Page 48 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

47

Kat

I reached out for something— anything . Stone. Stone. More stone. A tightly curled branch of wisteria. Then I found the smooth edge of one of the discarded lock picks.

Muscles coiling, I pretended I was too absorbed in Bastian’s plight to be a threat. “Bastian? Bastian?”

He blinked, squinting in our direction, and managed to stand.

When Cyrus sneered at him, I swung.

The pick arced through the air, a glinting point. Almost at his eye. Almost there.

The metal flared, bright cherry red. It burned. Oh, gods, it burned.

I cried out with the effort of keeping my fist closed around it and that path towards his eye, but—I couldn’t.

It fell from my grasp.

The acrid stink of burning surrounded us as Cyrus’s hair and mine singed. He scowled and pushed further. “Look what you made me do.” Further.

I was horizontal now, feet barely touching the balustrade’s carved stone. All he had to do was let go and I would fall. Even without the veil, this height would kill. No question.

Tears hot in my eyes, I grabbed the stone. It was the only thing left.

Something nudged my fingers. I opened my hand. Cold steel pressed into it. The hilt of a weapon.

How?

But as my head tilted back, dipping below my hips, letting gravity pull me down, I didn’t have time to even guess an answer to that question.

Backside slipping off the balustrade, I swung.

It came into view. A massive sword. Too huge for me to wield.

But it sang through the air, and the serpents on its hilt nestled against my fingers, welcoming.

There was a moment of resistance as I hit Cyrus, then the blade bit into him.

Hot and red, blood spilled over my thighs and splashed my face as his eyes widened. His jaw went slack, more blood trickling out. The grip on my neck eased.

For a horrible instant, I fell.

Every muscle and organ in me jolted, and in that moment of panic, I grabbed his wrist. He slumped to the floor, and, pulse pounding, I used his weight to balance myself onto the right side of the balustrade.

Catching my breath, I stared down.

At my feet lay the Day King, eyelids fluttering as he looked up at me. The blood was so bright against his golden hair and golden outfit and the golden crown that had fallen from his head. It kept seeping from the deep gouge under his arm. I’d cleaved almost to the centre of his chest.

“No,” he choked out, dimming eyes on the sword.

I blinked at the sword. The black and silver serpents on its hilt fell still, and it grew heavy, forcing me to rest its tip on the floor. Justice.

I’d done this. With help from the sword. But how the hells did it get up here?

But I had one more thing to do before I worried about that.

Cyrus’s final breaths bubbled in his ruined chest, and I needed him to know something before he died.

I stood over him, shaking not with fear or shock, but with all the outrages he’d committed in his short time as king. “That was for Kaliban and for all the lives you destroyed, and I hope it’s as painful as it looks.”

Footsteps sounded behind me and, before I could turn, Zita stepped into view. A vicious smile split her face, which had been painted a pale marble grey to match her mask. She looked down at him and inclined her head. “May you always have the justice you deserve.”

“No. You can’t. It’s… not fair… I’m king.” He wheezed, gaze passing slowly from me to her and back again before it slid away. There was no more wheezing.

Bastian rubbed his eyes, blinking, but his gaze was able to go to my face and trail down until it hit the dead king.

Dead. Very, very dead.

It was done.

He couldn’t touch me anymore. Hurt anyone else. Scheme or kill.

His time affecting the world was over.

Only after long seconds of breathing in that knowledge and living with it that could I rouse myself and frown at Zita. “Where… How… What?”

Sepher emerged from inside. “If you’ll settle on exactly what question it is you’re asking, my wife and I will be only too happy to answer.”

Bastian stepped between us, shadows roiling around his knees. “What is this?”

The prince spread his hands. “The grand reveal, of course. You’ve seen plays, haven’t you?”

Zita eased into place at his side, and he stroked the back of her head as though reassuring himself she’d made it through whatever the fuck had just happened.

I stepped around Bastian, refusing to have this conversation peering around him. Beside, I had Justice, and if we were in danger from Zita and Sepher, I suspected the sword would be on my side. I hoped. “You…” I glanced back. Zita had appeared from nowhere, or… “You were hiding amongst the wisteria and carvings.”

She spread her painted arms and bowed. The grey dress suddenly made sense. Not drab, but camouflage. She must’ve gone somewhere to paint her arms and face to match before coming out here. When, though? How long had she known? How had she known?

“See, Bastian, I knew she was the clever one. Let us fill in the rest of the gaps. We found out about your little meeting with Cyrus’s former lackey. I had hoped Katherine would’ve kept us informed of such things, since we’re friends now, but seems she’s slow to trust.”

“I wonder why.” I glowered at the couple, getting the distinct impression I’d played a part in someone else’s game. “But how did you find out?”

“Don’t you think Dawn has spies of its own? And some of them might not like the direction their new king was steering things in.”

Dawn’s spies had listened in on us, intercepted our messages, found out gods knew what. How deep did they have their claws in our plans?

He gave a knowing smirk. “It’s good to know you enjoyed the hot springs so thoroughly.”

I gasped as Bastian stiffened. “Caelus?”

Oh, gods, what a fool I’d been. I thought he liked me, so he could be trusted, but… “He was passing you information all along.”

“Not the whole time.” Zita winced. “Just once he saw what kind of king Cyrus was.”

“Luckily,” Sepher added, “we managed to get him to the healers before he succumbed to the beating my brother gave him.”

“At least he’s alive,” I muttered, my guilt over getting him in trouble with Cyrus easing.

Bastian crossed his arms. “Perfect timing for me to wring his neck.”

Sepher held up his hands. “If it’s any consolation, your plan would never have worked. Whatever evidence they had”—he jerked his chin back towards the grand dining room—“it would never have been enough to convict a king. Not when Cyrus could worm his way out of it.”

“You don’t know that,” Bastian gritted out.

Zita sighed and cocked her head. “But we do. If their evidence was that strong, they’d have brought it forward a month ago.”

Bastian’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t argue.

Grimacing, I nodded slowly. “And even if it was enough, Cyrus would’ve found a way to get his hands on it and destroy it at once.”

Sepher gestured behind him. “Which is exactly what he did as soon as he found Krae. Sometimes, Bastian, you’re too noble. Certainly too noble to outmanoeuvre my brother. For all he likes— liked ”—he smiled with a satisfied little huff, as though speaking about Cyrus in past tense was the greatest pleasure in the world—“for all he liked to play the hero, there was not a scrap of nobility in him. He killed Adra to silence her. Did you really think a few pieces of paper would be safe?”

Bastian made a low sound of begrudging agreement. “And that would’ve left Krae’s word against his.”

I glowered. “A shapeshifter against a king. No prizes for guessing how that would’ve gone.”

“Exactly.” Sepher’s tail swished in time with the syllables of the word. “So, I told him.”

“ What ?” Bastian and I blurted in unison, both taking a step forward.

Again, the prince raised his hands. “Now, now, before you do anything rash. I had a plan.”

“Oh, a plan . Bastian, don’t worry, he had a plan .”

“What a relief,” he bit out, scowling at Sepher. “He’d better be about to explain that fucking plan or else we’re going to have to explain why there are two members of Dawn’s royal family dead on this balcony.”

“I’m sure he will, if you would let him speak for five seconds,” Zita snapped.

Bastian drew a long breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. I clamped my jaw shut. The blood on my body suit was growing cold, but there was still too much energy surging through me to really feel the chill.

Sepher cupped the back of her head with a soothing touch. “I needed him out of the way. He was a danger to me and the people I care about.” He waved his hand vaguely. “And to the rest of society, I suppose. I knew the evidence wouldn’t work so long as Cyrus could argue against it, so I needed to goad him into doing something foolish, giving you the chance to kill him in self-defence.”

My stomach dipped in horrible understanding. “You used us.”

Tension radiated off Bastian. His fists shook at his sides, and his shadows had gone very still.

Sepher’s gaze twitched to Bastian, and his stance shifted. “‘Used’ is such an ugly word.”

“It’s the right one, though, isn’t it?”

Bastian shook his head, the muscles in his jaw rippling. “How did you find out about the meeting location?”

“When the messenger came looking for Kat, I told them no one was being allowed close to her other than her friends. After what he did on the throne, they found that believable.” At least Zita had the good grace to hang her head as she admitted her deceit. “So I offered to take her the message, and instead I delivered it straight to Sepher… and Cyrus. We had Justice ready, so I brought it here and hid amongst the wisteria. It took me a while to climb along the balcony and get it to you.”

Sepher nodded. “We couldn’t risk him seeing her.”

She must’ve clung to the balustrade, keeping inside the safe area, so she didn’t get disintegrated by the unstable sections of the veil.

Bastian surged forward and grabbed Sepher’s shirt. “Couldn’t risk him seeing her? You could’ve got Kat killed.”

Sepher’s tail twitched, but otherwise he stayed remarkably still. “Do you really think he would’ve let Kat live once he found out she’d been playing him all along? He already thought she was fucking Caelus. I had to pull him out of the dungeons half dead. I helped you .” His teeth flashed as he spoke in a low tone of warning. “Now she can return home to Dusk. All the guests can.”

“And what about the part where I murdered a king? Did you forget about that?” I squeezed Justice’s hilt, wondering if it would help me fight off the guards when they came to arrest me. Somehow, I doubted it.

“Did you?” Sepher arched one eyebrow. “You see, I thought you had a witness who could verify that Cyrus murdered our father, and then my brother lashed out, attacking the poor, defenceless human.”

All true, if not the full truth.

“Luckily,” Zita went on, “Sepher arrived just in time and executed him, preventing conflict with Dusk over him killing one of their hostages, and enacting justice. As the son of the murdered man, Sepher is well within his rights to claim the life of his killer.”

“Efficient, really.” Sepher smirked at Bastian, who made a low sound.

He released Sepher’s shirt. “Next time you come up with such an ‘efficient’ plan, you can do your own dirty work.”

“Except, don’t you see? I couldn’t.” Sepher scowled at his brother’s body, which lay just behind my feet. “I pledged fealty to him—it would’ve raised suspicion if I hadn’t. It bound me so I couldn’t directly harm him. I had to go to these lengths to manipulate the situation.”

“And us.” The adrenaline pumping around my body ebbed, leaving a deep weariness. I leant on the sword, but it had grown cold as well as still, and it seemed to sap my energy more than grant it.

He brushed the front of his shirt where Bastian’s fists had creased it. “I won’t apologise for doing what needed to be done.”

Bastian slipped a hand around my waist, helping steady me. “What will we say to the public?”

The question drew a smug smile from Sepher. “I have a plan for that.”