Page 6 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

5

Kat

I woke up on top of the covers, one shoe still on, the curtains open to the rising sun.

So much for a quick rest.

Rubbing my eyes, I checked the room. It was small, simple, almost plain—certainly nothing special. No hidden doorways or spy holes, just a door to a small chamber with a toilet and sink. Maybe I wasn’t being given special attention.

That suited me. Keep my head down and stay out of trouble until this was all over.

I was washing over the sink when servants arrived and set out breakfast. Amongst the fruit and pastries, I found an invitation to a month of celebrations of King Cyrus. It started today with tea accompanied by the other guests and some select members of Dawn Court.

Who knew being held hostage could be so civilised?

They also delivered a chest of clothing, though it wasn’t my own. It contained gowns in various shades of pale lilac and pink—pretty, but the colours made me look sickly.

I dug through the whole chest before I found a sap green dress. I put that on, tidied my hair, and paused at the door of my room, tugging at the neckline.

Since arriving at Riverton Palace all those months ago, I’d grown used to revealing clothes. But this gown was a little too small and much too long, like it had been made for a tall fae woman, rather than a short human one. I’d pinned the skirts, creating a cascading effect that seemed almost deliberate. With each movement of my shoulders, I had the distinct and unpleasant feeling my tits were about to burst out.

Ariadne andBlaze were truly masters of their art if they could make daring outfits for my generous bust without the danger of it spilling over.

The back of my nose tickled. How long would it be before I could see Ari? Sitting in her atelier while she worked and Rose chatted and Fluffy lay across my feet, warming my toes. It might be a simple pleasure, but it was one I longed for.

I swallowed back another useless wish and set off.

At once, a guard in pale whispering grey fell into step at my shoulder, and when I threw her a glance, I recognised the sharp look she returned. Amandine—the fae who’d tried to stop us crossing the bridge into the palace my first day in Luminis.

Great.

Brusquely, she informed me that she’d been assigned for my safety and would be accompanying me everywhere. She looked far too pleased when she said “everywhere.”

Ah, so she was the kind of “guard” assigned to keep an eye on me as much as to keep me safe.

Every gesture was sharp, and I could feel the way her gaze pierced me as we walked on. The scene at the bridge wasn’t a one off. She hated Bastian and, by extension, me. I’d find no help here—probably not in Dawn, full stop. Caelus might’ve tried to see me, but he would soon realise being my ally would bring him nothing but trouble.

My only hope lay with the other guests from Dusk.

I tried not to tug at my dress. It was a losing battle as the sleeves rode up to my armpits and the waist rucked up, made for someone whose body was longer than mine, their arms more slender.

By the time we reached the room where tea was being served, it felt like I was fighting my own skin, stuck in a misery of discomfort.

It’s the clothes that are wrong, not you . I tried to remind myself, but it felt like reality didn’t agree.

Still, I plastered a smile on my face as the door opened. It was like Bastian had warned me— your heart is your greatest weakness . Any sign of a chink in my armour and they’d peck at it until was I dead.

Instead, I sauntered in—my gait designed to avoid making the neckline bust open ( bust being the operative), but it made me look unhurried and confident.

Time to make some alliances.

I was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t taken in much about them yesterday, but I had the chance to rectify that now.

As I smiled around the room and found five cool looks undressing me, assessing me, calculating how much I was worth, I realised my mistake.

From Dusk or not, they would sell me out to secure their own release.

At best, they feared I would do the same to them.

A petite man with hair almost as dark as Bastian’s leant in to the woman at his side and whispered something. Watching me, she nodded, and the way her top lip curled took me back to the party the Night Queen had held in my honour.

Oathbreaker . I’d heard someone say it and Bastian’s name on the same breath, but hadn’t been able to identify the speaker at the time. But in the crowd, I’d spotted this woman, lip curled in the same way. I would bet my estate she was the one who’d uttered the insult.

Keep his name out of your mouth . I wanted to hiss it in her face, maybe lace the words with a touch of poison, but…

No. Head down. No trouble. Inoffensive and unnoticeable. That was my best strategy. Especially as there would be no easy alliances.

And joy, the sisters with rose gold hair who’d been part of Dawn’s contingent in Albion were here too. The elder one had removed my pearlwort necklace, leaving me delirious from Bastian’s charm—not a night I cared to remember. Now she murmured something to her sister, who gave me a cruel smile, which I returned tenfold. They were not the kind of allies I needed.

Then I spotted a face in the corner that made my stomach turn. Uncle Rufus.

Uncle fucking Rufus.

He smiled like a chess player whose opponent had just made the fatal mistake that would win him the game.

I glanced at my guard—surely she’d step in if he touched me or I looked suitably distressed? She waited by the door, eyes fixed ahead.

Maybe not.

Surely he wouldn’t try anything in front of so many people. I was safe… ish .

So, I approached a table laden with pots of tea and coffee, cups and saucers. There was even a sugar dish in the shape of a fish pond, complete with a red and white carp poking its head up out of the sugar. On smaller side tables stood cake stands covered in tiny savoury and sweet pastries and an array of cakes.

“Good morning.” I nodded to the group as I took a clean cup and poured myself coffee with sugar and a generous dose of cream.

One of the Dusk guests with violet hair, and a couple of the Dawn fae nodded back, barely glancing my way. The two remaining Dusk guests, a woman with an eye patch and a fae with startling lilac eyes, continued their stilted conversation about the decoration on the tea service. I could feel the edges of their attention on me, and as I sipped my coffee, I caught the woman stealing a glance over the rim of her cup. The younger of the rose-gold-haired sisters watched me. Her nails had been filed into points, which tapped against her cup.

I firmly ignored my uncle.

At least there was cake.

I perched at the end of a chaise longue with my coffee and a small but carefully balanced plate. I’d chosen coffee sponge, lemon drizzle cake, and a small raspberry tart topped with cream and gold leaf. No one eyed how full my plate was.

Yes, I will have my cake and bloody well eat it, thank you very much.

When the tea service conversation sputtered out, one of the men from Dawn nodded into the silence and I could practically see him searching for a topic. “The wedding yesterday was… quite something.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the room. One of the Dawn fae seized upon the topic, running through the particulars of the music and the ceremony, the clothing and decor, the choice of an eclipse day.

Somehow, she avoided the topic of how the wedding had ended. I let myself drift away on the comforting sing-song of her voice, the rest of the world fading.

This place, this situation—they weren’t safe. Especially with the lack of allies and an enemy on the throne. Make that enemies on both thrones. If Braea hadn’t volunteered me to go to Dawn, she at least hadn’t protested when Cyrus had asked. She’d been only too happy to see me go.

I needed to speak to Bastian. Not about Braea. I wasn’t sure how to explain the way I felt her enmity in a facial expression, or heard it between the lines of an apparently innocent conversation about her daughter Nyx. But he didn’t know about Cyrus and I couldn’t trust that information to a message. I needed to get away from here and back to him.

Maybe that wasn’t far enough. I could run away to the estate. Its quiet solitude was certainly appealing. It was mine, for now at least. The queen still hadn’t responded to news of Robin’s death to say it wasn’t , and there was no word about surviving relatives.

If my guard was always going to wait outside my bedroom as she had this morning, I could climb out the window. I’d go to Bastian and beg him to leave. He could come and live with me on the estate. Or we could sell it and buy our own.

As long as I could escape, I didn’t care.

The chaise longue dipped, pulling me from my plans.

“My dear niece, we have some matters we need to discuss.” Uncle Rufus smoothed the wool of his trousers, voice dipping below the rest of the room’s conversation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me.”

I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. An obedient niece didn’t avoid her uncle, especially not if she wanted to escape punishment.

But I wasn’t sure how much obedience was left in Katherine Ferrers anymore. Maybe I’d used it all up obeying Bastian when it was my choice and to my benefit.

Still, the chill in Uncle Rufus’s voice made the cakes left on my plate about as appetising as stale biscuits iced with sabrecat shit.

“Uncle Rufus,” I managed to say around the lump in my throat, “I’m sure you and Father taught me better than that.”

“I’m sure we did.” His gaze drilled into me, though I couldn’t meet it. “At least now we’re both in the same court— together , as family belongs.”

Meaning, I wasn’t only stuck with Cyrus, but with him. My coffee threatened to make a reappearance.

“Speaking of family,” he went on, “in light of your husband’s untimely death, we need to discuss Markyate Cell.”

My cup clattered in its saucer as I jolted upright, though the arrival of more guests smothered the noise. “My estate?”

An instant’s wrinkling of his nose told me he didn’t like hearing it called that. No, it was easier for him to think of a dead man owning it than a living woman.

The rebellious part of me grew bold, and I found myself saying, “What could we possibly need to discuss about my estate ?”

His nostrils twitched and the redness flaring over his cheeks was a warning flag, making my throat tight.

“Lady Katherine,” a bright voice cut through my uncle’s stiff silence. “What a gorgeous dress!” Zita stood over us, a wide smile in place, though something sharp glinted in her dark eyes. “There’s room for me, isn’t there?” Before either of us could answer, she inserted herself in the gap between Rufus and me.

“Princess Zita.” I bowed my head.

“None of that, Katherine.” She squeezed my thigh. “It’s still just Zita. Though perhaps I can call you Kat now?”

“Of course.” I barely got out the words before she was fingering the neckline of my gown, touch skimming my bust.

“Such lovely fabric. One of Ariadne’s creations? I heard she dressed you almost exclusively.”

At the far end of the chaise longue, on the other side of Uncle Rufus, stood Prince Sepher. Folding his arms, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Are all human women like this?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer Zita. Admitting I didn’t have my own clothes could be an admission of weakness. Ari was known for sewing spells into cloth—if everyone thought my dresses were made by her, they might think twice before crossing me.

But Zita was known for her taste and style. She’d spent years on the stage, where it was her job to be looked at—she had to see this dress didn’t fit.

In which case, the compliments were false. Though there was no barb in her tone, like I was the butt of a joke. Then what was she up to?

Uncle Rufus muttered to Sepher about the flighty frippery of women.

The prince made noncommittal sounds in return. His comment didn’t match with what I’d seen of his behaviour with his wife. Wearing a hunter green shirt that perfectly suited his colouring with a neckline cut low to show off his physique, he obviously cared about his appearance.

Had they stepped in to save me from Rufus? Or was it simply that now I was away from Bastian, Zita hoped I would take her up on her earlier offer to join them in bed?

If the latter, letting them think it was possible might win me the allies I needed in Dawn—powerful ones, at that.

I smiled as Zita continued her very hands-on examination of my gown. “Not on this occasion. I thought one of Ariadne’s creations might be overkill for tea.”

She laughed, waving a hand at Sepher and blocking Rufus out in one movement. “You see, my love? I told you she was a fucking delight.”

Perhaps this was a rescue attempt. Uncle Rufus certainly looked pissed off.

I was laughing politely as a delicate ahem sounded at my shoulder.

Adra, once King Lucius’s assistant, and now apparently King Cyrus’s, inclined her head. “Katherine.” A pleasant smile curved her lips, but her eyes retained a professional disinterest. “You are required.”

Saved from Uncle Rufus, but was I now in trouble with the king?