Page 63 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

62

Kat

T he world tore at me, air on raw nerves, shattered bones crunching back together. I tried to scream but my lungs weren’t yet whole. Everything was agony.

But in my hands, I had the Crown of Ashes.

Even with broken fingers, I cradled it against myself. I’d risked so much, I couldn’t lose it now. My muscles shrieked as I demanded they work while still knitting together.

My heart leapt to life, dragging a first, gasping breath into my chest. Oxygen was like fire, burning but also bright, and I sucked it in, greedy for air, greedy for the sweet agony of living.

When I rose, it was dark. Not a crack of light. Not a sign of the unseelie king.

I reached out. Rough bark, sticky with sap.

It split open as though it had been waiting for my touch, and cold light crept in.

Another fathomless breath. Glorious, fresh air. Every place it touched in my nose, my throat, the corners of my lungs—I was hyper aware of it. Every beat of my heart was a thunderous drumming that pulsed through my entire being.

I was alive.

Alive .

The trees unfurled around me, and I emerged from the strange cocoon I’d woken up in. The ground was twenty feet away, but as I peered out, a yew branch swept into place before me. When I stepped onto that, an oak branch provided my next foothold. Another step, another branch. There was even one at my side, like a gentleman offering an arm for support.

Below stood Bastian, his back to me, shoulders squared as he faced his queen. Speech was a strange sound, like my new ears hadn’t quite adjusted, but the volume told me they argued. The soil beneath their feet glistened red. My blood. It was saturated.

She peered past him, eyes going round when they landed on me.

Slowly, Bastian turned. He froze like I was a ghost.

In a way, I supposed I was.

“How…?” The queen shook her head. “How did you get in there? And how did you get back ?”

I smiled and paused in my descent, conscious of the fact I stood above her. “You weren’t counting on me getting back, were you?”

A fleeting look crossed her face. Guilt she tried to hide. “Give me my Crown.”

My smile became sharper, harder, and I took my time on the last few steps down to earth. It hummed beneath me, so heady that for a moment I had to grip the yew branch at my side. The Great Trees were the centre of the bond with the land that gave fae their power, and through them, I was connected to it all.

The sensation faded, and once I was steady, I lifted my chin. “No. You already have one.”

Her nostrils flared, and something dangerous flashed in her eyes.

Lips parted, Bastian stared at me, breaths shallow and fast.

Braea sidled up to him, hand raising, shaking with barely suppressed rage. “ Of course . That’s how you got through the gauntlet. It all makes sense. And now you have a crown of your own. Clever little human, except… you aren’t, are you?”

I had no idea what she was insinuating. Some last ditch attempt to save herself from the truth.

She took his shoulder, squeezing until her knuckles went white. “She’s been lying to you, Bastian. She made you bring her here so she could take my throne. That’s why you’ve been turning him against me, isn’t it? You planned this all along.” Her teeth flashed in a bitter, cold smile. “What are you? A changeling? Fae blooded?”

Bastian blinked and turned to her, yanking out of her grip. “What are you?—?”

“She has royal blood . That’s how she was able to travel through the gauntlet.” An edge of fear mingled with desperation, shaking through her voice. “Take the Crown from her. Quickly now. It’s the only way. Otherwise she’ll use it to steal the throne. You know how many died last time—we can’t have another war of succession.”

I couldn’t help laughing. Her head snapped towards me.

“You truly can’t see beyond what you want, can you? You’re the only one here obsessed with keeping your claws in that throne. You’re the one who killed your own children for it. I have no interest in your precious throne. I took the Crown because I couldn’t allow you to have it. You are not worthy. Unlike your grandson.”

As I stepped before Bastian, her eyelids fluttered. The rage on her face turned to creased confusion.

“He gave me his blood. That is how I was able to open the gauntlet. I’m not here to take your throne, Braea. At least, not for myself.”

Bastian’s chest rose and fell in a deep, deep breath, and he swayed towards me, hand rising in the space between us, then pausing as if he didn’t dare touch me. Perhaps he was afraid he’d find I was just a ghost. With an imperceptible nod, he turned to his queen. “You killed my mother.”

Her face dropped, the tightness of confusion giving way to slack shock.

“All she wanted was to be with the one she loved and raise their child together—to raise me . And you killed her. You thought you’d killed me, too.”

She shook her head, breaths uneven. “It can’t be. The child wasn’t even born yet. It couldn’t have?—”

“Survived?” he bit out. His shadows gathered, a tight, seething mass that spelled out his rage. The hum I’d felt since awakening grew stronger—the tremble of distant thunder. “‘It’ did. ‘It’ is me .”

She stumbled back from the spreading shadows, unblinking gaze never leaving Bastian. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You wouldn’t?—”

The ground shook. The world was breaking. There was no other way to describe the sound or the violence. I hugged the Crown to my chest, in danger of dropping it in the quake.

Then the blood-soaked ground between us exploded. Darkness, feathers, the flap of great wings—something burst from the ground.

Or, some things , I realised, as I picked out the form of a raven, its glittering eyes fixed on its path.

It screeched. And its call was answered throughout the flock, as with one mind, they burst through Braea’s chest.

Her shriek pierced the night, cut short an instant later.

Bastian grabbed me as the air became thick with beaks and feathers, tearing talons and buffeting wings.

“You’re… real.” He gasped against my shoulder, arms tightening as he shielded me. “I thought…” He had to shout to be heard above the ravens’ deafening cries, and the howling gale of their flight. “I was afraid… My gods, Katherine, I was so afraid.” He drew a shaky breath as he buried his face in my hair.

“I’m here.” I clutched his jacket, the Crown caught between us. “I’m alive.”

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, hand warming the chilled skin of my cheek. His hair blasted in every direction. “Since it looks like we’re about to get torn apart by ravens, I need to say this now. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I made a mistake. I’ve been making the same mistake for the past fifteen years, in fact. You’ve been trying to show me, help me, steer me out of this doomed course… but I couldn’t accept it. I shut my eyes and refused to see. But I see now.” Nodding, he drew me tighter against himself as the ravens grew wilder. His smile was the first light of the day and the last. “ I see now . Thank you for being my beacon.”

He pressed a last desperate kiss to my lips. There was no art to it, no seduction, only pure emotion. A thank you. A goodbye. A final stand that we made together.

Locked together, we waited. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Again.

We waited. And waited.

The ground’s shaking eased to a tremble.

No cracks had opened up to swallow us whole. No ravens had torn us to shreds.

We peered up in time to see the ravens coalesce into a single, dark shape. From the blue-black feathers emerged the unseelie king. His pale face remained impassive as he looked down at the blood and gore and scattered bones that was all that remained of Braea.

Slowly, his lips curled. “I’ve been waiting thirty five years to do that.”