3. Kat
Kat
B astian was a person not an antidote.
And yet as I stood, he was still talking about it like it was true.
“The antidote was already in my system, fixed by Asher.” He watched me take a few experimental steps.
I wasn’t as wobbly as I’d expected, but he looked as though he might swoop in if I fell.
“With the points of connection between us—blood, Asher’s magic, and Elthea’s magic—she was able to use that to make it so I was…
your opposite. Your touch poisons; mine remedies. ”
As my brain glitched on Bastian’s explanation like a mechanism with a broken part, I ducked behind a dressing screen and removed my nightgown. “Why can’t I just take a potion—the normal antidote?”
A long pause followed, and I yanked on the dusky grey dress that hung waiting for me.
“The changeling did something to the poison to make the normal antidote ineffective. This is the only way.”
“Fucking unCavendish,” I muttered, fastening tiny crystal buttons down my front. After another pause, I stepped out from behind the screen, buttoning up the cuffs of the close-fitting sleeves.
I wanted it to be a joke. Or a lie.
Anything but the truth.
But Bastian looked at me with the same dread I’d seen earlier. He rose from the chair as I emerged, all tight with anticipation of what I was going to make of all this.
What the fuck was I supposed to make of it? There was no guide in any etiquette book. This wasn’t amongst my father’s lessons. It wasn’t something society had hammered into me about how I had to behave.
I was like my sister: in uncharted waters.
I shook my head and retreated into practicality. “So, what? I have to touch you every day in order to stay alive?” My words dissolved into laughter, because it was the most incredibly fucking ridiculous sentence I’d said in my entire life.
But Bastian didn’t laugh. He pressed his lips together, sucked them in for a second, then nodded.
That sobered me. He was serious. So serious. “And if I touch anyone else, I will poison them?”
Eyebrows tight together, he bowed his head again.
More laughter caught in my throat, somewhere between hysteria and sobbing. I had to gulp in a breath and hold it to seize control of myself.
He frowned at the cabinet like he was as happy to be stuck with me as I was to be stuck with him.
Great. Just bloody great.
* * *
We emerged from the quiet of the Hall of Healing, and I had to pause at the top of the steps as light and bustle and chatter and scent hit me.
This city was just as alive as Lunden, with fae laughing and talking as they strode past. Children played in the small square at the base of the steps, swatting fae lights between them.
Beyond them, pale and gleaming buildings pierced the sky with spires and pillowed it with domes.
Pink-veined marble and moonstone that shone blue then gold then green as the light found different angles.
I couldn’t fathom how anyone had carved such huge blocks of stone—there were no joins in the Hall of Healing’s walls, and there was no keystone at the centre of the graceful arcing bridge that spanned between the towers overhead.
It was as if each building had been shaped from a single piece of rock… or perhaps grown from it.
Greenery softened the stone architecture—soaring trees and billowing shrubs, climbing plants that ambled up walls and around window frames, and small flowers that seemed to grow from the rock itself.
Perhaps it was their sweetly spiced scent that drifted through the air, thick and heady like good brandy.
“Are you all right?” Bastian hovered at my side, looking out over the square. He asked the question and yet there was no sign he cared much about the answer. It was as though we’d left the building and a door had slammed inside him.
I gripped the sweeping marble handrail and straightened my back. “I’m fine. Wait”—I snatched my hand away—“does my… does it linger on things when I touch them?”
He shook his head, expression flat, but I knew him well enough to catch a hint of regret lingering in his eyes.
Or at least I thought I knew him. The man who’d looked after me in his rooms and begged me not to give up—he hadn’t seemed like someone who’d use me to uncover an enemy.
The hurt threatened to break me, but beneath that was hot anger. I used it to cauterise the wound, gritting my teeth as I wobbled down the steps.
Anger was so much better than hurt. Or easier, anyway.
We walked along a tree-lined street in silence. There was enough noise around us and, with aspens hushing in the breeze, enough above us too. The flickering undersides of their silvery leaves and the iridescent moonstone homes behind were almost enough to make me forget my anger.
Almost.
But I didn’t want that. So, arms folded to keep my hands away from anyone passing too close, I shot Bastian a sharp smile. “Doesn’t stealing me away count as coming between me and that man I’m married to?”
Nothing marred his smooth expression, but his chin jerked up. “Your husband gave me permission to bring you here in order to save your life.”
The surprise quenched my anger. “Robin?” I blinked up at Bastian. “He said you could bring me here?”
A single nod confirmed it.
I huffed. “The one good thing he’s ever done for me.” Maybe some part of him did care about me as a person rather than just as his property. Maybe he wasn’t a total arsehole. Just ninety-five percent.
A tingling sensation brushed my skin, growing as we walked.
In the past, when I’d been overcome with anxiety and struggled to breathe, my cheeks had felt this way, bordering on numbness, but this wasn’t as intense and didn’t only affect my face.
It had to be some symptom of shock at being here and taking in so much—or maybe of the poison lingering in my system.
Poisoned and poisonous. I shuddered away the thought and focused on this place that was both strange and familiar.
Like Lunden, the streets were busy but not choked. Still, folk gave us a wide berth. Some threw wide-eyed glances our way before hurrying down another road. Seemed the Night Queen’s Shadow had a frightening reputation even in the daylight.
When I peered along the busier intersections, I spotted fae riding, but instead of sabrecats, they sat astride deer. For all this was like any other city, there was no doubt: I wasn’t in Albion anymore.
“What kind of city is this you’ve brought me to?” I eyed him sidelong.
“For now, it’s Luminis. The moment the sun touches the horizon, it will be Tenebris.” He kept his tone cool and matter-of-fact like he had to explain his nation’s capital city to humans every day.
Perhaps I was just another mortal to him now he had what he wanted and unCavendish was dead.
He’d said pretty things as the poison had pulled me under, but there was no hint of those now.
Maybe the idea was to give me hope, so I’d cling to life.
Maybe it had all been a fever dream and he hadn’t said a word.
Whatever the truth, walking at his side now felt wrong. A pit in my stomach that I couldn’t fill.
“From sunrise, Dawn rules the city,” he went on. “The Day King’s word is law. My political power is… diminished.” His jaw twitched. “When they are ascendant, you must be careful. You can’t rely on my position to keep you safe.”
Rely on him? I couldn’t help scoffing, but the way his gaze flicked to me, just for a second, stilled my tongue.
I was hurt and angry, yes, but what was new? I didn’t need to lash him with those things and make us both miserable. He had saved my life by bringing me here when he could’ve left me in Albion to die.
Instead, I cleared my throat and watched a woman incline her head at Bastian as she passed.
At her throat, on a silver ribbon, she wore the Dusk Court insignia: a crescent moon on its side with a nine-pointed star rising from it.
It was only when I saw her sleek, dark suit that I realised most of the other folk on the streets were clearly of Dawn Court with their sun insignias, lighter clothes, and hair in shades of blond, brown, and the soft colours of a brightening sunrise.
She moved swiftly amongst them as though she needed to pass through without causing any disturbance.
I watched over my shoulder until she was out of sight. “So Dusk folk still walk the streets by day, but… they’re conscious that they’re ‘diminished’ at this time?”
Bastian surveyed me with a blank expression.
It was the longest he’d looked at me since leaving the Hall of Healing, and I wondered if he was seeing me afresh.
“The Day King is still their ruler while the sun is overhead. They will obey him, just as you would obey your queen, but their loyalties lie elsewhere.”
“And how does this all work with your job?”
“From dusk until dawn, my queen rules. I brief her on what happened while she slept, take my chance to sleep, then meet with her again before the sun rises.”
“So she… sleeps all day?”
He gave a low hum of amusement. “Not if she had her way. But enchanted Sleep gives her no option. It’s part of the bargain made with the land. The king Sleeps all night in the same way.”
I was about to ask about this bargain when we turned onto a broad thoroughfare that led uphill.
At its end rose a glittering mass of towers.
Golden roofs and balconies marked the highest point of the city.
Bridges spanned the gaps between impossible turrets, and white banners rippled in the breeze, a gilded symbol upon them catching the light.
Pointed aspens and pines peeked over the lower buildings, but the towers dwarfed them, reaching for the deep blue sky.
“The palace.” It wasn’t a question—there was no need to ask, not with the size and grandeur and its position on the highest hill in the city. This main road pointed towards it, converging lines and leafy oaks framing it to perfection.
“Wait.” I blinked at the trees. “How long was I asleep for? It was autumn when…” I threw him a glance instead of referencing my attempted poisoning. As I’d dripped aconite into his glass, the trees in the grove had been shedding their leaves, but these oaks were full and green.
“A week.” He followed my gaze up. “The concentration of magic in the city affects the climate. Right now, summer is still clinging on, but autumn will come soon enough.”
Magic. That tingling sensation. It wasn’t in me—it was in the air . It didn’t feel unpleasant, just strange. New. I touched my cheeks, soothing the odd sensation.
And a week? What might’ve happened in that time? “Have you heard from Lunden? Or my estate? Is Ella all right?”
“I don’t currently have a secure line of communication south of the border,” he said, voice clipped, formal. “But Asher stayed behind to smooth things over with your queen. He’ll do his best to ensure Ella is safe from any fallout.”
It felt more like I was receiving a report than speaking to… Well, I wasn’t entirely sure what Bastian was to me anymore. Not a friend, certainly. Former lover seemed most accurate, albeit a grossly simplified label for the complicated mess that stood between us.
“As for your estate”—he nodded at a pair of Dusk fae passing—“there was a large amount of cash on the changeling. What did you call it—unCavendish?” He shrugged. “The debt against your estate has been paid off.”
I missed a step.
Just like that. Debt cleared. While I was asleep, no less.
The estate was safe. At least until that ninety-five percent arsehole racked up more debts. But I could breathe for now.
I hadn’t let down Morag and Horwich. They still had their home and their jobs.
My eyes burned. All the fear and manoeuvring, the lies, unCavendish’s cruelty, and what I’d done with and to Bastian—it had enabled me to help them. It had been worthwhile after all.
“Also…” Bastian raised one eyebrow when I caught up to him. “Every town in Albion has mysteriously received a message not to extend credit to Lord Fanshawe. A similar message may well be making its way across the continent as we speak.”
My mouth dropped open. I didn’t know whether to laugh or hug him. But things were different, now, making that second option impossible, so I squeezed my folded arms tighter around myself and chuckled softly. “How mysterious .”
“Isn’t it?” He flashed me a grin, then, canines showing.
Ah. There it was. The thing I’d missed through all of this conversation.
Those sharp teeth that I’d glimpsed so often before. The man who’d flirted with me and helped me break a hundred rules.
But those canines were gone as quickly as they’d appeared, smoothed away behind a bored expression like the one he’d worn the first time we danced.
We were in public—in his city, no less. Of course he had to maintain a certain facade: he was the Night Queen’s Shadow, after all.
All of this is real .
I pushed the echo of his voice away and focused on the road ahead. The palace grew as we approached, spearing the sky. It dwarfed everything else in Tenebris-Luminis and the palace back in Lunden.
I raised my eyebrows at the gates. Tall and elegant, rather than thick and sturdy like those in Riverton Palace’s stone walls.
But that wasn’t what surprised me the most—carved in the form of branches and flowers with dragonflies and butterflies nestled amongst the leaves, these gates were made of crystal .
Or glass or diamond, perhaps. Whatever the exact material, they were clear and refracted the sunlight into a thousand rainbow fragments.
Aside from the impossibility of their creation, I’d have said making gates from such a material was foolish—they’d be beautiful but brittle. Yet this was Elfhame, and I doubted they were as fragile as they appeared.
Magic was truly a marvel… when it wasn’t responsible for making you poisonous.
Either side of the gates stood a dozen guards, half of them in black armour with Dusk’s insignia across the chest in gold, the other half in white emblazoned with Dawn’s rising sun.
The six from Dusk turned and bowed their heads as we approached.
Their armour caught the light as they moved, gleaming not black, I realised, but the darkest possible shade of midnight blue.
Across from them, the guards from Dawn studied us with narrowed eyes. It was only as we drew close that I realised they didn’t wear white, but a pale, pale grey like shadow on a cloud.
Beyond the guards, the graceful arc of a bridge spanned a gorge and the rushing river at its base, but before we reached it, one of the Dawn guards stepped forward, hammering her spear into the ground. “Marwood.” She cocked her head at him before surveying me. “And who is this?”