained it: he was really handing himself over and expected to die. This was his last chance.

Head hanging, he turned from me to Cyrus. “But I see you have her now.”

The king leered, lifting my chin. “You love her, still? Then I’m sure you’d hate to see this.” He bent and kissed my shoulder, gaze on Bastian, while I stared, silently asking what the fuck he was doing.

With his eyes, Bastian begged for this to stop. His jaw flexed as though he was barely keeping himself from charging at us and ripping Cyrus off me.

“Or this…” Cyrus kissed my neck. “And I can’t imagine how much you’d hate to see her kiss me, especially as she’d do so willingly.” He lifted my left arm, showing off the iron bracelet for a moment before pinching my chin and making me look up at him. He smirked all the while. “This little trinket means she’s immune to magic. You see, some of us don’t need to charm humans into our beds.”

My skin crawled with every word. The way this was escalating, I knew he’d kiss me on the mouth next, and I would have to kiss back, playing along. I felt along the balustrade, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. If I caught him while he kissed me, I just might have the advantage.

My fingertips brushed something cold like the stone balustrade, but smooth. Feeling along further, I realised it was several somethings, and I recognised the shape. Lock picks.

It couldn’t be. How ? I dared a glance down, just as a shadow slipped out of sight. Bastian’s picks delivered by his shadows.

“But Cyrus ,” Bastian said, pulling the king’s attention back to him, “isn’t that iron uncomfortable for you?”

“It’s worth it to see the look on your face.”

Of course . Not a surrender, but an opportunity.

Hands behind my back, I started on the lock just as Cyrus slid his hand into my hair. I needed to be quick, but I also needed to make my cooperation believable. “Let’s show him how a king gets exactly what he deserves,” I murmured, eyes half closed.

“And let’s make sure he has a good view.” He yanked my head back, and for a heart-pounding second, the picks slipped in my grip. I jolted, catching them and arching into Cyrus, drawing a pleased sound from him as he pressed his lips to mine.

A different shaped mouth. Hot, wet lips. The savage grip on my hair right where I still had a lump from Rufus smashing my head against the wall.

It was all wrong. But I couldn’t flinch away. I battled to stay pliant, focusing on the delicate twist and push of the lock picks without alerting him. I needed to get this bracelet unlocked before he deepened the kiss—I didn’t trust myself to hide my disgust when he pushed my mouth open.

At last, there was a soft clink of the bracelet hitting the balustrade.

I moaned my relief as the iron sickness ebbed away and magic swept over me in an angry buzz.

Cyrus had his hands on me, his lips on me, his vile stink. His callous, murdering being was all over me.

No longer.

I drew upon my power, calling every scrap of it together and pushing it to my lips.

It tingled, stronger than when I’d killed Rufus. It would take him quickly—more painlessly than he deserved, but I just wanted him dead. I needed this to be over.

His grip tightened, pulling me taut. The poison taking hold, making him lose control. The picks fell from my grasp, but it didn’t matter. Just a moment longer, then he would slip away.

Softly—so softly, Cyrus laughed against my mouth. I dared to open my eyes, braced for the sight of blackened tendrils spreading over his face.

But he looked down at me, skin perfect, and breathed, “Oh, you treacherous little thing.”