Page 8 of A Promise of Lies (Shadows of the Tenebris Court #3)

7

Bastian

T he sun beat down on the square before the royal balcony, like it knew today, Cyrus’s first public appearance as king, was a day for Dawn Court. The Convocation had met and agreed he’d make a short, reassuring speech, followed by the most influential folk gathering in the throne room to pledge fealty to him. It was all designed to show his power and support, deterring anyone who might move against a brand new king.

Boring but necessary, and entirely in the way of me working on my plan to get Kat home.

I scowled in the shade that pooled along the balcony’s edge. My shadows hazed like mist, partially obscuring me. Below, Dusk fae gathered in clusters, wide gaps between them and those from Dawn Court. Each threw mistrustful glances at the other. The air felt prickly, making those looks palpable.

Even members of the Convocation had grouped by court. The Chancellor and the Marshal of the City near me. The Mistress of the Vault, the Master of Magic, and the Marshal of the Field stood over in the sun. Mouth a tight, thin line, Elthea stationed herself off to one side, not far from where Sepher towered over almost everyone else, including Zita.

Faolán guarded the doors to Dusk. Asher, as one of the last remaining members of our royal family, was beside me, showing we stood in solidarity with Dawn. On my other side, Ella and Perry represented Albion and the Pirate Queen, respectively—more solidarity in case accusing eyes should turn to them.

At last, the doors from Dawn swung open to great fanfare and out swept Cyrus, hair blazing even brighter than usual, while his retinue followed. Amongst them, flaming red hair snagged my attention, even though it was barely visible past the taller fae.

My entire being strained towards her, looking for every little gap between the bodies that I might snake through to find clear air between us. My shadows slithered through the crowd, but I yanked them back before they got far.

Never reveal your heart .

I chanted the words in my mind and forced my gaze away from trying to catch a glimpse of her face. He’d brought her and the other guests here. Why?

His eyes narrowed as he searched amongst his retinue. With a slow smile, he said something I couldn’t hear, but it looked like, “There you are.” He disappeared for a moment and emerged with Kat, his hand at the small of her back as he paraded her across the balcony.

Every muscle in my body coiled so tight, I thought they would pop clean off my bones.

I stood there, rigid, torn between wanting to stride over and tear him apart with my shadows and hands and the need to not murder a reigning monarch.

She looked pale in a pinkish shade of lilac, but she held her head high, and my heart could’ve exploded from pride. She was strong. The fear of what Dawn might do hadn’t broken her.

I would get her home soon. I would .

She skimmed the crowd gathered in the lodestone and my chest seized when she found me. I wanted to ask if she was all right, but all I could do was widen my eyes in question. She nodded, once, small, and my heart fractured that bit more to see her so contained.

I flinched as something jabbed me in the ribs.

“Can you please stop fucking her with your eyeballs?” Ella hissed.

I tore my attention away. Play the game. Pretend she doesn’t matter. Remember who you are .

“She seems remarkably calm,” Perry whispered.

That was my Kat. She only had to keep this up a little longer. I’d woken in the night with a plan that would bring her home in a matter of days. Not a rescue, but something that used the rules to our benefit. Something Cyrus would never see coming.

Reaching the balustrade, Cyrus waved and tossed his head, sending sun sparkling off his crown. He wore white with a grey sash and belt—a nod to mourning, while still looking bright and shining like some mythical knight.

Classic Cyrus, making a show. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Barely.

The other guests huddled to one side, close to the balustrade. Below, the folk from Dawn seemed to calm a little, as though the sight of the hostages was a welcome reminder that Dusk wasn’t going to be allowed to get away with this.

“Good people of Luminis— and Tenebris.” Even from the side, his smile was dazzling as he surveyed his people—his city. “I stand before you as your new king to reassure you that the events of earlier this week will not be allowed to happen again. And your friends, family, loved ones— our people—they will be avenged.”

Much as charm didn’t work on other fae, Cyrus had a kind of glamour to him, and the crowd below raised their voices, under his sway. This was what they wanted from a king—someone who stood in the sun and looked every inch the hero.

When their cheers died down, he went on, explaining a version of events at his brother’s wedding, “in order to quell rumours and mistruths.” The attackers were described as “dark-haired.”

“Hmm.” Asher bent closer and whispered, “No mention of hair dye?”

I glanced over at Elthea. She kept her eyes squarely on Cyrus, but her lips pressed together.

“Apparently not. Question is, did she keep quiet to protect Dawn or did she report it and someone above silenced her?”

“She reports directly to Mored, so…” Asher spread his hands as we both glanced at the Master of Magic.

“Or someone above him.” I indicated the new king. Did he know about the dye and was keeping quiet? “It would be useful to know where the information was cut off.” It would tell me who my enemies were—those willing to sacrifice the truth in order to protect Dawn. Even those who might be involved in the conspiracy to impersonate Sura’s organisation.

Cyrus continued painting a picture of a bloodthirsty attack on the palace designed to destroy the entire Dawn royal family.

“Well done, by the way,” Asher murmured.

I cocked my head in question.

“You didn’t leap on Kat the instant you saw her and only needed a little reminder from Ella.”

I scowled at his teasing. “This isn’t the time.”

“I’m serious. It’s hard to hide how you really feel.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I itched as Cyrus went on and on, conveniently leaving out the hair dye. If I said anything, it would look like I was grasping at straws, desperately trying to point my finger back at Dawn to protect Dusk. Tensions were high enough already. Instead, I gritted my teeth and made a mental note to visit Elthea.

Inwardly, I groaned as Cyrus painted himself as an injured hero. Had the crown made him more insufferable? I never thought it possible, but here we were five minutes into his speech and no end in sight.

“If you had to guess, who from Dawn would you say stood to gain from Lucius’s death?” I leant close to Asher, voice little more than a breath. My own thoughts were too busy and far from unbiased.

“Is this a hypothetical or do you have reason to think they’re more nefariously involved than the picture His Majesty is painting? Something to do with this elusive hair dye you mentioned, perhaps?”

“Just indulge me.”

“Well, who’s already gained the most?” His gaze flicked to Cyrus. “But that might be too obvious—son kills father, leaps in his throne. I’d like to think even Dawn is more subtle than that.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it’s a longer game. It’s brought Prince Sepher a step closer to the throne. Though I’m not sure that’s something he wants.”

With only his profile visible, Sepher gazed out over the city, eyes half closed. He certainly looked disinterested.

“Newly married.” I made a thoughtful sound. “And to a human.”

“Much more likely to produce heirs—secure the royal line.”

I found myself nodding. He seemed to have genuine feelings for Zita, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t also an advantageous marriage choice. “Could be part of a play for the throne.”

“Mm-hmm. It’ll be interesting to see if Cyrus marries quickly for the same reason. If he gets an heir in place, it pushes his brother further back in line. If not for the throne, why else might someone want Lucius out of the way?”

An excellent question.

I scanned those gathered on the balcony—the most influential people in the realm. The Mistress of the Vault and the Marshal of the Field stood close together, having their own whispered conversation.

“Members of the Convocation?”

Asher twitched at my side. “I suppose they’d keep their position no matter who’s king.”

Barring treason or some other major disgrace, their seats were for life. “And they might see Cyrus as easier to manage than his father.”

“The self-indulgent prince could easily become a puppet king, giving them more de facto power. Interesting .”

“Then there could be a more personal angle.” I stood straighter, shoulders easing as my mind whirred along familiar paths—strategic and logical, rather than seeing only Cyrus and my need to rage against him. “See if you can find out about Lucius’s enemies in his own court.” I would ask my spy to do some digging of her own.

Cyrus spread his arms and the crowd fell into an expectant hush. “It’s obvious Hydra Ascendant was responsible for this attack, but rest assured, your new king is a man of action. Where my predecessor stood still, not keeping his people safe from threats, I will not allow our enemies to get away with their crimes.”

Asher winced and inwardly, I did the same.

Oblivious to the stir rippling through those gathered, Cyrus went on. “With immediate effect, membership of Hydra Ascendant is forbidden, as is the display of any and all hydra iconography.”

I kept my face still, but my spine stiffened. This wasn’t part of the agreed announcement. I glanced at the other Convocation members, but they watched him, expressions as neutral as mine.

How did he plan to enforce such a law? It wasn’t like Ascendants carried membership papers.

“Furthermore,” he intoned, voice deepening, “there shall be no unsanctioned gatherings of more than six people in private dwellings, and no groups of more than four in public.”

I suppressed a groan. This was even less enforceable.

“These measures are to keep you safe, preventing treasonous elements from meeting and plotting against us.” He pulled his shoulders back, no longer the foolish prince playing at soldier. “Be clear, good people of Luminis, it was my father who was killed, but Hydra Ascendant mean harm to our very way of life. You saw how many were taken from us that day—we still mourn them.”

Below, the crowd murmured and nodded.

“And Hydra Ascendant aren’t the only ones to face justice. No.” Solemnly, he shook his head, pausing for effect. “There was treachery in the throne room that day. You are aware that I myself did not escape unscathed.” He rested one hand on his side like his injury was still causing him pain.

What a pile of shit—he’d been healed perfectly, without so much as a scar left.

“My own servant and onetime friend, Krae, stabbed me in that very room, spilling my blood upon the sacred marble floor.”

From one side, I caught his bitter smile. “But then again, that’s what you get for trusting a shapechanger.”

The crowd’s muttering rose, though I couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or opposition. As Cyrus announced an astronomical bounty on Krae’s head, I had to force my head not to turn to Faolán. It would only draw attention to him.

“Furthermore,” Cyrus went on, “to counter the enemy in our midst, all shapechangers will register in this book.”

With perfect timing, a plinth drifted forward, and Adra placed a huge ledger upon it. The thud silenced all whispers on the balcony.

“It will allow us to ensure they adhere to a strict curfew.”

Blaming all shapechangers? And a curfew just for them? Even more untenable than the gatherings. How were people supposed to live and work with that? Faolán was going to lose his mind. I made a note to take him to the training yard so he could take it out on an unsuspecting practice dummy.

Truth be told, I could do with blowing off steam, since throwing Cyrus off the balcony was out of the question.

“And, of course, not even my family is above the law. Therefore, the first name in the ledger will be my own brother’s.” Cyrus stepped aside with a flourish and let the plinth float into place between him and Sepher.

The air stilled as Sepher’s yellow eyes bored into him. Zita was a statue.

My pulse sped, readying my body for action. At my side, Asher stiffened, and Perry adjusted her stance. I caught a glimpse of Kat, partially blocked by Cyrus. She fiddled with something on her wrist, and I had to clench my fists against the need to get her away from the royal brothers.

“You understand, in light of these threats, certain elements of society must be monitored.” Cyrus said it so smoothly, it sounded like the most reasonable thing in the world. Again, his voice dropped as he added, “For everyone’s safety.”

This time, a few of the Convocation members met my gaze. The Marshal of the City shook her head, and the Chancellor’s surprise was clear on his face. They hadn’t decided this in some secret meeting.

Sepher’s tail twitched from side to side before he finally smiled. Though it wasn’t a reassuring thing but a ghoulish one, like he’d just pictured exactly how he was going to crack his brother’s skull open.

I couldn’t blame him.

“Of course it is.” Sepher swept up the pen in his clawed fingers and wrote in the ledger under Cyrus’s smug scrutiny.

In turn, Zita watched Cyrus unobserved, her dark eyes smouldering. My spies told me she’d tried to assassinate Sepher at their first meeting, and I could well believe it.

She pointed at Cyrus, hand shaking, and hissed, “May you always have the justice you deserve.”

On the balcony, silence rang out. The only movement was Cyrus squaring his posture as gazes shifted from Zita to him and back again.

Adra cleared her throat and widened her eyes at Zita, prompting her to explain herself.

Zita gave a half-hearted shrug, then added, “ Your Majesty .”

Cyrus looked to Adra as though for guidance, a waver in his confident exterior.

No matter who she was married to, I owed Zita. Seeing Cyrus off-balance was a fucking delight.

“Sepher?” he said at last, a faint waver on the second syllable. “What did your wife just do?”

She smiled sweetly. “It’s a blessing—ensuring your reign will be as long and just as you deserve.”

Sepher spread his hands. “My wife is gifted.”

“Hmm. Well.” Cyrus nodded, as if trying to convince himself that everything was all right. He flashed a brief, stiff smile and backed away as he waved at Sepher to continue filling in the book.

Interesting . All this suggested the tensions between Sepher and Cyrus ran deeper than merely squabbling brothers.

“There.” When Sepher finished, Cyrus gestured like this was a job well done.

Applause drifted up from the square below, quieter than earlier.

A flickering frown marked the king’s brow, as though the response wasn’t as enthusiastic as he’d expected, but it soon disappeared behind another smile. “Who’s next?”

Faolán went to step past me, the tightness of his jaw visible through his beard.

I caught his arm and muttered, “Hold off.” Stepping forward, I let my shadows sink to my feet. Down in the square, I picked out the groups with Dusk colouring. Their heads lifted, and I felt their attention turn to me.

“Dusk will manage their own registry,” I announced. That would buy me time to discuss this with Braea as soon as she was awake tonight. “We wouldn’t want Dawn to do all that work alone, especially in a time of mourning. Dusk will gladly carry part of this burden.”

It wasn’t a cheer, but the voices below rose and many folk nodded, while a muscle in Cyrus’s cheek twitched, even as the smile remained on his face. He couldn’t decline such a reasonable offer—not without looking like a tyrant or a fool.

At my side, Faolán made one of his trademark wordless grunts, this one more growly than usual. At least Rose was technically a werewolf—a human who had been changed—and not a shapechanger. That term only applied to fae who were born with the ability. She wouldn’t need to register, so I only had one wolf to worry about.

Finally, Cyrus inclined his head. “Such a generous gesture from the Bastard of Tenebris.” His smile turned into a sneer for a moment before he turned to the crowd below. “Good people of Luminis and Tenebris, let today’s proclamations reassure you that I have your best interests at heart. We will be strong against these threats—whatever that demands.”

I bit back a groan. So much for a puppet king.