Page 69 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

68

Kat

D espite the storm, we had a blissful stay in the little house.

The next day was beautiful and cloudless, so we went down to the cove and enjoyed the beach, splashing in the water and dozing in the sun.

Back at the cottage, I threw Drystan’s mirror off the cliff—Bastian had thought ahead and packed it in his haste. Then we cooked together, both equally bad, but we managed to put together something resembling a stew. Not pretty and not gourmet cuisine, but sustaining and simple. That was all we needed.

But, of course, we had to return to Tenebris-Luminis.

And at once, life swooped in.

We’d barely greeted Faolán when Bastian was dragged away for an update from Brynan. I hid my crown in a bag and checked with the shapechanger where his wife was—lunch with Ari and Ella at our favourite restaurant, Moonsong Spire.

I surprised Ari and Rose by making an appearance, and they pulled up an extra chair, though Ella’s still sat empty for now. Part of the appeal was that they allowed Fluffy to accompany us. She took up her spot lying across my feet. Now we knew about Bastian’s father, it made sense. I smelled familiar to her—like her one-time master.

Of course, when Ella arrived, she took one glance at me and gave a knowing look. “You seem very relaxed… and thoroughly fucked, if I might say so.” She raised her eyebrows at me as she took her seat.

“You’re one to talk,” Rose muttered, covering her glass when the server went to pour her wine.

Ari barely bit back a grin as she elbowed Ella. As we ate, I got the story of how Ella had been having fun with two fae women, but it was clear they were very much in love with other and she was a novelty for them to enjoy.

“Not that I blame them.” Ella widened her eyes. “They’re the same for me. Fae bodies are so interesting… the same but different. Still…” Her gaze drifted away.

Dark eyes narrowing, Ari cocked her head. “You sound… wistful. Don’t you want to find someone you love?”

Ella snorted into her wine, somehow making such an undignified gesture pretty. “No, thank you! I’m enjoying—what was it my mother once said?— slutting my way around the city. Also, it’s wonderful fucking fae and not needing to worry about getting pregnant. Besides, love blinds you.” She blinked around the table at us as though only just realising who she was speaking to. “Not you! Me , I mean. It’s much simpler this way, and I prefer my sex nice and simple.”

I filed that comment away to discuss later when it was just the two of us, and raised my coffee cup. “To sex that’s as simple or complicated as we wish.”

Once we’d finished, I was full and tired. We hadn’t slept much at the cottage, finding much more interesting things to spend our nights doing.

But, as soon as I got to the palace, I was intercepted by Ennet and ushered into a meeting to discuss the announcement of Bastian as King. He looked as tired as I felt, and we barely kept our eyes open as we went over the plans.

By the time it finished, we were dead on our feet. But, of course, it didn’t end there. When we left the Convocation chamber, both Ennet and Brynan were waiting at the doors, her with her trusty notebook and him with a dozen matters for our attention. It seemed they had decided to team up to tackle their reluctant king.

We wound our weary way through the corridors, with her making notes as she walked backwards at such speed, she must’ve done this a hundred times before. The Convocation must’ve warned her of Bastian’s words about listening to me, because she was just as attentive to my comments as his, marking them in the book with a thoughtful nod without seeking his approval before Brynan moved us on to the next item.

“Well, here we are. The other matters can wait until you’ve had some rest.” She flipped the book shut as she and Brynan stepped aside.

But the double doors behind them weren’t the ones to our rooms.

Bastian frowned, rubbing his eyes. “This is Braea’s suite.”

“ Actually , it’s the royal suite. We’ve had it cleaned and your belongings brought through while you were in your meetings.”

Bastian opened his mouth but just huffed. I knew that look. He was too tired to argue, and I couldn’t blame him. My eyes felt like they’d been rolled in sand and roasted.

So I squeezed his hand and smiled at her. “How efficient. Thank you both for your help.” With matching nods, they disappeared down the corridor, leaving us to plod inside.

I fell against the door as I shut it, groaning, “Can I just go to sleep here?”

“I don’t think that would work.” Though his shoulders sagged, he peeled me off the door and led me inside. “But a nap is an excellent idea.”

The quiet was a blessing—the only thing I really noticed as I followed him through the suite into a bedroom with the curtains drawn. We got halfway through undressing before giving up and crawling into the bed, crowns discarded.

“Just an hour.” He took my hand, kissed it, then cradled it to his chest. “Love you,” he muttered as his eyes closed.

I watched him in the soft daylight creeping around the curtains.

The Night Queen’s curtains. The Night Queen’s bed. The Night Queen’s rooms.

Despite the exhaustion making my bones heavy, discomfort crawled over me.

Bastian had apologised, but I couldn’t help wondering how much he truly accepted what Braea had become… and if he ever would. If his father hadn’t killed her, would he have been able to?

Yet, I couldn’t blame him. It had taken so much before I’d been able to finally act against Uncle Rufus. We all had well-worn paths etched on our minds—beliefs scored into our bones. They were hard to deviate from, even when we wanted nothing more.

He had begged me not to ask him to choose, and thankfully, I hadn’t needed to.

That night in Riverton Palace, he would have gladly killed Rufus for me. I would be that strength for him, if ever he needed it.

I clung to the comfort of that thought, and it was enough to let sleep consume me at last.

It was almost dark when I woke much more than an hour later. I rolled over, hoping a new position would help, but my unease was nothing to do with an uncomfortable mattress. A prod of instinct right between my shoulder blades. Something off.

The only sounds were the distant ones of palace life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that could’ve woken me. The Crown of Ashes slumbered on the bedside table where I’d left it, so that wasn’t the problem, either. I pressed a finger to it, and it flared to life, deep red amongst the black ashes.

It had been a long day… a long few months. And I’d been moved into the Night Queen’s suite. It was natural to feel strange after all that.

Bastian’s senses were more acute than mine, but he lay there sound asleep. Better that he stayed that way after putting double the effort into making love to me with both parts of himself, so I slipped out of bed, grabbed my robe, which had been thoughtfully draped over the back of a chair, and padded through the rooms. I didn’t want to get a drink from the en suite bathroom, in case the noise woke him, so it took me a little while to find another bathroom and grab a cold glass of water, which I took to the balcony.

The sun kissed the horizon, casting deeper shadows, lighting the sky in pink and purple as a last goodbye to daylight. At least, until tomorrow.

Below, the city was changing from Luminis to Tenebris with the lengthening shadows as it did every evening. Folk hurried to and from work or socialising or chores, some gathering in the streets, since they were once more allowed to do so.

It all seemed so normal, but, like Bastian had said, everything had changed.

I only hoped I had changed things for the better—for Elfhame and for us.

Then again, we’d been through betrayal, spying, murder, Horrors, the truth, and so much more, but we were still here. I held my hand to my chest, pressing the spot he’d kissed into my heart.

We got through all that. This would be nothing.

Smiling to myself, I drained the rest of the glass and turned to head inside.

A form stood in the doorway.

Not Bastian. Not Ennet or Brynan. Even shadowed, I knew the set of her shoulders and the silhouette of her curly hair.

“Braea.” I dropped the glass as her name fell from my lips. Its tinkling shatter barely registered over the roaring pulse in my ears. “How are you…?”

“Alive?” Her teeth gleamed as she stepped out into the last rays of sunlight with a mocking smile. “You mean the clever little human hasn’t worked out my family’s great secret? You disappoint me.”

As she closed in, I backed away. I needed a weapon. No. I couldn’t fight her. She had fae speed and strength, and I was no warrior. I needed to escape.

“Great secret?” My chuckle came out strangled. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

That’s it, take your time explaining, give me a chance to work out a plan.

“I didn’t realise it had passed to Sura until I saw her at the Great Trees, but it’s the only way she could’ve survived being beheaded.”

“She said that was a changeling.”

“ Did she? And when did you meet her?”

I clamped my mouth shut. Fuck. I needed to get a grip of myself.

Her eyes narrowed above a thin smile. “Seems I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets. Still, yours aren’t going to matter very soon. Think, though, did Sura really tell you Bastian had executed a changeling? Or did she let you assume that?”

She’d told us a changeling worked for her and that they loved her enough to die for her. No, she’d given us the information and let us make the connection. Wrongly.

“You understand now—or at least you’re getting there. It’s simply darling that humans think we can’t lie just because we can’t say something that isn’t true.” She advanced, and I matched her steps, easing backwards over the broken glass. “Sura must’ve split herself in two during the coup. A wise move, it turns out. One that’s kept my family alive more than once over the generations.”

That was where Bastian got it from—not an unseelie trait from his father. But that meant… “What about Nyx? Why didn’t she split to escape you?”

Sadness fell over her features, dulling that smirk. “She was too heavily pregnant. Insisting on keeping that child killed her.”

“ You killed her.” It burst from me, and I had to grit my teeth against the white hot desire to also remind her who exactly “that child” was.

But Sura was pregnant with Amaya during her coup, yet still early—early enough to split. That must’ve been the reason for her timing—so she could still divide herself safely in case things went wrong. If she’d waited any longer, she would’ve been stuck as her sister was.

She’d seen her sister’s fate and refused to share it.

Braea wrinkled her nose as though being reminded of the truth was a distasteful inconvenience. “Thrones require sacrifices.”

“Like the people Cyrus killed? Or should I say, the people he killed with your encouragement? You never do your own dirty work, do you? I knew you were manipulative, but why did you need him to do those things?”

“Are you still whining about that?” She rolled her eyes and took another step closer.

I took another step back.

“I needed him to make a few mistakes and look like the fool he was.”

So I’d guessed right. It should’ve filled me with triumph but instead there was only the cold certainty that she didn’t mean for me to make it off this balcony alive.

“I wasn’t expecting his methods to be quite so… unpredictable,” she continued. “Still, it was working before you killed him. Even the people of Dawn were looking to me to save them from their own king. Once I had the Crown of Ashes, it would’ve been the next logical step to grant me more power, since Cyrus clearly wasn’t suitable to rule.” She sighed, expression sharpening as she closed in.

My back hit the balustrade. I glanced over my shoulder. There were no faces carved into the stone, no wisteria for Zita to hide within. This time, I was on my own.

“For so long, I’ve been so focused on Cyrus and the Crown, I didn’t see the real problem. You .”

I chuckled breathlessly. “How could I possibly be a problem to you? You’re a fucking queen.”

With nowhere else for me to go, she closed in, sauntering like a sabrecat who’d cornered its prey. “Oh, yes, the poor, defenceless little human act. Very good. Is that how you drew Bastian in? He’s so protective, so dedicated to helping those who can’t help themselves—it’s an easy weakness to manipulate to your advantage.”

“You would know,” I spat, reaching for my magic so it would be ready the instant she moved.

“Lucky for me, a poor, defenceless little human is an easy problem to fix. Especially when there’s an antidote to neutralise her poisonous touch.” Her eyes glinted, as cold as the dread flooding me. “That’s what you are, you know, poisonous . You’ve been dripping it in Bastian’s ear, turning him against me. He never questioned me before you came. He was mine. My Shadow.”

She was almost in arm’s reach. Another step and she would be.

I peered back over the balustrade. The only way out was to jump, but the ground was far, far below, and Cyrus’s description of what would happen kept me fixed to the spot.

“He’s king now. What makes you think that with me out of the way, he’ll go back to being your Shadow?” I needed time. Time would give me an answer. A way out. Something .

“Silly girl. I’ve been living in these walls since my so-called death waiting for my opportunity. I’ve seen everything he’s done—and all that he hasn’t, like taking his place as king. He doesn’t want it. Part of him probably knows I’m still here, and he’s glad of it.”

I swallowed, not wanting her to be right, and yet…

“He’s been mine for fifteen years,” she went on. “You’ve been around for all of fifteen minutes. Once you’re gone, he’ll remember his loyalty. He’ll step back in line and everything will go back to how it was before your brief little life interfered with mine. Better, even.” Her smile spread, beatific. “He’s another chance for me. Another heir. One already moulded in my image. He knows rulership comes with a cost. He knows there are always hard decisions. He is willing to pay.”

She closed that final gap. I had to take the chance—she hadn’t said outright that she had taken the antidote…

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” I went for her throat.

She didn’t even blink as she caught my wrist with horrible ease. But the sleeve of my robe had ridden up—the bare skin of her hand was on mine.

With every scrap of energy I had, I shoved my power there. The tingle on my nerves was unbearable as blackened purple bloomed over my skin.

Her grip tightened.

Teeth bared, she yanked me closer, nails digging into my flesh as she pressed a dagger to my throat. “He killed his own father for me. What do you think you are compared to that? I could ask him to do anything and he’d obey.”

She’d definitely taken the antidote. This concentration of poison—she should be dead already.

And as for Bastian…

Maybe she was right. He didn’t wear his crown. It was something I’d forced upon him. And hadn’t he begged me not to make him choose between me and Braea? Hadn’t he done too much in her service to ever turn his back on her? Wasn’t that the thing I’d feared?

“Get your fucking hands off her.”